Ta'a Chume'Dan

Without a moment’s hesitation, the doors to the exterior of the marbled white hangar had opened with a hiss, only to be drowned out by the sounds of the slumbering vessel. Passing through the silvered steel access way, were five individuals - each clad in the uniform befitting their rank and station. All were women of various heights and builds, but the most common factor spread amongst them all, including the four wearing ostentatiously crafted body armour, were the bloody red locks woven into the depths of their ornate headdresses. Like the white marble walls that surrounded both parties, the armour that adorned these wiry female soldiers was enameled in a polished hue of alabaster and trimmed in a muted shade of gold. In their grasp, each of the assigned security detail had born aloft a blaster rifle with a masterfully crafted and well-maintained casing.

Standing apart from the rest of her colleagues, in both presentation and demeanor, was a lithe woman in a tight fitting gown woven from spun obsidian thread. She wore no badges of identification, nor openly bore a symbol of recognizable status. That, however, was the intended image she wished to convey, as one could never be too careful in the company of strangers. Who knew what they were truly intending to do, as their message of diplomacy could’ve simply been an elegant ruse to get them past the orbital defenses. Nevertheless, the Queen Mother had fancied the Jedi who had already grown accustomed to her younger sister, so she believed that having another one at her side would even out the ever-shifting political landscape.

Drawing her braided crimson hair over her shoulder, the woman glided forward and presented her hand for both men to take - should they desire to formally greet her. Her shimmering emerald eyes darted between the two figures standing before her, drinking in the presented details. After a moment of sizing up the two… men… before her, she spoke with an even and almost harmonic tone.

“My name is Kasari Arthos, and welcome to Hapes.” The dark maroon wax staining her lips parted to reveal the seemingly lustrous enamel chips beneath in the rough approximation of a diplomatic smile. She wasn’t a fan of having men touch her, but since the Ereneda had wished her to greet these men personally, she would simply grin and bear it. “The Queen Mother has asked to see the both of you in the Fountain Palace. If you will join me and the Honour Guards behind us, we shall embark upon the shuttle awaiting outside. Your crew, should they wish it, may disembark from your vessel, but only after they have been processed through customs. Sadly, you two are the only exceptions at this time.”

To say that Karasi was surprised at the gestures given by both the Jedi Master and his Captain adjunct, would’ve been an understatement. She was doing her best to ensure that the rising tempest of astonishment was kept under wraps. Usually, when the Ereneda had forced her to meet with those that sparked her majesty's interest, they had taken her hand and unknowingly tightened the noose about their necks. Or at least, Karasi entertained that idea since most tended to be Republic Officials of some standing, and would be sorely missed should their vessel mysteriously vanish into the Transitory mists. Then again, she could have always blamed the Male pirates that dwelled among the outer rim of the cluster. Alas, as these two men of differing worlds had given her a gesture dissimilar to the one she had offered, perhaps there was a chance these two would see themselves safely returning from whence they came.

“Yes, I’m sure you would find many things to your liking here.” She had said in response, letting a curt smile chase after her words as they departed her lips. “Perhaps, should the audience with the Ereneda conclude earlier than expected, we might offer you some of our local comforts?”

It was doubtful they would take her up on her offer, as she had assumed they had better things to do than sit around and enjoy the more simple things in life, when the galaxy outside the cluster seemed to slowly descend into a stagnant cycle of chaos. Though they were her benighted and opposite number, they would still prove of some use over a night of sampling the best Hapes has to offer as they had much to tell her of the outside worlds. Clearing her thoughts and turning to face the Honour Guard, Karasi motioned for her guests to follow after her. As she had made her way past the armed women, the Handmaiden bade them to fall into formation behind the two males, and keep their eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. The last time a Jedi had come to this world, it had been in secret - thanks to the machinations of the Chume’Da. Now, as this one had broadcasted his arrival to Orbital Control, things were undoubtedly bound to spread like wildfire. Who knows how the people would react, and thus such precautionary measures were required.

Coming abreast with the silver plated shuttlecraft, Karasi had gestured that the two foreigners board the vessel first, as her eyes had revealed that she had other things to do and wouldn’t want to keep them waiting for long. Should they follow through with the boarding act, Karasi would then order her Guardians to sweep the exterior of the starship. Can’t be too careful these days, she had thought as she herself had boarded the vessel. Fitting herself into one of the crash couches, she proffered a warm smile to the pilot. When the sweep had been complete and the Honour Guards entered the craft, the shuttle doors had latched into place. With the sound of resonating gravitic plates echoing beneath their feet, the craft had dusted off from the light bathed plaza and headed towards the towering basalt cliffs in the distance.

Walking through the crowded city streets of Ta’a Chume’Dan as the fractious light of the transitory mists began to dim, the Sith Lord had suddenly become uneasy in the lack of darkness shrouding the shimmering marbled walls. He knew that the worlds within the cluster had never truly faced the complete ebony faced facade of the night but had never expected that little would change to differentiate the two cycles. As he continued along the polished metallic path, flanked on both sides by a procession of armed and armoured guardians, Belial’s heart began to ache for the comforting embrace of a waning twilight. At least then, it would’ve been easier to slip into the forgotten alcoves and vanish into the distance. An entertaining thought to be sure, but what would’ve been the point? Skulking about in the darkness was meant for his more private moments, not to adopt as his way of life. No man, be he mortal or a God, should ever find themselves in such dire straights. It simply wasn’t right, despite the facts pointing towards the opposite.

One day, he often told himself, One day I shall lift these mortals into the Aether, and then all shall be equal before the gaze of the Annihilator.

Pushing aside the thoughts of escape and returning to the light bathed streets, Belial found himself strangely entranced with the varieties of life occurring around him. There was a certain way that these beauteous women walked, that spoke volumes of how well they enjoyed their lives - and in a perverted sense how often they were serviced by the various pleasure slaves in the more shady sections of the city. He could see himself living here, not only as a Citizen of the Consortium but as the consort to the Chume’Da, if not her Husband if he played his cards right. It meant that he would find himself walking among these women as their proverbial equals. People who held their heads high every day of their life, and very rarely felt victimized by those from outside the cluster. How simple it would be, to hide within plain sight until the viper was ready to strike. It would be a delicious sight to bear witness to, one that he doubted none could ever forget.

“If you keep straying from the path, Master Varro, I’m afraid we won’t make it to the skylift in time.”

Even the voices of those sworn to a violent life held some measure of pride. Ugh! The sensation of her soul shattering would’ve been invigorating. Yet, appearances must be kept. He couldn’t ruin his plan long before it had started, for there was no way to recover from this if he acted against his own volition. Biting his tongue beneath the bondage of his medical wrappings, the Dark Lord sought to sharpen his senses and deny his thundering heart of what it desired most.

It wasn’t long before the procession had arrived at their destination, where several means of transport had awaited the visiting Jedi Knight and his armed escort. Each was more ornate than the last, showcasing that while the Military had foundry forged weapons, these shuttles were lovingly crafted by technological artisans. Had he not caught himself, Belial believed that those surrounding him would’ve seen the man’s jaw agape in bewilderment. Ushered within one of the less remarkable craft, chosen in the effort to conceal the importance of the passenger and ensure his livelihood, felt as if there was something behind the scenes at work here. Like the cyclical nature of their perpetual days, the Dark Lord knew that the Hapans had played a deadly game of politics when concerning themselves with administrative affairs. That meant these women were being overly cautious, just in case one of the Chume’da’s rivals saw fit to deprive her enemy of her advantage.

So, this is what a Pawn feels like.

He chuckled at that notion, garnering a plethora of confused looks from his escort. As if it was a natural occurrence, the man simply shrugged and stared out the window into the descending city below. They were as distrusting of Jedi as he thought they would be, but Belial couldn’t blame them. The Jedi of this era were more conservative than he had anticipated, and that had garnered them an unhealthy reputation with the masses. Gone were the days of heroes, wielding the powers of might and magic. Now, men with unbridled ambition rose to the fore, often finding themselves faced with those they could have once considered kin. It was truly a different age, one he doubted that he could ever get used too.

“Master Jedi,” One of the guardswomen had asked, catching the Dark Lord by surprise, “Is it true that you survived the death of Arkania?”

Ah, that old story. Ever since he had told the loving Captain of his tale, it had spread like wildfire through the vessel and evolved into a story of harrowing heroism and self-sacrifice. Funny how that often happened when confronted by the unbelievable. Not wanting to leave his willing audience with a taste of disappointment, Belial tore his gaze from the window and let it fall upon the alabaster armoured women around him.

“It is true though I’m not sure what variation you’ve heard. Ever since I told the Shipmistress that those who came with me and I had survived the destruction of the planet, it’s taken on many different shades of embellishment. I like the one where I’ve supposedly fought a Void Kraken with nothing more than my fists, leaving me bereft of flesh.” Belial laughed as the words had left his mouth, not to sell the fact that it was an outrageous story, but because he knew that it was truly hilarious in how impossible it was. It seemed his escorts had thought along the same lines, as they too laughed. When the joyous outburst had subsided, the Dark Lord carried on. “However, the truth is much more gruesome than those tales would suggest. You never know the true meaning of terror, until you see beings, not of this world feast upon the fallen and the very ground you stand upon fights to reject your presence.” His head dropped as the story began, selling the sorrow expertly woven throughout his words.

“It wasn’t natural. We Guardians had lived on Arkania in secret for many years before the Sith had come. At first, it seemed like they were simply going for the planet’s resources and populace. The standard fare in any Sith invasion recorded at the time. However, over time, it became apparent that they were there simply to make the planet suffer, fuel for some dark and insidious ritual. Thousands flocked to that eerie light and even more were drawn by the softly spoken words of creation uttered by the Dark Master atop his pedestal of pristine marble and polished obsidian.”

His memories had been hazy of what exactly happened, as he had yet to be born into the material world at that point in time. however, with the help of those that he had found aboard the vessel he had stolen, their memories had helped Belial piece together a coherent enough story of what had taken place. It was a shame they weren’t strong enough to survive his probing, but then again what purpose would they have served? They were weak. Foolish enough to believe that they could stand in the way of Fate and it’s Weaver, no matter how insignificant he was in comparison to others of his ilk. Thus, as hubris had grasped their hearts, they got what they had coming to them and his pity would’ve been wasted.

“The night’s sky had turned a shade that was unknown to us mortal beings. Somehow, it was darker than black - as if the very light itself was devoured by the colour’s presence. Clouds swirled and lightning roared. Those that had gathered were struck down by the boiling storm front. Only, they didn’t stay dead. Their flesh had warped and blackened, flaking off to reveal something vibrant and metallic beneath. I didn’t know this then, but what these people had become were mindless Technobeasts, slaves to the Dark Masters will.” He choked up at this point, more for dramatic tension than anything. “I… I watched on as these people I’ve grown close to, rose up from their unmarked and uncovered graves and hunted down those who survived the coming Apocalypse.”

“But, you are a Jedi! Wasn’t there anything you could’ve done to save these people?”

Belial’s head lifted, and he cast his gaze upon the woman that spoke up. Were he not in disguise, he would’ve torn her tongue out for interrupting the flow of his manufactured story. However, since he was playing a goodie two-shoes, the Dark Lord simply proffered a warm - if not sorrow-stricken smile.

“My kin had sallied forth from our Mountain Temple as we saw what was taking place in the distance. When we arrived, maddened cultists and technobeasts alike were pillaging the city. Wounding the force in ways we never thought were possible. Many of us were disheartened by the scale of life that had been lost, and others were driven towards insanity; for they had never seen the horrors of war in person before that moment. Those that could stand, the most veteran of our Order, had fought and fell in combat with this oppressive army of former friends and family. Some were even turned into technobeasts themselves, thanks to the infectious nature of their kind. I was of the latter, though proficient enough with my blade that I was able to stave off their biting blows.”

He felt that the shuttle was rising ever closer to its destination and knew that these women would never let him leave until his tale was complete. Such was the insatiable nature of knowledge that it belied the very foundations of human nature. Knowing that he couldn’t leave the Chume’Da waiting longer than she already had, the Dark Lord sought to conclude his story by withholding the events that had taken place within the heart of the Guardian’s Temple. The unaltered tale would never be told, not unless he was revealed to be a Sith and was questioned about his origins. instead, these willing women were told of his valiant last stand against the vile horde of technological undead.

“I fought alongside an ever dwindling line of brave men and women, and before I knew it… I was alone amidst the enemy. My kin had passed on into the ever changing tides of the force and even as wounded as it was that day, I knew they were finally at peace. That thought gave me comfort in those moments, and it gave me the strength to carry on. I fought on until I collapsed from exhaustion.” Belial shook his head and dropped his gaze once more, making it seem that he was reliving the moment again in his thoughts hoping in vain that he could’ve changed the past. “The planet was dying, and I couldn’t save it. So, when I regained my strength to stand, I sought to save as much of the planet as I could. That’s when I found the lucky few, who in retrospect would’ve been better off dying on that doomed world.”

“Don’t say that.” The One who interrupted him had said, once again cutting off the flow of his story. Well, how brazen your tongue was, he thought to himself, no wonder you were reduced to menial guard duty. “You did what you could, and even though they died fleeing from their world’s demise, you saved their souls from eternal torment. That’s enough to be considered a Hero in our books, Master Jedi.” The others nodded, almost as if in unison. “I think I speak for the others, that while the tale of you single-handedly fighting a Void Kraken is entertaining, I think we like this retelling more. It humanizes you and the Order you serve. It makes the Jedi seem…” She stopped herself for a moment to reflect on what she said. “Mortal, and not some figment of imagination in our Mother’s bedtime stories.”

Belial could only nod in response. It would’ve been unseemly for him to deprive her of her childlike realizations. The Jedi were in truth nothing more than Mortal men and women, seeking to rise above their common origins to bring peace and balance to an uncaring galaxy. They were gifted, or cursed depending upon your point of view, with the powers of the Aether and used it to do good. There were many that tread the very thin line between good and evil, and there were others that stood as far away from it as possible. however, that didn’t mean that their souls were as truly bright as they proclaimed them to be. It was nothing more than an act to shroud the darkness chained up within their souls. They wanted the galaxy to view them as the unfaltering pillars of righteousness and justice but deprived themselves of the most basic emotional necessities. While foolish and tragic, the Dark Lord knew that they chose that path for a reason. One that he didn’t agree with but admired none the less. Unlike the simple souls bound within the coils of mortality, the Jedi and those that had spawned from their ranks felt their emotions more vividly in such a way that they could manipulate the world around them.

Willpower and Emotion soon became their weapons, but only after they had honed their mind to a singular and sadly small minded purpose were they allowed to brandish them. Even when they were deemed worthy enough to wield their blades in combat, every facet of their being had to be in control. The mind and body could never part ways, as such an act would result in a conflict within oneself. That road eventually led into the darker aspects of a Sentients most primal nature, and many Jedi Masters knew that even though they could never truly control their Padawans, it was best to caution them against embracing them. For the fires of Anger and hatred burned all the brighter in the face of avid serenity, and should anyone fall prey to the purest emotion of them all, it was doubtful that they could ever return to their place of spiritual harmony. That was the fundamental foundation upon which future generations of Sith would rise to power. While those Sith of this generation had saw fit to delve deeper into the insidious sections of their psyche, Belial knew that such careless adventures would result in losing themselves within their own minds. It would only be a matter of time before they turned upon themselves and others, due to their heightened sense of paranoia and avarice.

Pigs, ripe for the slaughter.

As the shuttle had slipped into the darkened hangar bay, the Dark lord watched with vague interest as those within the transport began readying themselves for their departure. Ornate helms were gracefully slipped onto their well-maintained manes, and blaster rifles were cycled to life. It was something he had seen too many times before, both in the reconstructed memories of those he had devoured upon the ashen surface of Arkania, and the soldiers he had slain on Wayland thereafter. It was the moment of calm before the rising storm. Boots kissing the grated deck, as the bolts begin to fly. All in the name of some despot who desired something that wasn’t his. No matter which way he had looked at the situation, the key points were always the same, and so too was the result. When the door had slid back to reveal the pristine flight deck below, he watched them file out of the transport with an uncanny precision common enough among the most elite of a world’s armed forces. Without hesitation, Belial had followed in their stead, knowing that if he waited aboard the shuttle, he would’ve been in more trouble than he already was. He couldn’t have that, well, at least not yet.

“So,” He said, sundering the blanket of silence that had overtaken the orderly ranks of Guardswomen before him. “What now?”

“What now indeed, Master Jedi.”

This voice was new, yet Belial could tell that it bore the hallmarks of a regal upbringing. Could this voice belong to the beloved Chume’Da? He turned his gaze in the direction of the echoing voice and bore witness to the woman that he would one day make his own. Like the rest of her misbegotten kind, she was beautiful. It was the standard among all women from this world, something akin to perfecting their genetics by selectively breeding. However, when that fact was applied to this woman, it paled in comparison. Standing here before him, was the pinnacle of their stock! She was the Goddess of Beauty personified in the crude materials of flesh, and Belial was not disappointed. Everything the Shipmistress had said about the woman was true, and proven to be nothing more than an understatement when faced with her magnificent presence. He chuckled inwardly at how petulant he had become but reasoned that such a sensation was justified due to the injection of her feminine wiles into this welcoming party.

“Thank you for joining me here on Hapes, Master Jedi. If you would, please follow me to my quarters here. It will allow us to speak at length in private.”

How could he refuse such an offer, when she had not only freed him from that insufferable wretch of a Shipmistress and gave him the chance to witness the twilight hours of Ta’a Chume’Dan before everything had closed for the night. As she turned around and went back the way she came, Belial found himself following after her with his gaze lost in the seductive swing of her hips. Now he really knew she was trying to test his mettle. Well, he thought to himself, two can play at that game. However, as his eyes had regained their will, he found himself looking at his bandaged hands. No. She wouldn’t find herself attracted to my ruined form. Sadly, she saw me as I am so I cannot cloak myself in the flesh of another. It would tip her off that I’m hiding something. Well, at least more than I already am.

“I see that your curiosity has gotten the better of you, Master Varro. Would I be correct in the assumption that you’ve been told of what I desire? I doubt you would’ve come otherwise.”

Her voice was soft and filled his ears akin to the sensation of warmed honey. It no longer echoed by the lifeless stone walls, and seemed purer within these concentrated chambers. He could get used to such intimacy, should their fledgling relationship somehow find itself progressing to that point.

“She told me that you wished for my service. Nothing more, and nothing less.”

His own words were wooden, and seemingly enforced by comparison, but that mattered little. He was now playing the dangerous game of thrones as this woman’s pawn, and there would’ve been little use in investing himself in this conversation should her looks prove to be the only thing about her reputation to be true.

The woman sighed, heavily as she listened to the man speak.

“If she had done as I had asked, it would’ve made the armed escort unnecessary.”

When she had entered the room, her path had taken her towards the room’s balcony which had an impressive and breathtaking view of the glittering city below. As she spoke, her attention had been torn from the Capital City below and turned towards her guest.

“I want you, to become not only my advisor, Master Jedi, but to become my own personal Guardian whilst I move to depose my decrepit sister’s rule and take the throne for myself.”

Belial chuckled, the sound resounding within the woman’s personal quarters.

“So, you take a Jedi who has committed a crime, no matter how trivial, against the sovereign crown, and extend the olive branch in the vain hopes of garnering a worthless trinket and a fancy title?”

His words were more venomous than he would’ve liked, but despite the fact he was going to play along with her games, he wanted to see how she would react when he defiantly acted against her wishes. Belial was not a simple man, nor a ‘Jedi’ to be flounced around like a decoration. He was a man that stood up for himself and his own goals. She would come to learn that, or else their bond would not be as strong as he would’ve liked it to be.

“The crown my sister wears is alone worth the monetary value of several solar systems combined.”

He was taken aback. How could such a worthless trinket, be worth so much? Could it be that it was encrusted with extremely rare jewels, forged by the most precious of metals, and given life by the most gifted of hands? Belial found himself scouring through his memories of this Cluster and found himself wanting. Nothing he had absorbed from either the texts or the minds of those he’d slain had pointed at the answer. Very well, he thought, I shall abide my insatiable curiosity - for the moment - until I glean the solution either from the Chume’Da herself or another of her ilk.

“I’m sorry?” Was all that he could say, no matter how hard he tried to find the words in which to formulate a response.

“You heard me. This supposedly worthless trinket is worth the entire Cluster. A single gem encrusting its ornate surface alone is worth more than a single backwater planet. Imagine what could be done with a handful of these priceless stones?”

Belial scoffed, “Are you trying to buyout someone unconcerned with material wealth?”

She laughed then. It was a harmonious sound, filled with both ugly hues of condescension and the vibrant chords of mirth. He was left wondering what it would’ve been like were she truly laughing, rather than this forced expression of disbelief and pretension.

“No. I already know what you’re going to do. The gems are mere cantrips to rally allies to my cause, and ensure they remain loyal throughout the duration of my rise to power.”

No longer wishing to stand by the door like her Handmaidens, Belial crossed the furnished chamber and stood beside the woman. His wrapped arms had crossed over one another and hung tightly before the covered ruination of his chest. The Dark lord’s gaze stared out into the city below, wondering what it would be like once he had ascended through the clouds and stood within the Throneroom of the Queen Mother herself.

“Ambition is a horrid shade, Chume’Da, but you wear it well.”

She smiled at that remark though it had left the man wondering if it was true - or something to simply appear polite in the face of a compliment.

“We Hapans wear anything well if we put our minds to it, Master Varro.” Now she was being coy, Belial had noted, giving credence to the earlier line of thought that the smile she had given him mere seconds earlier was, in fact, true, and that it was very rare someone had compared an ugly emotion to how easily she wore it. Saying that she wore it well was not an afterthought on his part, but his subtle attempt at flirtation. Might as well start the game early if he desired her affections, as it would be too late if they progressed through their relationship with him being nothing more than her Guardian. Always kept within of arm's reach, but never embraced as her equal. “It’s both a blessing and a curse,” She continued, as he noted that her voice became slightly more morose. “My elder sister’s ambition was always the horrid shade, and now that she has forced us to remain with the crumbling Republic, I fear that the hue will only darken. When the day comes that the Republic falters under the weight of its own incompetence, I fear that our Consortium will follow suit not long after. She doesn’t see the larger picture. She even refused the evidence of my fears. She even agrees with the War Criminal they reinstated as a Senator.”

Belial turned his eyes upon the woman and smiled. Finally, another soul within this worthless galaxy that had seen the light of reason.

“Siding with the Republic does garner some generous advantages on paper, however, it is good that I am not alone in seeing the Republic for the farce that it is.” He pauses for a moment, not to collect his thoughts, but to take in another glance of the breathtaking woman at his side. Once his eyes had feasted upon her lithe form, his mouth returned to prominence and spoke freely. “You were right in the assumption I would assist you in securing you place upon the throne. The Hapan people would be better off standing on their own in these dark times, with a Queen Mother who understands what rot eats away at the heart of both the Consortium and the Republic itself.”

Her smile returned, although this time had seemed altogether more genuine than the last. She played him right into her hands, and Belial was now bound to her by his word. Damn her, he thought. Although, now that he had begun to reflect on the discourse that had just taken place, he laughed inwardly how easily he played into her hands. She must’ve known that he was trying to make a move on her and played the part of an innocent woman seeking the best for her ailing people. It added to her attractive allure in ways he could’ve never imagined.

“Then let us drink to our new partnership!” She paused for a moment, to consider just who she was talking too. “You do drink don’t you, Master Jedi?”

He smiled warmly, despite how disfigured his face had become.

“While the more devout of my Kin would eschew such earthly pleasantries, I find that there is nothing that can replace the bittersweet taste of the wine, after a long day of meditation and political machinations.”

The woman chuckled at his words, once again proving that the woman he had met before was simply a part of her regal character. One piece that comprised the whole, and threw many a suitor off guard when she revealed the true woman beneath her political facade. He had to say, he was starting to like this woman more so than when he had met her before and began to wonder what else lay beneath her pretentious masque.

“Good to know.”

She then gestured to the two Handmaidens standing by the door and waits for them to arm the pair with a silvered goblet filled with a crimson-hued wine. There were no words uttered when the two had clinked their chalices together, but with what happened a heartbeat later - Belial was the first one to speak. His titanic reach had afforded him the time to taste the sweet nectar of the gods before the Chume’Da, and as the crimson liquid poured into his mouth, it was all the time he needed to swat her goblet away with the back of his wounded hand.

“Poison.”

The Dark Lord muttered weakly, as the drugs began to course through his bloodstream. He could feel their sluggish pace, and the agonizing sensation of his encroaching demise following in its wake. If this toxin was not removed, he doubted his mortal shell could remain alive for as long as he desired. So, as his gigantic form toppled towards the guardrail of the balcony, Belial’s mind swam within the depths of his body and found the liquid that sought to become his bane. Through the force, shaped and molded by his own will, the Dark Lord was able to cause the toxin to revert to its alchemically inert state, thanks in part to how sloppy the mixture was combined. The assassin was a fool to mix something so primitive within the wine. Had she any skill in the art of murder, she would’ve laced the poison atop the rim of each goblet, masking its presence within the hearty rubicund alcohol. Forcing the venom to secrete itself from his bloodstream, Belial let loose a barely contained cackle of amusement.

“You were just poisoned and you’re laughing?”

Concern had filled her voice, and this - Belial had noted - was the truest expression she portrayed so far. As he had fallen to the floor, she tried in vain to ease his transition. however, the giant of a man was heavier than she had expected, and could do little to ensure he did not injure himself further. She cradled his head in her lap, as the bandages around his face slowly began to seep with a vile yellowish liquid.

“Yes.” He whispered between reedy breaths. “I’m laughing, that one of your own thought she could poison me and get away with it. She makes for a poor Assassin, no doubt swayed from your cause by the promise of wealth beyond her station. A noble title, perhaps?”

The Chume’Da had helped the man stand, though, comically she wasn’t needed as she had little strength in which to influence the path he took. The Dark Lord spared her that moment of embarrassment and slumped onto the wall nearest to him for support. His eyes, now shrouded by the hood of his furrowed brow, glared out at the two Handmaidens - whilst the attentions of the next Queen Mother were focused solely upon removing much of the secreted toxin from his glowering face.

“Will you be alright?”

Belial nodded.

“More than. Had the mixture been changed, the dosage increased, or the delivery method altered, I doubt I would’ve been able to filter it from my system in time.”

Those words were a lie, plain and simple. But he wanted to ensure that the would-be Assassin knew she could’ve tried harder, and perhaps had the chance to get away with murdering both the Chume’Da and her new Jedi Advisor. That would eventually turn into fear, as whichever handmaiden had done the deed realized that she had not only failed in killing her target but was suspected of being the killer without any formal investigation. She had pissed off a Jedi, and she had heard stories of these Warrior-Monks who acted upon their emotions and slew those that had angered them. When those thoughts came to the forefront of her mind, the stench of her terror had become almost palpable and Belial relished every moment of it.

Tears began to flow freely down both handmaiden’s eyes as they had come to the realization that their mistress’s life had almost been taken from them, but the Dark Lord and the Chume’Da thereafter, knew that only one was being true to her calling. Perhaps he would probe their minds like the wretches left standing upon the dead world of Arkania, leaving behind nothing more than flesh shrouded bodies suck in a vegetative state. No one would blame him. No one, save the Chume’Da, who would see him for what he truly was. That couldn’t happen, at least not yet. So he resolved to handle this like a Jedi would, and used his words to garner the answer he desired.

“Tell me now.” He said as he regained his strength and stood to his full height. “Which one of you sought my life?”

None answered. Wonderful. No wonder many Jedi turned to their darker routes when they chose to interrogate their prisoners.

“I won’t ask you again. Tell me true, and I shall see that your punishment is less extreme than what I have learned Hapan justice can be.”

The tears of the woman furthest from the door began to flow even harder than before, and Belial knew that it was because of her innocence. She would’ve been wrongly convicted of a crime she didn’t commit and sentenced to death without a formal hearing. With no chance to defend herself, she would’ve been strung up by her neck, and hung until death. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Yet, the words she wanted to blurt out found little purchase when she forced her tongue to move. There was something about this man that seemed to spawn a depthless fear for her life, so much so that all sense of language had left her very being. It was in the other that the Dark Lord had found his Assassin. He had hot-read her mind as his words wormed their way into her skull and saw a vivid image of a woman slipping the Handmaiden a vial of granulated white powder. As the connection had been sparked both ways the woman’s primal instincts had come to the fore, and without notice she bolted for the door.

Belial’s arm whipped forwards and caught the woman with a hand made of ghostly telekine energy. Once firmly within his grasp, he slammed her vibrant body into the closed door and drew her back to his person. She kicked and screamed, rallying against the unseen energies holding her tight and dragging her across the floor.

“Running never works when a Jedi is involved. Tell me now; Who put you up to this?”

The Handmaiden whimpers, as the ceaseless tide of howls abated.

“They’ll kill me if I speak.”

Belial simply scoffed.

“And you think I won’t?”

Her face, once contorted into the very visage of rage, soured into something horrific.

“B.. But you’re a Jedi!”

As if in return, the Dark Lord’s ruined face warped into a ravaged sneer.

“Not tonight. Not when an impudent whelp makes an attempt of the Chume’Da’s life.”

Much to his surprise, the Woman’s composure restored itself. Though it was at a cost of her own dignity, and that look of terror was replaced by one cast of sorrow.

“Just end my life.”

The Chume’Da saw her chance to shine and cut into the heart of Belial’s almost one-sided interrogation.

“Not until we have a Name.”

It came without pause, and the Chume’Da had found herself wishing that it didn’t come forth at all. The woman that held onto that name, was one she had grown up with since the very beginning, and had built what she believed to be a healthy relationship with the woman. However, after all was said and done, she couldn’t believe that this woman had betrayed her.

“Kiera Su Djo. Cousin to Araneya, and second in line to the Throne.”

So, Belial had thought, this was just a taste of what Hapan politics had looked like. Colour me unimpressed.

“I knew my cousin wanted the throne…” Araneya had begun, her words coming out laced heavily with the shock derived from this revelation. “But I did not expect her to resort to such… underhanded, pitiful displays of influence. Curse that woman!”

Oh, the irony, Belial chided. Pushing the patronizing thought aside, the Dark Lord turned to face a red-faced Araneya. She looked even better when her patrician features were flushed with anger, and that left the Titan wondering what she would look like if embraced by something along the lines of passion - rather than anger.

“What shall we do with this one, then?”

The Chume’Da purses her lips and finds herself thinking of many different tortures, yet is drawn back time and time again towards the idea of humiliation - which would be followed by her untimely demise thereafter. Dropping her finger from her chin, and letting it hang wistfully by her side, Araneya turns her gaze towards her protector and offered up a beguiling smile.

“Let’s give her to the Pirates awaiting their executions. Maybe those degenerate males could find a use for what’s left of her dignity. GUARDS!” She bellowed. As if they were awaiting her command, two soldiers that Belial had noted were with him in the shuttle, had entered and took the woman from the grasp of his telekinetic hand. “Take this Curr to the dungeons, and ensure she’s dressed for the occasion.”

Renee Shiralla, a Vice-Admiral within the Royal Navy, waited for the man known as Remus by standing before several panes of transparisteel glass. She wore the vestments that befit her station; an alabaster form fitting body glove that left little to the imagination, a dress jacket that shrouded her upper torso in white and gold fabric, and the standardized shoulder flashes denoting her rank and command. Her vessel was anchored in High Orbit above the Throneworld and had earned it’s laurels through the pacification of a Pirate Enclave near the Keltros Expanse. The Battle Dragon was dubbed the “Deliverance of Divora” for such a deed, and from the many years since that incursion into the transitory mists, the vessel and it’s Commander had seen plenty the beauty this star cluster had to offer. However, it all paled in comparison to the rolling Emerald Hills of Hapes, untouched by the folly of man and the progress of civilization. There was something awe-inspiring outside this window, and she eagerly awaited the day she could see more of it - rather than from behind a pane or two of armoured glass. In releasing a sigh, she had freed her mind from the thought and turned towards the sparsely populated desk, and the titanic figure now standing before it.

“There are many things that need to be done before we can move upon the Republic. I understand it is her majesty's wish to gut the corruption festering at the heart of our galaxy, but there can be no margin of error here. This isn’t Kashyyyk. We have to move even more carefully than before if we wish to be seen as the benevolent people that we are, and not the warmongering psychopaths the Sith had made us out to be.”

The armoured figure nodded in agreement but allowed the woman to carry on.

“In comparison to what we are doing now, Kashyyyk was an easy task. Go in, save the populace and kill the Sith. Our enemies were clearly seen, despite the fact your reports had made mention of a rising tempest.” She paused for a moment, thoughtfully pursing her lips. “With bringing down the Republic, as their former ally, it will be received badly by those that believe they’re still doing some measure of good for the galaxy - despite the fact the truth is opposite. While it would be wise to perpetrate several public statements denouncing the faction and showing the people of the galaxy what the Republic truly is, I doubt words would move these people into action.”

Tilting his head slightly to the side, the armoured figure reached up and withdrew his formfitting helm from his crown. With his face now revealed, the Dark Lord of the Sith, known to only two beings as Belial, clad in his recently woven dreamsilk robes had offered a warm smile in recognition of this woman’s words.

“You mistake the power of words, my dear Vice-Admiral. In choosing the right ones and stringing them together, you can topple corrupt and infested governments. It was how our beloved Queen Mother had chosen me to be her only suitor, then her husband thereafter. It was how the benighted Emperor Palpatine had destroyed the original Republic, all those many years ago, erecting the Phoenician legacy of the Galactic Empire in its stead.”

His warm smile spread further into a serpentine’s approximation of a grin, as the last word slipped through his carefully crafted veneer.

“However, in this case, you are absolutely correct. The people of this universe do not wish to watch as their broadcasts are filled with slander campaigns and denouncements. Let’s give them the change they desire. Let us march upon the Senate Rotunda, and gather those that have seen the light. From there we shall remove the Republic’s base of power and have their acting Supreme Chancellor agree to our terms.”

He left out what could take place if they didn’t agree, as the woman before him didn’t need to know what the Queen Mother had planned just in case things had gone awry. The Republic was renowned for beating back invaders when their victory had just been within their grasp, but this time there would be no saviour for them to rally behind. He was dead, and his ashes were scattered across space and time. With Arcanus Sunstrider among the living no more, Belial had doubted that the Jedi would rally in response to the Republic’s dissolution. In fact, he believed that they would pick up the pieces of this shattered domain. Naturally, as they followed the hybrid teachings of both the new and old orders, these Jedi would never seek to rule the planet’s they housed themselves on or defended.

Thus, without the bureaucracy of the Senate to bog down relief efforts, the Sith Lord believed that the Jedi would become more active in galactic affairs - resuming their roles as peacekeepers, rather than the typecast roles of hermits they had slowly become. However, like all things that spoke of the future, it was an unreliable hope to speak of at best. There were many creatures that plucked at the strands of fate, and like all things within the coruscating web of time, no one knew what would truly happen until it did.

That was when the doors had parted.

Renee returned the smile proffered by the Hand of the Ereneda, but then directed her attention towards the new arrival. She had been briefly apprised of the situation regarding this Captain Remus but felt little joy in doing this exchange in person. It was always a happy moment for the arriving party, but for her - it was merely another contender for her position as the Commander of the Vanguard. She believed that High Command loved playing the same political games that the Royal Families did, where people born of the lesser station were given the chance to prove themselves against insurmountable odds, whilst those of Noble houses were simply bequeathed the honour of command. Seeing that this man was a mixture of both had grated her nerves raw.

“Come in Captain, and take a seat. I trust you to know of the Hand of the Ereneda and Husband to our beloved Queen Mother?” Of course, he knew. Who didn’t know of the Consortium’s Hero? Oh, that’s right. The Tech-slaves on Charubah. “Master Varro, this is Captain Remus Olanji, Shipmaster of the Star of Lorell.”

With the flesh bound to his face curling into a pleasant visage of salutation, Belial had wondered why the Vice-Admiral had not dismissed him. Though he didn’t have to bow to her authority, she was in a position to make him dance to her merry tune. Only because he was cloaked in the lie of his own making, and desired to retain its protective guise whilst he trained his children in the ways of the Sith, all the while bringing the next phase of the Annihilator’s great plan to fruition. Once he no longer had use for these mist shrouded people, perhaps then he would make this woman dance to a tune of his very own making.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain. I trust that you have some inclination as to why you’ve been summoned from the Rim Worlds?”

To be perfectly honest, Renee had found Captain Remus to be dreadfully boring. He spoke far too much for a man of his station and detailed information that she already knew. Hell, she had to give the standing mobilisation orders herself when they came down the wire. So when he repeated them like the good little parrot he was, she did her best to shroud her true feelings behind a masque of placid marble. Once he was finished, she breathed a silent sigh of relief. The Vice-Admiral had read the man's dossier and knew that he was absurdly thorough. While that virtue is admirable, she hadn't expected this. It caught her off guard and for every second that she spent enthroned within this chair - she started to resent her colleagues in High Command for sending her here to meet with the man. At least the other one was standing Sentinel, and whenever he spoke it was merely to get the point across rather than lavish the subject with as many details as one could muster.

Blinking the dissatisfaction from her thoughts, the woman shifted in her chair to a more comfortable position.

"I'm surprised, Captain. I thought you were an avid follower of the rumour mill your fellow Captains seem terribly fond of." She tsked herself at that comment, but it was true. There had been quite the buzz once the orders had gone out, making the Navy believe that they were about to embark on some grand expedition out of the cluster.

Though wrong in many ways, some had garnered the right idea from the rising tempest of salt-etched lies.

"The Honour Fleet will escort the Star Home deep into Republic space. There, once we translate out of hyperspace over Coruscant, we will be forcing the Republic to disband and dismantle. Effectively dissolving the corrupt government and letting the people who've put stock in the faction, but cannot muster the courage to leave, find their own path among the stars."

It was then that Belial turned to face Captain Remus, sensing that this would be the perfect time to make the offer. Who better to see them safely through the void, than one of the best naval officers ever brought into the service of the Rim Worlds Sector Fleet? While he was unproven against foes that lay outside of the Mists, Belial was confident in his abilities. If he would prove to be less than stellar, it wouldn't have mattered - as he would be dead and history would mock the ashes of his bones. He smiled before he spoke, letting his patrician face take on a more pleasant visage; despite the dark swirling storms within his mind.

"You have been called here to serve as apart of the Vanguard. Your vessels will be the spear's tip as we plunge into the festering heart of this benighted faction. Prove yourself, and I will see to it personally that your Squadron will be justly rewarded by the Queen Mother herself."

A moment of silence had passed between the three figures as the Vice-Admiral contemplated Remus' inquiry. At first, her thoughts had been drawn towards the gladdening fact that he was not overly fond of gossip and its dangerous ilk. Then, they curdled with the realization that his mind was rigid and narrow, unable to be plied by the facets of imagination. A horrid trait in a frontline commander, but perhaps that could change with time. Perhaps this notion would change when she saw him in the truest form of expression - in combat. Until then, her mind would resent him for what she stood before him as, but as the Lord Consort had decreed, he was to take his place in the Van. There, his legend would grow, or be smashed to kindling. However, now, it mattered little for that time has not yet come to pass. One step at a time, she chided herself.

Rising to her feet and smoothing out the edges of her alabaster uniform, Renee offered an authoritative smile.

"No, Captain. I have nothing more for you to carry out. Run one more drill to keep your crew's on their toes, and feed them well. I want them happy in the knowledge that the Queen Mother herself has chosen them to act as the spear's tip." As she moved towards the transparisteel viewport once more, she offered a small nod to the Lord Consort. She was done with the both of them and had silently given them her leave.

Returning the gesture by bowing his head out of respect for the woman's position ever so slightly, the Lord Consort turned his attentions to the Captain. He had made the offer that the Vice-Admiral had been ordered to give, but now it was time for the Sith to ask Remus for something more. Whatever it was that the Dark Lord had required, was the very reason why this man was chosen. Had he not currently possessed the items that Belial had needed... he would've remained forgotten and wasted within the Rim Worlds of the Cluster.

How quaint.

"While the Vice-Admiral has no orders to amend your current mandate, I would like to make a request of you and your crew. There are two among your number that I wish to remove from your command during this... Political expedition." He paused for a moment to allow the entreaty to sink in, before pushing forward with the remainder of his desire. "One would come from the Olanji's Pride, the female officer known as Adira Cruz, and the other would come from your own command staff; Sylas Raeth. As you can imagine, I require them to act as body doubles for my children. I wish to keep them safe, whilst I focus on keeping the Queen Mother herself out of harm's way. If you do this for me, not only will I put in a good word for you, but I shall be in your debt."

He knew what he was asking. It would be a difficult task for the man to allow his subordinates to be released from his command and given to someone else, he truly didn't know. If he had said no, Belial would've understood. However, the rewards had far outweighed the risks of losing two members of his squadron, and if the Captain took the opportunity, it could prove to wind up in his favour. The Dark Lord suppressed the urge to smile, knowing that the man would consider the request and possibly granting it in the process. It was a lure that would achieve goals greater than ever imagined, but with the reasons laid bare for the man to see; there was no way he could see the truth beyond the veil. At least the correct version, should this man prove to be exemplary with his skill in observation.

"You can say no, but I want you to know that they will be kept from harm. Each will be assigned a heavy cadre of Chomo'Doro, the best that my loving Wife has to offer. Once we return triumphant from Coruscant, they will be returned to your service with full honours. Consider it as an all expense paid shore leave."