So let us cast arms aside And like discard our wrath.

Thou, in faith, will keep us safe Whilst we find The Path.

The treaty was formalized with the decommissioning of the Dreadnought. The ancient vessel was stripped of all its weapons (or at least all the San'Shyuum knew it possessed), and permanently installed at the center of High Charity's then-partially constructed dome.

Fortitude was not as devout as other Prophets. He believed in the Great Journey, to be sure, but by vocation he was more technocrat than theologian. And yet, as the Minister rose through a pocket of less-crowded air, he couldn't help but feel a rush of spiritual invigoration as the Dreadnought's grand tripodal frame began to glimmer in the morning light.

More than any other piece of abandoned Forerunner technology, the ship typified its makers' technological mastery. The Dreadnought's engines, for example, were so efficient that even though the San'Shyuum had only ever managed to bring them partially online, they still generated more than enough power to sustain all of High Charity. Fortitude knew there were many more secrets hidden in the computational pathways that spread throughout the vessel's hull. Soon, he hoped, the San'Shyuum priests responsible for the Dreadnought's exploration would unlock them all.

For as preoccupied as Fortitude was with managing his Ministry's vast bureaucracy, part of his mind was still gripped with the same questions as all other Covenant: how exactly had the Forerunners accomplished their transcendence? And how might mere mortals do the same?

A sudden wail of anti-grav generators and subsequent shrill cries of protest drew the Minister's gaze upward. One of the Unggoy barges had failed to give way to a San'Shyuum commuting ring, forcing its constituent chairs to break apart.

Similar rings were in motion all around the dome, ascending and descending the towers.

Junior San'Shyuum rated the least powerful chairs and traveled in rings of twenty or more, packed arm-to-arm to maximize their ring's anti-grav field. Senior Ministry staffers might manage rings as small as seven, and the sophistication of Vice Ministers' chairs made it possible for them to commute in trios. But only full Ministers such as Fortitude rated units sufficiently powerful for individual flight.

For a moment, Fortitude thought he, too, might have to swerve to avoid the plummeting barge. But High Charity's flight-control circuits had already corrected their mistake, properly identified the Minister's rank and forced the barge to take evasive action. It dipped precipitously to one side, causing its Unggoy passengers to cling tighly to one another or risk plummeting to their deaths.

Soaring past without even the slightest bobble in his chair, Fortitude noticed the barge was so crowded that some of the Unggoy had been forced to sit with their stubby legs dangling over its low gunwales—a capacity violation to be sure. As the barge leveled off and continued its barely controlled fall to the still foggy, methane-rich districts on the dome's floor, Fortitude wondered if the overcrowding was an isolated problem or an indication that the Unggoy were, once again, reproducing beyond legal limits.

Overpopulation was a constant concern for the Covenant given how many of its creatures lived on ships or other space-based habitats. The Unggoy were especially prodigious breeders, and while this benefited the Covenant military rolls, it was also the case that the only thing that put an appreciable dent in their numbers was war. In times of peace and without proper oversight, the Unggoy's inherent lack of reproductive restraint had proven to be quite dangerous.

As a junior staffer in the Ministry of Concert (the institution tasked with the arbitration of inter-species disputes), Fortitude had handled a case that dealt directly with this issue— uncovered a scandal that resulted in the dismissal of that Ministry's leadership, and taught him a valuable lesson about the fragility of the Covenant: how easy it was to grow complacent about various species' petty squabbles, and how quickly this complacency might lead to disaster.

The case involved a complaint by an Unggoy distillers' union that faulty atmospheric controls aboard Kig-Yar merchant vessels had tainted multiple batches of infusions— recreational narcotics Unggoy added to their portable methane supplies. At first glance the dispute seemed trivial, which was undoubtedly why it ended up on Fortitude's docket. But as he delved deeper, he discovered the contamination had resulted in widespread Unggoy sterility.

At the time of the case, the Covenant had passed many peaceful ages, and a growing Unggoy population had put pressure on the habitats they shared with Kig-Yar. Strained at the best of times, relations between the two species took a turn for the worst as female Kig-Yar were displaced from their nests—relocations that stressed incubation cycles and caused a spike in Kig-Yar infant mortality. Fortitude advised his superiors that the tainting of infusions was bold vigilantism—an attempt by radical Kig-Yar Shipmasters who believed Unggoy births were causing Kig-Yar deaths to mete out their own justice.

Much to Fortitude's surprise, the Minister of Concert chose not to impose any of his recommended stiff penalties. Fines were assessed and damages paid, but the guilty Shipmasters avoided imprisonment. Indeed, after making repairs to their vessels and proving they were safe, the Ministry allowed them back in service.

Fortitude held no special place in his heart for Unggoy. But a strong sense that justice had not been served led him to lodge a formal complaint. His superiors rebuffed him, arguing that a few thousand impotent Unggoy wasn't worth doing anything that might enflame the Kig-Yar's endemic autonomous urge. The Unggoy would soon recoup their losses, Fortitude's superiors had concluded, and in the meantime, any junior who cared about the progress of his career would be wise to shut his lips.

No one had known that the Infusion Incident, as it came to be known, was the most important of many small grievances that precipitated the Unggoy Rebellion, a civil war that ushered in the Covenant's 39th Age of Conflict, and brought about a radical restructuring of the Covenant armed forces.

In the short but nasty fight that resulted in the near-razing of the Unggoy home world, the creatures proved that properly motivated, they were vicious fighters. Honoring a tradition of welcoming the best of their defeated foes into their ranks, the same Sangheili commanders that crushed the rebellion were quick to forgive the surviving Unggoy fighters. They gave them better training and weapons and integrated them into formerly all-Sangheili units—actions that elevated the methane-breathers from cannon fodder to competent infantry.

Some San 'Shyuum had lingering doubts about the Unggoy's loyalty. But the Writ of Union was very clear: security matters were the Sangheili's responsibility. And if the Prophets had learned anything about keeping their prideful protectors happy, it was the importance of letting them preserve as many of their pre-Covenant traditions as possible. Even in his youth, Fortitude had understood that while something like the Unggoy Rebellion might temporarily destabilize the Covenant, a Sangheili revolt would shatter it.

A vertical line of triangular holographic symbols flashed above one of Fortitude's armrests, jarring him from his thoughts. The symbols were letters from the Covenant's common written language, and he immediately recognized the name they announced. "Whatever you must say, Vice Minister." Fortitude pressed one of his throne's switches to accept the incoming signal.

"Endeavor to keep your voice low."

The symbols dispersed, and in their place a San'Shyuum appeared in miniature. Even in holographic form it was easy to see that the Vice Minister of Tranquility was many ages Fortitude's junior. His skin was darker—more brown than tan—and his wattle wasn't heavy enough to have sagged all the way to his chin. Two of the fleshy balls hung from the corners of his mouth. These were pierced with golden loops—a rakish affectation popular with male San'Shyuum who had not yet committed to a single mate.

"Is it too early?" The Vice Minister sat far forward in his cushionless chair, his fingers wrapped tightly around its dull metal armrests. "I would have called last evening, were it not for the conclave." Tranquility paused, his large, glassy eyes almost bursting from his head.

Then, in a jumbled failure of propriety: "I wonder if this morning—now, in fact—it would be possible to meet and discuss something of vital—"

Fortitude cut the Vice Minister off with an impatient wave. "I haven't checked my schedule.

But I'm sure it is quite full."

"I will be brief, you have my word," Tranquility persisted. "In fact it's not so much what I have to say as what I have to show you." His fingers drummed against his chair's armrests and his image was suddenly replaced by a single Forerunner glyph—a Lumination, Fortitude realized, his slumped shoulders stiffening with shock.

Unlike the triangular symbols, the sacred glyphs weren't used in everyday discourse.

Indeed, some were so hallowed—the concepts they represented so powerful—that their usage was strictly proscribed. And the one this idiot had just flashed for all to see, Fortitude cursed, was the most sacred and dangerous of all!

"In my chambers! Immediately!" Fortitude slammed his palm onto his chair, blanking the glyph and ending the conversation. He resisted the urge to max his chair's acceleration, knowing this would only draw more attention. Massaging his throbbing head, he continued his steady, counterclockwise ascent to his Ministry's tower, arriving a short while later at a broad vestibule in an upper floor.

Fortitude wasn't in the habit of socializing with his staff, and now he paid them even less consideration than usual. That didn't stop their shows of deference, however, and Fortitude had to carve his way through his kowtowing juniors' feeble chairs, expending what little patience he had on common courtesy.

The vestibule channeled into a large gallery lined with hallways leading off to the staffers' work clusters. In between these exits floated slightly more than life-size statues of Fortitude's predecessors. These were carved from stones quarried from High Charity's rocky base and "dressed" in holographic robes that scrolled with symbolic histories of their wearers' many notable accomplishments.

On the far side of the gallery was a vertical shaft guarded by two Sangheili in the distinctive bright-white armor of one of their most elite combat units, the Lights of Sanghelios; Helios, for short—a reference to the globular cluster of stars near the species' home system.

Fortitude could hear the Helios' energy staves crackle as he neared the shaft. But the guards didn't so much as twitch their four jagged mandibles as the Minister glided between them.

Peering out from the visors of their swept-back helmets, the Helios' dark eyes remained locked on the vestibule, the most likely avenue of attack. The Minister wasn't offended. He hadn't chosen the Helios for their manners, and despite their stone-faced demeanor he knew they would gladly give their lives for his.

The shaft quickly tapered such that a few levels above the gallery there was barely room for Fortitude's single chair. This was partly for additional security, but also an architectural metaphor for Fortitude's status: at the top, there was only room for one.

"Admit the Vice Minister of Tranquility as soon as he arrives," Fortitude snapped to a hologram of a staff member waiting at the top of the shaft. "I don't care what that does to the rest of my schedule." The junior dispersed, and Fortitude brought his chair to an abrupt halt in the center of his receiving room. His heart was racing, and his skin was clammy beneath his robes. Calm yourself, he thought, Under no circumstances can this upstart know he has upset you!

And so, when the Vice Minister emerged from the shaft a short while later, he found Fortitude reclining calmly in his chair, a steaming ball of medicinal tea floating in a stasis-field above his lap.

"Busy and ill," Tranquility simpered. "I apologize, Minister, for adding further burden to your day."

Fortitude leaned forward, pressed his lips against the field, and took a draught. The field shimmered and shrunk as the tea drained into the Minister's gullet. "Who else have you told?"

"Holiness, you are the only one I thought to tell."

So far, the youth was showing exceptional deference. How long will that last? Fortitude wondered, sucking more tea through his lips.

The Vice Minister was famously scrappy—vocal and determined. On the occasions he had substituted for his Minister in sessions of the Covenant High Council (a decision-making body comprised of San'Shyuum Ministers and Sangheili Commanders), he had shown no reluctance to participate in debate, going chair-to-chair with councilors many ages his senior on a number of contentious issues.

Fortitude suspected this decidedly un-San'Shyuum behavior had much to do with the Vice Minister's work. The Ministry of Tranquility managed the Covenant's vast relic-hunting fleet and spent a great deal of time outside High Charity, dealing directly with Sangheili Shipmasters. In the process, he had adopted some of their more aggressive demeanor.

"How many instances?" Fortitude asked, tapping a finger against his throne. The glyph in question appeared between the two San'Shyuum's chairs—the brightest object in the Minister's sparsely decorated chambers.

To the untrained eye, the Lumination was just a pair of concentric circles; the smaller circle hung low inside the larger, suspended by a straight line that connected to a surrounding lattice of interlocking curves. But Fortitude knew what the glyph meant—the Forerunner word it represented: Reclamation, or the recovery of previously unknown relics.

"The Luminary was on a very remote ship. Its transmission was somewhat garbled."

Tranquility struggled to restrain a triumphant smile. "But it detected thousands of unique instances."

A shudder ran the length of Fortitude's spine. If the Vice Minister was to be believed, it was an unprecedented find. "Why not bring this discovery to your own Minister?" Fortitude asked, managing to keep his voice calm. "Were he to discover your disloyalty, dismissal will be the least of your concerns."

"A risk worth taking." The Vice Minister leaned forward in his chair and added in a conspiratorial whisper, "For both of us."