- Sergeant Murph
- |
- Noble Legendary Member
Chapter Eleven
Anointment of the Reborn
Covenant Battle Cruiser, Hammer of Faith.
Council of New Fathers
“Please sit, my brothers. We’ve important matters to discuss, I suppose?” The Prophet of Truth asked, shifting in his golden throne and gesturing with his bony arms for the Brutes to take their seats. The Prophet folded his hands on his lap, forcing to look as patient as he could, even though he despised being in the same room with the savage Brutes. What seemed like years had passed since his Sangheili council had been slaughtered, each representative hunted down and torn apart. Besides, this was the most important time in the history of the galaxy. The everlasting hunt for the Great Journey was coming to an end.
“Noble Prophet of Truth,” a Brute in the new white and gold councilor armor bowed his head, soon mimicked by the rest of his Brutes. Truth concealed a grunt of annoyance and had to bite his lip to prevent from shouting at them to hurry up.
“Are these urgent matters you have, Darralus? We mustn’t waste time with unimportant talk,” Truth said sharply, his eyes burning into the leader for wasting his time.
The councilor called Darralus nodded grimly. “I’m afraid these circumstances are not positive, your majesty. Throughout the last week or so there has been a… disturbance.” Darralus sat down in the purple chair, once again followed by the rest of his lesser councilors.
“A disturbance? What kind of disturbance?” Truth asked, cocking his head to the side.
Darralus gulped. “The Sangheili, noble hierarch. Their resistance is unimaginable, unthinkable! They’re breaking through everything we throw their way. They are what is bringing down the Covenant in these dark times. One individual singlehandedly took on Janerus and beat him.”
Truth raised his eyebrows at the mention of his best and favorite Jiralhanae Chieftain. Long had his family served and praised the Covenant, especially having the coincidence of his Uncle being the previous Chieftain of the Jiralhanae, Tartarus.
“Janerus is dead?” Truth asked, startled by the news.
Darralus shook his head. “He was only defeated in battle, but was not slain. He led troops into the human city, and they prevailed before reinforcements were sent in. We heard from him fifteen minutes ago, warning us to only send our prisoners into the battlefield, due to human bombers on their way to his recent coordinates.”
Truth nodded slowly. Janerus had always been among the wisest Brutes he’d known. He was extremely powerful, but not reckless like most of his kind. Suddenly, the prime question entered his mind. “Who was the individual that defeated him?”
Darralus looked to his brothers. “Our monitors received one image of the Sangheili that we suspect to be the victor. He lacks strength and precision, but there is something about this young one that has helped him elude us, no matter how hard we strike. You will also notice his unlikely distinction in this image.”
One of the Brutes had carried a small projector into the council meeting. He set a vase-like machine on the table and punched a button. An image shot up out of it.
The Elite wore golden plated armor, that of a Zealot, although he looked like no Zealot Truth had ever seen. His shoulder blades were red trimmed, matching the red painted eagle across his chest. Truth scowled at the initials UNSC written under the eagle’s outstretched wings. In his right hand he held an Energy Sword, but no model Truth had ever come across. It was a red Energy Sword! The Elite’s teeth were clenched and it stood in its standard defensive position: knees bent and firmly planted on the ground, sword at side. Seemingly real eyes burned back into the Prophet’s, as if the image knew who it was staring at.
“What is its name?”
“Solonee, noble Prophet. This is Solonee’s offspring,” Darralus answered gravely. Truth could see perspiration running down his cheeks.
“The Honor Guard? The Honor Guardsmen that we recruited when his father betrayed us?” Truth asked, studying the image again. Those eyes—Truth had seen them before. He had seen them last eight years ago, only last time the lust and fury had been replaced by tears of pain. The little rat! The stupid, ungrateful little rat! The council had allowed him to live in his father’s shadow, and this was how they were repaid?
“The very same. Are you familiar with him?” Darralus asked, then added “your majesty?”
Truth thought back to about a month ago, just before the Great Schism had occurred. Hadn’t he been informed of a new heretic that had betrayed Regret? An Honor Guardsman? It was all adding up; it had been Solonee from the very beginning! Solonee, who singlehandedly tricked the devious minds of the Covenant into thinking he was a loyal servant, when he had really been nothing but a coward and a traitor all along.
On the other hand, it was by Solonee’s doing that the Prophet of Regret had been slain. Had it not been for Solonee’s cowering fear of the Demon, Truth may not be in full control of the Covenant right now. Truth considered this, nodding and muttering to himself.
“Do we have any lead on his whereabouts?” Truth asked, scratching his chin with long, overgrown and razor sharp fingernails.
Darralus nodded. “Around the same time that Janerus reported back to us, a Separatist Phantom was sighted by our bombing squad. The ship made it through the attack and crash landed in the city. We believe it’s occupants are Solonee and the other humans.”
“I see,” Truth said slowly. He closed his eyes for a moment and stopped breathing, and for a split second Darralus wondered if the Prophet was dead by the lifeless look on his face. When his giant eyelids flapped open again, red pupils fixed upon the image of the Elite warrior. His grotesque face slowly made its way into a smirk. He rested his hands on the arms of his golden throne and leaned over toward his council.
“We shall use this to our greatest advantage; make use of the one weapon that could lead the Covenant down the holy path to our Great Journey. Solonee shall serve us once more,” Truth said, his voice dancing with delight.
“This Sangheili is loyal to his allies,” Darralus said regretfully. “With all due respect, noble Prophet, I do not think he will be swayed so easily. He may be a coward; a dirty traitor, but his heart will never give in to what he believes in.”
Truth snorted. “Darralus, I have no intention of persuading him to return to his rightful place here. Persuasion will accomplish nothing on such a hero. He shall be corrupted. We shall take everything dear to him away; kill his blasted human friends and let him watch as we burn their corpses! Before long, we will have driven him insane; brought him to the ends of his world. That is when I shall hold out my hand and willfully take him back, by my shear generosity.” Truth’s face burned with madness, and his hands clenched around the chair’s arms with an incredibly firm grip. “He will betray them, mark my word. Sangheili and humans don't work together. You’ll see, in time.”
Darralus was at a loss of words. He looked to his council, but they only shrugged. He folded his hands, deliberately coughed once, and spoke. “Your majesty, I meant not to question your better judgment. I apologize if my words came off in the wrong manner. Please forgive me.” He paused, expecting a comment from Truth, but received nothing but silence and stares. “Is there any way in particular that we can establish this corruption?”