Note:This chapter may seem out of place, but I am simply establishing the major players.


The Patriot

Sanghelios was a world of mountains and tropical seas, of tall mesas and crystal blue oceans. Many of the native inhabitants had lived in the tropical wetlands that dotted the planet, and these had served as the cradle of Sangheili civilisation until the increasing population had taken them into the harsher desert environments deeper inland. Over the many thousands of years of Sangheili civilisation, grand structures had been erected in the deserts, filling the entirety of mountains with statues fifty feet tall. Many such structures were old and in ruins now, and the Sangheili had taken to living within various city-sized keeps that dotted the landscape of the planet. And it was these keeps that had served as states in themselves, and often these states had entered into conflict with one another for a variety of reasons over the planet's long and bloody history. The Sangheili were warlike by default, and had evolved in harsh environments that had granted them powerful bodies and the knowledge to make war very effectively.

In this latest chapter of Sangheili history, war had embroiled much of the planet. Civil war between those who followed the Arbiter, a figure who had since become legendary for his deeds in the war with the humans and then the Jiralhanae and the Prophets; and those who remained loyal to the Covenant and still believed in the old gods, the Forerunners. It was a civil war that had become very bloody very quickly, and entire keeps had been destroyed during the battles that raged across the planet's surface.

One such keep was located in one of the planet's more temperate regions, where the land was rocky and mountainous, but also dotted with much greenery. The keep itself was a vast stone structure located upon a rocky plateau, with open ground on all sides and a single gravel road that lead to its main entrance. The stone walls that surrounded it were thirty feet in height, and they made their way all around the vast collection of stone buildings that was practically a town in itself. Guard towers and spires jutted from above, but even from a distance it was apparent that something was wrong. Smoke poured from within the city-state, and parts of the walls had been torn down with the unmistakable traces of heavy plasma weaponry. The main gate was gone, both halves lying half-buried in the sand. There was little sign of life from within, the keep serving as a stark reminder of the cost of the civil war that had consumed much of the planet.

The sun above hung at a low point, and the sky had turned the deep orange of dusk as the day drew to an end. Walking alone, following the main gravel road towards the keep, was a lone Sangheili in the mostly white armour of a Sangheili Ranger, although his helmet was gone, as was the jetpack that came standard to those within the Rangers. The eyes set into his saurian and somewhat hunched head were an emerald green in colour, and they regarded the ruined keep ahead with weariness, and resignation. It had been many months since he had last been home, and during his last visit he had been witness to the battle that had cost the lives of almost all the warriors of his clan. Even the women and children had not been spared, and only a handful of the 'Ktham clan had lived.

Davam 'Ktham had been a warrior for much of his life. Like most males of his species, he had been trained to fight from a young age, and he had been sent to fight for the Covenant as soon as he had been deemed ready. It had been several years before he had volunteered for the Rangers, one of the most dangerous branches of the Covenant military. Fighting in the vacuum of space and using potentially dangerous jet-booster technology was something reserved for only those willing to do it. And Davam had volunteered through a sense of duty, and for the potential prestige such a role would grant him. Nonetheless, recent years had been hard, even more so since it had become apparent that the Covenant religion had been a lie. A lie he had fought for, one he had spent so very many years fighting for. He still remembered what it had been like, during those early days after the Covenant's dissolution, when it had seemed the very heart of society on Sanghelios had been torn out. The fighting had started not long after, gradually intensifying to the point that just about every clan on the planet (and by extension, the many colonies the Sangheili had established) had become involved. The 'Ktham clan had been divided, not that it had mattered in the end. Davam had tried to be the voice of reason for the bickering leaders of the keep, but in the end it had been outside forces who had finally brought an end to the clan.

He stepped on through to the keep's grounds. Here, many of the houses were in ruins, burnt out shells that had once been home to families, many of whom Davam had known. The central structure, from where the keep's leader, the kaidon, had lead, was a similarly empty shell. It had been set alight from within, and the leadership of the keep slaughtered. Davam was not interested in revisiting such a site, rather he headed for the temple at the far end of the keep, the place he had spent many days sitting and pondering, reading even. A warrior did not just fight, as his instructors had taught him when he had been young. They had to be knowledgeable too, as in the end the greatest weapon a warrior had at their disposal was their mind. Strength and speed was one thing, but to outsmart one's enemies was vital. A somewhat different philosophy compared to other clans, but it was the philosophy that had ensured the clan's survival for many generations.

The temple was a large stone structure, vaguely pyramid-shaped, resembling one of the many ancient Forerunner structures that dotted the planet's surface. It was appropriate, given how the Forerunners had once been perceived by many Sangheili, and Davam made his way down the steps into the partially underground temple. The corridor beyond the main entrance was illuminated by burning torches, and the worship area itself at the end of it was a large, open chamber adorned with statues of the clan's past greatest warriors, including one ancestor of Davam's who had once been an Arbiter long before the Covenant had been created. It was a place of history, and oddly enough much of it appeared to be in relatively good condition, as if those who had seen to end the 'Ktham clan had neglected to ransack the temple. Either that, or they had respected the temple enough to leave it be. Davam sorely doubted the latter possibility.

No, there was something more here. He walked down the central aisle between the rows of wooden seats, his gaze going to the statues. Some had been clearly patched together, whereas others that should have been present were gone. At the far end of the hall, amongst numerous burning torches and candles, was a shining silver column of sorts. A Forerunner artefact, one that had served as the focal point for worship within the temple. It had been here for generations, and despite this very few knew of its exact purpose. It emanated a blue-white glow, and Davam had once worshipped it and what it represented like so many others. Now, it was little more than an ancient power core of some variety, and it lacked any of the mysticism that it had once carried. Even so, he sat down on a seat before it and the altar, and he gazed into the swirling energy within its core. Something like this, that had been powered for thousands upon thousands of years, was worthy of at least some wonder. The Forerunners may not have been gods, but they had certainly been capable of constructing some genuine wonders. What had they been like, really? Had they been family oriented? Or so alien as to lack that kind of connection to others? If the rumours were true, then the humans knew more about the Forerunners than most races. At least, their military knew more than it let on.

Davam sat here for a few minutes, his mind wandering. He had come here for a purpose, a simple one at that. He needed to remind himself why he continued to fight, and of whom deserved his wrath. The attack on the keep had not been a random act, and the one who had lead it was still alive and out there, in the galaxy somewhere. The so-called 'Storm' Covenant continued to gain support, and atrocities like the one that had occurred here would become more commonplace as a result. Davam knew his purpose now, as one of the instruments who would bring this new form of Covenant to its end. He needed to do something worthwhile, if only to atone for the atrocities he himself had had a hand in. So many innocent lives taken, all in the name of a false religion.

His train of thought was abruptly derailed and he was on his feet within seconds, swivelling around with one hand going for the energy blade he wore at his waist. Clutching it, he withdrew the weapon, activating it and causing the twin-pronged blue-white blade to appear before him. The ends of both prongs found their way mere centimetres from the throat of the Sangheili who had approached him from behind.

This one was young, likely less than half of Davam's age. He was about the same height, and his eyes were of the same shining green colour. He was dressed in dirty light-blue armour, that of a warrior-in-training, and it seemed unlikely that this young one had even finished his training to become a soldier. Judging from his generally dirty, dishevelled look, he had been without the typical luxuries for some time. His eyes had widened slightly, and he looked into Davam's own with an anxious, yet innocent, gaze.

"Ranger Davam?" His face flashed with recognition. Davam narrowed his eyes and considered who this may be. He held the blade where it was, even though in his hearts he could feel that this young male was no threat to him. He did not visibly carry a weapon, and it seemed likely he had not meant to sneak up upon his senior the way he had done so.

"You should know better than to surprise a warrior in such a way," Davam said, his voice level.

"I did not mean to." The young male held up one hand slowly, and pointed a finger to the Ranger's sword. "I will not hurt you, if that's what you believe I'm here for."

Davam deactivated the energy sword, its blades disappearing into the hilt. He placed the weapon back upon the armour at his thigh, and regarded the visitor curiously. There was something familiar about this one, but he could not place the face, or the scent for that matter.

"What is your name?" Davam asked.

"Narsa. Narsa 'Ktham. I lived here, much like you did." Narsa lowered his hand and relaxed slightly. Davam got the sense that the young male spoke the truth. The look in his eyes suggested as much. Eyes that struck Davam as eerily familiar, if only because they were his eyes. It was almost like looking into a mirror, had he been decades younger. Of course, he kept his suspicions as to why this was to himself, even if Narsa likely saw the same thing and was probably already coming to the same conclusion. Granted, many children on Sanghelios were unaware of who exactly their fathers were, given the communal nature of their upbringing. Still, there was no denying physical resemblance.

"You still live here?" Davam asked.

"Yes. The only one."

Davam frowned.

"Why? There is nothing left here." The Ranger tilted his head slightly, as he tried to work Narsa out. There had to be a good reason why he had not left the ruined keep. It was a place of death now, without the kind of peaceful atmosphere it had had in the past, when the grounds had been filled with the activity of those who had lived here. No children played outside anymore.

"There is nowhere else for me to go." Narsa sounded unsure of himself. He was not a full-fledged warrior, indeed it was likely he had still been in training when the attack on the keep had occurred. Still, he had somehow survived, as had Davam.

"There must be friendly keeps…"

"I do not wish to traverse the deserts and take my chances with other clans," Narsa said. "And I do not wish to fall into the company of those who are sympathetic to the new Covenant."

"So you stay here? Alone?" That was no way to live.

"There is enough food stored here for many months, and I know how to hunt. I even cleaned up the inside of the temple." He motioned to the surrounding chamber. "We cannot let our history be destroyed." He paused for a moment. Davam had to admit, there was something noble in attempting to preserve the temple here. Still, it seemed misguided, staying here. By staying here, Narsa kept himself out of the war that had broken out upon their home-world. Was that why he stayed? Davam did not ask this aloud.

"Why did you come back, Ranger?" A valid question. Narsa watched him carefully. Again, it was a look Davam had seen many times before, when gazing into a mirror. There was no doubt in his mind that Narsa was his son.

"I seek guidance," Davam replied. "The Forerunners may not be the gods they were made out to be by the Prophets, but I knew that coming back here may help me to find my way. There is a war, Narsa, and it engulfs our world ever so gradually. After what happened here, I knew what side to take in it. As you should as well."

"I am no warrior…"

"But you were clearly being trained as one." Davam turned around and walked up to the Forerunner artefact. Stories abounded concerning its properties, and it had been said that gazing into it for long enough could provide one with visions that were sent to give spiritual guidance. Stories were often just that, stories, yet even Davam could not help but think there was a grain of truth to it. Gods or not, the Forerunners had been capable of wonders.

"What are you suggesting, Ranger?" Narsa watched him, as the veteran Ranger stared into the shimmering pillar of energy contained within the Forerunner construct.

"Suggesting? Hardly." Davam put a hand to the artefact, and he felt a warm tingle pass through his arm. Usually only the priests were allowed to handle such artefacts. Of course, that had been when the Covenant religion had counted for something. "I intend on doing. Suggestions are what politicians do." He took his hand away from the artefact and looked back at Narsa. "You would do well to follow me, acolyte."

"Follow you? To where?"

"Wherever our journey takes us." Davam already had a plan in mind. He simply had to gauge this young warrior for the kind of man he was. "We are the last of our clan. It is our duty to seek vengeance against those who wronged us. Against those who destroyed our home and murdered our warriors, our women and our children."

Narsa did not reply. He likely found such a prospect daunting, yet what Davam said was true. There were old tales of clans being brought close to complete eradication by their enemies. In nearly all of them, the few survivors who remained made it their mission to enact revenge against those who aimed to destroy them. More often than not they died trying, facing insurmountable odds, something that Davam had long since come to terms with. There was nothing particularly noble about death, rather the nobility came from the cause that one died for. For years he had fought for a false cause, and he sought to make up for that through something genuine.

"The one who lead the attack against us," Davam said. "I have spent the last several months attempting to find him. I believe I am close."

"You're going to kill him?"

"It is the least I could do." Davam had set himself on this path once he had left the keep after surviving the attack. The trail had gone cold a few times between then and now. Still, he had searched, and his journey had taken him throughout Sangheili space and to many of their colonies. He knew he was close, and returning here served to remind him of why he had set off on this journey to begin with. The odds he faced were considerable, as the one who had lead the attack had a sizeable force at his disposal, yet even when Davam thought about this he felt nothing but determination to see it through. One last thing to do, and something he knew he could very well die doing. A proper cause to fight for, rather than the false one the Covenant had represented.

"And you want my help?"

"I want your help because you and I are of the same clan," Davam replied. "You cannot continue to live here, by yourself. This keep may have once been our home, but now it is little more than a place of death. A reminder of what we must do, so that our bloodline does not vanish into the night as was intended by those who attacked us. You were there, during the battle, were you not?"

Narsa nodded his head slowly. There was some hesitation there. Davam chose to ignore it. Even if Narsa was a coward, he could at least prove himself a warrior by joining him on his mission and therefore negate whatever cowardly acts he may have committed in the past. Narsa was only young, he had likely never seen battle before the attack had occurred. There was some understanding to be had there, and even Davam could remember what his first taste of combat had been like.

"It was hardly a battle," Davam added. "More of a slaughter. We were caught by surprise, and attacked without honour. All the more reason for us to find those responsible."

"And you know where they are?" Narsa sounded doubtful. Had Davam been younger, he might have slapped the young male for his tone.

"I am close."

"How close?"

"Does it matter? Surely coming with me would be better than staying here?" Davam could see that the young male was uncertain. Conflicted, as if he knew what choice he had to make, yet did not want to admit to it. "The two of us will have a far greater chance of finding the one responsible."

"Perhaps. But who will look after the temple?" Narsa sounded genuinely concerned. He had been here a while, it seemed, and he had no doubt developed a connection to the temple he had cleaned up.

"It will look after itself," Davam replied. "This place is dead, Narsa. It is best you come with me. I can finish your training and make you into a proper warrior." It would not be the first time he had trained someone, and like most males of the keep, he instructed the youngsters on how to fight, passing his knowledge onto the next generation. "I know you grew up here. I did as well. But there is little left for us here."

Narsa seemed to consider this. He spent a long moment mulling over what had been said, leaving Davam to wait for his answer. Whatever Narsa's decision, Davam would respect it. Still, he did not wish to leave the young warrior here. It was not something that would sit well with him.

"I will come," Narsa said, finally. "Let me collect my belongings. I take it you have a ship?"

"Indeed." Davam watched as Narsa started for the way out. He followed after him, curious to see what kind of life the young male had managed to make for himself here. They re-emerged into the open courtyard outside the temple, before Narsa headed for the central stone structure. It was the most intact part of the keep, aside from the temple, and it was not surprising that he had made himself a home within it. Davam followed him into the stone corridors, all the way to the kaidon's quarters. Here, Narsa had made the place his own, and a messy place at that, with tools and weapons lying about the place with little regard for actual organization. The kaidon's quarters had once been luxurious, at least for a Sangheili, but since Narsa had taken up residence the place had gained a very 'lived-in' quality. It resembled more a typical youngster's bedroom than that of a leader.

"You look displeased," Narsa said, as he went over to a table. There, he fetched a sack, and promptly opened it up.

"This was the home of a great warrior," Davam replied. "And you have gone and made it your own." He was not upset, there was little point in allowing himself to become so. Still, he thought that even someone like Narsa would pay better respects to a now dead leader. He wondered, briefly, how he might have fared had he been living like Narsa had the past several months. It occurred to him that the place would have ended up much the same way, albeit with slightly better organization to the apparent mess. Narsa seemed to have no trouble finding what he wanted, and he had begun placing clothes and other belongings into the sack. One thing caught Davam's eye that the Ranger went over and snatched up from a table.

It was a small wooden carving, finely detailed and no doubt made by a skilled hand. It was of an Arbiter, and this was made clear with the elaborate armour it was. Presumably, it was a general representation of one rather than any particular Arbiter in particular.

"My mother made that for me," Narsa said. He snatched the carving from Davam's hand, causing the Ranger to narrow his eyes. The young male certainly had some courage to him.

"She did a very fine job," Davam said, somewhat more solemnly now. If he was correct with his conclusion about Narsa, than the boy's mother was indeed skilled. She would be among the dead of the clan, even if Davam himself had not seen her die during the attack.

Narsa placed it into the sack with the rest of his belongings, before he tied it closed and hefted it over one shoulder.

"I have what I need." He had since attached a plasma pistol to the armour at his thigh. There were other weapons lying about the room, although at a glance it appeared that most were without charge, or close to running out of it. "Lead the way, Ranger."

Davam nodded in acknowledgement and made his way out of the room. Narsa followed, slower than his normal pace, and he was looking about the corridors on their way out. One final look at his home, and the walls he had known for some time. Outside, he became even more morose, yet he kept following after Davam, who wasted no time in his departure. Davam knew how the young male was feeling, and he knew that it would have been difficult to continue placing one foot in front of the other, to make the decision to leave on such short notice. Narsa had likely never been beyond the keep's walls, yet if this was true he did not display any anxiety in his face or movements. He simply kept walking in Davam's wake, eyes straight ahead as they passed through the space where the main gate of the keep had once stood.

"How far is your vessel?" Narsa asked, as they emerged onto the gravel trail.

"Not far. The journey between worlds will be significantly longer." Davam glanced back at his son as they walked along. "It will grant us plenty of time to get to know each other."

Narsa did not appear pleased with this, although he did not voice his displeasure. Looking at him now, Davam saw the need for a proper role model, and the months of isolation had clearly taken their toll on Narsa. It occurred to the Ranger then that he had come at the right time, and by giving some purpose for Narsa to fulfil, he may very well have saved the young Sangheili from descending into some kind of depression.

"Who is the one we search for?" Narsa asked, after a few minutes of walking in silence. "What is his name?"

"Arnvar 'Sraom." Davam had had the name burned into his mind for some time. "I have a very good idea of where he will be going next. The journey will do you some good, I believe."

"We'll see." With that, Narsa fell silent again. Davam did not say anything more, and the pair continued on their trek.