Chapter 3 – Weight of Failure

Fourteenth Cycle, 13 units (Covenant Battle Calendar) / Covenant Holy City High Charity, Soell System.

High in the orbit of the gas giant Threshold, a million fragments of ancient metal floated gently through space, all that remained of the vast Halo ring that had once been present. Fires still raged across the larger chunks of debris, burning as intensely now as they had almost a month ago when the construct had been destroyed.

What had once been rolling fields, verdant forests, arid deserts and a hundred other biomes simulating a varied planetary ecosystem would now serve as little more than a navigational hazard for any ships in the area.

A sleek Covenant assault carrier drifted past the shattered embers of the ring, the three massive engines on its stern glowing a brilliant blue-white as it tore through the void of space. The massive ship looked more like a strange aquatic creature rather than a ship of war, but the entire vessel bristled with weaponry: multiple energy projectors, plasma torpedo silos and an array of pulse lasers and plasma cannons meant that a single assault carrier could easily subjugate an entire planet and devastate an enemy battle group.

Smaller vessels: battlecruisers, destroyers and frigates - weaved between larger chunks of debris. These ships combed the debris field, searching for signs of activity and relics that may have survived the rending of the once-grand marvel of engineering by the human filth.

This armada of warships was but one small fraction of the vast Second Fleet of Homogeneous Clarity. As the largest permanent grouping of Covenant warships that had ever been assembled, the legendary fleet had the sole purpose of defending the massive mobile holy city of the Covenant Empire.

High Charity itself drifted beyond the ruined Halo, screened by the hundreds of warships of the Second Fleet which were themselves dwarfed by the holy city. Serving as the very symbol of the alliance that had formed the very creation of the Covenant, the city was home to billions of the Covenant's faithful adherents.

High Charity stood as a testament to the enduring strength of the three-thousand-year-old alliance. Upon the surface of the vast dome of the city was a vast topsoil that comprised the dirt from the homeworlds of every member species within the empire, underneath which the structure was formed from an enormous chunk of rock; a chunk of the founding San'Shyuum's own home planet of Janjur Qom.

Below the dome trailed the Unbreakable Spine, on which innumerable docking platforms received and serviced thousands of merchant ships that travelled to and from Covenant planets. With its bristling weapons platforms, nigh-unbreakable energy shielding, and the protection granted by the thousand-strong defense fleet, High Charity was the most powerful and well-defended location in all known space.

It was here that the Covenant's most powerful and leading figures, the triumvirate of San'Shyuum Hierarchs, made their home.

And yet, now it bore witness to the site of the most grievous of transgressions against the Covenant. The long sought-after Halo ring, the means by which the Covenant would transcend to godhood and the cornerstone of their entire religion lay broken before the holy city. Such a grievous heresy could not and would not go unpunished.

The one who had failed in his duty to safeguard the ring from the humans until the Covenant leadership could arrive had been brought before the High Council to be tried. The sentencing, which was being broadcasted across Covenant space, would allow its billions of furious subjects to watch as the one who had cost them their salvation answer for his crimes.

Deep within the holy city's tower districts lay the High Council Chamber. This hallowed room served as the seat of absolute power within the Covenant. It was from here that the most important matters were discussed by the Empire's ruling body, the High Council. Important battle strategies, matters of Covenant law, and promotions among the upper echelons of the military served as the basis of most of the meetings conducted within the Council Chamber.

At present, the Chamber was to serve as the location of the trial of the Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice. The one who's failure had brought the Covenant's quest for salvation to an end.

At present, the room was shrouded in darkness, save for four high-intensity floodlights that shone upon the condemned Sangheili, who stood upon a raided dais about half his height. The brilliant white light shone brightly off the warrior's golden armor. This had the purpose of ensuring that all focus was on the Supreme Commander, and his every reaction and emotion would be clearly broadcasted to all.

Both sides of the vast chamber hosted rows of bleacher-like seats that were raised about a dozen units off the floor. On one side sat the Sangheili members of the High Council, while the other side comprised their San'Shyuum compatriots.

Lining the central walkway in the chamber stood rows of Sangheili Honor Guardsmen. Resplendent in their red and orange armor, they clutched ceremonial energy staves and stood at attention. The protectors were unmoving, but they would spring to life in an instant to strike down the condemned Sangheili should the Hierarchs' command it.

At the head of the chamber, held aloft by their powerful anti-gravity thrones sat the three Prophet Hierarchs.

As he stood before the most powerful creatures in the entire Covenant, Thel 'Vadamee could not easily vanquish the tight grip of dread that had taken root deep within himself. He was clad in his golden Zealot harness; armor he had worn with pride for decades as he had carried out the Covenant's holy work.

He had opted to leave his purple doarmir cloak with his other personal effects, as he could not bear to wear such an item to his trial. The cloak had served as a reminder to Thel after an incident in his youth that he could make grave mistakes when he let his guard down.

Had I recognized sooner the grave threat that the Demon posed to the safety of the ring, I would have prioritized this threat over all others. Perhaps the ring could have been saved.

Thel dismissed this thought from his mind. It was too late to ponder what could have been. This was a mistake without rival. Thel could not hope for any measure of mercy for his failure. On his shoulders alone he bore the weight of an unparalleled defeat. The most he could look forward to was a quick death but he was doubtful that the Council would allow him that honor. The masses would demand a drawn-out public execution of the one responsible for their inability to transcend as their forefathers had done millennia ago.

"Supreme Commander," came the harsh, youthful voice of the leftmost Hierarch. The Prophet of Regret was not present in person for the sentencing; to Thel's knowledge, the youngest of the High Prophets had taken a fleet of Covenant ships deep into human-controlled space. In his place was a holographic image that, despite its blue ethereal projection, clearly conveyed the Prophet's infuriation.

Regret was characteristically brash and aggressive; traits he had acquired during his extensive time spent serving alongside the Sangheili in their fleets and he was rumored to carry a personal sidearm that he used to execute those who failed in their duty to him.

"How many human vessels managed to escape?" Regret was of course referring to the battle at the human fortress world.

My greatest triumph. How soon it was to be followed by my greatest shame.

Thel thought back to the final stages of the siege. As the Covenant armada began the final purification of what the humans called Reach, Thel had detected the single human cruiser entering slipspace near the doomed planet.

"There was only one ship," Thel answered truthfully. One wretched vessel that would go on to cause untold trouble for me. He remembered the intercepted communiques he had received from the ship as it departed. "They called it the Pillar of Autumn."

The Councilors seated in the gallery seats began to audibly mutter amongst themselves, no doubt in disbelief that a single human ship could be the cause for such destruction. Even now, Thel could scarcely comprehend this fact for himself.

"Why was it not destroyed, with the rest of their fleet?" demanded the elderly Prophet of Mercy, slamming a fist down on the arm of his gravity throne as he spoke.

High Charity's former Philologist was a wizened figure, a great many years older than his two fellow Hierarchs. His skin was an ashy pale-brown color and the hair covering his brows and the appendages on his face was a brilliant white.

"It fled, as we set fire to their planet," Thel said. "But I followed with all the ships in my command."

"When you first saw Halo, were you blinded by its majesty?" asked the Prophet of Regret. Thel could hear the venom-laced sarcasm in the Hierarch's words.

"Blinded?" Thel said, unsure how to reply.

"Paralyzed?" Regret continued. "Dumbstruck?"

Thel remained steadfast and stared into the Prophet of Regret's eyes. He responded, keeping his voice as neutral as he could.

"No."

"Yet the humans were able to evade your ships," Regret stated placidly, waving his hand as he spoke. "Land on the Sacred Ring, and desecrate it with their filthy footsteps," he finished, anger seeping into his voice.

Thel briefly considered raising the fact that it was the Prophet of Stewardship's interference that had allowed the humans to land on Halo in the first place and had continued to be a thorn in the Supreme Commander's side throughout the course of the battle.

He ultimately decided against it. The fact that Stewardship was not alive to answer for his part in the failure of the battle meant that any accusation that Thel made could be seen as an attempt to deflect blame from himself.

Regardless, it had been the release of the Flood onto the surface of the ring that had spelled disaster for the battle group.

"Noble Hierarchs," Thel started. "Surely you understand that once the parasite attacked-" he was cut off as the Council erupted into noise. While the San'Shyuum argued and bickered loudly with one another, their Sangheili counterparts were more restrained, discussing the Flood's presence amongst themselves.

"There will be order in this Council!" shouted the Prophet of Mercy, once again bringing his hand down on his throne's armrest as he glared at the squabbling Councilors. As he spoke, the central figure gravitated forward, raising two hands as he did so. The arguing quickly subsided, and the chamber fell into complete silence as if a switch had been flipped.

The Prophet of Truth was known to be the voice of mediation between the brash Regret and the ascetic Mercy. Despite ostensibly sharing his power equally with his fellow Hierarchs, it was widely believed among the Covenant that Truth held the most power. His words were absolute; when he spoke, everybody listened.

"You were right to focus your attention on the Flood," Truth stated, his voice carrying its usual calm and serene quality. In his long years of service to the Covenant, Thel had never once heard the Prophet of Truth raise his voice in anger, a sharp contrast to both of his fellow Prophets. Even now, with the one who had effectively stopped the Covenant from commencing the Great Journey standing before him, Truth remained composed.

"But this Demon, this "Master Chief" … the Hierarch trailed off, evidently wanting Thel to speak. Thel thought back to the final moments of the battle for the Sacred Ring. He had been singularly focused on ensuring that the Flood did not leave the installation, knowing the grave threat they posed to the galaxy.

And as such, he had only realized that the Demon was going to destroy the ring moments before it carried out its wretched deed. He had been powerless to intervene.

"By the time I learned the Demon's intent," Thel's boots felt like they were leaden to the floor and his hearts had dropped into the pit of his stomach as he said quietly, "there was nothing I could do."

While his previous statement had caused the Council to stir in protest, this admission caused an even greater uproar. San'Shyuum waved their hands and slammed their fists on the railings of their seats; they were more animated than their Sangheili counterparts. But many Sangheili Councilors likewise voiced their displeasure at Thel's admission; their heads, crested in large ornamental helmets, shook as they attempted to comprehend the apparent weakness of one of the Covenant's greatest commanders.

Below the bleachers on which the Sangheili members of the High Council sat, the massive, white-furred form of Tartarus stood. Clad in only several pieces of choice armor, The hulking Jiralhanae was almost entirely covered in a coat of thick white hair. Deep-set amber eyes glittered in the darkness under the shadow of the Chieftain's large mane and his face broke apart in an amused laugh as he watched the display.

In front of the disgraced Supreme Commander, the Prophet of Regret's holographic image moved closer to Truth.

"Noble Prophet of Truth, this has gone on long enough," Regret hissed impatiently to his fellow Hierarch. "Make an example of this bungler. The Council demands it!"

The Prophet of Truth held up a long three-fingered hand, silencing Regret. The squabbling Councilors fell quiet once again as they saw the gesture.

"You are one of our most treasured instruments," began the Prophet, fixing Thel with his yellow-brown eyes. "Long have you led your fleet with honor and distinction. But your inability to safeguard Halo…" he let that sentence hang in the air for the briefest of moments before concluding, "…was a colossal failure."

Even as Thel slumped his head in shame at the Hierarch's words, one of the San'Shyuum Councilors stood up, raising a hand as he spoke. All heads turned to the speaker, the infamous Prophet of Objection, as he spoke.

"Nay, it was heresy!"

The resultant clamor from the High Councilors made their prior rows seem miniscule in comparison. The entire chamber was filled with the din of angry San'Shyuum and Sangheili voices.

Thel bristled. This mere thought of such a heinous claim being applied to him heated his blood to the boil. Despite the mistakes he had made during the Halo conflict, Thel had never acted in a way that could be regarded as counter to the Covenant's religion.

In part due to the unjust claim by one of the High Council's most outspoken members and in part as a defensive response to the cries from the Council to have him expunged, Thel shouted in defiance, locking the Prophet of Truth's gaze.

"I will continue my campaign against the humans!"

The Prophet of Truth's response was immediate. While his voice remained as calm and neutral as always, the power behind his words was unmistakable. It was the tone of one who would not be swayed even by the powerful Supreme Commander who stood before him.

"No. You will not."

With these words, the Hierarch gestured to Tartarus. The Chieftain barked a command, and Thel felt the shadows of a pair of Jiralhanae coming up behind him. As the first made to grab his left arm, Thel quickly snatched it out of the Jiralhanae's reach, snarling at the much larger alien as he did so.

With that, the Sangheili knew that the trial was over. He turned his back on the three Hierarchs and stalked towards the entrance of the chamber, flanked by the Jiralhanae pair.

What was to follow was almost assured in Thel's mind. He would undoubtedly be branded with the Mark of Shame, given to the worst of the Covenant's criminals. This would be followed in short order by an agonizing execution which would be carried out by the Jiralhanae. His name and deeds would be expunged from the Vadam keep's saga wall. His immediate bloodline would likely be executed, and his more distant relatives would be excommunicated. It would be a blow to the House of Vadam that they would likely never recover.

As Thel walked down the long central walkway towards the chamber door, a numbness filling his whole body, the words spoken by the Prophet of Truth echoed in his mind.

"Soon the Great Journey shall begin. But when it does, the weight of your heresy will stay your feet. And you shall be left behind."


Ord Casto, the High Prophet of Truth watched as the disgraced Supreme Commander walked away, flanked by his two Jiralhanae escorts and followed closely by Tartarus. The members of the High Council, who had up to a moment ago been shouting riotously, now watched in silence as the one who had lost Halo was escorted out of the chamber.

However, the fate of this Sangheili was not to be that which any of the Councilors would expect. Ordinarily, the punishment for a failure of such magnitude would be a gruesome and prolonged death that was broadcasted to the masses as both a vengeful enactment of moral justice and a warning of the price of such a disgraceful display of incompetence. Indeed, even the condemned one surely suspected that there was to be no other outcome for him than this.

But in truth, the Prophet had something else in mind for this Sangheili.

The Hierarchs had received disturbing news that a movement of Sangheili dissidents had reared its head on a gas mine deep within the atmosphere of the nearby gas giant of which the Sacred Ring had once been anchored to. The transmission, which had been intercepted by the Prophet's loyal Jiralhanae agents, claimed that the Great Journey, the very core of their religion, was a false promise fabricated by the High Prophets and decrying the Halo Rings as not a means of transcendence, by a weapon to wipe out all life.

Truth was furious. He had spent his entire tenure as Hierarch preserving the notion that the Halos would allow the Covenant faithful to achieve godhood just as the Forerunners had before them, and any and all whispers of dissidence had been swiftly dealt with before they could seep out into general circulation. This newly-formed heretical uprising would need to be swiftly put down before their poisonous words spurred others to join their cause. And while he knew that the problem could be dealt with easily enough by a strike force of the Covenant's Special Operations division, he could make use of the disgraced Supreme Commander to remove the heretics while also finding his own death in the process. It was the prime occasion for the Hierarchs to call upon another Arbiter...

Perhaps even more appropriately, the leader of the dissidents had been a member of the Supreme Commander's own fleet. A somewhat amusing irony, Truth thought.

But deep-down, Truth feared that the Sangheili would eventually discover the damning fact that he and his fellow Hierarchs had covered up; that some of the Forerunners had in fact been left behind - the human race that they had decried as vermin desecrating their God's relics to incite the Covenant to wipe out to cover up this truth. Were the Sangheili, the military overseers of the Covenant, to turn on the San'Shyuum, it would mean the end of their species and the Covenant entirely.

Truth's Jiralhanae spies had documented evidence of Sangheili conversations where they questioned the Hierarchs decision to eradicate humanity rather than offering them a place within the Covenant. This was terrifying to the Hierarch, as he knew that the Sangheili were not loyal to the Prophets, only to the Covenant. And Truth needed a solution.

This solution was to be the Covenant's newest member species, the Jiralhanae. The hulking creatures were the perfect instrument for Truth to use to wrest away control of the Covenant military from the Sangheili. The Jiralhanae had long resented the Sangheili's place and the animosity between the two species was unrivalled by any other feud within the Covenant.

And there was no better leader to command the Covenant's forces upon the Jiralhanae's ascension than Tartarus. The massive, white-furred warrior had come to Truth's attention long ago. Truth admired the unusual subtlety and discretion displayed by Tartarus, as well as the influence he carried within his own species. Coupled with his prodigious physical prowess and longstanding hatred of the Sangheili, Tartarus was the perfect means of which Truth could conduct his plans. The two had carefully laid the groundwork for a political and military schism that would be carried out as they closed in on the completion of their holy quest.

Soon the Great Journey would begin, and not the humans, nor the Sangheili, would prevent Truth from leading the Covenant to godhood.


Before the doors had even opened, Thel could hear the jeers and booing of a thousand intermingled Covenant voices. He strode through fearlessly as one only as disciplined as a Zealot could do. As he began to walk down the stairway, the noise became deafening. The pillar-lined plaza that was separated from the Council Chamber by a single small room was normally quiet save for the grandest of occasions.

Today, it was packed with hundreds of the lesser caste species of the Covenant. The majority were the short and stocky Unggoy, wearing the environment suits that provided them with the methane that they breathed. Scattered throughout their smaller comrades were the taller and feral-looking Kig-Yar, with pronounced teeth and plumes of spiny quills. Thel could hear every one of them screaming for his blood.

Keeping the hordes of Covenant off the path that Thel walked were rows of Honor Guardsmen, who stared impassively as he passed between them.

Towards the end of the plaza was an oval-shaped platform with a pair of pincer-like columns over three times the Sangheili's height and topped by a linked energy conduit that shone a blinding purple-white onto a small circular plinth between them.

As he neared the platform, Thel could see that the balconies beyond were absolutely packed with Covenant citizens. Behind the terraces stretched the vast capital city of High Charity, with the massive Forerunner Dreadnought as its centerpiece.

Stopping on the plinth which ordinarily served as a gravity lift to a lower platform, his two Jiralhanae escorts grabbed his wrists and held them next to a pair of small floating spheres at head level. After a moment, a blue flickering halo of energy erupted from both spheres with an electrical crackle, restraining Thel's arms.

Tartarus paused at the edge of the platform, gazing at the masses of Covenant clustered on the opposite terraces. He turned towards Thel with an unmistakable smirk on his face. "You've drawn quite a crowd," the Chieftain remarked.

Thel seethed with anger at the glee in Tartarus' voice, "If they came to hear me beg, they will be disappointed," he spat.

The toothy grin on Tartarus' face grew larger, "Are you sure?"

The Chieftain touched a small holographic console. Immediately, bolts of blue-white electricity flashed from the shackles holding his arms onto the chest plates of his combat harness. Within seconds, concentrated bolts of energy began to cover his whole body, charring his golden armor black and inflicting searing agony upon Thel.

As the once-ornate armor he had worn with pride for countless cycles was irreparably warped, Thel closed his eyes, trying to fight off the increasing pain of his torture. The noise of countless angry Covenant subjects was drowned out as Thel roared in a mixture of pain, anger, and helplessness at his current situation.

After what seemed like an eternity, the energy shackles ceased their electrocution of Thel. The Supreme Commander's legs had given out during the ordeal, and the shackles were the only thing keeping him from slumping completely to the floor. Pale white smoke wafted around the Sangheili.

From somewhere nearby, Tartarus' voice boomed out, artificially amplified to carry all the way down into the city.

"There can be no greater heresy! Let him be an example for all who would break our Covenant!"

These words were met with newfound roars from the spectating Covenant. Tartarus turned to his entourage and gave a short bark, and Thel looked up, opening his eyes in time to see the two Jiralhanae grab onto his blackened breast plates and violently pull them off. The now-useless pieces of metal clattered to the floor at their feet.

Thel was forced to close his eyes as they continued to tear pieces of his armor from his body. Once the plates were removed, the internal bodysuit soon followed suit, exposing Thel's charred skin to the open air which inflicted a whole new wave of pain upon the Sangheili.

Finally, as Thel's helmet hit the muted purple floor, a nastily pointed instrument raised itself out of a previously hidden compartment on the ground nearby. As Tartarus lifted it up, Thel saw the end of the device burning a fiery red, with molten flecks of metal peeling off due to the extreme heat. And within, the unmistakable insignia of the Mark of Shame.

Tartarus strode towards the Sangheili, hefting the brand with a barely contained grin on his face. He stopped in front of Thel, and after only a moment's pause and a sinister smile, violently thrusted the brander into his chest.

As the observers roared out again, Thel was inflicted with the worst pain he had ever felt in his life. Never in all his years of training, nor his long service in the military had he felt agony as intense as that inflicted by the brand that Tartarus held against his body.

As sparks flew from the point of contact, Thel heard his flesh sizzling as the arcing curves of the Mark of Shame was etched permanently onto the left side of his chest. Despite his incredible pain tolerance forged by a lifetime of battles and injuries, Thel was unable to prevent himself from buckling and he heard himself scream in agony before his world mercifully went black.