A Standup Philosopher
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Crown of Slaves Chapter Eleven
🕑 Added 2024-06-21 00:46:55 +0000 UTCCrown of Slaves
Chapter Eleven
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Asmu-Nikal watched with her heart in her throat as Vestara meditated deeply under the direction of Lord Ergast himself, so deeply in fact that her presence in the force was a muted ember compared to the warm, fierce fire it was meant to be. She had been angry and bitter and, though she would never voice it aloud, depressed and hurt when she had so bluntly spoken to Lord Kallig when they had first stood before his throne.
Those emotions had faded quickly, replaced by fear. Fear for herself and fear for the woman she loved, the woman that she had decided long ago to support against her family’s wishes, to throw her lot in with someone who by all rights should have been used and discarded long ago, executed the moment she showed a taste for rebellion or individuality. Fear born of the fact that it was clear that neither Lord Ergast nor Lord Kallig were willing to tolerate incompetence, and Ergast had been quite clear that Vestara would die if she failed to master his teachings. Not because he would kill her for her failure, as one might assume, but because the process of learning Forcewalking was so dangerous.
What if Vestara died? The last thing that they had done was argue (justifiably, she reminded herself firmly) over the secrets that Vestara had been keeping from herself and Kela. The last words that they had truly exchanged, the last looks shared in relative privacy, had been those of anger and mistrust. It would…it would torture her if Vestara were to die with that as their last encounter.
“Calm yourself, girl.” Kallig’s spirit intoned beside her, his arms folded over his chest and his expression intent but calm. Blinking, she turned to look over at him, eyebrows raising instinctually. Didn’t he realize that Vestara’s death would mean his family would lose it’s chance at returning to glory? His plans quashed before they could even begin? His legacy doomed to treachery-born obscurity? As if sensing her thoughts (and for all she knew, he could. His power far eclipsed anything that she had ever felt, and Force only knew what arts he had mastered in life), he turned to regard her in return. “My descendant is not so incapable as to feel this test, otherwise she would not have sought it out. Nor is she weak of will, which is the most important of factors with rituals such as this. So settle your soul and focus on your affections for the daughter of my daughters. Let her draw strength from it, let her have a focus and a goal to return to.”
“Love is weak. Only the Jedi love.” She responded instantly, instinctually, the rote training since she had been through since the moment of her birth coming to the fore without any sort of conscious input on her part.
“Ridiculous. Is this the sort of nonsense that they teach Sith on Korriban these days? By the Force, standards have fallen if that’s the case.” Kallig retorted immediately with a scoff, making a gesture that could only be called contemptuously dismissive with his right hand. “What separates the Sith from the Jedi is nothing so simple, so banal, as refusing to form emotional attachments. It was not uncommon in my era for the Jedi to have families as large and fruitful as our own, nor was it emotionless breeding.”
“But the Jedi code? We learned it on Korriban, and they reject emotion…” Asmu-Nikal tried to protest, only to fall silent as he scoffed.
“Do you mean that worthless fringe sect managed to take over the entire Order? Pathetic! Their ancestors and forbears would be ashamed of them! Rejecting emotion, rejecting passion, rejecting chaos! Fools! Rejecting the very fabric of what makes sentients sentient, rejecting a foundational concept of the galaxy itself! Arrogance and cowardice!” he grumbled, folding his arms over his chest and glowering at nothing and no one that was actually present. “Unable to regulate themselves, unable to properly control themselves and their emotions, they instead opt to pretend that they do not exist! They become brittle and break! Back in my day, the Jedi were wiser, braver, and stronger for it! Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force. This was the Code by which they lived.”
The differences were obvious to Asmu-Nikal, and she found herself intrigued. It seemed, at first blush, a very reasonable Code to be guided by. It acknowledged the existence of emotion, and ignorance, and passion. It acknowledged the things that made sentient creatures the unique, free-thinking creatures that they truly were. It acknowledged the true nature of the galaxy and all the beings that called it home, but it demanded and advised that those natures be controlled and overcome.
“I…on the face of it, that seems a most reasonable code. More reasonable, perhaps, than our own.” She said slowly, thinking back to her conversation with Vestara in her private library, what seemed now to be a lifetime ago. “I once spoke at length with Vestara on the nature of the Force, what it means to be Jedi and to be Sith. She spoke of the Force being a neutral element of nature and nothing more, so far as morality is concerned.”
“And she would be quite right. Does an avalanche or a super-nova possess morality? Of course they do not, they simply are.” He agreed immediately, taking on an almost lecturing tone, sounding very much like a Master speaking to an Apprentice. “Peace is a Lie, There is Only Passion. What does this line mean, child?”
“It means that the Sith do not delude themselves into ignoring their emotion, into believing that internal peace is a benefit to the individual. Rather, we embrace our emotion and let it make us stronger. We fight with the fire of purpose, rather than the hollow resolve of the Jedi.” The answer, more or less the (literal) textbook answer from Korriban, spilled from her lips, and she knew immediately it was wrong simply from the expression on Kallig’s face.
“Truly, Korriban has fallen far if you are their best and brightest.” He sighed, before waving a hand at her spike of indignation. “The fault is not yours, you are clearly competent and took to your training well. The flaw lies within your training itself, for it seems that the Sith have become just as dogmatic and close-minded as the Jedi of this age. Come, sit. The daughter of my daughters will be some time yet, and we must speak on this if you are to remain at her side. You, girl, come here as well.”
Kela, who had quietly been standing off to the side trying as hard as possible to avoid attracting the attention of either powerful Sith Lord’s spirit, startled with a soft eep of surprise before scurrying over to join them, even as Asmu-Nikal settled down onto the stone floor opposite Kallig.
“The way of the Sith is the way of growth, of change and evolution. Of becoming more than we could otherwise be. Not becoming stronger, or more influential, or wealthier, as the current generations seem to believe. These are but end results of the true goal, the goal of changing oneself.”
“Vestara said the same thing, once. She and Nicky were talking about the Force, and she complained that modern Sith view power as an end, rather than a means. She said…she said that ‘power without purpose is pointless’, that it was the reasons for gathering power was what really mattered.” Kela interjected, looking surprised at the words coming from her mouth, quailing slightly into Asmu-Nikal’s side as Kallig turned his gaze onto her, but he only nodded in satisfaction.
“Than she is not so ignorant as I had feared she might be. She is wholly correct.” He said approvingly, before returning his attention to Asmu-Nikal. “The first tenet, as you know, states that ‘Peace is a Lie, there is only Passion’. Yet it is not the emotions of the self that this speaks to, but the actions, the nature, of the self. Peace is stagnancy. A world, a galaxy of utter peace is a world and galaxy that stands still. It does not grow, it does not adapt, it does not change. It simply exists, an eternal stasis. This is not natural. All living things require conflict to grow and survive. Those that fail, die, become extinct. Conflict is what drives evolution, invention, creativity. All the hallmarks of what make the living things of the galaxy living are rooted in conflict. All of the things that have driven the technological advancement of unified history were driven by conflict. The desire to go farther, faster. To be stronger, healthier, safer. To be more secure, capable, and live more luxurious lives. This is what it means to have Passion, to have a desire, rather than to be content with what is. With stagnation.”
“Wanting to be more than what we are is what drives us forwards, what encourages us to attain the ability we need to achieve our goals. Physical strength, political power, wealth…they only matter and only have a purpose because they are what allows us to have what we truly need. At least, that’s how it is supposed to be.” The pureblood heiress said slowly, thoughtfully. “Without a challenge to strive for, there is nothing in life that makes it worth living. Without a goal to be met, what is the purpose in existing?”
“Precisely. The rest of the Code is built upon this foundation, with the end result being that this adherence to the true nature of the galaxy, the neutral and immutable truths of The Force and creation themselves, will free us from the bonds that hold us. True slavery, such as what my descendant has suffered, overcome by cleverness and wisdom. The bonds of a fragile body, overcome by honing the mind. The bonds of poverty, overcome by the willingness to create or press through barriers. The bonds of low birth, overcome through talent, determination, and skill. The bonds of infertility, overcome through adoption and raising a legacy. Passion, young pureblood, the willingness to not accept that things ‘are the way that they are’, is what truly makes one strong. And when one is strong in this way, they are free, regardless of what circumstances might befall them.” He confirmed, sounding pleased with her response, hands folded in his lap as he considered her. “Life itself is passion, for what makes someone feel more alive than feeling? Yes, Sith master hate, anger, and rage most easily. Why would we not? They are powerful emotions, easy to grasp and easy to encounter. Is there not much in life that would bring anger from the depths of your heart? Yet the ease of grasping them, despite what the Jedi might say, does not make us weaker. Yes, adversity builds strength, this we have just established, but adversity for the sake of adversity is fruitless.”
Asmu-Nikal nodded hesitantly, wondering what he was getting at. It sounded self-contradictory, so far, in a way that she was sure would be considered heretical on Korriban, and it was confusing as well. Was Kallig’s closest friend, contemporary, and killer not known as the Lord of Hate? Did he not just say that challenges were necessary for growth? How then could adversity for the sake of adversity, which by it’s very nature would bring about that growth, be fruitless? Tentatively voicing those questions, she was gratified to see that his response was another pleased nod. Apparently, Kallig wasn’t interested in her unquestioning and blind agreement, but in her actually learning something.
“Yes, Tulak was known as The Lord of Hate. Yes, adversity is necessary for growth. But there is a difference to be seen. Hate provides power, so long as it is controlled. Anger is the same. The way of the Sith is not to be ruled by our emotions, as your brother and those like him are. We embrace our emotions, but they are ours. They belong to us, are owned by us, are wielded by us. Let anger drive your blade, but do not let it guide it. Your emotions are your tools, you are not the tool of your emotions.” He explained seriously, looking at her intently, clearly wanting to make quite sure that she absorbed his words and the lesson within them. “Tulak Hord wielded his anger, his hate, like the saber in his hand, and in doing so conquered hundreds of worlds and laid waste to entire star systems. But his fear wielded him, and it cost him his closest ally and, finally, it cost him his life. Remember his example, because he chained himself, enslaved himself, to his fears. Tulak Hord, in the end, was no longer free. He left the Code behind, left his ability to grow and change and become stronger behind, and in his stagnancy became the growth of another.”
All Asmu-Nikal could do was nod silently, marveling over his words. There had been nothing like this on Korriban. Just rote memorization and education that, if she was willing to be honest, was more akin to indoctrination than anything else. Sith Philosophy was not something to be debated, not on Holy Korriban, only something to be laid down like an ironclad and above-reproach law. Debating it, if such a thing was ever permissible, lay solely in the purview of each Apprentice’s Master.
How different would the Empire be, she wondered, if it had been Aloysius Kallig and not Tulak Hord that had ruled?
A whorl of energy in the Force drew the attention of all three of them, the pulse powerful enough that even Kela, unable to wield it by any measure, could sense the change. Looking up to the dais where Vestara had been meditating, they saw that she was rising to her feet, wreathed in a visible, shifting cloak of Force energy. Ergast, standing across from her, had his arms crossed over his chest, a look and laugh of approval his response to her success. Kallig rose to his feet as she turned towards them, descending the stairs with the Force following in her wake like a bridal train.
“I offer you a pact, grandfather, and a vow. Help me, guide me, and I will return our family to glory. I will become one of the greatest Force users in the history of the galaxy and I will rewrite history itself.” She promised as she raised a small ritual knife, one that she must have collected from within one of the tombs somehow, and brought it down across her palm.
“Keep to that vow, and you will have me at your side so long as I am needed. The House of Kallig will rise again, greater and strong and more numerous than ever they once were, so long as you heed my words and ensure that your abilities march in lockstep with your ambitions. But I will be an exacting mentor, and there will be times where I will require that you stand on your own feet.” Kallig responded, a note of warning to his words, but Vestara hardly seems discouraged, only smiling and offering her bloody hand to her ancestor. He reached out towards her in turn, and the moment bloody flesh met intangible soul, the Force shook, and she was forced to shield her eyes from a blinding flash of light. It felt like standing in the eye of a hurricane, in the path of an avalanche, at the heart of an earthquake. The world, reality, seemed to have shifted in response to the freshly-forged pact, and she idly wondered what it had felt like for the rest of the planet.
“Ah, now we’re talking.” Vestara practically purred from somewhere before her, as she tried to blink the bright spots out of her eyes, and when they faded, Asmu-Nikal inhaled sharply. Her lover was wreathed in shifting shadows, her skin shimmering with power, and her eyes…Asmu-Nikal could not even see her eyes, any longer, shrouded as they were in the bright and brilliant violet glow that seemed to consume the whole upper half of her face. Then it faded, leaving the former (and it really, truly, was former at this point, no matter what flimsiwork and records might say) slave looking no different, no worse for wear. Glancing back at Lord Ergast, she bowed deeply. “I thank you for your guidance and your assistance, Lord Ergast. When I have grown strong enough, and you were to desire it, I will return here and bind you as well, let you see how the galaxy has changed since your death.”
“Survive, grow strong, and return, Vestara Khai. Forcewalker. Should you prove capable at that time, perhaps I shall accept your offer. It would be…interesting, I confess, to see all that the centuries have wrought.” Ergast responded, before waving a hand at the three of them. “Now, go. Return to the Tomb of your ancestor or leave this place entirely, I care not which, but I desire to return to my rest.”
Kela and Asmu-Nikal needed no prompting from Vestara to bow respectfully and depart quickly, and as they made their way through the corridors, as she sensed the changes within Vestara settling, like a pool of water calming after being disrupted by a pebble, she hoped that no ill would come of this.
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“By the Force, what is going on down there?” Corilla growled in aggravation, looking hard out the window, as they flew over the vast grounds of the Dark Temple, and Marr couldn’t help but agree as he looked out his own.
The entire region had gone through quite the transformation. While it was still very much in ruins, the amount of restoration that had been done over the past weeks was nothing short of astonishing. Pillars and obelisks had been re-erected and cleaned, ancient statues and carvings had been uncovered and meticulously restored, even the roads themselves had been partially cleared off. Yet, as impressive as that was, it wasn’t what the two Sith were truly focused on. No, what they were focused on was the incredible number of sentients that were shambling around the partially-restored environment.
Even from this distance, he could see the jerkiness and awkwardness of their movements, sensed the almost tattered state of their presences in the Force, the way that they seemed almost as if…
“Ah.” He breathed as an explanation presented itself to him, and Corilla glanced over at him with raised eyebrows. “If I were to guess, the mental domination that Imperial Intelligence believed was taking place has been removed. Look how aimless they’re behaving, how confused they seem to be. Sense them in The Force.”
He felt her reach out almost immediately, searching the men and women beneath them, inspecting them and scrutinizing their souls, and he felt her bafflement, understanding, and acceptance at and of the results. Neglecting to respond verbally, she simply nodded in silent confirmation of his words, agreement with his theory.
Of course, that left them with a serious and unanswered question. A series of serious and unanswered questions, actually: why had they been released, when had they been released, whom had they been controlled by and, perhaps most importantly of all, would they be controlled again?
The air car dipped heavily in the air as the Force pulsed. Not like the storm of violent, angry power that had erupted when the Dark Temple had been opened in the first place, but a change all the same. A significant change, if he were to wager, and he found himself accelerating to a greater speed with something akin to eagerness. Change was not something that had come to the Empire in a long, long time, to the Empire’s great detriment. Of course, this change might not be a good thing, a beneficial thing, for the Empire, and if that proved to be the case he would draw his blade once again. No matter how talented the Luwian girl was, no matter what bloodline Vestara Khai was apparently descended from, neither of them were even a match for his apprentice. Though fighting them together might prove an interesting experience for her. She was still struggling with fighting multiple opponents, after all. Perhaps something to consider for the future.
One shouldn’t ignore opportunity when it beckoned, after all.
“That group seems to be doing better than the others.” Corilla suddenly commented aloud, and he glanced over, following her gaze to what seemed like a command center. A bit rougher than he would expect to see in the field, but under the circumstances and the environment, it seemed competent enough. She was right, the half-dozen men and women gathered there did seem to be far more cognizant than the other plodding, listless drones they had seen until now. A moment’s consideration was all that he required to bank their transport towards the camp, and he felt the spike of mingled fear, anticipation, dread, and relief from those below at the sight of what they doubtlessly hoped was some manner of leadership or reinforcements.
He felt a flicker of amusement as all four of those emotions increased sharply the moment he stepped out into the open air, his apprentice at his side. Yet it was the relief that grew the most, and he found that oddly gratifying. A mark of approval for his methods and his reputation, well-known was he for being a reasonable and forgiving man.
“Darth Marr.” The highest-ranking man, a Captain, knelt respectfully alongside his subordinates, his gladness palpable in his voice. “Thank the Emperor that you are here. Captain Telomere Malith, Third Company, Second Battalion, Third Regiment of the Dromuund Kaas Garrison. My second-in-command, Celestra Kormika. Cipher 22, Imperial Intelligence. Hasufel Errod, Imperial Reclamation Service. Mora Beran, of the Pyramid of Ancient Knowledge. And finally, Dalmacus Scaiuth of the Imperial Ministry of History.”
“Rise and report.” Was all the Dark Councillor said in response, though he gave an ever-so-slight head-tilt of acknowledgement to the group, folding his hands behind his back.
“Yes, My Lord. Some time ago, as you are aware, the Dark Temple was breached by a group with unknown intentions, causing a significant disruption within the Force and the atmosphere. We were all deployed by our respective services to resecure the Temple and investigate the circumstances. However…” Malith obeyed promptly, beginning strong but faltering partway through, his expression taking on an almost haunted visage. Still, he proved he had metal in his spine, because he squared his shoulders and continued without encouragement. “However, when the Temple was breached, it awakened the spirit of an ancient Lord, a contemporary of Tulak Hord by the name of Aloysious Kallig. His power was…vast, My Lord. It overwhelmed us in an instant, and from that moment forward we were his devoted servants.”
“The knowledge that entering his service imparted to us is significant, My Lord. It could very well redefine what we know of the early days of the Sith.” Thanaton’s subordinate said eagerly, her eyes bright with the love of knowledge and the hunger to discover more. “And did you see all the artifacts and relics that we uncovered? We never would have found some of them, if the knowledge he imparted upon us hadn’t shown us exactly where to look!”
“He was a reasonable master as well, My Lord. There were several times we or others erred, disappointed or failed him. He did not punish us harshly, did not execute us or torture us. Only told us to do better, to learn and not fail again the next time. It was…a remarkable thing.” Kormika added, and Marr raised an eyebrow at the blatant admiration and appreciation in her tone. Despite being controlled down to her very soul by this long-dead man, she not only did not hate or fear him, but respected him? Fascinating, truly fascinating. “And his descendant, so briefly did I meet her, seemed much the same. I escorted them to Lord Kallig’s tomb myself, not a few hours ago.”
“And how long ago did you regain your senses and control of yourselves?” Marr inquired, and there was a moment of silent, almost thoughtful confusion.
“I am…unsure, My Lord. Though the control ceased immediately, there was a…lingering fog, for want of a better word. You may have witnessed some others suffering from the same effects, somewhat more seriously than ourselves, as you approached?” the Cipher spoke slowly as he answered the question at last, frowning as his pupilless crimson eyes shifted back and forth slightly in consideration. “I started keeping track an hour ago, but how much time passed before that I cannot say.”
“Hmm, very well. Remain here, begin making contact with the groups scattered around the grounds, and begin compiling notes on everything that you can recall from your time under Lord Kallig’s control, including any knowledge that he imparted to you.” Marr ordered, turning towards the main entrance, before pausing and looking directly at Beran. “Ensure that nothing is held back or reserved for others, is that quite clear?”
They all nodded rapidly, assurances spilling from their lips, the Ancient Knowledge member looking particularly pale as she vowed her obedience. Satisfied, he continued on his way, Corilla at his heels.
“Incredible. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” His wide-eyed apprentice breathed as they entered the main hall, her head swiveling to and fro as she tried to drink in all the sights at once. It was impressive, he had to agree, a feat of design and engineering that would be difficult to match even in the modern age. “Force, you could park a destroyer in here with room to spare!”
Marr hummed in amused agreement, feeling mildly amused. Most people, Sith included, wouldn’t use warships as measurements of space, but he did, and it seemed that doing so was one of the many things she had gotten from him via social osmosis. Oddly, that pleased him.
A faint grinding sound drew their attention, and both placed their hands on the hilts of their sabers as they saw a hidden door opening at the foot of a massive statue depicting an agonized being screaming skyward. A door through which Vestara Khai, Asmu-Nikal Luwian, the slave girl Kela…and a shimmering blue-white male figure emerged. They paused at seeing them, Asmu-Nikal and Kela freezing with wide eyes and fear both on their faces and within the Force, which was not unexpected. Yet Vestara Khai did not react in so reasonable away when confronted with a member of the Dark Council. Instead, she felt nervousness, excitement, and anticipation, and it was the last that interested him the most.
“Well met, Lord Marr. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you at last.” She said with a smile, and the Force hummed as their eyes met.
“Well met, Vestara Khai, and to Asmu-Nikal of House Luwian, and indeed well met to whom I can only assume is the spirit of Lord Aloysious Kallig.” He responded after a moment, moving his hand away from his weapon and striding forward again to stand a few feet away from the group, noting that he did not tower over Vestara Khai as he did so many others. Oh, he was still taller than her by a head, most certainly, but she was certainly closer to him in height than most. “I presume you are responsible for quelling Lord Kallig’s fury at the disturbance of the Temple?”
“I am. At the guidance of Lord Ergast, I mastered the ritual of Forcewalking and formed a pact with my ancestor. He and I are bound together, now, and will remain so until he is satisfied with my performance as his heir and the resurrection of our House.” She confirmed almost bluntly, foolishly so given whom she was speaking with, an impression that Lord Kallig seemed to share given the fact that he gently cuffed her across the head.
“Whatever visions you might have had, daughter of my daughters, do not so bluntly speak to a superior whom you are not personally familiar with.” He chastised her, sounding almost amused, as she rubbed her head in response to the blow with what Marr would swear was a small pout on her lips, though it vanished before he could be sure. “He is a Dark Lord of the Sith, and you stand in a place that was forbidden to you. Boast less, child.”
“Yes, grandfather.” The girl grumbled, though she shied away as the man raised his eyebrow at her tone. Straightening up and clearing her throat, she bowed respectfully. “Forgive my casual behavior, Lord Marr. I sometimes forget that the things I have foreseen have not yet come to pass, and that the relationships therein have not yet been forged. Asmu-Nikal would happily agree that it makes me speak rather more freely than I ought.”
From the look on her face, the Luwian girl would have agreed loudly and energetically with that particular claim, but that was not a matter of importance to him at the moment. What was of importance to him was what had just been said.
“You are particularly gifted with foresight, then?” he asked, and she nodded in confirmation, preening slightly with pride.
“I am. I have seen events both great and small for years to come, My Lord. Some in my youth, some when the Head of House Luwian killed me with his experiments, and some since. More than enough to know the pasts and futures of yourself and Darth Lachris, and more than enough to know that the Empire is in dire straits.” She responded, and it was only Marr’s quick reactions and familiarity with his apprentice that allowed him to stop Corilla from drawing her saber and killing the girl.
This time, it was both Asmu-Nikal and Kallig that cuffed her.
“That tongue of yours is going to get you killed, Khai!” Luwian growled in aggravation, even as her slave girl (ignored thus far, and looking quite pleased for that fact) rubbed her face with both hands tiredly in agreement, though she spared her mistress with a frown as the pureblood continued. “I thought that Kela was fond of being honest to the point of bluntness, but you certainly seem to take the prize.”
“How do you know the name my apprentice desires to take up upon her promotion? What future do you claim to have seen for her?” Marr asked, leaving his own future to the side for the moment to focus on the knowledge that would have required either an extraordinary spying effort or genuine and powerful foresight to know.
“In a year or so from now, sometime after I finish training on Korriban, you assign her to take Balmorra into hand, which she does with my help when we deal with the Resistance and their ‘AWOL’,” the sarcasm in her voice as she spoke the acronym was palpable. “Republican Army friends under Cheketta in the Balmorran Arms Factory. Unfortunately, some time after that, she is killed by a Jedi Consular, one named Barsen’thor by Grand Master Shan herself. Something I would prefer to avoid, by the way, for more than one reason.”
She was speaking the absolute truth, so far as she knew it, and the two Sith before her found themselves rocked back on their heels. The fact that he would send his apprentice to take care of Balmorra, which was quickly becoming a bloody tarpit for the Imperial Armed Forces, was not surprising in the least. He had plenty of faith in her abilities, and dealing with Republic-backed rebels was well within her skillset, yet would prove enough of a challenge that she would be forced to grow as a Sith, a strategist, and an administrator. Yet, according to this woman, she would be killed by a powerful Jedi not long after succeeding.
“We will discuss this further in a more secure location.” He decreed firmly, heads dipping in confirmation of his command, before he turned his attention to the observing Force Ghost. “And how do you intend to act next, Lord Kallig, in guiding your descendant forward?”
“Quite simple, really, though I’m afraid it may make a sizeable mess for young Asmu-Nikal to clear up.” He answered readily, calmly. “I will accompany the daughter of my daughters back to the estate in which these three reside. I will then slaughter the man who killed and harmed the members of my House and anyone else who gets in my way and ensure that my child’s concubine properly ascends to rule House Luwian.”
Bluntness, it seemed, was a familial trait. Though, in fairness, Lord Kallig was both dead and incredibly powerful. He could get away with being painfully, dangerously blunt and honest with those around him.
“Then we shall hold our conversations within the Estate of House Luwian once you have taken your revenge.” He very nearly sighed, feeling Corilla’s bafflement and confusion at his easy agreement and allowance of a noble house and their servants being harshly pruned by an angry ghost.
She would learn that much of being a Sith was accepting things as they came and working with them, rather than raging in futility against them.
Besides, trading one Lord amongst thousands for the boons Vestara Khai and her undead ancestor could provide was a calculus he was more than willing to commit.
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The Estate of House Luwian was not quiet many days, with far too many people and activities being performed in too many parts of it for that to be possible, but today it was far louder than usual. A half dozen guardsmen, and nearly twice as many slaves, had already died beneath the wrath of the House’s Lord, who raged at the absence of his now-eldest child and her slaves. Raged because he had, somehow, learned that they had approached the Dark Temple. Broken the territorial embargo put firmly in place by the Dark Council, broken his own commands.
“If she brings further attention upon this House with this folly, so soon after her brother’s stupidity, you will find yourself attending my chambers more often to ensure Asmi-Sarruma is not my only heir.” He hissed at his wife, who was standing with all the stoic regality of her station and nature to the far side of his audience hall, their youngest child standing before her with her hands on his shoulders.
“I would be careful about suggesting that you intend harm to one of my children, husband, and even more so about attempting to dictate my presence in your chamber or any other.” She returned, ice-cold and expressionless as she met his eyes, a dark promise lurking within them, and (though he disguised it with a sneer and a look back towards the main door) he couldn’t restrain the shudder that went through him body and soul. His wife did not often go against him or interfere in any of his matters, and he sometimes found himself forgetting that she was the warrior between the two of them. She was the one that had stood on the scorched fields of Alderaan, had commanded a ship in the campaign to retake Holy Korriban, had put down slave rebellions and met Jedi in the open field.
He scowled to himself for that shudder, that acknowledgement that things would not end well for him if it came down to a duel between himself and his wife, and plotted (not for the first time) to reaffirm his command and control over her and the rest of his House. To make her suffer for her impertinence and learn proper behavior for her position.
A guardsman burst into the room, throwing himself into a kow-tow and bowing his head repeatedly in a desperate attempt to stave off the fatal punishment his master was no doubt preparing to unleash.
“My Lord, Lady Asmu-Nikal has returned, along with her slaves, but that’s not all! Lord Marr of the Dark Council, and his apprentice, are with them! They are approaching as we speak!” he cried out, and all thought of punishing the man fled his mind as his heart leapt into his throat, his lungs seizing in his chest.
He didn’t have time to do anything, to issue any commands, to act, to speak, even to think, before his wayward daughter, her toys, and his esteemed guest entered the room together. He rose to his feet, a broad and welcoming smile on his face as he, his wife, and his youngest child bowed respectfully, as the group crossed the space between them.
“My Lord Marr, it is a pleasure to welcome you and your apprentice into my estate! To what do I owe this pleasure, this honor and privilege?” he asked, before snapping his fingers at his daughter’s toy and his experiment. “You, slaves, retrieve chairs and refreshments for our honored guests.”
“That will not be necessary, Kiriath.” Marr intoned, folding his hands behind his back and staring at him with an impassivity that was physical and spiritual alike. In fact, the Dark Councillor was regarding him very much like he so often regarded the results of his experiments, and a sick feeling began to coil in his gut. “I have no business with you and, it seems, I shall never have business with you.”
Arunwanda had only a moment to open his mouth, confused and uncertain, before the eyes of his experiment shown with white-violet energy. An amorphous shape, glowing blue and white and floating like a mist in the air, formed beside her and began to approach him. The closer it got, the more defined a shape it took, until before him stood the shining form of a man. A sith lord.
“So…you are the one that has caused such great harm to my family. To my daughters, to the daughters of my daughters. You are the one that tortured them body and soul, maiming them in flesh and Force alike.” The spirit mused, looking him up and down, before glancing around the room. “Leave, all of you, and take the woman and child with you. The House of Kallig has a blood-debt to claim, and I mean to begin here and now.”
The room emptied rapidly, Arunwanda backing away from the apparition and hurling a blast of lightning at it even as he bellowed into his comm-link for the guards. None of which mattered in the least to the spirit, who gazed at him with mingled amusement, contempt, and fell intent.
“You consider yourself a scientist, is that not so? Testing the boundaries of what can be endured before one expires. Well then. Let us conduct an experiment together, you and I.”
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