Harnaidan

Garrick listened to Nicademus with a degree of curiosity as to what he would say. It would serve as another indicator of his character to see how he responded to praise of this manner. And he did take it with grace. Needa was surprised, even though he really should not have been, all things considered. What he said about being different was most certainly true. He did not possess the overwhelming seeking of glory that nearly all those he had worked with in the past. His statement about luck reminded him of something that he had been told when he was starting his career in the navy of the Galactic Republic. A Jedi had once told him "There is no such thing as luck. There is only the Force". Though the Jedi were shortly afterwards destroyed, he had always carried those words with him, albeit differently. He took it as meaning that he had control over what occurred, that there was no power that could decide your fate.
"You and I both know there is no luck. They must have seen something in you as a leader that you even didn't recognize. We both know the Force works in mysterious ways."
The Admiral knew this better than many. He himself had always prided himself on being able to control his own destiny, though he had seen the rise and fall of the Jedi and Sith a number of times. The galaxy's history was inextricably linked with that of the Force, and so he believed it the duty of those who did not have the gift of force sensitivity to take deciding their own fates into their own hands, rather than waiting for the Force to give them a chance at greatness.
"I do not mean to pry, but on High Port, you mentioned your son, Octavian. How is he? I only ask as you seem to be a family man yourself."

Simply nodding Panno didn't speak for a few minutes, in contrast to Katsumi he ate his food savoring it. This was not a battlefield he had not seen one in a few years. After the Pyrrhic victory at Prakith Panno had seen combat only one other time. He had been consumed not only by the grief of having been in the minds of the feral Barabels as they died but from a tactical standpoint he also couldn't fight. His master had died leaving him the title of Master Armourer and the young Knights replacing those lost on Prakith needed protection.

You met Brock; the other Imperial Knight with me at your tower. He was a Jedi once, at the height of the Holy War he crashed his ship on Aaragu and he managed to change his point of view. Now he is one of the most loyal Imperial Knights there is. He rubbed his face for a second before
continuing. I would be interested to hear how you would go about bringing a peace or at least a truce between our two groups? Despite all my words we are but two people. Two small people.

The problem is, how much more combat will there be for us? Someday soon I imagine the Empire will defeat our enemies and hopefully the universe will see us like they saw the Fel Empire or the Republic.  Despite his outward pessimism he usually had deep down he felt one day there will be no more wars to fight. Perhaps we should go to the Emperor and ask to have our orders assigned to some mission. Would he really listen to a woman who hides her face behind a mask and an alien that spends most of his days behind a forge.

If we did it that way it may take years though, with people bonding only with who they fight with. I dont pretend to know how many Knights of Ren there are, or anything about your Order really but it would have to be something big and all in one shot. Something that shows that neither Order is different in our goals to protect the Emperor and the Empire.

As the massive spires of Muunilinst glittered in the light of the city light, the cloudless sky gave way for the occasional solar flares from the star above the planet to bathe the city in light. A slightly chill blew through the streets and walkways of the city, the cold simply fading into the background of the crisp autumn weather in this part of the planet. While it was a weekday, it seemed that few people were in the shops along the streets, and not many people were home at the time. The occasional stormtrooper could be seen patrolling the streets, but for the most part, things were peaceful in the city. The massive Strategic Command building loomed against the skyline of the city, its bold shapes contrasting the elegant spires of the Muun city. The silvery tether leading to high port glistened in the light as well, as a handful of Imperial craft moved throughout the city.

In a large plaza, surrounded by massive buildings near the center of the city, a large crowd had gathered, surrounding the manicured trees and large statue of Sander Delvardus in the very center of the space, light by large floodlights. Carved into the metallic ground was a First Order emblem of black marble, contrasting against the massive red banners hanging from the buildings above the plaza, also emblazoned with the First Order emblem, and lit by floodlights as well. The lights also illuminated a platform overlooking the plaza. On the balcony were a group of stormtroopers, flanking a pedestal with the Imperial seal on it. On that very pedestal stood Erhard Bechtold, wearing his white armor, which had been polished to perfection, making him appear to radiate light. He held his helmet in one had as he prepared to address the massive crown that had gathered underneath the basking floodlights that lit the space.Taking a breath, he stepped forward to the microphone and began to speak, his booming voice filling the space.

"What seems to us almost a miracle as we look back upon it, is nothing else than the reward for infinite and unwearying labor.... And now for that labor we have received our reward, just as the Empire of 23 AFE received its reward. At that time the Empire shared in those blessings. Blessings which we think of under the idea of democracy. But the people of the galaxy have learned that democracy in practice is a different thing from democracy in theory. If today, in foreign nations, bureaucrats or politicians say that the First Order has not kept her treaties, we can merely show these men the greatest breach of a treaty that ever was practiced on the people of the Empire. Every promise which had been made to you by the Republic, the Galactic Alliance, whoever - those promises on the faith of which the Empire had laid down her arms - was afterwards broken. In 19 ABY, the Empire was faced with final collapse. We seemed lost. And then came the Imperial resurrection. It began with a change of faith. While all the Republic believed in forces and ideals which lay outside of the Empire and outside of our people, Emperor Delvardus has resolutely championed belief in our own people, starting from the words of eternal validity: fate only helps those who are prepared and determined to help themselves. In the place of all those international factors - Democracy, the Conscience of Peoples, the Conscience of the World, the Republic, and the like - we have set a single factor - our own people.... We were all convinced that a true community of the people is not produced overnight - it is not attained through theories or programs - but through many decades of experience. This is the education we have carried through ever since the First Order was founded and especially since we have become powerful. But nothing is perfect in this galaxy and no success is enough. And so, even today, we have no wish to maintain that our achievement is already the realization of our ideal. We have an ideal which floats before our minds and in accordance with that ideal we educate Imperials, generation after generation. So Neoimperialism will continually be transformed from a profession of political faith to a real education of the people.... From the very first day the Emperor has proclaimed as a fundamental principle: 'the Imperial is either the first soldier in the world or he is no soldier at all.' We cannot be no soldiers, and we do not wish to be. So we shall be only the first. As a lover of peace the Emperor has endeavored to create for the you such an army and such munitions as are calculated to convince others, too, to seek peace. There are, it is true, people who abuse the hedgehog because it has spines. But they have only got to leave the animal in peace. No hedgehog has ever attacked anyone unless he was first threatened. That should be our position, too. Folk must not come too near us. We want nothing else than to be left in peace; we want the possibility of going on with our work, we claim for our people the right to live, the same right which others claim for themselves. And that the democratic States above all others should grasp and understand, for they never stop talking about equality of rights. If they keep talking about the rights of small peoples, how can they be outraged if in its turn a great people claims the same right? Our Imperial Army serves to secure and guarantee this claim of right. And when today I examine the results of this action of ours, and so I am able to say: we have earned more than we ever have before through acting on these principles. Ad Gloriam! Ad Victoriam!"

As he said this, he raised his arm, pointing it forward as a squadron TIE fighters flew out from the building behind him, the spotlights following them, as red and white fireworks arced into the sky, their loud booms filling the city with sound and life, as the crowd cheered wildly. The flashes of light, the colors streaking across the sky, the cheering of the crowd was truly quite a spectacle. Combined with the TIE fighters, this was the perfect propaganda event. Morale was at an all time high following the defeat of the Galactic Alliance, and now was the perfect time to capitalize on this patriotic sentiment. As Erhard stepped back into the modernist building the balcony was attached to, a number of soldiers congratulated him on a speech well delivered.

Erhard instantly recognized the voice from his side from the numerous pieces of propaganda that played across the city at random times. Though, he couldn't call himself much of an Imperial if he didn't recognize the face of the men walking towards him. The Field Marshall, and the Emperor himself, stood by another officer. Imperial Knights walked behind the trio, along with a small group of stormtroopers. Immediately snapping to attention, Erhard delivered a salute to the three men, standing at attention until his present superiors said otherwise.

"Sir!"

Erhard waited for Nicademus to complete his deliberation before he spoke, listening with intent to every word he said. Such praise was exceptionally high, especially coming from someone as achieved and powerful as the Emperor himself. He was what every Imperial could ever strive to be, which made it all the more odd that he was talking to a member of COMPNOR as himself.

"Thank you, sir. It is an honor to do it for the glory of the Empire."

Erhard sighed, reminiscing on his time in the fighter academy. Those were some of the best years of his life. There was something exhilarating about zipping between asteroids, clouds, or ships alike, never knowing what the next moment would bring, hunting the enemy while being hunted at the same time. It was quite a beautiful feeling, though it could only last for so long. His last flight would always haunt him, his ultimate failure and his subsequent resignation from the fighter corps. That was the one time he had failed, and that failure would never leave him.

"It was the one time I failed in my service, and hopefully my last. There was an... incident. I was bested in combat and was nearly killed as a result. Thankfully I survived, but it was clear that I was not cut out for the fighter corps. And so, I left."

There had at one point been a time when he did not go by Captain Bechtold, but Baron. Those were the days. Prototype fighters, unimaginable wealth, fame, medals, women. If it existed and it was good, the fighter barons got it. It was wasteful, but he loved all of it. Thinking back to his manor on Mygeeto, he envisioned the dozens of medals he had on display, all earned for audacious undertakings. However, with his resignation from the fighter corps, it was a period of time in his life he did not wish to revisit all that often, as it just served as a reminder of what could have been.

"So, what brings you to this part of Harnadian?"