Damage Control

Scandalous! Utterly scandalous! I threw myself into a frenzy when I heard that my own elder brother, Drav, had gone to bed with a strange woman, who was neither his primary wife nor a concubine! And the worse part: she was already married to another – the kaidon of ‘Moram no less!
Damage control was the phrase of the day, and of numerous days after that. I brought Drav to my keep to keep him informed on my efforts.
“You are the Arbiter!” I shouted. “How are you supposed to uphold your honor and the honor of our species when you jaunt to and fro, sticking your – your member! – in unfamiliar women!”
“As a Blademaster it is my right to spread the seed of my swordsmanship far and wide,” replied Drav in an inebriated voice.
“But not in married women! Gods!” I paced back and forth before my brother, cursing and mumbling to myself. “Hiero ‘Moramee is livid. Most livid. He demands a trial by combat for the crime of having his primary wife deflowered.”
“Gods… that was his primary?”
“Yes, you oaf!”
“Watch your tongue, little brother.”
“And you should watch your manhood. Gods know where it’s been.”
Suddenly, Drav rose. He had a disgruntled look on his face. “Repeat that. Now.”
“I misspoke,” I clearly replied. I did not wish for a quarrel with my brother. That was the last thing either of us needed. “But we must address the situation. Hiero ‘Moramee seeks to restore his honor with the clash of swords. I am willing to be your second. Do you accept?”
“Yes, yes, just send him a missive inquiring about the proper date, time, and location.”
“Very well. Now, onto the inquiries we are receiving from the Hierarchs…”
“Gods… this is an internal Sangheili matter.”
“And you are the Arbiter. The chief representative of our species in the Covenant. A most hallowed position. You have the ear of the Hierarchs, they take counsel with you if need be. And they are concerned about these turn of events.”
Drav sat down in his chair. He reached for a cup of wine, but recoiled from it, leaning back in his seat. “What do they say?”
“The High Prophet of Splendor is most displeased with the events, regardless of the truth of the matter. He says, and I quote, ‘The optics are simply dreadful. An Arbiter having such a poor story attached to his name travel throughout the NewsNet is undesirable.’”
“He is a Hierarch! Can he not suppress this information?!”
“If he can, he does not wish to. Every planet that has access to the NewsNet has it on the front page. For all I know, they are sanctioning this story.”
“By the Gods, whose side are they on?!”
“Apparently they are on the side of the truth. Or at least, the truth they want to see.”
“So they are against me.”
“You would question the judgement of the Hierarchs?”
“What? Gods, no! But… surely they would not allow such slander against the Arbiter?”
“I do not know their ultimate goals. Perhaps they see you as an inconvenience and would rather have you replaced?”
Drav gave me a most wicked look.
“Or perhaps… some other obscure reason? Anypath, we must focus on damage control… perhaps I can spin an alternate story?”
“What alternate story? Pray tell, have you fabricated something believable enough in the time it took me to get here?”
“Fear not dear brother, it took you three days to arrive to my keep. I have surely something in mind…”
“What is it?”
“Well, this is not enough for ‘Moramee to renege on the duel, but perhaps this will salvage the damage inflicted upon you from the NewsNet story, perhaps even counter it in its entirely: you were taken advantage of.”
Drav’s eyes were burning with intense fires of hatred. “Damn you, Savo.”
“Please allow me to continue!” I raised my hands up in submission. Then I put them down, rubbing them together as I continued to pace in front of him. “The woman drugged you, slipped some sort of sedative in your wine. You fell into a deep slumber, and she had her way with you.”
“Gods… admittedly that has happened to me once before, in my youth, before… before Thazu’s death.”
“Yes, when he was the eldest brother. Now you are, and I am sorry that you were so unready for leadership, no thanks to our weak-necked uncles’ absences. But this is a useful tool, this past experience of you falling for the feminine wiles. Now we can use it to our advantage.”
“Will this not damage my capacity to continue as Arbiter?”
“It will save your reputation in the long run, trust me. At the very least, you will be seen as an innocent, energetic warrior, eager for adventure and glory, taken advantage of by a cunning, devious woman. No doubt many Sangheili will sympathize with you.”
“And what of the woman? And of Sangheili women elsewhere? Will they not be wounded by this… this untruth?”
“Truth is what we make it, and what we can convince the masses it is. Do not be afraid of manufacturing your own truth and imposing it upon others. It may just save you.”
Drav looked at me from head to toe, seemingly impressed. “What cunning! I should have died in battle back in the Soroc Rebellion, named you as my successor.”
“I would have rejected it and gone to advise the next Arbiter. The office is not for me, I do not have the steel.”
“Yet you are as cold as a blade fashioned from it.”
“I have not the fortitude for leadership.”
“And yet others seek your counsel. I sought your counsel.”
“I threatened you with logic and clever wordplay, nothing more. And besides… there are rumors abounding among the other kaidons that I… take a fancy to men.”
“Yes, that is familiar to me. Are they true?”
“Gods, no!”
I lied to him.
Ten days and ten nights passed until the scheduled duel took place, in ‘Moramee Keep, in the main training courtyard. My brother and I stood opposite of Hiero ‘Moramee and his eldest son, Aro, who was his second. One of the Hierarchs, the High Prophet of Peace, was in attendance, as well as several Sangheili councilors.
“I wish you would have afforded me the opportunity for some wine before this,” Drav said.
“You fight best when sober,” I answered. I affixed his cuirass on him, and handed him his energy sword. He ignited it. The same protocol occurred with Hiero, and his sword was alight as well.
“Remember,” I started, “the most important rule is to have fun, and be yourself.” Now, that was an old inside joke among our family, the ‘Mannimars, and he replied with a chuckle, a nod, and a grin.
“I would be more of myself with a cup of wine in me,” he replied.
“Just defend your honor.”
The duelists approached each other. “That half-cooked fabrication of my wife drugging you only brings more shame unto your name, ‘Mannimar!” cried Hiero. “I shall have your head!”
“Bold words from a half-wit kaidon of a nameless keep,” replied my brother.
Hiero growled and lunged forth at Drav. My heart pounded as I saw my elder brother effortlessly dodge the thrusting attack, and he lightly slashed the right side of his opponent. The audience murmured amongst themselves. One of the Councilors spoke to me quietly, asking, “Why does your brother not deliver the killing blow swiftly?”
“He seeks to humiliate his opponent,” I replied in a very low voice. “This is his way of proving the fecklessness of his opponent, as well as reinforce his own skill with the blade.”
“If I was in his position, I would end this quickly and decisively, not dance around my foe.”
“My elder brother has… his own charms, I suppose.”
Several swings from Hiero were checked by parry after impenetrable parry from by brother. They had no shields, so a blow from one of the swords would almost certainly be fatal in the hands of any but the most expert of swordsmen. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) for Hiero, Drav was exactly that: the most expert of swordsmen. As Hiero continued swinging and thrusting, the plasma of his sword met only air, and my brother’s opponent tired, while Drav himself broke not a drop of sweat. He said nothing as Hiero grumbled and cursed, followed by more murmurs from the audience. The Prophet of Peace seemed most engaged with the duel.
Crucially, as Hiero lunged once again, Drav eluded his blade. My brother’s opponent thus fell face-first onto the floor. More murmurs echoed, and my brother, energized, hopping in place, waited impatiently.
“Get up,” he said. “Get up, ‘Moramee. I will not have the ground rob me of victory today.”
Hiero was utterly livid, and attacked my brother furiously with powerful strikes. My brother deflected those blows, and as one final thrust was aimed at Drav’s heart, he deflected it to his left, and struck Hiero in the face with an elbow. Then, he made a swift slash, slicing open Hiero’s torso. My brother’s opponent cried out in pain, only to have the cry snuffed out by another follow-up attack, a rapid quick thrust into the stomach of Hiero. ‘Moramee fell to his knees, gasping for breath, as Drav stood in front of him. He readied for one final attack, and thrusted into the heart of Hiero. Then, he withdrew his blade: Hiero ‘Moramee was dead before he fell to the floor one final time. As Hiero’s son Aro rushed to his father, Drav turned off his blade, and walked over to me, handing it to me. I took it, wiping off some drops of blood from his cuirass with a cloth. Loud murmuring continued among the crowd. Then, the Prophet of Peace approached us, sitting in his levitating chair.
“It would appear we have a victor,” he said in a loud, booming voice. “The Arbiter has emerged as the winner of this contest. This settles the matter definitively in his favor.” He then lowered the tone in his voice, leaning towards the both of us. “This, along with recently emerging evidence of the innocence of the Arbiter, should put this whole situation to rest once and for all.” The Prophet then looked to me. I averted my eyes. From what I could see from my peripheral vision, he apparently smiled and nodded, silently conveying the words ‘Not bad.’”
After some more pomp and circumstance later in the day, the Prophet and Councilors departed from Sanghelios.
Category:The Weekly