"Yes, these drugs, combined with a certain mutagen, definitely have a new effect on the frontal lobe. It enhances the aggressive response to dangerous levels. Its effects are…there. At a point where a battle-hardened veteran ODST falls into coma, loses consciousness or dies, one augmented with this drug will still be able to fight. They are imperious to shock, coma and other altered states of consciousness, excluding sleep. And possibly dreams. Hell, these drugs make them fight to a point where regular SPARTAN-II 's will long have perished! But the side-effects are worse. Failure to keep up a regular dose of the anti-drugs will result in the afore-mentioned brain damage, but also in uncontrollable aggression."

Mental Health Specialist Sunfield, logbook entry 4 ½, , 24th of August 2552

The surroundings were…familiar. He was walking in the same misty region he had visited before. He had been here before. The ground was the same as it had been before; stained by a dark, red liquid that was way too viscous to be true liquid. The thick layer of sky was also the same…but the air was all wrong, feeling eerie and dark and too heavy to be possible. He was naked; no MJOLNIR and no weapons. Not even a combat knife. Just him and his body, stuck in a dark landscape that seemed to resent him. Voices were calling out to him, screaming and crying and too high-pitched to be adult-

The Spartan shot upright with a start and immediately drew his pistol, sweeping it around and searching for targets before his mind could even process that he was awake. Once he realized that he had been dreaming again and that the area was…moderately secure…he allowed himself to relax slightly. Aeraleth was sleeping in the corner and Raia was nowhere to be seen. He didn't really have anything that could help indicate how long he had slept, as he was still inside a mountain…inside a mountain.

He still couldn't really believe that he had spent thirteen days away from the UNSC, on a world inhabited by real dragons and real elves and real dwarves. It just didn't make sense…it was impossible. But it was there, right in front of him. Magic and telepathy…all was real. He worked with it and he killed with it. But…it was impossible. It couldn't be real, he had to be drugged or something like that. Or at least…all the impossible things still had to have a scientific explanation. Because at that point, only advanced bio-engineering could explain things like magic…things like Raia and Arya.

The Spartan rose to his feet and looked over at the place where his bonded dragon was sleeping. She had looked like she was fast asleep, but the moment he got to his feet she lazily opened one eye and watched him.

'Good morning little soldier,' she told him. 'Finally awake?'

Finally awake? How long had he slept? "How long was I out?"

The dragoness chuckled. It was a deep, rumbling noise that came out of her throat and it took the soldier a while to understand the meaning of both the sound and the gesture. The voice he could interpret as humor…the gesture behind the humor not. Had he said something funny? 'By my count? At least the entire day. It is night outside now.'

That statement was surprising. "How do you know?"

'I can feel it.'

'Right,' he thought sarcastically, 'and I can smell it.'

'So what now?' she asked. 'What shall we do, now that you are rested?'

He took a deep breath in, felt that his limbs didn't shake anymore and then exhaled. No nausea, no dizziness and no aggressive desire to kill everything that he saw. He was good to go and if he looked at his partner, she was ready to go too. She had grown another feet since he had last judged her height. "The urgals should be gone, the Varden should be organized. Time to find Ajihad and ask some questions."

Aeraleth partially got on her feet- claws…limbs- and shook herself. Then she rose completely and glared at him with her large, yellow eyes. They were slitted like the eyes of an Elite were. 'You feel…off. Is something wrong?'

He was about to answer her with a partial truth when he noticed a humanoid signal on his motion tracker, signaling it a few meters behind it. It automatically zoomed in and out when it concerned targets, so that he had a good overview of the situation. His watchtower was moderately protected against the masses of civilians by being an unknown place to most and that allowed him to use his motion tracker to a more accurate degree.

The Spartan turned around, his pistol still securely in his grip. In the door-opening stood Raia, with her arms crossed and her clothes repaired.

"Rider," she greeted him. "I heard you were awake."

She got enhanced hearing? That was troublesome. He would need to relay all of his communication telepathically to his partner, lest he risked valuable information being overheard. "I'll go find Ajihad, find out the truth about the elf thing. You stay here."

She cocked an eyebrow when she heard him say that. "You want me to stay here? For how long?"

He turned to face her, like he had done a few times before. He wasn't sure what it would take to scare a Shade into backing down, but his armour had an intimidating factor to it and Raia wouldn't miss the message that he intended to give her. "Until I'm done."

She nodded, perhaps understand him. "Very well. And then?"

He shrugged and marched towards the exit, passing her without giving her as much as a glance. He had his assault rifle in his arms, his SMG's at his hips and his sidearm in its holster. His grenades were all linked to his suit and the ammo stored where they needed to be. There was nothing in the cave she could use to harm anyone or herself, save from Aeraleth.

And the dragon was going with him. 'Coming?'

'Of course.'

While the reptile took her own exit, the Spartan calmly walked down the stairs and waited outside for her to join up. When she didn't immediately appear, he contacted her mind and asked her what was wrong.

'The tunnel is too narrow; I'll meet you near the open area, from where we can find Ajihad.'

He sighed and continued on his own. He would much rather have Aeraleth with him than be alone amongst the crowds of civilians and silly races. He had no idea how to act around other people and she could at least scare them away without diplomatic consequences plaguing them.

Normally he wouldn't have given a damn about their diplomatic visions, but the fact that he was bonded to a dragon that originated from that world made him a…political piece in a grand play. A piece that held more power than anyone could imagine, but a piece nonetheless. He was going to pressure Ajihad until he knew the truth –all of it.

The Spartan eventually exited the large Tronjheim, concluding that the Varden's leader had to be near the front coordinating the defense and plans for his army. It had been a full day since the battle for the mountain and predictably, the ground was littered with blood and bodies. The casualties on both their side as the enemies' were just too high for anyone to orchestrate a burial that didn't border on a mass grave. In the distance was a giant fire where as many urgals were being burned as possible.

He spotted Eragon, standing near a mangled urgal body and staring numbly into the distance. Bandages still wrapped his body since he had received that scar and Saphira stood by his side, looking solemn and protective of the boy. The mile-long gaze that played across Eragon's features marked him as a shell-shocked soldier. But that was only to be expected; nothing could prepare someone for a slaughter of this scale…well, except for even bigger slaughters. Even bloodier conflicts. Normal people were never really numbed by the violence, unless they had sociopathic and psychopathic tendencies…or if they were Spartans.

The borders between those were a bit vague at times.

Aeraleth as waiting for him, a few dozen meters away from Saphira. Her black shape made it hard for the enemy to spot her and the only reason he saw her immediately was because of his natural night-vision.

The Spartan slowly made his way towards Eragon, understanding that the kid was prone to do something stupid if he stayed in that shaken haze. And because the young rider was pretty much this group's Messiah, he would most likely find the Varden's leader somewhere near him.

Either Eragon, or the second-in-command.

While he walked towards the rider and his dragon, he spotted a Kull that was still slowly struggling. Nothing that other people could see; a minor shake of a bloodied wrist, a subtle rising and falling of the chest and slight tremors near the artery. It was playing possum.

The Spartan stopped near the Kull, raised his boot and brought it down with enough force to completely shatter the thing's skull. Its head turned into a bloodied pulp and pieces of brain and bone flew everywhere. It was much like popping an Elite's skull, as they were both equally strong and equally susceptible to curb-stomping.

'I figured you wanted that prey,' Aeraleth dryly remarked and craned her neck to look at his movement.

'Sure,' he replied and continued marching towards Eragon. His blue dragon was the first one to notice that he was approaching them and promptly bared her teeth at him, uttering a deep snarl that seemed to shake her rider out of his stupor.

"What…?" He muttered and sluggishly turned to look at his dragon. She then sent him a telepathic message or something like that, as he turned again and saw who was approaching him. "Spartan?"

He ignored his remark and quickly scanned the battlefield around him, searching for anything that was still alive. While he did so, he asked Eragon what he had been meaning to ask him. "Where's Ajihad?"

The boy took a few seconds to process, the mile-long stare in his eyes not lessening while he did that. "I don't know."

The Spartan sighed and took a look at his motion scanner, seeing a human-sized contact approaching him from the rear, from Tronjheim's direction.

It was Jörmundur, the second-in-command. He was hurrying towards them at a pace that was still too slow and he was clutching a parchment note in one hand.

When he had finally reached them, he gave the super-soldier a wary look and then bowed to Eragon. "I'm glad I found you in time, Eragon," he told the boy, never keeping his eye of the armoured giant next to him. "Ajihad is returning and he wants you to be there when he arrives. The others are already waiting for him near the west gate. We have to hurry to get there in time!"

The boy nodded and placed a hand on Saphira's side, something that seemed to interest Aeraleth greatly.

Unsurprisingly, hurrying meant marching there at a leisurely pace that even a dwarf could follow. Eragon and Jörmundur talked about a few facts that weren't really interesting, like the fact that Ajihad had been furious about his daughter staying behind to help…or the fact that people were already calling Eragon a 'shadeslayer'. They also talked about a potential name that they had given to the Spartan, which they whispered to each other at a volume that was still perfectly audible: 'Grey Predator'. Said Predator's only business while accompanying the two humans and dragons was musing over the fact that he had compared their pace to that of a dwarf's instead of a grunt. He couldn't be going native, right?

They rounded Tronjheim and came across another group of little lost warriors. Amongst them were Orik –the dwarf shifting impatiently on his stupidly short legs- and Arya, whose white bandage seemed to shine in the darkness. The elf looked at Saphira and Eragon, her green eyes flashing, before looking back to continue watching for Ajihad. From what the Spartan had gathered from previous conversations and rumors, the elf had broken the Isidar Mithrim and allowed Eragon the victory against Durza, which in turn had allowed the urgals' rank to be broken.

Eragon and Saphira stopped near the bearded dwarf and joined him in idiotically gazing in the distance, waiting for their leader to emerge from wherever he was. The Spartan snorted with distaste at that choice of wasting time, but as he couldn't really think of something better to do without losing his chance at talking to Ajihad, he joined them. The ground of the giant mountain ranged at least five miles in each direction and the scale of such a hollow mountain only struck him as inconvenient; what if it crumbled?

"Where will Ajihad come from?" Eragon asked.

Orik pointed at a cluster of lanterns staked around a large tunnel-opening a mile away. "He should be here soon."

To the Spartan, here was in the vicinity of a hundred meters and not a mile away, but he refrained from correcting the small creature and waited patiently with the others, taking his time to communicate with his dragon some more.

'Grey Predator?' He asked her.

'Yes,' She answered with amusement. 'The short ones and the humans have started calling you that, amongst others. From what I have heard, it is because you dove into that tunnel without help to hunt down the urgals.'

She was hearing rumors better than he was? What route did she take? Well, probably not the one that allowed her to avoid any and all contacts with sentient beings, but still. 'Amongst others?'

'Yes. They also call you 'Abomination', Shadow-Death and Blood-Demon.'

The Spartan raised his head when he heard that. People calling him demon was one piece of nostalgia that he did not really like that much. All in all, all these nicknames were stupid and unnecessary. 'And how do you know this?'

Her chest swelled subtly as she breathed in, proud of something that he didn't know. 'People recognize me as your partner and start to whisper when they see me. They forget that I have sharp hearing.'

Did dragons have sharp hearing too? They were flying predators, so shouldn't their eyesight be more important?

'Also, Saphira wishes to know where the Shade is. What shall I tell her?'

'Try 'none of your business'.'

'I shall tell her that she does not need to worry about the Shade…' Aeraleth then lowered her head until it was directly in front of him. Her scaled head was large enough to swallow an average sized human in one bite and her teeth were larger than the largest combat knifes…resembling machetes in their size. 'She does not need to worry…right?'

She was annoying him. 'I don't need to worry. That's all that matters.'

'Not if you want to keep your allies.'

'She won't be a problem.' He then grudgingly told the dragoness.

'There you go!' She happily replied and probably relayed the message to Saphira, who would relay the message to Eragon…who would probably relay it to Orik, Arya and everyone else. If he was unfortunate, the entire Varden would know that he had a shade as his partner. That would make things awkward.

Easily thirty minutes passed while they waited for Ajihad to arrive at the scene. Eventually, Eragon sat down and Saphira wrapped her tail around his shoulders to serve as a comfortable way to sit. Maine looked at the scene, snorted with distaste and continued standing. Arya was standing too…her physiology was a curious one. She was stronger than humans and probably faster than them too. Would she be as good as Raia was? Or was she better? The fact that Spartans had been augmented to be superhuman didn't mean that the ones on this planet couldn't be superhuman. Shades were stronger than normal beings…could it be that the whole 'spirit' thing was just some bad attempt at indoctrination and that the method of turning a human into a Shade was really just an augmentation procedure? But how could people get medicines, chemicals and drugs like that? And how did that explain the dwarves and dragons? And it completely did NOT explain magic and telepathy. But it was a possibility that he should keep in his mind.

This was all so insane…

And then the tunnel flickered with motion. The Spartan immediately tensed up and snatched his sidearm out of his holster, aiming it at the entrance of the hole. A group of ten men climbed out of the tunnel and turned around to help a group of dwarves that was equally as large. Ajihad was among them and raised his hand, signaling for the men to form into two straight lines. At another signal, the formation started to march towards Tronjheim.

The Spartan frowned when he saw something else though. Something that caused his blood to burn hot and his mind to chill, sending him straight into the serene state of combat readiness.

The tunnel was swarming with activity and many more figures were visible. Those figures did not belong to the formation of men, as Ajihad would have allowed them up too. They didn't fit and as such, they were hostiles.

Ajihad was about to be swarmed by urgals

Eragon watched as the formation of men and dwarves started walking towards the large city-mountain, marching proudly and victoriously after their hours in the tunnel. He felt relieved that at least they were alright; it had taken Saphira more than an hour to properly calm him down after he had seen so much carnage, death and destruction at the battlefield. He had thought that seeing the corpse of his dead uncle would have prepared him to see other dead bodies, but he couldn't have been farther from the truth. As such, seeing Ajihad being alright filled him with warmth and relief. The man was a likeable person and a good leader.

Before they went more than five yards, the tunnel behind them became a flurry of activity and more figures were moving out of it. He squinted, unable to see them from so far away.

Nest to him, the monstrous rider exploded into movement and sprinted towards the tunnel, sending shards of rock and gravel everywhere. Before Eragon could understand why, Saphira's body tensed like a drawn bowstring and exclaimed: 'Those are urgals!'

He didn't question her for a second and immediately understood that the rider who called himself 'Spartan' must have somehow seen that. "Urgals!" he cried and leaped onto Saphira, his progress being severely hindered by his painful back. The scar had plagued him once more; lances of pain would suddenly shoot into his back, as if every single muscle cramped up.

He cursed himself for leaving Zar'roc in his room. Why? Of all times to leave his sword into his room, he had done it now? Why was he so stupid! Was it because nobody would have expected the urgals to launch another attack?

Spartan had carried his weaponry with him…

His wounds burned as Saphira lifted her azure wings, then drove them down and jumped forwards. The dragon that was named 'Aeraleth' moved almost synchronous with Saphira, but because his dragon was smaller, the black one was able to take off faster. But Saphira gained speed with every second and below him, Arya ran towards the tunnel too, following Spartan. Her black hair was trailing after her body and she was nearly keeping pace with Saphira. Orik trailed her with several men and Jörmundur ran back to the barracks, but they were so slow…too slow.

Ergon was forced to watch helplessly as the urgals fell on the rear of Ajihad's warriors; he could not work magic over such a distance. The monsters had the advantage of surprise and quickly cut down four men, forcing the rest of the warriors, men and dwarves alike, to cluster around Ajijhad in an attempt to protect him. Murtagh and the twins were there with the Varden's leader; Twins because they were powerful magicians and Murtagh because he wanted to proof that he wasn't like his father, who had died being Galbatorix' most loyal subject and betrayer of the order of riders.

Swords and axes clashed as the groups pressed together and simultaneously, explosions sounded from Spartan as he used his lethal crossbow-like weapon. The gray-armoured youth was doing the impossible; running faster than Arya, running faster than both dragons and actually killing the enemy from such a great distance while sprinting faster than humanly possible. He wasn't an elf, because Aeraleth had told Saphira that he was a human.

Light flashed from one of the Twins and an urgal fell, clutching the stump of his severed arm. For some nerve-wracking but hopeful seconds, it seemed as if the group would defeat the monstrosities and that Spartan would reach them in time. But then a swirl of motion blurred the air, like a faint band of mist wrapping itself around the combatants. When it had cleared, only eight warriors were standing: Murtagh, Ajihad, the Twins and several others. The urgals converged on them too, blocking Eragon's view as he watched with horror and pain that the two people he had come to care for like that would die in such a way.

'No!` He thought desperately, even as Spartan unslung another weapon and even more explosions came from his side. ´No no no no!´

Before Saphira could touch down, most of the urgals streamed back into the tunnel, leaving only a wounded and bleeding Ajihad behind. More of his men had died and the ones that had survived, were helping the dark-skinned man to get back to his feet.

That didn't work.

Spartan fired off one last shot and then, somehow, he stumbled. Except that he didn't really stumble, he stopped himself from sprinting and bent forwards slightly, his hand reaching for his head as he staggered briefly.

The moment Saphira touched down, Eragon vaulted off and immediately faltered, overcome by grief and anger. 'I can´t do this…´ it reminded him too much of the death of his uncle, who had been like a father to him…and Brom, who had also died…who had also been as a father to him. The urgals might have died before they could kill Ajihad, but such a wound could still easily kill him…

Fighting back his dread and other emotions with every step, he began to move to the survivors. The site was eerily similar to the battlefield he had stumbled onto earlier; except that this time, the smell of blood was much fresher. He hadn't liked the Twins, but no man deserved being killed off by urgals like that.

In the center of the bloodbath sat Ajihad, his breastplate dented and punctured, surrounded by two urgals he had slain. Spartan's ranged onslaught had served to save his life, but he wasn't safe yet. His breath still came in ragged gasps and as Eragon knelt by him to try and help him, he felt tears running down his face. He could heal Ajihad, but he was still so weak…Saphira was still so weak. Spartan could heal, but he looked like he had just given up the last of his energy already. He was leaning against the tunnel and gazing at the floor, his arms hanging by his side.

Arya reached them, threw one look at the gray rider and immediately started healing the Varden's leader. Her face was hopeful and…grudgingly thankful. Eragon didn't know why he thought the elf looked like that, but he still did.

"Eragon," Ajihad softly said.

"Yes," the boy replied, "I am here."

"Listen to me Eragon…Arya…Spartan. I cannot…cannot lead the Varden like this. Not…anytime…soon. You must promise me…promise me that you won't let the Varden fall apart. They are our only hope…Eragon. Keep them strong…while I heal."

"You won't die!" Eragon told the man. "You will still be the leader!"

"He is too wounded, Eragon," Arya told him and her voice turned sorrowful. "You must do all you can to prevent a power struggle. I shall help where I can. "

Unwilling to speak further and weaken Ajihad, Eragon looked around to survey the bodies. He would have given anything to be somewhere else…but he knew that he shouldn't.

Saphira nosed one of the bodies and said: 'This should not have happened. It is an evil doing…and all the worse for coming when we should be save and victorious.' She examined another body and then swung her head around. 'Where are the bodies of Murtagh and the Twins? I can't find them.'

'You are right!´ He replied, elation filling the pain that his heart had been filling itself with. Pools of thickening blood clung to the entrance of the tunnel, looking like someone had dragged a body through it. ´The urgals must have taken them! But why? Do they take prisoners?' Despair filled him again once he realized that the situation was still far from alright. 'It doesn't matter! We can't pursue them without reinforcements and…and you wouldn't fit through the opening!'

'They may be alive. Will you abandon them?'

'What do you expect me to do! The tunnels are an endless maze…and I wouldn't catch the urgals on foot. Arya might…and Spartan might.'

'Then ask them.'

'Arya…' Eragon hesitated, torn between his desire for Murtagh's safety and his loathing to put her in danger. And Spartan…that person was dangerous and unpredictable. He didn´t want to ask him a thing but…those two were the only ones in the Varden that could handle the urgals.

Groaning, he explained what they had found. Arya's slanted eyebrows met in a frown. "It makes no sense."

"We don't leave men behind," Spartan then interrupted and looked up, gazing at them from behind his strange helmet. His voice sounded raw and off…deep, but not deep as an adult's.

"Will you pursue them?" Eragon then asked the both of them.

Arya stared at him for a heavy moment while Spartan marched to the entrance, his tall and armoured body straightening itself as he reviewed the area. "Wiol ono." For you.

Then the elf bounded forwards, her sword flashing in her sword as she dove into the earth's belly. She was closely followed by Spartan, who had lost his previous elegance in his movements. Had he been wounded? His armour was still intact…magic? Had he repaired it?

Frustrated, Eragon sat cross-legged across Ajihad while his men patched him up to the best of their capabilities. Arya had healed him to the best of her capabilities, but he had lost so much blood…

And he could barely fathom that Murtagh was missing. Murtagh… son of one of the Forsworn, who had helped Galbatorix destroy the order and anoint himself king to Alagaesia. And he was Eragon's friend. No matter who his father had been, Murtagh was a good person.

He sat motionless as Orik approached him, who then watched the unconscious form of Ajihad and guessed the rest. He cursed violently and swung his axe at the body of an urgal. "Those monsters! Still they could not have brought him down, but his state will leave a broken hornet's nest.

Eragon told the dwarf about the disappearance of the Twins and Murtagh…and the fact that Arya and Spartan had gone after them. The other rider was such a mystery…and his allegiance was questionable at best. He was rude, strange and different. But his statement of 'no man left behind' had puzzled him too. Why would Spartan care for someone he hadn't met before? Wasn't that the task of a soldier?

Jörmundur appeared with twelve men and looked down at Ajihad, relief visible on his face as he saw that most wounds were mended. "This should not have happened…not so close to our victory. He was lucky that you and Arya were so quick to appear. Where is she?"

Eragon explained what had happened and Jörmundur frowned deeply. "She should not have gone, but there is naught we can do for now. Guards will be posted here, but it will be at least an hour before the dwarven guides can start an expedition into the tunnel."

"I'd be willing to lead it," Orik offered, but the second-in-command wouldn't have any of it.

"No. Hrothgar needs you now; someone else must go. Everyone important must stay here until Ajihad's temporary replacement is chosen. Arya and Spartan will have to fend for themselves…we wouldn't be able to overtake them anyway."

Eragon nodded, accepting the inevitable. Jörmundur then turned to face the warriors under his command, before speaking up loud enough for all to hear. "Ajihad lives! Not even a group of urgals has managed to kill our leader off and even now, he is recovering. But he cannot lead the Varden as he is now. We will bear our heads high and bring our leader back to Tronjheim, where the best we can offer will work to the best of their capabilities to heal him! Weep not, for hope is still here!"

As one, the warriors flowed towards Ajihad and gently picked him up, carrying him on their shields back to Tronjheim, with Eragon and Saphira in the middle of their group.

As the shadows were creeping up their stone tower again, Aeraleth watched her rider gasping for air as he tore his helmet off again, keeping the red-coloured piece of armour loosely in one of his gauntlets. She could feel his all of his suffering through their mental link and she had to dose the amount of sensations that rippled across their mirror-like bond, lest she lose herself to madness.

Maine exhaled softly and set down near the walls of his watchtower, his helmet still hanging loosely in his hand. He and the elf had spent at least three hours searching the tunnels for the missing Eragon-friend and the two hairless Twins, but to no avail. According to the soldier, they had only found a few bloodied clothes near a large abyss. He had immediately concluded that the three were dead, but the circumstances were strange at the very least and she didn't trust it. But she had to be honest with herself; she cared not for Murtagh or the Twins. She cared only for her rider and currently, he was suffering. He was suffering from a corruption that ran deep within his marrows, setting his mind aflame and burning his sanity away.

She could feel how it affected him; his senses clouded over and lied to him, plaguing him with visions that weren't his. He had suffered another such fit during his attempt to save the dark-faced Ajihad, nearly falling over when his limbs started to lie again. She could only feel a tiny fraction of the real deal in his head and what she felt was too alien and strange to deal with; it was dark, deep and dreadful. It was borrowing deep into her rider's mind, threatening to take him from her. He was so sick…and yet he was so strong. His strength baffled her; not even in all of her memories and instincts had she known that any two-legged being could be so powerful. He strode around with confidence and strength and despite his suppressed desire to scream, he still carried himself with dignity. He outpaced an elf and was strong enough to keep on marching without pause.

But that could not last forever. Only when he had returned to the tower had he fully collapsed, slipping into a deep shell within his mind that she had not been able to breach. Within that breach, she had felt his mind raging and snapping at any rational section that tried to regain control. He had actually warned her away, telling her that his body was going to hurt her should she touch him.

And now…now he was sitting against the wall, calm but exhausted. Sweat was dripping from his short, black hair and his unnaturally pale skin reminded her of something that lived underneath a rock. Her rider was not something that lived underneath a rock.

'Maine?' She gently asked him, taking in as much of the pain of his mind as she could without harming herself permanently. 'What is happening to you?'

His breath came in short, rapid pants and his eyes were half-closed. Still, he managed to retain his composure without difficulty and his answer was short and to-the-point. 'Local disease…others are probably immune…I'm not. I'll…be fine…later.'

Somehow, she was not convinced that he was going to be alright…and neither did she blame some local disease for his situation.

Raia the Shade was lurking in the shadows, watching rider with eyes that possessed too much compassion too be genuine. Aeraleth still didn't want to believe that the Shade was responsible for her partial recovery and she still hated her for her relentless hunting of the Spartan. But she was bound to him in a way and that prevented her from fighting her away.

"I think I know where the answer lies…" the once spirit-possessed woman then stated.

Maine didn't respond in any way, verbal or nonverbal.

"During the time I was…hunting you…I thought of a way to suppress your abilities as a rider. When one has to deal with a magician, one can use an extract of a rare plant. Such an extract can be refined into a drug, which will suppress a magician's ability to call upon magic."

Aeraleth nearly held her breath as she listened to the sudden and clear explanation about what plagued her rider so much. Said rider still didn't respond. He didn't even blink.

"So," Raia continued, "I procured the most potent drug I could…and enhanced it with magic. I slipped it in the river you were drinking from ten days ago…and it has slowly started to work."

Still her rider didn't respond, but she did. Aeraleth understood the magnitude of the pain that the Shade had caused and her body responded before her mind did, lashing out with her tail towards the pale woman and intending on crushing her.

The lean Shade jumped backwards and narrowly avoided the whip-like appendage as it tore through the air.

"What I did has happened, but you must listen to me, dragon. You can be angry later-"

'Later?' She bellowed at the Shade's mind, overcoming her fear and disgust in one fell swoop and completely bypassing her defenses before they could even be erected. She had had it with the feral female and she would protect her partner-of-heart. 'You have drugged him? With a magically enhanced venom that could have killed him? And you say this now?'

"I held no reason to suspect it had already worked," the Shade was quick to point out, "normally, even the strongest spell-weavers fall within a day. Your rider has shaken it off for more than ten. I had to resort to something else."

Even though Aeraleth's anger was currently boiling over, she felt that her tone was calm and controlled when she responded. Nevertheless, she lashed out at the Shade again and her tail tore a path through the wall, shattering dozens of stones with the movement. 'You hadn't done enough? You did something else?'

"You need to understand," Raia unhappily said, but the dragoness didn't allow her to continue.

'I don't need to do anything! Fix him, now.'

"I-"

'NOW!'

"I cannot," the female then slowly and carefully replied. "I forced the enhanced drug to restart with all of my energy –which is no small amount, even when pushed that far. I can do many things; I can remove curses and restore organs. But I cannot remove something that is now so integrated with the mind. Your rider now has to deal with the accumulated effect of a month worth of venom…and that is my fault."

'I know it is!' Aeraleth growled at her and menacingly lowered her head, making sure that the cursed female understood just how lethal she was. 'And if he finds out, he will-'

"Quit it," the powerful voice of her partner-of-heart snapped and instinctively, she allowed her body to relax and back up. Raia's body –her stupid, human body- had the same general response to the commanding voice. Maine had slipped his helmet back on and he was now gathering his things, preparing himself for another trip into Tronjheim. "She told us about the drug, that's all we need for now. I can handle it."

'But-'

"I can handle it," Maine repeated himself with more force as he approached the two of them. But he didn't realize that the two of them were trying to point something else out.

"Rider-"

'Spartan-'

"No."

Aeraleth sighed and withdrew her tail, allowing Raia to point at the now freed door-opening. Ajihad's cub Nasuada stood there, her fist raised in that funny human gesture that signaled a craving for attention.

"What?" Maine barked at her.

"I-is this a bad time?" the girl asked as she watched the fight between the former spirits-possessed woman, the angry dragoness and the cranky super-soldier. Her eyes widened in fear when she decided that the Shade was the most prominent one in that trio. "Spartan! A Shade!"

"I know," he said with annoyance, "she and Aeraleth are a pain in the ass."

Ouch. That hurt.

When the soldier made no attempt to murder the Shade, Nasuada crossed her arms and threw a stern look at him. Sort of like a mother scolding a child. Aeraleth had only met her once before, but she already liked the girl. Fully grown men and urgals alike would run in terror of her beloved rider, but Nasuada had the courage to stand there and scold him.

Yes, she actually scolded him. "I had heard this from Orik, but never would I think it true. You made a deal with a Shade? Do you seek to hurt the Varden through your actions, rider?"

Aeraleth agreed with her.

Maine stepped closer to the dark girl and looked down at her; he was so much taller than she was. "The Varden nearly fell apart because of a lack of Intel. She can give me that Intel."

Aeraleth agreed with him too.

"She? A Shade is a mindless monster, rider! 'She' will only try to destroy you because you caught her!"

"'She' has a name," the Shade dryly remarked, "and would prefer to be called by that: Raia. I surrendered to the rider and have done nothing to harm him since."

She was sure that the Shade was merely sounding so civilized to fool Nasuada.

The dark-skinned girl seemed to be interested by the Shade's comment though, as she eyed the woman with a gaze that held interest and confusion. "Do you serve the king?"

"I only serve my own mistress. She does not serve the king…but neither does she oppose him."

"What makes you trust her?" Nasuada then angrily hissed at Maine, her emotions showing through her otherwise calm demeanor. "A Shade has crippled Eragon and a Shade has tortured Arya! You cannot trust one."

"Galbatorix is a human," the Spartan reminded the also human. "And Raia has shown me how to heal Aeraleth…which saved her life," he then added.

And that stung too. Now Nasuada knew that too.

"She did?" the girl replied with confusion. "No Shade would ever do that…why did you?"

Raia scowled slightly and crossed her arms. Her air had a hint of superiority to it as she arrogantly eyed Nasuada. "Because the world as you know it is narrow and simple? Perhaps because not every Shade is the same? Or perhaps because I am not a mindless monster. I am different."

Nasuada smiled, but Aeraleth knew that the smile was not genuine. It was a mean smile that oozed manipulation. The girl was clever and careful. "Then I am sure that you will watch over the rider as he heads out to meet the council, because right now he is needed."

"I will watch over him, as no 'one else has made an attempt to do so." The Shade replied with an equally fake smile.

Aeraleth snickered when she understood what was going on. Basically, Maine had a Shade and a human fighting over his well-being.

His well-being…wait…Raia cared for his well-being? Or had she just said that to trick Nasuada?

"What council?" Maine raised another well-pointed question. "Why are you here?"

"Because," Nasuada then replied with a softer tone, "The council of elders, the advisors and other important diplomats of my father, wish to discuss who will replace my father for the time being. And regarding that…I wish to personally thank you for saving his life."

'How did she know?' The Spartan asked Aeraleth in her mind, sounding rather annoyed. What being sounded annoyed when they were being thanked by a member of the opposite gender? She for one would the thrilled if a male dragon thanked her for saving his life…not that such a thing was ever going to happen.

'I think,' she replied calmly, 'that rumors spread fast. Your actions were heroic and impossibly well-timed. You have gained a powerful reputation…and an even more powerful ally.'

'Whatever.'

She went quiet again and listened to Nasuada's explanation. "The council consists of the people that were chosen to speak to Ajihad on the Varden's behalf. They are his trusted advisors and they wish to know your opinion regarding my father's replacement. It is…a great honour.

Please Maine, pick up on the hesitation in that last sentence.

"Why," the soldier bluntly said, "should I care?"

A hint of amusement played over the human's features. "They have summoned you to speak before them. Normally, refusal would lead to imprisonment or a different form of punishment, as you would effectively be denying the Varden itself. However…" The girl´s voice halted in her throat as she looked over the armoured form of Maine. "A rider has privileges. Not to an unlimited degree, but…seeing as you were the one who saved my father, I had hoped that you would at least help decide what was going to happen now…"

The clever girl was trying to manipulate the soldier. She must not know him. Still, Aeraleth agreed that it was a good idea that her rider should voice his opinion. Diplomatic matters might not be his strong-suit, but his experience had proven to be invaluable. 'Little soldier?' She asked him.

'What?'

'I think you should go to this meeting.'

'…explain yourself.'

'Well, you were unsatisfied with the methods employed by the Varden, yes?'

'Yes.'

'If you were to deny this meeting…this…choosing of successor…you would never be able to complain again, as you will have passed up your one chance to change it.'

'You make it sound as if I like complaining.'

She chuckled. 'Sometimes I think you do. Please visit these people; it is better than staying behind here…with Raia. And your disease.'

'You know the risks.'

'I stop you from murdering them all and will go there?'

'Yes.'

'Good,' she happily finished their conversation and turned her attention to Nasuada. 'We accept. Will you lead us, daughter of Ajihad?'

Nasuada's eyes grew big when she felt the mental contact. The human should be awed by her presence; it was not every day in her life that she was graced by a consciousness as vast as her own.

"Yes, you awe me oh dragon," Nasuada said and bowed slightly. "But I will have to insist for…Raia…to stay here."

"I have given my fealty to him," the Shade said with a hint of amusement and she brushed a bang of red hair out of her face. "I shall do as he says."

"Stay here," Maine then ordered the red-haired woman and that was that

Nasuada let them to an arched stone, which the girl pushed open. The room inside was circular, with a sky blue dome decorated with constellations. A round marble table, decorated with dwarven crest –an upright hammer ringed by twelve stars- stood in the center of the chamber. Seated there were Jörmundur and two other men, one tall and one broad. There were also two women; one with pinched lips, close-set eyes and elaborately painted cheeks and one with an immense pile of gray hair above a matronly face, armed with a dagger hilt peeking out of her stupid amount of clothes.

"You may go," Jörmundur told Nasuada, who quickly bowed and left.

The Spartan slowly walked into the room, conscious of the fact that these people were watching him with a focus and concentration that made them appear to be thinking of magic. Or advanced thermodynamics. There were a few chairs scattered throughout the room, but he preferred to stand.

They wouldn't support his weight anyway.

Aeraleth hunkered directly behind him and watched the group of elders with her own concentrated gaze, which was probably a tenfold as intense as theirs.

Jörmundur, whose respect and attitude had increased dramatically since Ajihad had been saved, got halfway up from his chair and bowed slightly, then reseated himself. "Thank you for coming Spartan, even though you have your own things to worry about. This is Umérth," the tall man, "Falberd," "the broad one," and Sabrae and Elessari," the two women.

He ignored his greeting and went straight to the point. "What do you want?"

A commotion of whispers ran across the table when he brusquely slapped the introduction aside, but the second-in-command nodded, perhaps understand the military need to cut though the crap. "We face a crisis that must be dealt with quickly and effectively. Ajihad is too wounded to lead the Varden for at least a month. You have saved his life, but we still need to choose a temporary replacement before someone else will. Hrothgar has already contacted us to convey his condolences. While he was more than courteous, he is sure to be forming his own plans while we speak. We must also consider Du Vrangr Gata, the group of magic users in the Varden, formerly led by the Twins. Most of them are loyal to the Varden, but it's difficult to predict their actions in the best of times. They might decide to oppose our authority for their own advantage."

"You were stupid to let them in here if you didn't trust them," he pointed out. The two women replied with shock and anger at his statement and the two men jumped upright, but Jörmundur forced them to sit down again with a gesture.

"That is why we need your assistance, Spartan, to provide the legitimacy required by whoever is to take Ajihad's place.

Falberd heaved himself up, planting his meaty hands on the table. There wasn't a single person in here besides the second-in-command that seemed to have had any combat experience at all. They were lazy, unknowing civilians that had no place deciding something this important. "The five of us have already decided whom to support. There is no doubt among us that it is the right person. But," he raised a thick finger, "before we reveal who it is, you must give us your word of honor whether you agree or disagree with us, nothing of our discussion will leave the roof."

At least they weren't stupid. But why would they want him to stay quiet? Would they discuss this with the rest of the group? They wanted his opinion on the matter, but…he couldn't risk keeping something stupid a secret. If they chose someone incompetent, he wouldn't keep quiet. He would oppose them either in secret or publicly.

"Only if I agree."

"We can't have that," the woman with her gray hair replied. "Why, remember your standing rider. We have already decided on who to choose and I would think that the five of us knew our work better tha one inexperienced, immature rider."

"You would think," he replied softly but threateningly. The message was clear and the woman shut her fat mouth. Aeraleth would make no such promises. He understood the need for secrecy, but if he wanted to, she could spill the beans to anyone that would support a different leader. Including Raia, who would destabilize the council and Nasuada, who held much power as the daughter of a leader.

'Agree for now,' Aeraleth told him, 'I can always tell Arya or Nasuada or even Ajihad who they have chosen. Silly of them to forget that dragons are as intelligent as the wisest human.'

So she thought the same thing? It was obvious that this meeting wasn't going anywhere if he didn't promise to be quiet. "Fine. Who?"

"Nasuada," a woman and a man spoke at the same time.

Maine cocked his eyebrow at that choice and quickly recalled everything he had heard about Nasuada. She was intelligent, unfazed and disciplined in at least one way. But despite the fact that she had stayed behind to fight, she was a noncombatant. An inexperienced, young noncombatant that lacked the insight required to lead the Varden. And why would this collection of leeches and idiots choose her? They would probably want to have something to gain but…what?

'Nasuada would be like her father,' Aeraleth observed. 'She has strength.'

'Why would they want her?' He asked the dragon. Her people-knowledge was superior to his.

He would much rather have an experienced man to take the job of military leader. And what better choice for a military leader than a second-in-command? The man who was, oh he didn't know, second in command?"

"Don't be stupid," he bit at the council. "She is a child without experience. Jörmundur is the second-in-command. He should lead."

A current of unease ran through the council; Sabrae sat even straighter, her hands clasped before her. Umérth and Falberd glanced at each other darkly, while Elessari just smiled.

"Because," Jörmundur said while selecting his words with care, "I am the second-in-command in military matters, nothing more. Also, I am a member of this council, which only has power because we support one another. It would be foolish and dangerous for one of us to raise himself above the rest."

The council relaxed again as he finished and Elessari patted him on the forearm.

Bunch of manipulating bastards.

'Hah!' Aeraleth exclaimed, 'He would have probably taken power already had it been possible for force the others to back him up. Just look how they eye him; he is like a wolf amongst a herd of sheep.'

And he was the dragon amongst the wolf amongst the sheep. "You lot of have no idea how things work," he impatiently pointed out. "the Varden is a military group with the sole purpose of beating a larger, more organized organization. Choosing a little girl to lead is equal to throwing away victory."

"Will you stop insulting us, Spartan?" Jörmundur asked him, but Elessari was quick to respond with less patience.

"You must remind your place rider!" She angrily exclaimed. "We have been on this council for many years. We know what is best for the Varden, while you have just recently become a rider. You hold no experience, no knowledge and no right-"

The Spartan raised his foot and brought it down on the nearest chair, reducing it to a pile of splinters with one swift movement. The woman shut up at that sudden display of violence and noise and silence fell upon the room. Their patience was running out, but his patience had runout. "Convince me that Nasuada is the right one. You have one minute. After that, this council is disbanded."

Jörmundur jumped to his feet but Aeraleth snarled violently at him, forcing him to sit down again. The people of the council had grown pale with fear and some of them were outright shaking. "Y-you have no r-right!" Falberd stuttered. "Y-you are loyal to the Varden! A-as a rider from Alagaesia! Jörmundur, do something!"

"I'm not from Alagaesia," he barked. "I am Two-Sierra zero-zero-seven and I came from the stars. Forty seconds." To emphasize his statement, he pulled out his sidearm and cocked it, before aiming it at the fat man.

Sabrae was the first one who showed that she had some sense. "I had already been here for seven years when Ajihad joined the Varden and I have watched Nasuada grow up from a darling girl to the woman she is. A trifle light-headed occasionally, but a good one to lead the Varden. She has experience and the people will love her!"

She sounded frantic and desperate, but she made one vital point. A good leader cared for his men, while a great leader loved his men like they were his own sons. But an effective leader was willing to send the ones he cared for to their deaths. Nasuada holding the loyalty of her people was important, but she would choke on the hard decisions.

"Now I," Elessari added quickly, understanding that she had no time to waste when it concerned the Spartan, "and my friends will be here to guide her through these troubled times. She will never be without someone to show her the way. Inexperience will be no problem."

So that was it. They wanted a person they could manipulate and control. They were selfish and egocentrically tailored; he wouldn't have them near the new leader. But they listened to him now and that was the most important. "Does Nasuada know?"

"In two days, we plan to appoint Nasuada as our new leader. We have yet to ask her, but she wil surely agree. Eragon will be present at the appointing, so no one, not even Hrothgar, will complain about it. He will swear fealty to the Varden and that will give back the confidence that Ajihad's wounds have stolen form the people. Nobody would try to splinter this organization."

They had convinced the irrational Eragon to swear fealty to the Varden? "What do you want from me?"

"Bluntly said," Jörmundur replied, "two is better than one. It is obvious that you hold more experience and knowledge than Eragon."

"And if I refuse to acknowledge her?" he challenged them.

"It would be a terrible blow to the morale of the Varden," Falberd cautiously replied. "If a rider, one as gifted as yourself, would not be present when Nasuada was chosen, what can she think but that you spite her and disagree with her place? Who could bear such a shame?"

They thought that they could control him like they could Eragon, but they were dead wrong.

'It would be hard for you to remain a neutral force without allies,´ Aeraleth told him as she brushed the top of his helmet with her nose. ´Your choice to spare the Shade has made you a few enemies. You need friends, not enemies…and without your people here, you cannot be a third faction.´

´These people could not stop us,´ he replied and the thought to simply assert control rose in his head.

´No, but they can cause us no end of grieve. Even though they cannot physically harm you, I would not see them make you unhappy…and we cannot afford to have both the Empire and the Varden as our enemy. To prevent losing the Varden as an ally, you need to find a find out of this situation without more violence.'

"We already have Arya's agreement and Eragon's, there is no point refusing us now," Umérth said with a nasty and increasingly smug smile. "We just need you to attend the ceremony in two days."

'Remember,´ Aeraleth pointed out, ´they only wish for you to be there. They do not seek to gain your fealty.'

"Fine," he said after a few seconds of silence. "I'll attend the ceremony."

Jörmundur looked relieved. "Good, good. Then we only have one more matter to deal with before you go: Nasuada's acceptance. There is no reason to delay anymore, I'll send for her immediately. We already have the elves' approval and-"

"Wait," Elessari commanded with a steel glint in her eyes. "Your word though, rider. We need you to swear fealty to the Varden too, at the ceremony."

"Yes, you must do that," Falberd agreed. "The Varden would be disgraced if we couldn't provide you every protection."

'I see. Do what you must,' Aeraleth said with a hint of amusement.

He pulled out his combat knife, twirled it around in his fingers so that he gripped the blade between his index finger and thumb. Then he flung the ten-inch stainless steel blade at Falberd, driving the knife into the wall behind him –an inch away from his head.

The man gasped, looked at the blade that had embedded itself four inches into the stone wall and then grew as pale as Raia. A scream of fear escaped his lips and the rest of the council jumped to their feet, backing up against the wall and seeking cover from any follow-up attack. Jörmundur too jumped to his feet and pulled his sword out, but Aeraleth growled again and the man stopped in his tracks.

"Let's get this straight," he said menacingly as he stepped towards the council, making sure to step at the ruined remains of the chair and grinding it into dust. "I don't serve the Varden anymore than Arya or Hrothgar. I am loyal to my people, the UNSC. I will fight the empire and nothing more."

"B-but…" Elessari muttered, "As a rider we need-"

"I don't need protection or help," he snarled at her and immediately felt a pounding headache form in his head. He had already been feeling like crap and he did not need this situation. He needed time to relax, recover and train. "And neither does Nasuada. She needs her father, Jörmundur and one from you. That. Is. All."

"One of us? Surely you don't mean to choose one of us to serve as her advisor?" Falberd weakly sputtered.

"You cannot do that!" Elessari snapped.

"You said it," he replied. "A rider's support is important. Without it, you might as well quit. Work it out."

'Do not make this difficult for Nasuada,' Aeraleth warned him.

"I will accept Nasuada's orders should the need arise."

'That…that is not…not what I meant.´

The fact that he had openly declared that he would accept Nasuada seemed to cause a strange relief with the council, as all around the table signs of relaxation appeared. They were still afraid of him…as they should be.

"I shall call for her then…" Jörmundur muttered and walked to the door.

"You will regret this blatant abuse of power!" Falberd hissed angrily at the Spartan, but the moment the super-soldier marched towards him and reached for his head, the man closed his eyes and cowered.

The Spartan huffed at that display of courage and merely pulled his knife out of the wall, brushing pieces of stone and dust off of the dark blade. Then he turned around and watched Nasuada enter the room.

'Bring her up to speed,' he immediately told Aeraleth. 'She needs to know what is going on.'

'You? Wanting someone else to understand? That is a new one.'

'Do it.'

The Spartan then decided that Nasuada was as deeply forced into this situation as he was and that she lacked the sheer discipline to deal with it. Her father was going to help her, sure, but she would need more help. Eragon and Arya would support her…but they were pretty much useless when it came to military tactics and strategies. He would support her and the Varden against the Empire…and he needed to appear like he actually cared for her.

He straightened his back, slid his knife into the holster and then clicked his boots together. He didn't salute, as she wasn't his superior, but he did cross his wrists behind his back in a formal gesture of attention.

Nasuada had her chin held high and her eyes were steady. Her embroidered gown was a deep shade of black, broken only by a slash of purple that stretched from her shoulder to her hip. Jörmundur helped Nasuada into a seat and started talking.

"Nasuada, Daughter of Ajihad, the council of elders wishes to formally extend its condolences your suffering. You have nearly lost your father today."

"Thank you," Nasuada murmured. She sat shy and demure and with an air of vulnerability that disgusted the Spartan. He didn't know her as vulnerable or weak; he knew her as a level-headed woman that knew her duty. This was a masquerade that she put on.

"Although this is your time to care for your father and stand by his side, a quandary exists that you must resolve. This council cannot lead the Varden. And someone must replace your father until he can recover completely, if he ever recovers. We ask that you receive the position. As his heir, it is rightfully yours –the Varden expect it of you."

Nasuada bowed her head. "I never thought I would be called upon to take my father's place so young, even though he has not been taken from us. Yet…if you insist it is my duty…I will embrace the office. I accept."

The council beamed with triumph, pleased that Nasuada had done what they wanted. The members of the council then offered her their expressions of support, while Sabrae threw the Spartan an angry glare at his lack of response.

"Is there anything else we must discuss? For I am weary," Nasuada said after a few minutes of further celebrations.

Jörmundur shook his head. "We will make arrangements for the Varden to hear about what happened. Until then, you won't be bothered."

"Again, thank you. Would you leave me now? I need to consider how best to honor my father's way of leading and serve the Varden. You have given me much to ponder."

Umérth looked like he was going to protest at the council being dismissed like that, but Falberd waved a hand and silenced him. "Of course, whatever will give you peace. If you need help, we are ready and willing to serve." Gesturing for the rest of them to follow, he moved to the door.

"Spartan, will you please stay?"

"No," he replied.

'Say yes,' Aeraleth added. 'She is hurt and needs you.'

"…fine. What is it?"

Nasuada looked over at the door and the Spartan followed her gaze, looking at Falberd standing near the door, reluctant to leave.

The super-soldier slowly slit his knife out of his holster and the man visibly paled and ran away.

Nasuada sat partially turned away from Maine and Aeraleth. "So we meet again, rider. You haven't greeted me. Have I offended you?"

"No," he replied. He got to his feet and opened the door, watching for anyone that might be eavesdropping on them. When he didn't see anyone, he closed the door again. "We're in the clear."

"Thank you Spartan, you have no idea how much of a blessing that is."

Probably not.

Aeraleth stirred and then carefully made her way around the table moving so that her great head was lowered in front of Nasuada and one big, yellow eye was staring right at her. After a minute of staring, she told the Maine: 'She will do.'

"So you're the new leader now?" He asked her.

Nasuada laughed bitterly. "Am I now? IS that leadership supposed to be mine?" Her reserve had vanished, leaving behind only composure and determination. "I know why you were here before I was and what the council is trying to do. Do you think that Saphira did not tell Arya? That Arya did not tell me? I know what the council is planning. Did you think my father never prepared for this eventuality? I expected the council to do exactly what it did. And now everything is in place for my father and me to take command of the Varden."

Good girl. "Good. Do you need me to kill the council?"

"No!" She replied with shock. "That is not necessary, as I need their advice. Besides; they are still people…and they only wish to do the best for the Varden.

The best…that sort of sounded like ONI doing the best. Now that he came to think about it, ONI has always tried their best to protect humanity whatever the cost. How come ONI and the council were so similar, yet he despised the council and worked for ONI?

"What now?" He asked her, growing tired of all the political games that the Varden was playing.

"Now, nothing. The council has forced Eragon to swear fealty to the Varden…but he has agreed to give it to me instead. Arya has agreed to my appointment as well."

He noticed that he was still standing with his arms behind his back and released them, letting them hang by his side.

"But for now, there is one problem."

Again?

She turned to face him and her expression was solemn and serious, as if she was angry with him. "I need to know where your loyalty lies. I have heard the rumors concerning your…abilities…and I have seen the Shade you claim to have mastered. How do I know I can trust you?"

"I am here to bring down the empire. Nothing more," he told the girl. It wasn't a lie –not technically. Before the UNSC could find him, he really did have nothing better to do than take down the empire. But he understood her troubles; he hadn't exactly shown much loyalty to the Varden. And he would continue to show that lack of loyalty until they had either shaped up or initiate hostilities with him. But the Varden was large and well organized in their economic and social ways. They had potential…and Aeraleth was right. He couldn't deal with both major organizations in the country hunting him down, especially not with the unknown factor that magic was. He had to make a choice soon. "But when the time comes, I will act as an official on behalf of my people."

"Which means?"

"This means that I won't oppose your leadership, just like the elves don't."

Nasuada sat down with a sigh and averted her gaze again. "This is a dark day…and the more I find out about you, the more I worry. You act as if you hold the experience to lead the Varden yourself…but that is not possible. Only younglings can be bonded to dragons; adults are not chosen. So either you are a great liar…or a great warrior. You held the skill to save my father and force a Shade to bind herself to you, so it must be the latter."

"I didn't force her," he replied. "She volunteered. She says that her mistress purged the spirits from her mind; that her mind is her own."

"Oh? Did she? That is…unlikely. Spirits are strong enough to overcome even the most skilled elves. She must be lying to you."

She wasn't lying to him, he knew that much. He was certain that the Shade was loyal to him…he just didn't know the rest. She was one little piece in a puzzle that had hundreds of missing parts. And magic was probably the answer to a lot of them. And if he wanted to find out the truth, he had to go with the elves.

But in no way did that mean that they were going to control him like the council did. The Varden's leaders were human, so they were under his protection. But the elves had no such protection. If they tried to manipulate or even fight him…he would show no mercy.

"And it is heavily illegal! Not only can these drugs cause severe brain damage if rejected, they are also inhumane! Forcing something to keep on moving and fighting when they should have perished long ago is one thing, but actually letting their minds deteriorate with time is completely unacceptable. I must see Colonel Ackerson about this, something is just not quite right.

- Mental Health Specialist Sunfield, logbook entry 5, 24th of August 2552