An Author's Note: First, I apologize that I've put this thing in here. I'm really hoping this will be the last one (with the exception of some possible closing remarks when I'm finished, you know, reflections). Now then:
Basically, while I've already done a fair amount of research on the Covenant and its history, I certainly don't know everything that's been put out there, nor do I have detailed descriptions of Covenant anatomy. Therefore, if you notice an issue, by all means mention it specifically, and, if you could be so kind, maybe put a link to some Covenant info. Why? Because I am dedicated to this fic. And, as I would really like to present the best experience my meager writing skills can provide, I therefore would absolutely love it if I kept my inaccuracies down to a handful.

And to address your concerns, Spartan 76, if that is your real name, while you did catch me on the Prophets having legs issue (at the time of this update there has been a revision to the prologue for accuracy), tragically, you have not, in fact, caught me messing with the strands of time. As is noted in the prologue, the event took place 21 years before the formation of the Covenant, not 21 years before Halo. In other words, there is no solid year. Just thought I'd clarify that. As to why only the first half of the First Canto, that was for effect. You'll see.

I hate myself for having rambled on for so long.

Thou In Faith
Chapter I

Steady and inevitable as the tides. Years had come. Years had gone. The Greater Oracle of Tragedy ascended higher and higher, until finally he became the Celestial Oracle of Tragedy, greatest oracle in all his temple. But no satisfaction ever came with the ascensions. Always there was fear. Fear for the life. Paranoia. For the Celestial Oracle of Tragedy knew. Yet, fear hardly causes weakness. To the contrary, it is when a beast is cornered that it strikes the hardest…

2 Earth years before the formation of the Covenant...

Zyar Mortumee stamped his hoof into the soft soil, bracing for the impact. A most fearsome beast slammed into his flank, but he somehow managed to hold his ground. He didn't dare allow himself any satisfaction with that feat, however, for all Sangheili warriors knew the danger of losing focus when battling the leaf dragon.

Zyar had cursed his luck when he stumbled upon the beast. In all the forest, no beast was as ferocious, as powerful, as cunning as the leaf dragon. Except for the Sangheili, of course. Still, even a Sangheili warrior knew it was best not to battle the creatures. The long, slender body of the quadruped was covered in impossibly hard scales, and the leaf dragon was armed with four-inch long claws that could rend armor. Not to mention a highly venomous bite. Unfortunately, those scales were a shade of green that perfectly matched the forest canopy, hence the name 'leaf dragon', so it was quite easy to unwittingly happen upon one of the carnivores. And, as was Zyar's luck, he had found one that was guarding its nest. Those leaf dragons were most aggressive in protecting their territory.

It was not all one-sided though. For Zyar was a Sangheili. More importantly, he was a warrior. Hardly the best warrior, he had actually descended from the far inferior worker caste. But he was most exceptional for his caste. Standing almost two feet above his former brethren, he was still short for a warrior at eight feet and an inch. Nor were his muscles the glorious steel bands of his comrades. However, he was a most adept swordsman, and few warriors could match the finesse of his blade, something which would help a great deal in fighting a beast he couldn't hope to overpower. It would be challenging, for sure, but Zyar Mortumee absolutely loved challenges.

The leaf dragon growled in a final warning to him. The tackle had essentially been the first warning, a threat of what would happen if the Sangheili did not remove himself from the leaf dragon's territory. Unfortunately, hopefully for the leaf dragon and not Zyar, to run from a fight was a most cowardly act. The cardinal sin of a warrior, and the highest violation of the Forefathers' Creed, the oath of all Sangheili warriors.

Zyar flexed his hand on the grip of his sword, the traditional weapon of all Sangheili warriors. Two thin metal blades descended from either side of the grip, and at the other end the blades ended in rather cruel hooks that could badly mangle any creature misfortunate enough to experience their bite. The weapon had gone unchanged for centuries, a testament to the brutal efficiency and lethal perfection of its design. The dense metals made the blade quite heavy, yes, and it was very ungainly in the hands of anyone inexperienced with it. But for those who spent their lives perfecting their technique with it, the weapon guaranteed doom for all but the toughest opponents. For example, the leaf dragon.

And the beast, tired of waiting for the intruding warrior to leave of his own will, chose that moment to attack. Powerful double-jointed hind legs propelled the leaf dragon forward at its enemy. Zyar met the creature with a slashing blow from his blade. The sword failed to even chip the leaf dragon's scales, but the sheer force of the blow diverted the dragon's trajectory, causing him to land behind and to the right of Zyar. The Sangheili seized the initiative and whirled about, bringing his blades down on the leaf dragon's head in an impaling strike. Again, the attack failed to pierce the leaf dragon's scales, but it did cause the dragon to back off, allowing Zyar time to adopt a stronger defensive stance.

The leaf dragon glowered at Zyar as it circled him. The creature's meager intelligence attempted to determine how best to kill this intruder. This new opponent seemed a worthy enough foe that attempts to kill it outright with the leaf dragon's claws would probably be ineffective. A minor injury, however, from the venomous fangs could perhaps serve to bring the warrior down.

Even as the leaf dragon plotted its attack, however, Zyar's far more ample intelligence created a battle plan to deal with the beast. When finally he knew what to do, he allowed himself a smile and raised his blade in challenge to the beast.

The leaf dragon answered the challenge with a rush on Zyar, this time keeping low to the ground to avoid being batted aside as it had in its previous attack. The beast's jaws hung open slightly, prepared to deliver the fatal bite. But Zyar was not a willing victim. He simply leapt straight over the beast, his blade grazing the leaf dragon's scales as it passed under Zyar. He landed firm on the ground and sprung forward, his blade outstretched in a thrust attack. The leaf dragon had already turned about to face Zyar and snapped its jaws in warning of what would happen if Zyar came to close. No matter. The Sangheili planted his left hoof into the ground, canceling the motion and leaping to the right before delivering a sweeping slash against the leaf dragon's flank. Yet again, the leaf dragon suffered no injury, but Zyar had hardly hoped for such a thing. The true purpose of the attack was, however, accomplished.

The leaf dragon, enraged with this intruder who had repelled its assaults and had indeed landed several blows, leapt at Zyar with all the might it could muster. And Zyar allowed himself some fraction of a smile. Yes, he could never hope to gain the power necessary to pierce the leaf dragon's armor of scales.

The leaf dragon, on the other hand, was most gifted in this aspect.

Zyar dropped to the ground, putting his blade up at an angle. As the doomed leaf dragon leapt over Zyar, its underside crashed onto the blade. Zyar, with the ground beneath him bracing his body, held the blade firm as the leaf dragon's momentum caused the Sangheili sword to pierce into its underbelly. As the leaf dragon continued to pass over Zyar, the wound grew longer and longer as more of its underside was cut open. When it finally landed back on the ground, it did so with a dull thump. The beast growled faintly in agony, and Zyar knew at once that the wound was fatal. He turned over onto his stomach to see the creature staggering, hoping to mount a final attack. Its life was spent, but it still had to think of its nest. The beast gave a most valiant effort at it, but its injury was far too severe. It gave one last look at Zyar, and had the Sangheili not known better, he would have sworn the beast was pleading with him not to harm its young.

And then it died.

Zyar lifted himself up off the ground, exuberant with his triumph. Even some of the higher-ranking Sangheili could not slay a leaf dragon. All the more proof that Zyar was a most exceptional specimen.

The Sangheili warrior split his four mandibles in some approximation of a grin, and decided that he would keep this beast as a trophy.

----------------------

Watching Zyar behind the screen of the forest was yet another hunter. Peering through a scope at an electronically magnified image of the Sangheili, he studied the warrior intensely. The battle had been impressive, to be sure. Too bad the great forest beasts were so quaint. The same blade. Four centuries and it's the exact same blade. The 26th Infantrymen of the 3rd regiment of the Tragic Oracle Guard (a most unwieldy title, to be sure, but titles were all his species had), or 26-3-T, for those too disrespectful, impatient, or powerful to bother uttering his name in its entirety, did not hold the forest beasts in high regard. Nay, what use was such a primitive species doing on his planet anyway? Bothersome savages.

Yet here he was, studying one of the primitive beasts through his gloriously technologically advanced sniper's scope. To think, the forest beasts were still using basic glass optical enhancement technology. Oh, they were truly missing out on the joy that was staring through a scope displaying in 255 mega pixels!

But enough of that. The point was he was stuck watching these miserable creatures. What had he done? Was the Noble Oracle of Tragedy somehow displeased with him? He hadn't even met the Oracle before the assignment! Perhaps that was the problem. He was told by the 4th Special Infantry of the 7th regiment of the Moral Oracle Guard, his good friend (friends naturally being people who could get you to higher status, for what else did friends do?), that he lacked communication skills. Maybe had he been more aggressive, gone ahead and talked to his master? But, that would have been highly disrespectful to someone of such high status! Woefully unprofessional. So what was he to do? Maybe…

No! No, no, no, no, no, no! He had allowed himself to get off task again! This was why he was stuck here, observing some quaint novelty of a species. 26-3-T imagined that when he became an Oracle, he would capture one of the Sangheili, maybe teach it to do tricks? Although to do such a thing, he would undoubtedly have to settle for being an Oracle of Levity. He shuddered at the thought.

Damn it all! Again, he had lost focus. He swore, one day his commander would catch him like this, and…

Wait. 26-3-T refocused long enough and peered again through the scope. Something wasn't right. Something was, well, missing.

Something tapped 26-3-T on the shoulder. He turned around, and had just enough time to realize he'd lost track of the Sangheili before that damn primitive blade sliced through his neck.

----------------------

A lone figure walked through the mob of Sangheili warriors. As he walked, the mob instantly separated before him, before his presence. An intimidating presence, even though he was at least two inches shorter than most warriors. A powerful presence, even though his build was not massive, but instead streamlined. He was old for a warrior, but very few would dare to believe his age crippled him. None would dare to challenge him. For he wore the armor.

Stylistically, it was similar to all Sangheili armor. Highly flexible jointed armor plates covered his legs, and his torso was also armored in the same fashion as all other Sangheili, with the back entirely protected but a massive gap left down the center of the armor. Yet, he did not have armor covering his arms, for they needed to be entirely free of burden in their work of guiding his blade. Nor did he wear a helm, for it would be a disgrace to him if any weapon came near his head, and he would rather die than live with the shame. To that matter, on the back of his armor, a highly ceremonial armor crafted from matte black metal alloys, there was a simple engraving, which had been filled with ashen gray metals. The engraving was quite incomprehensible to most Sangheili, for only the highest-ranking warriors were taught the sacred tongue of the Forefathers. But even those who did not know, were they to look at the glyphs, linked together in a beautiful artistry, they would still suspect, looking at the great figure wearing the armor, as to their meaning. Honor.

He was Antares. He was the Eternal Knight of the Sangheili.

----------------------

Antares passed through the crowd with little trouble. Some of the Sangheili he passed he recognized as warriors, who gave a slight bow and watched him pass in venerable silence. Others were no doubt of the worker caste; clamoring and yelling to see, perhaps even greet the honorable warrior. Though he held all Sangheili in very high esteem, for they were all truly part of a greater family, he held in great disdain this sort of commotion. Indeed, even the workers were of his family, but it was the more honorable silence of the warriors that made them all his brothers. He passed each one with a respectful nod, and they simply bowed in respect to the great warrior. And the workers? Well, many simply presumed he was in fact acknowledging them, and would go home and tell their tales of this day. Antares was not bothered by this in the slightest. No, to be held in such high esteem should be nothing but an honor.

Antares finally passed through all of the crowd, and slipped through an entrance, guarded heavily by Sangheili warriors, into a bustling hive of activity. Most Sangheili there stopped to greet the elder warrior, but few showed quite the same respect, as they were in quite a hurry. These bustling bodies were the staff aides to the Sangheili Assemblymen. Each needed to bring messages or run errands for their Assemblyman, and they naturally needed to do it all quite quickly, so as not to lose favor with their powerful employers.

The Hall of the Assembly was a highly impressive structure, albeit quite gaudy. The entire structure was rectangular in shape. A hundred stone pillars, one for each of the Assemblymen, hung close to three of the walls, but not the fourth, which was unobstructed so that when one looked upon the Chair of the Assembly, their eyes would not stray towards the pillars. The pillars soared up to the roof, high overhead. The roof itself was decorated with a massive fresco of the Sangheili, Sangheili of all castes. The idea was that the Assembly, symbolized by the pillars, supported the Sangheili. In reality, the pillars had no bearing on the structure, and it was rumored that the architect, displaying a remarkable understanding of the Sangheili hierarchy had the walls painted with depictions of Sangheili warriors in combat. It was also rumored that the Assemblymen of the time had that architect killed and hid his body in the walls before repainting them in a purple shade which matched Sangheili blood perfectly.

The Assembly itself was placed in something of a half-crater. The lower-ranking Assemblymen were placed at the crater's lip, showing that they were on the fringe of power, while the higher ranking were nearer to its epicenter, with the chair of the Assembly at the exact center. Each Assemblyman had a simplistic wooden desk from which they read or wrote documents, which their staff aides would either give them or relay to other Assemblymen. Furthering this jumble were the aides to the chair, who would attend to the Assemblymen when they wished to call a point of order or give a speech or otherwise grandstand. And naturally, all these hundreds of staff aides had to exit the half-crater and navigate the edges of the Assembly hall to get to other Assemblymen or the chair, so as not to obstruct the views of other Assemblymen. The result was a chaotic mess of staff aides rushing back and forth along the hall's fringes.

Antares made his way through this tempest, seeking a good place to observe the Assembly in action. He found it in a spot curiously absent of people, a semicircular void of activity. At its center, Antares found the reason that the staff aides avoided this place. A single Sangheili stood there, dividing his attention between the Assembly and shooting menacing looks at those staff aides who came too close. The Sangheili was a warrior, and a tremendous one at that. He stood tall, proudly wearing magnificent white armor which seemed to shine with a faint innate luminosity. Antares smiled faintly as he looked upon the warrior, and walked over to his side. Antares bowed slightly to the warrior, and the warrior returned with a deeper bow in respect to his superior.

"It is an honor, Eternal Knight Antares." The warrior spoke in hypnotizing bass tones.

"The honor is mine, Saint Knight Saladin." Antares replied with the standard honorific. Yet standard as the greetings were, there was a particular sincerity in them, a mutual respect amongst the warriors. Saladin held Antares in the highest esteem, for none embodied the ideals of the Forefathers as well, as completely as Antares. And Antares held great respect for the younger warrior, who was but one rank beneath him. His ascension had resulted not just from his prowess as a warrior, but also from his passionate commitment to all Sangheili. A fine warrior.

The two stood and watched the Assembly, mildly bored as it debated various inane issues, such as distribution of Assemblymen amongst the castes, deciding upon the proper punishments for various crimes of the worker castes. One Assemblyman ventured to explore the governance of warriors by the Assembly, but none dared support him. Not with the two highest-ranking warriors listening, and the third supposedly on the way.

"I fail to see why the Assembly requested our presence here." Antares mused. Saladin simply huffed in agreement. Antares could see the younger warrior was getting quite impatient with seeing the political wing of the Sangheili. And then, finally, as the very last item on the agenda for the meeting, an Assemblyman stepped forth "concerning a grave and solemn matter."

"Fellow Assemblymen, and the most esteemed Knights of the Sangheili." The Assemblyman took a brief moment to look in the direction of the warriors. "A most tragic event unfolded today, not long after the sun ascended to its mantle in the sky." Antares snorted at the phrasing. Speeches were fine, but in this instance, it would have been infinitely more practical to say 'after dawn'. "A hunting team of honorable Sangheili warriors," the Assemblyman curiously had no poetic honorifics to describe the warriors, "was ambushed today." The room flooded with the murmurs of the Assemblymen. More than a few carried rather smug tones. Antares looked over to see Saladin in a state of shock.

"Outrageous! They dared to keep this information from us!" Saladin looked to his superior, attempting to determine if he had known. "Antares!" The Eternal Knight shrugged apathetically. He mourned his brothers, but that the Assembly would make such a move hardly surprised him. Ever since the age of the Forefathers the Assemblymen had grappled with the warriors for power. Saladin was a great warrior, but he had yet to truly understand the machinations of power. Although Antares supposed it was perhaps better that his future successor not get caught up in the political machine.

As Saladin coped with his surprise, the chair of the Assembly, a representative of the worker caste, called for order. Slowly the din of the Assembly died out, and the Assemblyman on the floor was allowed to continue with his report.

"The team was composed of four warriors, none of rank. They were discovered around the time that the sun reached its highest position in the heavens." In a word, noon. Antares thought to himself. "Another team found them dead, with holes in their backs." No small amount of gasping ensued. "Adding to the circumstances, another warrior came back from the wilderness with two bodies on hand. One was a leaf dragon, of no particular consequence to this incident. To describe the other corpse, the Assembly thought it best that the warrior himself tell the tale." The Assemblyman bowed to the rest of the Assembly and returned to his seat. The chair, meanwhile, spoke.

"The High Assembly of the Sangheili recognizes the witness, a most admirable warrior of the Sangheili, Zyar Mortumee." A Sangheili who had hung in the back left corner of the room stepped forward to the central speaking position. The plain metal armor he wore indicated he was of no rank, like all other hunters, yet Antares surmised that if he could kill a leaf dragon, it was quite possible that this could change. The Eternal Knight would have to inquire as to this warrior.

"I am not entirely familiar with this Mortumee." Antares conceded to the Saint Knight. Saladin waited a few moments to respond, undoubtedly trying to recall what he knew of the warrior.

"He's a most unusual case. A descendant of workers." Antares was intrigued by this. He could not remember ever having heard of such a thing. The gap between the worker caste and warrior caste was quite wide. The warriors were born of the reproductive caste, a group of Sangheili of quite high stock. The result was that few workers were ever born with anything rivaling the combat potential of the warriors, who were the products of highly selective breeding. For this Zyar Mortumee to have jumped this gap, he truly had to be a most exceptional being. Antares would certainly have to look further into the case.

As he mulled over the matter, Zyar Mortumee stepped onto the orator's podium, and, with a simple clarity and strength, related his story to the Assembly.

"Greetings, esteemed Assemblymen. I thank you for giving me this opportunity to serve my brethren. And to the most honorable Knights of the Sangheili, I would take great pride from this tragedy should my words capture your focus.

"Shortly after dawn, I and many of my brothers went out into the wilderness to hunt. The hunt, as some of you may know, is not intended for the purposes of gathering food for other Sangheili, but for honing a warrior's skill. It is something we undertake each week. For two days and two nights, we are to remain in the wild parts of the forest, living in harmony with it. We learn to gain sustenance from it, to walk it in absolute stealth, occasionally to work in small squads, and in certain circumstances, to practice our abilities in combat. To leave the wilderness prematurely, no matter the circumstance, is a great shame upon any warrior. However, I found that in this particular instance, it was far better to sacrifice some of my honor than to allow my brothers here to be left imperiled in their ignorance of the matter.

"This morning, a couple hours after dawn, I found myself embattled with a leaf dragon. Soon after I emerged the victor, I heard an odd rustling in the undergrowth. Knowing that my brothers would not be so careless as to make such a sound, and that the creatures of the wilderness would likewise move in silence, I decided to discover the nature of the circumstance. I circled about the position as quickly and as silently as was within my natural limits, and found that the source of the disturbance was…" The warrior lingered, dreading the consequences his words could have. Many of the Assemblymen looked rather impatient at this point, having been in the hall for hours now. The shock value of four murdered warriors had apparently worn off quite quickly. So Zyar Mortumee, answering their pleas, got on with it, and uttered the fateful words. "The source of the disturbance was one of the sorcerers of the plains." Gasps followed, as the Assemblymen were not only shocked by this intrusion, but by the realization of how the dead Sangheili had met their fate. Antares checked again on Saladin, and found the Saint Knight at a rare loss for words. Antares himself was in a similar state. For centuries there had been an uneasy peace between Sangheili and the sorcerers. The Sangheili kept to their forests, and the sorcerers kept to their behemoth structures out in the open where they practiced their wizardry.

"It can't be true!" One of the Assemblymen cried out in a natural reflex. Bringing up the subject of the sorcerers was a very uneasy thing. The Sangheili had warred with them long ago, and the casualties had been appalling. All these years later, and the scars of the war were still quite prominent. No sooner had the Assemblyman made the denial that a multitude of voices rose up, some agreeing with his position and others attacking his wishful thinking. Before even a minute had passed the Assembly had devolved into a mass of bickering and shouting. The chair attempted to call for order, but the measure was nothing less than futile. Zyar Mortumee, meanwhile, stood uneasily upon the orator's podium, watching as various parts of the Assembly either assailed his character or praised his selflessness in reporting the matter.

"Saladin…" Antares muttered, his voice somehow floating over the din and reaching the Saint Knight. "The Holy Knight is on his way, correct?" Saladin nodded in affirmation. "Find him and divert him from this place." Saladin merely gave him a confused glance. "This matter is outside the jurisdiction of the Assembly. They lack the right to judge on the issue, so there is no point to us lingering here." Saladin nodded, a very pleased expression on his face. Antares could tell he was glad for the confirmation of his beliefs.

"Yet, Eternal Knight, I cannot help but be of the opinion that such a crisis demands some sort of action." Antares nodded sagely.

"Indeed. Find the Holy Knight, and bring him to the Sacred Antechamber of the Forefathers. I am convening the Arch Knights so that we might determine our course." Again Saladin nodded enthusiastically. The proud warrior bowed and exited the hall. Antares gave one last look at the Assembly, at poor Zyar trapped in the center of the storm, and rushed out of the hall, not quite as enthusiastically as Saladin. This was indeed a very grave and solemn matter. If the Arch Knights did not decide upon the proper action…

This could very well be war.