Chapter 12 - Revenge and Diplomacy

A/N - This story will have some fleshing out of the Eldar in ways that are likely non-canon. These are relevant only to the Ae'Imedra Craftworld.

Also, WTF is up with the 'suggested' populations? The council clearly states that they won't do anything about the reapers as they can't find evidence, and don't take you (Shepard) seriously because 'the Council's decisions affect trillions of lives across the galaxy, and they cannot act on the say-so of a single person, even a Spectre, without evidence," end quote. But 17 million quarians is somehow a problem enough that the quarians use parking in a system as a serious threat. Srsly, WTF? GAH! This is why I do AUs, lets me 'fix' problems like this. Though perhaps the systems don't want fifty thousand ships loitering about...

Sorry about the rant, was doing population research, and noted that there was no 'hard number' of Citadel aligned sentients, and only the above quote to give a max range. So gonna just give it a hard number of… 2.5 trillion. Yeah, sounds right. If anyone DOES find something, let me know so I can start tweaking numbers.

Finally, Krogan blademaster Fel used with permission from author 5th Legion. Seriously, go read his story Project Delta. A bit dark, violent, gory, and sometimes depressing but an amazing AU pre-ME fic. Seriously, go read it.

"For the Greater Good" - Tau battlecry

A week later, Ghost was still alive and remained uninjured by the Eldar at least, all three Spectres had interrogated the pirate and were currently plotting bloody, messy revenge on Nassana Dantius for trying to use them, while Arlas ignored the crew for the most part. The ship was nearly back at the Citadel to drop off the prisoner and deal with Nassana, but that left the Eldar with little to do other than try to do research on the omnitool, which was now giving a remarkable number 'access denied,' 'classified information,' or 'restricted/redacted' errors, repair or maintain his equipment or practice his various skills.

He was currently doing sword routines in the hangar bay, in an area he had set up as a sparring arena, focusing mostly on his right arm as his left got no benefit from exercises with it. Arlas had nearly put two crew members into the medical bay missing pieces, but at least now the crew knew to avoid the area when he was in it. The only person down in the bay with him was Wrex, working on the armory bench with his shotgun in pieces though most of his attention was on the flowing Eldar in the center of the bay. After watching a particularly flowing series of blocks, dodges and counter thrusts at imaginary opponents, Wrex chuckled. "Eldar, you are something else. When I first saw you in that meeting, I thought you would fall apart under a nice, friendly breeze. Then you go and threaten me when I slam you against the wall, proving you got a quad, if maybe lacking a brain. Then that you prove you can hold your own in fight on Therum. Big guns and lots of collateral damage don't hurt either.

And your skill with the blade is something else. Reminds me a bit of Raik Fel, an old acquaintance of mine from a couple centuries back. Most krogan go for shotguns and use hammers, fists, or our plates for melee, but he was a blademaster. You might learn a thing from him, and him from you. Assuming you can get him to shut up long enough."

Arlas was in his scorpion tunic and under suit, witchblade weaving around him, but he did not immediately reply to the krogan. Despite having only known of the krogan for a bit less than three weeks, he did have some understanding with him. And Wrex knew the Eldar had a strong preference to focusing fully on something, finishing it, and then moving onto something else. A minute later, he finished the last 'opponent' with a leg sweep and rising slash of the blade, which would have cut his opponent's head off, and turned to the krogan. "And why do you think that I would enjoy meeting another krogan? I seem to recall you slamming me into a wall before starting to become more friendly with me."

"That is because you were being stupid. I educated you, and now, you aren't stupid. As much. Besides, last I heard Fel was the galactic swordmanship champion or whatever the title was, and had held it for fifty some odd years straight, and had more than four hundred total years as the blade champion of the known galaxy."

"And that is supposed to impress me how? All the others I have met sneered at the thought of a sword on the battlefield, until they learned I could teleport. And yet my people have five different aspect shrines dedicated to close combat troops. I spent almost two centuries in two different shrines, learning the arts of melee combat."

Wrex snorted, ignoring the sound of the elevator rumbling down to their level. "Five different ways of fighting in melee with blades? Sounds overly complicated. Just need one, hit them harder."

"You sound like an ork. I suspected you were related due to the similarity in difficulty in putting down krogan, but I thought your kind were at least smarter. Alas, I overestimated you."

Wtex glanced up from the bench, one eye staring directly at the Eldar. "What is an orc?"

Arlas was saved from having to answer as the ship suddenly rocked slightly, and the pilot spoke over the ship wide comm system. "Ship now secured. Welcome to the Citadel everyone, please make sure your tray tables are in their upright and locked positions. We thank you for choosing Systems Alliance Spacelines for your astronautical travel needs, and mock you mercilessly for thinking you had a choice in the matter. Have a nice day."

Arlas rolled his eyes at the pilot's antics, before heading for his armor and weapons, even as he responded to Wrex. "A conversation for another time. The aggressive twin is leaving soon, and I wish to watch her twist the liar's arm."

A few minutes later, he was dressed, armed, and waiting by the airlock for the Twins, idly reviewing everyone's plans. Garrus, Icivia, Liara and Joannis were turning the asari pirate leader over to C-Sec, as well as all the evidence they had gathered at the base, before checking C-Sec requisitions office and armory for more advanced weapons and armor for their crew. Ashley, Kaidan, and Tali were heading to the Ward markets to pick up supplies. And Jaclyn was taking Wrex and himself to confront Nassana Dantius. They left after Jaclyn received a message from her, telling her to meet them at the Presidium Diplomatic Lounge.

It was a bit of walk to the building where Nassana claimed she was, and Arlas couldn't help but notice most of the people they passed stared at them like they had never seen anything like the group before. Arlas took a few minutes to figure out why, after passing another group of C-Sec who stopped and waved their omnitools at the group, before moving on; it was the fact they were all in armor and carrying weapons. Most of the people he could see wore pointlessly luxurious, frivolous, or minimalistic clothing, and he could only spot handguns on most of the C-Sec. It would be stupidly easy to do a significant amount of damage before a real security unit arrived. He sent a mental note of his observation to Yol'Pvera, in case it became necessary for his people to bring force against the station.

Jaclyn entered a building that looked nearly identical to the others around it, other than a tiny sign near the door proclaiming it a lounge. Arlas stepped in last, Jaclyn already talking to Nassana, inside a private room beside the exit. "-crap, Ms. Dantius, you lied. Not to one Spectre, which is enough to get you shot, but three Spectres. So unless you have something a little more impressive than a pittance of credits, C-Sec is about to get a priority message from me."

The asari stared at the Spectre before nodding. "Fair enough. I have something much better. In exchange for your files and silence, I can put you and the other two spectres on the exclusive clientele list of Armili Industries. Deal?"

Jaclyn stared grimly, before nodding and smiling. "Done."

The human transferred her files over. "These are the only copies I have."

Nassana looked over the files, her face going from light blue to nearly white as she saw everything the Spectre had gotten, before nodding and tapping a few keys and then waving her omnitool at the human. "And done. You are now all on the list. I hope, Spectre, that we don't do business again."

"Same."

With that, the newest Spectre turned and stalked out of the room, taking her two escorts with her. A quick gesture prevented Wrex from saying anything, until they were outside the lounge and heading back to C-Sec. "Alright Wrex, now you can."

Wrex, instead of speaking to Jaclyn, turned to Arlas. "What's an orc?"

Jaclyn turned stare at Wrex incredulously for a second, then at Arlas, before laughing. "Wait, orcs? As in, green-skinned brutes with tusks?"

Arlas sent confusion, wondering how she knew that. "You forgot two and a half meters tall, biceps as thick as Wrex's thigh, wielding an axe in one hand capable of shearing through light vehicle armor, and carrying a sidearm that fires ten centimeter thick rocket propelled armor piercing grenades. Also even harder to kill than a krogan, as I personally took an arm, leg, and half the head off one ork, and it kept trying to kill me. For that matter, I am not entirely sure I actually did kill it."

Arlas frowned as he contemplated that he might have never finished off the ork, but figured that it was no longer his problem. Not like the ork could follow him across a tenth of the galaxy, through the webway across another fifth of the galaxy, and then through the abandoned webway Elisphan to this alternate universe or timeline or whatever. He dismissed the thought, and noted both of his allies staring at him. "What? All that is fairly normal for an ork."

Wrex just started laughing. "Now I want to have a go at one. That sounds like one hell of a fight, worthy of an epic battle hymn."

Arlas snorted. "Considering they move in hordes of thousands at a minimum, if not considerably more, I think you would have found fighting orks a vigorous but short exercise, before an ork mounted your head on a pointy stick as a trophy. The more intense the fighting, the more they enjoy it."

He glanced at Wrex, before shaking his head and keeping the rest of his thoughts to himself. "No, later. I will tell you later."

Jaclyn looked incredulous, before shaking her head and leading the way back to C-Sec. A few minutes later, they entered C-Sec, and found Joannis by herself, staring out the window at the docking bays of the Presidium. Jaclyn took a quick look around, before dismissing both Wrex and Arlas, and heading toward her sister. Wrex immediately headed toward the elevator leading to the ship, but Arlas headed toward the Twins. He wanted to see if he could confirm they were actually psykers like he suspected. Sadly, this time he didn't get to sense anything, as other than a touch the nonverbal conversation was short. Jaclyn touched her sister's elbow, before bumping her shoulder against her twin's. "What is it?"

Joannis sighed, before rubbing her forehead, taking a moment before replying. "Anderson called. Jenkins is dead."

Jaclyn didn't respond immediately, other than a flicker of emotion across her mind. Eventually, she asked, "How? He was still breathing when he went to the hospital ship."

"Brain dead, no neurological functions other than absolute minimums and automatic reflexes. Parents and his siblings visited him a week ago, said goodbye, cut life support. They sent a message thanking me for trying to save their son. Rest of his family survived Saren's attack."

Arlas shook his head, before turning to head to the ship, spotting a C-Sec patrol leaving. However, he only got a few steps before Joannis turned. "Arlas, a moment."

He actually considered just continuing onward, but after a second dismissed the thought. She was the ship mistress, and he still needed more information about the races. So far what he knew of the local xenos was… lacking, and he was not going to annoy the one person that was willing to let him openly travel on her ship, doing research and training on his own. So he stopped, and turned to the humans, noting with amusement that while he might have more respect for the krogan than anyone else on board, if only because he was consistently predictable and dependable, the humans were the ones he could, and had to, rely on the most. The Crone Goddess was no doubt laughing at the irony here.

"The asari councilor has requested a private meeting with you at the Consort's academy. She said it was completely voluntary, and it would be a private, informal affair with only herself and an observer. No guards, and no questions about your technology level or military strengths. She requested you bring only your pistol and sword."

He actually harrumphed at the last bit, remembering the original meeting with the councilors. The turian and salarian had both been fairly obvious in their attempts to try and pry some kind of advantage out of him, though he wasn't sure what the asari was trying to get. But at least she pretended to be interested in peace, as opposed to the other two who couldn't even do that much. But more importantly than the veiled and probably intended insults to his intelligence, he also remembered his mission, and the unspoken job of the outcasts and pathfinders.

He was to scout the host's way. And a pathfinder was to ease the craftworld's way.

While that meant he was to see what was there so as to assist the craftworld in avoiding disasters, as a pathfinder it also meant he needed to do what he could to smooth things over. And having a… tentative ally already in place in a position of actual power, in addition to the humans, would only be a good thing. Probably. So despite what he had been thinking, he could only agree to a more… amiable attempt at a first contact. "I will meet her. When and do I get a guide?"

Joannis nodded. "Icivia will guide you, and tomorrow. We will let you know before hand so you can prepare."

Arlas nodded, before turning to the elevator. He needed to rest after that conversation, and some meditation and a small meal wouldn't go awry. As the elevator, he glared at the krogan casually leaning against the controls, who was grinning at him. The Eldar entered the elevator, and groaned as Wrex pushed the button, coming up with him. "So, what else have you fought? And where? Sounds interesting, might want to get in on the action myself."

"I said later Wrex."

"It IS later. Talk."

The Eldar just sighed, wondering why he wasn't getting any respect from anyone. Clearly, it was because he was a terrible Eldar. Or the Crone, and possibly the twin gods of Chance and Fate, were playing with him. Or, maybe all three...

Arlas ignored the glare that Ghost was giving him, as well as what she was saying. "I know that message said pistol and sword only."

She was supposed to be leading him, but he knew where he was going. Carrying his long rifle and sword, clad in his armor and wearing his warlock tabard over that instead of his cameleoline cloak, he strode with confidence toward a place called the Consort's Academy. Arlas wasn't sure what it was, though apparently the Consort was some sort of spirit and mind healer, from what he had learned. No doubt the spiritseers, warlocks, and farseers would be fascinated by whatever disturbingly barbaric techniques these mon-keigh had that mirrored some of the Eldar leader's duties. The only thing he didn't know was the time, but Icivia had come to guide him, so he figured it would be soon.

"Ignoring someone is neither responsible or mature."

Or perhaps come to nag at him, he was honestly beginning to question which. Still, it was only a couple kilometers from the ship to the academy, and he could put up with her for that long.

"Ignoring a Spectre isn't very smart either."

Or he could just sprint, leaving her behind. Or just warp jump there, he was trained after all, and the warp was so calm here, he suspected he could perform a half dozen jumps before he had a chance of misjumping and vanishing permanently. He frowned, and idly spun up the warp jump generator in his backpack, getting a feel for the ripples it caused in the local immaterium, before letting it spin back down.

"I will call ahead and have the guards evacuate the councilor."

Arlas sighed, before rounding on the turian Spectre, mentally sneering at the name. They were not Spectres, no matter how they played with their languages to get the name. "You babble like wasted water and are equally informative. What?"

The turian narrowed her eyes and spread her mandibles wide, causing the Eldar to restrain a reflexive draw of his sword; the action reminded him of far too many tyranid bioforms. "You are going to meet one of the councilors in an informal meeting. You going to do it in one of the most respected establishments on the Citadel, the heart of galactic civilization and stop ignoring me!"

Arlas had turned and started walking away, this time not even bothering to look back over his shoulder. "You speak on things you have no knowledge of, and are equally ignorant of your ignorance. Evolution provided you with a brain. A pity most of your kind seems to only use it to keep their skulls from collapsing inwards."

He spun up his warp jump generator, and vanished in a swirl of warp lightning and nothingness, reappearing a couple hundred meters distant amid cries of shock and surprise, only to vanish in a second one. He completed three jumps before he finished, now across a small lake, and glanced back at the distant form of Ghost as he resumed walking. Less than a minute later, he was outside the destination, a featureless building near the end of the path. A quick check of his map, and he walked inside, curious as to what he would find.

He was not expecting to find a den worthy of a cult of Slaanesh.

Or at least, that was his first impression. His hands twitched for his weapons, as his mind instinctively reached out to his surroundings, trying to understand how he could have blunder into a cultist nest without feeling it, before he stopped, taking in the more subtle details of his surroundings.

The first thing he noted was while the interior was certainly as soft and alluring as it could be, there was an air of sophistication the cultists usually lacked, a notion reinforced as he took in the individuals inside. While very flattering and revealing, or so he assumed, the asari's garments were not gaudy, minimal, or revealing enough. In fact, as he took another look, a couple asari wore dresses that actually wouldn't have looked out of place in the craftworld, and a human female was also present, wearing a similar dress, though of lesser quality than what any Eldar would be caught dead in. The second thing that made him relax was the ambient warp energies weren't correct for a den of those that followed 'She Who Thirsts,' and while there was accumulated psyker energies here, they weren't tied to mindless hedonistic lust, and it didn't seem a deliberate attempt to build up the energies.

He considered his options for a moment, let himself relax, and pulled off his helmet, before clipping it to his thigh, and fully entering the room. The Eldar ignored the sudden staring from the dozen asari in the room, and the four other individuals from various races in the room, as he approached the nearest asari, standing behind a small podium and wearing one of the more moderate outfits in the room. He wasn't sure of the functionality of the asari showing off abdomen, but maybe some of the other xeno races were relaxed by it. She gave him a small but surprisingly sincere smile, and a tiny bow that actually he recognized, though the stance was a bit strange, like a strong accent. (Respectful but not admitting to being subservient, superior, or peer). "Welcome to the Consort's Chambers. I am acolyte Nelyna. Do you have or wish to schedule an appointment? Or do you desire something else?"

Arlas shifted his stance a bit, seeing how she reacted to someone speaking the nonverbal portions of the Eldar language, and gave a perfectly calculated nod. (Unaffiliated superior, respectful greeting). "Pathfinder Arlas of the Eldar, here to meet with the asari Councilor Tevos. I believe I am expected."

He watched her eyes flicker over the weapons, and her stance shifted (confusion, slight alarm), and then she smiled and nodded. "She is currently meeting the Consort, but if you would care to sit, I will inform her that you are here."

She gestured to a seat to the side, a single elegant movement of her arm (languid command), as her eyes tracked him (concerned alarm) and brought her other hand up to her ear. He moved to the indicated area, and dropped into an easy kneeling position, ready to rise, roll or dive in any direction he needed. It had been interesting, but the longer he had conversed, the less their nonverbal communications had aligned. It might even had been pure chance the first was appropriate, if not wishful thinking on his part; something he would have to warn his kin about when he met again with them.

Arlas sat for only a short while, before the greeter got his attention. "Thank you for your patience sir. They will see you immediately. Acolyte Ty'Rah will see you to their room."

He glanced at an approaching asari, clad in one of the more modest gowns, who gave him a slight bow, before turning to lead the way. He followed behind her, memorizing the slightly winding path through the building, which went surprisingly far into the wall. Eventually his guide stopped in front of one door, identical to the others in the hallway, before tapping the hologram on the door. After a second, it slid open, and Ty'Rah gave him a small bow, before heading back down the hallway toward the entry room. Arlas shrugged, and stepped into the room.

The Eldar was expecting some soft, plush room, meant to emphasize the sophisticate air and softness the rest of the building had presented. He was not expecting to find a gym and a large open area for sparring. He also wasn't expecting to find a pair of asari in the middle of the sparring area, wielding blades of orange light. He recognized Councilor Tevos from the trial and interrogation afterwards, dark blue flesh, white facial markings and hazel eyes, somewhat visible muscles but clearly a civilian from her build, wielding a single thin blade as long as her arm. The other asari must have been this Consort he had been told about, her pale blue flesh, a handful of barely visible freckles near her sapphire eyes, wielding a pair of blades, a short sword in one hand, and a short dagger in the other. Her body was a contradiction, extremely generous curves on the body of a dancer. Both wore simple halter tops and shorts, tan in color, as they sparred, weaving, shifting, and striking.

He stayed clear of the sparring area, it was the height of disrespect to wander through one in use in an aspect shrine of the craftworld, but simply watched, gauging their skill level. After the Councilor got swept off her feet by the Consort and then took a dagger to the chest, causing the blade to shatter into motes of rapidly vanishing lights, Arlas concluded they had some skill, but didn't follow a path of the blade. As he waited and watched, Tevos stood, shaking her head at the other asari. "I still think the single blade is just as viable as a dual blade style."

He quickly realized that he was about to have to listen to a debate about sword styles that would only make a bit of sense to him, so Arlas coughed. The Consort's head snapped around at the unexpected sound, but Councilor Tevos actually jumped before she whirled toward him. Both asari stared at him, and after a moment, he simply raised an eyebrow. "I believe we were supposed to talk?"

Tevos flushed a deep shade of purple, clearly trying to rally herself after his unexpected ambush, and the Consort simply smiled softly. "True, and I do apologize. It was simply startling how closely you resemble ourselves, and especially humans."

Arlas simply shrugged. "Coincidence of evolution, I suspect, though my people were modified from our original forms. And I will answer questions later. But first, your message said there were to be no guards, and just us."

Tevos glanced down and to his left, before transferring her gaze to his right shoulder. "I also requested no weapons other than your sword and pistol. Is that a sniper rifle?"

He gave a nod, before pulling it over his shoulder. "Long rifle, but yes. It fulfills a similar roles to that weapon. So anyone else in the room armed is not supposed to be here, and can be… assisted to vacate the room?"

Both asari blinked in confusion, before looking around the room. Arlas' head slowly turned to one of the far corners, and he simply stared at the empty corner. Both asari looked from him, to the corner, and then back, before the Consort spoke. "There is no one there… I just realized we were never introduced. I am the Consort Sha'ira, what may I address you as?"

He didn't turn his head, instead bringing the rifle up and pulling the trigger. A soft splat sounded from the corner as the invisible bolt hit something, splattering blood and viscera about, and something collapsed with a thud. A second later, a dark grey, brown, and green armored salarian, sans a portion of his upper torso sudden faded into view with a buzzing noise, and Arlas turned to a different corner. "You may take your dead and leave. Now. All of you. Or join that one."

Both asari jerked in shock at the sudden death, then Tevos' face darkened and her expression tightened, before she regained control of herself. "STG operatives, out, now."

The room was still for a moment, before two salarians suddenly faded into view, one in the opposite corner of the dead one, another hanging onto the ceiling. Pausing only long enough to grab their dead comrade, they started to leave, only to pause at the sound of Arlas drawing his sword and swinging it in a quick arc behind him. "You forgot a body."

The two operatives exchanged a look as another body fizzled into view, hidden in their helmets, before one moved to collect the second corpse. Arlas moved away from the body, and waited for the spies to depart, before cleaning his blade with a wisp of warp energy. He hadn't brought a rag, not expecting to need it. "Apologies, I am called Arlas, a Pathfinder of the Eldar Craftworld Ae'Imedra."

Councilor Tevos took a deep breath, and then joined the conversation. "We already met, both at the trial of Saren and the… unfortunate diplomatic meeting afterwards. I do wish to apologize for my fellow councilors' actions on that day. Councilor Sparatus, the turian, takes his duties extremely seriously, and does not respond well to surprises or apparent insubordination. And Councilor Valern…"

She paused, clearly choosing her words extremely carefully, and taking a moment to glance at the blood and viscera in the corner from the first STG operative. "He tends to let himself be distracted and consumed by enthusiasm of new things to discover and learn. Though I expect him to try and leverage your killing of his men into handing over something."

"He already got what he wanted. He gets to examine more corpses of people killed by my weapons. Besides, if they didn't want to be caught, they should have had better equipment. I could easily see where they were."

An Eldar's vision went significantly deeper into the ultraviolet and infrared spectrum than any human's and could see colors the other races likely didn't have names for, was something his people had discovered but he didn't mention it. No sense helping the salarians' make a better active camouflage device. Instead, he turned the conversation back to the reason he was there. "You wished to speak with me, Councilor, without your colleagues. I am here."

Tevos' mouth twitched slightly, before turning to a nearby table, and gesturing for him to follow. "Before we do that, would you indulge me? I am something of a blade aficionado and collector, and I noticed you carry one. Would you perhaps allow me and Sha'ira to spar with you with safety blades? For our protection, of course."

Arlas simply stared at the Councilor, ignoring the Consort. He knew exactly what she was doing, appealing to his ego and superiority to give her a chance to prove her own superiority. He also knew it was working exactly as she had planned. "I accept. A blade similar to the one you are using will suffice."

Tevos smiled softly, before pulling a weapon hilt and handguard, similar to the one already in her hand, from a stand next to her, and offered it to him. He looked over the hilt as he moved to one side, noting a button that activated the orange blade when pressed. He pushed it again, and frowned when the blade did not deactivate. He thought for a moment before pushing and holding the button which did nothing, and then tapping the button twice, finally deactivating the blade. He placed the holoblade on the table, and began stripping off his armor and weapons, placing them on the table, finishing in only his body suit. "Rules of the spar?"

The Consort was watching him quite intently, though her control was good enough to keep him from doing more than guessing what she was thinking. Tevos, on the other hand, was similar enough to humans he could easily guess where her mind was; firmly controlled by her lusts, and took a moment to regain control of herself. "Oh, no killing or maiming moves, and minimal physical contact. And try to not damage us, please. Bruises would be hard to explain to our acolytes and guards."

Sha'ira gave a soft chuckle at the last comment, as Arlas stepped onto the sparring mat, and slid into a combat stance. He made a point to keep his expression neutral and motionless, rather than indulging in the urge to grin in bloodlust. These poor aliens had no idea what they were up against.

Three matches and five minutes later, both of the asari were privately agreeing with his assessment. He had won all three matches, and was refraining from indulging in preening, strutting or being smug. A few minutes later, both asari having taken a moment to go and give themselves a brief cleaning and change, and they were back in the training room. Arlas spoke first. "Educational. And you said you two were only indifferent in your pursuit of bladework?"

Consort Sha'ira nodded from her soft couch, resting against its single arm.. "It is good for exercise and discipline. I also find having a small blade is quite reassuring when I go out, and far less disruptive or conspicuous compared to a pistol."

Councilor Tevos nodded from her lounge chair, selecting pieces of fruit from a small bowl with one hand as she watched the Eldar. "Also good for stress relief, and knowing some form of self defense is always a good idea."

Arlas was kneeling on the ground, and simply stared at the councilor. "You speak as if some disagree. Those that do are foolish, and a drain upon a society. However, you did not arrange for me to meet with a seer and yourself to discuss your people."

The Consort's eyebrow raised, before she gave a small smile. "Seer, that is a new title for me. But my calling is of a consort. I offer guidance, experience, wisdom, and a confidant. Words are my weapons of choice, used to defend others from fears and doubts."

Arlas simply hummed a short note to himself. "Apologies then, consort. You would be closer to a spirit healer of the warlock path of the Eldar then."

His subtle opening was picked up by the councilor. "You mentioned a path? What are those, a type of job or profession?"

"In a way, though for an Eldar it is as much a choice as a declaration of purpose. An Eldar committed to a path will follow it to the exclusion of other paths, unless the path also calls for learning others, like the Autarch and Farseers."

He stopped, but after a gesture from the councilor, explained further. "Autarchs are the leaders of a war host, and must know the paths they lead, so they do not ask of one path a duty of another unless there is no other option. Like asking a ranger squad, who excel at sniping and scouting, to engage in a melee attack on fortifications held by light armored vehicles and heavily armored infantry. Farseers, the leaders of the Craftworld, need to also know the warlock path, so they can defend themselves if they are attacked, and assist others. Some Farseers also follow other paths, like that of the healer, or one of the marital paths."

Both asari listened to his brief explanation, before the Consort nodded. "Fascinating. So the paths are the divisions of your leaders and warriors?"

"No, the paths are our divisions of all Eldar. The paths of the artisan, of the steersman or steerswoman, of the dreamer, of the griever, of the warrior, of the seer, of service and of the outcast are simply the most common and broadest of the paths, most others diverge from those, and all those paths but the dreamer come for the the path of the awakener, undertaken when an Eldar reaches age enough to decide for themselves. I myself followed three paths of the warrior, before moving to the path of the outcast. In time, I will return to the Craftworld, and try another path."

Consort Sha'ira listened, her expression on of fervent attention, devouring every detail she was hearing. "You are an outcast? Tevos mention that you introduced yourself as a pathfinder."

"Pathfinders are exarches of the path of the outcast. Outcasts are simply those that have left the craftworld to wander the worlds and territories of other races, there is no disgrace or stigma to being one. Exarches are the best of a particular path of the warrior, and most exarches are lost upon it, unable to leave the path ever again. Rarely, an exarch will leave their path, but it is almost unheard of. I have been a pathfinder for more than five quarters of a century."

Tevos nodded in understanding. "So the exarches lead a group of warriors, and the autarches lead them, while the farseers lead everyone else. You keep mentioning a craftworld, is that what you call your homeworld?"

"No, but they serve as such now. We created the paths to prevent such a calamity from ever happening again. The craftworlds are world ships that we use to contain our populations. There are many of them, even we are not entirely sure how many, ranging from a few hundred thousand occupants and only twenty kilometers long, to the great Craftworlds of Alaitoc, Biel-tan, or Ulthwé, which are immense in size, and contain billions of Eldar. My own craftworld, Ae'Imedra, is on the smaller end of the craftworlds, a mere three hundred kilometers long, and contains only fifty million Eldar."

Arlas allowed himself to feel amusement as both asari abruptly choked as he mentioned the size of the craftworlds and their inhabitants. Tevos recovered first. "What sort of disaster would cause that many of your people to willingly live on ships, if they can build such large vessels? For that matter, where did they all come from, the known galaxy population is only a handful of trillions, and you just listed three ships that contain at least that many."

Arlas waved off her concerns. "Where we come from isn't important, it is not nearby, and nothing is chasing us. And the other craftworlds are not following. We are coming here on our own. The idea was to rest, recover, and build up here, and then head back. You would only have to tolerate with us being around for about ten thousand years or so."

The two asari looked at each other, Tevos with an incredulous frown, while the Consort seemed more cautiously curious than dismissive. After a moment, Tevos turned back, but her expression was more guarded than before, he suspected it was because she believed he was wasting her time. "A ship three hundred kilometers? I am afraid that would be quite impossible. No ship could move that was that large, nor could it go faster than light."

"Your people's inabilities are not my people's problems. And it used to be much smaller. In the ten thousand years since it housed our people, it has grown significantly. And we don't use whatever your people do. The lurching and shuddering of the ships would eventually drive an Eldar quite mad if we did have to deal with it constantly."

Tevos opened her mouth to ask an obvious question, and then closed it, giving him an amused look. He let himself laugh, before nodding. "Very good, I would not speak of my people's technology. Now, what else would you like to know, that I might be willing to talk about? I am certain you have more."

Tevos considered the question for a moment, and Arlas refilled his glass of water. The Consort continued to simply watch, no doubt observing him and would be adding her analysis about the Eldar. "How about we start exchanging questions?"

Arlas shrugged and then nodded, and returned to his kneeling position, taking a small sip of water while he waited for Tevos to speak, not having any burning questions at the moment. "What can you tell me about your people? I am quite curious as to why you resemble humans so closely."

He gave a sigh of irritation, having answered that question at least a dozen times back on the ship. "I do not look like a human. Humans look like Eldar. My people have recorded history as old as sixty million years past. The human's ancestors had likely not decided yet that crawling was better than swimming. As for why, I have no idea, but my people have been debating and contemplating it since we first met them twelve thousand years ago. Different humans, different area of space."

This time neither asari choked, but both were now staring at him, one with intense neutrality, the other with concealed disdain. Tevos' voice was cold as the deep black of space. "If you would rather not say, do so. Telling falsehoods does not help your cause."

Arlas gave her a flat stare, before standing. "A fine sentiment coming from a mon-keigh of a civilization of less than twenty long cycles, or thousand years. Infants still covered in their birth fluids shouldn't accuse their elders of lying."

His eyes met the asari councilor's, and saw arrogance as unyielding as his own pride. The two of them went to war for a moment, before the Consort softly spoke. "Councilor, we simply do not know enough about the pathfinder and his people to determine if he is… creatively exaggerating, or telling the simple truth. Perhaps we should wait until the actual diplomats and leaders arrive before we decide?"

Tevos relaxed her posture a moment later, but her eyes were just as hard as before. "Perhaps. However, I was wondering if we could get a simple examination of your blade? Surely a species as… old and experienced as you claim would have materials and forging techniques well beyond what we can."

He stared at her for a moment, before standing, drawing and presenting the blade in a single, smooth motion that nevertheless was faster than her eye could follow. Tevos froze as the blade flashed, but relaxed when she saw he was holding both the hilt and the tip, allowing her to view the entirety of the blade. She simply nodded, and activated her omnitool, and ran the device along the weapon three times. After a moment, she glanced at the tool, and stared at the results for a moment, before shutting off the device. "Thank you, and I apologize. Perhaps you would like to demonstrate your skill on a more… public venue?"

He was rapidly growing tired of sparring with this primitive mon-keigh, but she took his lack of response as agreement. "In six weeks, we will be hosting the annual Galactic Blade Tournament. If you desire it, we can arrange for you to be invited. Most people must pay a fee to enter, and there is a limited number of applicants. However, each government is allowed to submit a certain number of participants. If you desire so, I can arrange for you to receive one of the slots normally reserved for the asari."

Arlas stared at her for a moment, before calmly sheathing his sword, and moving back to his seat to collect his glass. "No. I have little interest in such a… decadent endeavor."

He finished his water, and placed the cup on a nearby surface, the seat of one of the exercise machines, before turning and heading to the door. Once out of the room, he looked around, and sighed. "Subtle of you."

Six beings stood in the hallway near the door. Three turians, a pair of asari, and a salarian. Ghost was among them, her stance tight and mandibles trembling slightly as she spoke. "Arlas you-"

The Eldar activated his jump pack, and vanished as he heard the turian female scream his name in rage. He wanted to get back to the ship, not listen to her prattling. Dealing with most mon-keigh annoyed and exhausted him. But at least he knew this Citadel Council was not going to be willing allies of his people, though there was hope for the humans, ironically enough.