Cirqa 853 ABY
The room stood with a low, unbecoming light, small candles surrounding the office giving off the bare minimum requirements for Maliphant to be seen, his head buried in his hand. The day’s events had been relatively regular, no discerning point of concern, but what stood on his mind was far more impactful than the day to day routine of signing approval papers and interesting segments for the sake of Bastion and its governmental position. He didn’t regret attaining the position despite its somewhat mundane schedule, but what he did regret was allowing himself to be the target of a conspiracy.
Only a day before, his assistant had come into his office with a cold sweat on her brow, a small hand written letter with her. In today’s day and age, a letter was uncommon, almost unwelcome with how archaic they were, yet the concern on his secretary gave him a small measure as to what it might involve. As it was given to him, he took it, opened it, and read its contents before letting it slip from his fingers; a similar anxiety overwhelming him as the wording began to sink in…
“We know who you are. You will not survive this.”
Over the previous weeks, Maliphant had spent weeks discussing an unknown past with innumerable individuals. From Darth Vesper opening his eyes first to the raw reality of the situation, to Darth Morrow giving him small hints at the life of a slave he once held, amplified by slowly recurring, more vivid dreams of a life he never knew, with strangers of all sorts he had never met. None of it had made sense, but it was enough to understand the severity of the letter that had been sent to him; someone intended to blackmail the newly appointed governor of Bastion.
With it being the only home he seemed to know, his worries turned to his ‘family’. Nilia Saavilin, Thesh, and the various droids that accompanied his home were all he truly had; all others a sham to fill the idealized nature of a Sith, something he had embodied, but almost regretted in how hard it was to control the nature of its strength. Even now, with a rising tension in his heartbeat, he wanted to destroy the office, send out waves of lightning and embodied assaults of pure emotion; something to externalize what he felt, but he knew how immature, how childish it would appear. Sith respected power, surely, but they respected control more.
As Maliphant slowly lifted his head in the darkness, he awaited the secret envoy he had hired from a local agent on Bastion. A member of the empire who had little in terms of contacts, little in terms of true weight, and someone that Maliphant could not necessarily trust, but someone he could get rid of easily if the situation were to occur. If it were to be demanded of him.
His molten golden gaze fell on the door, waiting for the man who would become his temporary ally to come through.