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The day and night ended boisterously, the children playing, laughing and sparring throughout the sun's warm life and then heading inside to continue most of that when the moon's own began. It was loud, energetic and exuberant in a way that when asked, the drunken warrior simply excused as 'Kids, man'. After a fashion, he simply shrugged and let himself enjoy the energy of the room, a far cry from his time in the Covenant or after and thus an enjoyable departure from the norm.
Eventually, though, he retired to a room they offered him, the blonde knight and his silent companion assuring him it was fine.
"Nah, don't worry, it's fine. We roomed together at Beacon anyway, so it's not really like we aren't used to it." The knight assured him when he asked a second time, arms crossed and watching his ginger haired friend tote the spare bed out of the room without even a hint of strain. Watching her pass by, he added, "And besides, it's only a night or two. Tickets should be in tomorrow."
"We leave tomorrow then?"
"Eh, maybe." He shrugged and sighed as he ran a hand idly through his hair, straightening it boredly, "But we sent Weiss to get 'em kinda late. So there might not be any tickets for tomorrow's limited. Since I think they only run one."
"Are you certain?"
"Well, I mean, it is called the Argus Limited." The blonde chuckled at his own joke and the Sangheili joined him, if only for the briefest rumble of amusement. It did make sense, that. Smiling, the blonde told him, "Just get a good sleep, okay? Once we head out, it'll… Probably be rough going for us."
"You sound oddly certain." And his face was set grimly as well, though he didn't rush to point it out. The young knight gave him a look, one brow raised and head cocked to the side in the way Humans often did t convey confusion, and he explained, "The way you sounded, it seemed almost certain. As though you were resigned to trouble, rather than merely preparing for it."
"Yeah, well…" Another look fleeted across his face, though he couldn't place it. His eyes lost focus for a moment and his lips pursed, before he sighed and, in a lower voice, simply said, "Trouble tends to find us no matter how hard we try to keep out of it. Just how it goes for us. We aren't the luckiest bunch, typically."
"Hm." Luck. Something he simultaneously found he and people like him would say they lacked, yet which he earnestly believed favored him. After a moment, he offered, as an attempt at offering him peace, "Luck is in perception, my young friend. And, to my mind, a fiction."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I consider myself lucky to live in hard, interesting times where I might have an effect." He explained, bowing his head slightly as he turned to leave and finishing over his shoulder, "I wish you the manner of luck you truly desire. Whether that is the kind you profess to we shall find out."
"I don't understand what you-"
"You will understand in time, young knight." As he had himself, in the years preceding and following the Great Schism. Ironically, he realized, the young man was also both a leader and a swordsman. Even if their similarities largely ended there, it was enough to amuse. Regardless, he wished him a quiet, "Good night, young warrior. I hope our travels come and go swiftly."
With that, he stepped into his room and nudged the door shut, turning his eyes on the bed. It was smaller than he would have preferred and lower to the ground too. But it was warm, sheltered, and quiet. All of which he was grateful for and all of which made it more than acceptable. A small basket of fruit sat on the edge of the bed, leaned on pillows so it wouldn't fall and with a small paper stuck between the delectable sweets. The scrawling inside was jagged and off kilter in the way of personally written words.
The precise kind of writing he had such trouble reading.
Taking it and opening the door, he stopped a passing Weiss, herself toting a backpack and looking rather miffed, and asked, "Can you read this?"
"Can you not?" She asked, clearly agitated but seeming to put effort into not letting it effect her words.
"I am good at Human words, but only in speaking them. Reading, however, is still a challenge at times. Particularly those written by hand, rather than machine." Aside from the physiological problems set around his different jaw, of course, distorting some letters into more guttural noises. Noises his new companions had been kind enough not to comment on. Rescinding the offered paper, he murmured, "If your are busy, however, I can-"
"It's a note from Ruby. It says 'I saw you liked the fruit we got you so I got you some more'." She explained before he could finish, too impatient for her aggravation to let him finish. His confusion must have shown because she added, smiling, "I was in the kitchen when she wrote it and put the basket together. She saw you didn't eat a lot of the rice and chicken, and figured you might be hungry."
"Ah, yes." Rice. Too grainy when not cooked the right way for his mandibles to eat without special Sangheili tools that he lacked. And kind as they were, they didn't know how to cook grains the Sangheili way. "Please, tell her I am grateful."
"No worries." The woman shrugged, stepping by to leave and adding a final, "Going on a mission hungry is suicide."
A wise enough assessment, to his mind at least. More than a few warriors, Sangheili or otherwise, had fallen for being weakened by a lack of food or rest. It was a lesson taught swiftly in the lessons of his youth. A warrior who willingly went into battle hungry was a warrior as good as missing a limb or leaving your weapon behind. Shameful, preventable, and likely to get you killed.
A good set of excuses, to his mind, to enjoy his fruit basket before he got some sleep.
The next morning, a knock woke him from his sleep, Ruby on the other side calling out, "Train leaves tomorrow! My team and I are heading out on a short mission since we have the day. Everyone else should rest up for the trip!"
He roused swiftly enough and began redressing in his armor, strapping it firmly onto his inner combat harness with practiced ease. Years in and out of the Covenant and at war had engendered an understanding of his combat harness nearly on par with his understanding of his blade or his own body. Such was the nature of veterancy, though. A benefit he found, if one that only came after decades of war.
Not one he believed to outweigh the costs of war, though, with the hindsight that he now had.
"Good morning, Mister Alien!" Nora, ever energetic and spritely, called exuberantly when he reached the bottom of the steps. Smiling, she waved from the kitchen, and added, "Do you like eggs and bacon? Because we're making eggs and bacon for breakfast. So do you like 'em?"
"We're also baking apples for you." Ren, her partner, assured him, bent over a bowl and stirring its contents gently. Looking at him and speaking as he lumbered into the kitchen and towards them, the man explained, "And biscuits as well. I noticed you didn't eat the rice, and looking at your jaw, presumed that it was because the grains were too fine."
"You would be correct." And highly perceptive to notice, as well. Young Ruby had also noticed him not eating, now he considered it, and prepared him his own food. Noting their perceptiveness for later consideration, he explained, "My jaw lacks the same sort of base yours has, and so too finely made grains can… Well, fall free."
"Ah." He nodded and sighed, "I should have seen that and planned for it. I'm sorry."
"It is no matter, in truth, my young friend." It wasn't as though he had starved, after all. Nor had he thought to mention it either. Ignoring the twin missteps, he knelt and poked the oven open, inhaling the sweet aroma of baking fruit and rumbling pleasedly. "Ah, baked apples… Only in my youth and in the Kaidon temples have I ever tasted such delights."
"Your… Planet had apples?" Ren asked, pausing for a moment as though absorbing the concept of foreign worlds once more.
Something he ignored, for a wager that coming to terms with such new would take time.
"Those were not, in truth, apples, Lie Ren." For obvious reasons, too, given the fact that apples were from Earth and, in his youth, the Covenant had not met them. Not that it would have mattered, frankly, given their reaction upon meeting them. Closing the oven and standing, though he lingered so as to enjoy the warm, heady scent, he went on, "Once the Schism ended, though, the Kaidon temples were supplied with them. In small quantities and at high fees, of course, but such came with the territory of luxury."
It was as much due to the UNSC's gouging them for resources as the scarcity of such sweets in their territories, he had always known. But if they wished more examples of his people's technology, history and training instructors in exchange, then so be it. Gouging him or not, he would only gain from the deals, now or in the future. Sharing resources would make the UNSC stronger and, once they were strong, they would trust the Sangheili enough for an alliance proper.
Or rather, so the plans he and his fellows Swords of Sanghelios had decided upon. Whether it would survive contact with the enemy that was the future, though, he could only hope.
"What is a Kaidon?" Ren asked after a moment, pulling a tray aside and setting to work mounding out the biscuits. At a glance, eyes raised challengingly, the Arbiter stepped away and around the little kitchen island so he could work. While he sprinkled some sugar and cinnamon onto the dough, he spoke, "You keep using the term and I don't know what it means. Would you care to share in detail?"
"In detail?" He asked, rumbling a laugh, "Such would take time."
"Sweet biscuits take twenty minutes in the oven, and we have to wait four more for the apples." To his surprise, it was Nora who spoke, bouncing around to sit on a stool beside him and resting her elbow on the counter and her chin in her palm. Smiling,she explained, "We got time, big guy. And curiosity to spend it on, too."
"What are we doing?" Jaune asked, wearing his armor and pausing on his way outside, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. Sniffing he asked, "What smells so good, too? I thought we were having bacon and eggs."
"We're bakin' biscuits and apples while Arby tells us awesome alien stories." Nora answered, beaming a smile at him when he gave her a look. "Isn't that right- Ow!"
"Stop volunteering people to do things, Nora." Ren chided, the spoon he'd thumped her head with rescinding and flicking over his shoulder into the sink. Giving him a nod, he asked, "Would you explain, though? Please? We would like to get to know you."
"Hm." They did have time, he supposed, and in truth he didn't mind sharing the history lesson. And besides asking so kindly, they were cooking his food. He couldn't refuse a simple explanation of basic culture with such kindnesses already being taken advantage of, even if he wished to. "Very well, then, as you asked I shall explain. Get comfortable, however, for if I am to explain what a Kaidon is and what it means to be one, we will need time."
More than it would take to cook the food, he was certain, but then it didn't matter. They had asked, after all, and so he would answer.
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An hour or two later, and with a large explanation done and its recipients inside 'hanging out', he retired outside to take air and enjoy his sweets. As well as the warmth of the sun and the birdsong in the air, of course. The back of the house they were staying in had a nice porch and, oddly, a small cliff that overlooked Mistral proper. A fine view to meditate and think, while the others rested ahead of more training slated for later that day. They trained often, he had noticed. Occupying the space more fully than two or four should have been able to.
But they had the propensity to hurl themselves yards at a time, and nearly the last fought with firearms of some sort, so the space usage made sense.
"Not so now, though." He murmured as he rose, stepping out into the little clearing beside the cliff and pulling his sword from his hip. The Prophet's Bane hummed to life in his hand and he sighed comfortably, the warmth and hum of it a soothing presence as always. "Perhaps there is the time to run some of my stances, at least."
Even if the time would have to be taken account of elsewhere, in time where he didn't get his peace and quiet or something of the ken, but he did not mind.
Sliding his off foot back he raised his sword arm, held taut but with just enough bend in it to allow him to react properly. His other hand braced his sword-arm, fingers closed loosely around the muscle of his upper arm. Mandibles pursed hs lets his eyes close and breathed, calming himself and listening to the world shift and chime around him. Such was as he'd been taught to do, centering himself to focus on what was at hand, be it an enemy warrior or simply his training dummies.
Or, as now, the air while he ran through his stances.
A nonexistent enemy lunged for him, ephemeral blade seeking his throat, and he stepped back. The invisible blade whistled before his face and his own lashed up, carving a furrow through his assailant's chest and forcing him back, the defensive strike too shallow to kill instantly. The wound slowed the the warrior but his honor did not allow him to relent, lunging again with a shorter, more desperate cut across his brass chest. This time he caught it on his own blade, prongs hooked together expertly to keep him locked.
Sliding to the side and slamming his shoulder in, he wrenched the swords to the side and shoulder checked his opponent. As he staggered back under the Arbiter's strike, the warlord's blade slid up and in, carrying the other Sangheili's arm in by surprise and force, catching his sword hand by the wrist and freeing his own blade which cut up and in, carving another furrow in flesh and armor. This time, though, it bit through his throat, and his opponent fell back with an imagined gurgle.
Letting the imagined foe fall and die, he returned to his ready stance and sighed contentedly.
"Impressive swordsmanship, Arbiter, if you don't mind my saying." He heard, the words low and quiet, coming from the porch he'd stepped from to run his stance. Turning he saw Ozpin, able to discern the difference for him leaning on his staff, and the old smile he was wearing.
"I would never begrudge compliments from one so old as you, Ozpin." Assuming, of course, that he was as old as he claimed. Magic and immortality did not quite go hand in hand, though the former would allow him to trust him enough to trust him for now and later prove the latter. Letting the Bane quiet and turning to him, he nodded, "I merely wished to run through a stance and chain, while I had the space."
"I can understand that." Ozpin nodded, smiling and taking a seat on the steps of the porch. Sighing, he added, "Were young Oscar's body capable of withstanding it, I would do so as well."
"Is he not yet prepared enough?" He had seen them train for hours the day before, though, and assumed that had been going on for some time.
"No, no, I assure you he is quite fit." Ozpin assured him, having sensed his concern no doubt. Not that the Sangheili warlord had put any effort into hiding it, of course. "But 'fit' and 'able to run through the stances I would use, incorporating magic and more' are two different games, I'm afraid. And young Oscar's magical capabilities aren't yet developed."
"Are they not?" He had, apparently fallaciously, assumed that the young man's magical capabilities would have developed more mystically. Sitting with the man, with enough space between them for another man besides, he asked, "Is magical capability a physical ability, then? I had assumed it would be more mystical, akin to how your… Aura and Semblances work, to my eyes."
"Those are both actually physical as well, Arbiter." He gave the man a look but nodded after he shrugged. He had no place or reason to argue after all, so if he claimed it, the worst he could do is ask another later on. Seeing what had to appear as a moment of outreach, Ozpin explained, "Our souls dwell within us, made up of our mind, being and life force, and Aura is the manifestation of that. It can be measured as well. Gauged, trained, hardened. Like any other kind of muscle, or skill, time and discipline give it more and more merit as time and effort pass."
"Hm. A useful skill." He could only imagine warriors of his age and conflict gifted with such powers and abilities. A Spartan able break apart into roses and appear wherever she wished was a terrifying concept, to say the least. "How does one develop their magical capabilities then?"
"My presence will, over time, do so well enough." As a mystical being within him, it made sense. Exposure, like a vaccination, or slamming one's fists against wood to develop calluses and a resistance to pain. "Normally, I would use my magic to more swiftly develop him, but magic recovers slowly for me, now. I could speed his development by weeks, but then I would need to wait months to have any advantage for it."
"A waste of effort and time, then." He understood the idea well enough. Conscription and enslavement policies regarding the lesser races trapped on Sanghelios, and aboard his vessels through and after the schism, had been countered with the same logic. Satisfied, he bowed his head and murmured, "Forgive me my curiosity, if you would. This world and your people bring much I must wrap my mind around."
"As though the existence of aliens and different Humans out there, amongst the stars, is so simple to us? So easily understood and acclimated to?" He saw the man's point and nodded, drumming the tips of his fingers against his armored thighs. Seeing an end to that line of questioning, he commented, "I heard that you spoke to some of the children of your own history."
"Did you wish to hear it as well?"
"Actually, they relayed it to me themselves, when I and Oscar expressed curiosity." His smile was wistful, then, and the man chuckled. "She is rather doting on young Oscar, often enough. Miss Valkyrie, I mean." He snorted a laugh, then, and added to his other self and for the Arbiter's benefit, "She is doting on you, Oscar. Her swinging her hammer at your face and not your knees during training is doting. For Miss Valkyrie at least."
"Ah, he is present, then. " Something he was still getting used to, that. When ozpin opened his mouth to say something he smiled, waved him off and bowed his head. Rumbling a low chuckle, he assured him, "As almost always, I am aware, yes. But you also mentioned that he sometimes sleeps, or turns his attention away."
"So I did, yes." The man nodded, "Not this time, though."
"Indeed." He took a breath and sighed contentedly, turning to watch a flock of birds circle over the city. Idly, he asked, "We leave tomorrow, correct?"
"Yes, we do."
"I see. Hmmm." And from what he understood, everyone expected scarcity, stress and battle. None of which he was truly averse to, of course, but compared to the peace and comfort available now? Only a fool would favor battle and chaos if options were present. At a thought, he offered, "If he wishes it, I would offer to instruct young Oscar."
"You would? Why, and how?" The man raised an eyebrow at that and then grew distracted and smiled, "Yes, Oscar, I can tell you are excited by the idea. But the idea still needs to be discussed. You can't just agree to every suggestion under the sun and moon."
"Swordsmanship, for the most part." Albeit his lessons wouldn't be terribly easily applied, he was sure. Still, he stood and rolled his shoulders, armor clunking and thunking as he did. Smiling he added, mor jokingly, "It will be little, but I can offer some martial training. And of a kind that lacks overly large hammers, to boot."
"As you like." The man said, closing his eyes and pursing his lips. Then he shuddered and, when they opened again, the smile was more genuine and the eyes more excitedly wide. "You said you'd train me?"
"Indeed." His laugh rumbled through his chest and he gestured at the house, smiling and nodding, "Retrieve training blades for us, if you will, and we will begin. Your body is too frail yet for my brand of physical duress in training, but the art of it you can learn."
Smiling, the boy vanished into the house, shouting for Jaune to show him where the practice weapons were kept. Quietly, the Arbiter mulled over how long that enthusiasm would last. A child of likely under five feet against a Sangheili Kaidon of nearly nine and half, with twice as much experience in battle as he had lived years?
The enthusiasm wouldn't last long, he felt confident in saying.
"But if it does, perhaps skill will bloom in place of the lost enthusiasm." It was a comforting thought, at least. And if he were to be among those protecting him, he would need to know what the boy was capable of on his own. The better to keep him, and likely them all, alive so that he could see the way to his home once again.
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Somewhat short chapter because there are few to no fun ways to write 'Nearly ten foot tall alien knocks boy down'. Hope you enjoyed, next chapter will start stepping into V6 territory proper, rather than the interim.
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Green the Ryno :
He is spiritual, but he would be a bit itchy about trusting people out and out. Hence the demand of proof at all, where once he'd have held blind faith. Elites were, after all, religious warriors to the last for a long time.
Argus 456 :
It would partially depend on where, galactically, I chose to put Remnant in that situation. If they're on the extreme other end of Covenant space, for instance, ONI might be unable to discern where the fleets went. If fleets went anywhere rather than, say, a few small warships.
Dr Killinger :
I liked the reference, yeah, and I enjoy writing Nora being Nora.
Zenith Tempest :
Typically, Elites would glass entire worlds that had Flood infestations HALF as bad as the one that hit Africa. It was by the Arbiter's wishes that the Fleetmaster didn't glass the whole planet, alliances be damned.
You and I will have to disagree about RWBY's lore.
Timeless Fox :
I intend to keep writing it, though updates will be spotty. Irregular place on the schedule and all.
Legion 0047 :
The Arbiter is displeased by your heresy. XD
COBRS DARKNISS :
He's wearing his kaidon plate, which is the golden one. I personally prefer the silver, too, but wanted him older and a bit more on the 'wise leader seeking redemption' path than the religious zealot.
Minecraft 93 :
You shall see eventually~