Nizhalgal paced the floor of his room, thinking. So much had happened. First, the Planeshift had displaced planets, including his own Yag'Dhul. And now, a sweeping vision of what appeared to be impending doom had struck countless people, Force-sensitive or not. As president, he would be expected to give some sort of address.
He hated giving speeches. He hated being a leader. Still, he loved his home and his people. They needed a leader, someone far better and mentally stable than himself, he knew that. And yet, they had unanimously chosen him. Mostly because of his natural charisma and good looks. Having been born with a very rare recessive trait, Nizhalgal was the only Givin who could actually smile. Infact, he couldn't help but smile. His face was frozen in a perpetual grin. Givins did not use facial expressions like humans did, but their influence had been spread throughout the Galaxy for so long that it had seeped its way into the culture of Dodecapolis as well. And because he could smile, that would make him the perfect ambassador to these humans, right? That was what the Mathematocracy had thought, and the people agreed. And so, the actor who had simply loved to study ancient equations in his free time had been thrust into a life of politics.
And yet, he seemed to be exactly where he needed to be. Years ago, long before being thrust into a leadership position, when he was just starting out his acting career and was working part-time as a caretaker at the Dodecapolis Museum of Mathematical History, he had stumbled across a room that held a single stone tablet. It was ancient, looked to have been covered in long dried and faded blood, and was apparently carved using bone. After some digging, he had discovered that the tablet had been left behind centuries ago by a legendary Arithmancer by the name of Mersil-Nur. She had been renowned for her grasp at complex mathematical concepts, possibly the greatest in Galactic history, but had been driven completely mad before her death. Just before she had died, she had etched the carvings of some strange equation no Mathematician or Arithmancer could decipher since. And she had carved the entire long, incomprehensible sequence with her bare fingers, taking no heed to how much she bled or that it wore her fingers down to nubs, until she finally died from blood loss, all of her fingers gone before she could finish. The carving on her wall had been cut out and kept safe ever since, but nobody could decipher.
That was, until Nizhalgal found it. He never considered himself the greatest of Mathematicians, and he was self-taught in Arithmancy -- considering nobody could even sense that he was Force-sensitive, and he suspected he was some variant of Force Void, except instead of appearing as a blank in the Force, he appeared as a normal non-sensitive -- yet as he looked upon the equation, the expressions seemed to make somewhat sense. He realized it was some kind of prophecy, one that told of coming Galactic chaos that would bring the entire Galaxy to its breaking point, then plunge it over. And that breaking would awaken the True Force, which would bring True Salvation for the entire Galaxy.
Nizhalgal had no idea what any of that actually meant. But he still knew it was monumental. He told some of his closest Arithmancer friends, who were just as astonished. Although they could not know the exact details of the Mathematical Prophecy, they were all believers from then on. That was when their secret group had been born, the Arbiters of Chaos. At first, it had merely been for fun, their own little secret group. But when Nizhalgal was presented with the position of Ambassador from Yag'Dhul and eventually the president -- a position they originally did not even have -- he knew what his role was to be. He knew that it was the Will of the Force to expand the influence of the Arbiters. Here and there, he spread his beliefs silently, using agents and proxies while maintaining his public image. He acquired agents within political groups, crime syndicates, Force traditions, and even within Outer Rim Confederacies. It wasn't anything overly grand, but it was enough to have a bit of influence from the shadows. A little nudge here, a bit of misinformation there, and chaos could be sewn. Because chaos was what was needed for the prophecy to be fulfilled.
The problem was, he had absolutely no idea how much chaos was needed. He could not decipher all of the prophecy that was there, and the entire thing had never been finished before Mersil-Nur's death. He always felt like he was grasping at straws. Until the visons came. He had awakened in a fit of laughter. The vision of gears had brought a portion of the prophetic equation to mind, one called the Calladene Paradox.
That particular part of the entire equation was one of the most difficult, and he still could not really decipher it. Still, he knew the visions held clues. And he knew the visions, as scary as they were, were part of the prophecy. Perhaps this was what would lead to the breaking point? The Arbiters would need to be ready to lend what chaotic aid they could. But first, he had to address his people. The Arbiters of Chaos would remain a closely guarded secret. Very few knew in the organization knew he was the head, everyone answered to someone else instead, a man who went by the name Kilgorin. And nobody outside knew of their existence. But the grinning Givin did think it was time to let the public know about the prophecy. It would give them some answers, even if it also raised even more questions. And it might even give them some hope, some hope that even if the worst were to happen, they would still be fine. The Galaxy would still survive. And Nizhalgal would make damn sure his people survived as well, even if it meant sacrificing himself.
He hated giving speeches. He hated being a leader. Still, he loved his home and his people. They needed a leader, someone far better and mentally stable than himself, he knew that. And yet, they had unanimously chosen him. Mostly because of his natural charisma and good looks. Having been born with a very rare recessive trait, Nizhalgal was the only Givin who could actually smile. Infact, he couldn't help but smile. His face was frozen in a perpetual grin. Givins did not use facial expressions like humans did, but their influence had been spread throughout the Galaxy for so long that it had seeped its way into the culture of Dodecapolis as well. And because he could smile, that would make him the perfect ambassador to these humans, right? That was what the Mathematocracy had thought, and the people agreed. And so, the actor who had simply loved to study ancient equations in his free time had been thrust into a life of politics.
And yet, he seemed to be exactly where he needed to be. Years ago, long before being thrust into a leadership position, when he was just starting out his acting career and was working part-time as a caretaker at the Dodecapolis Museum of Mathematical History, he had stumbled across a room that held a single stone tablet. It was ancient, looked to have been covered in long dried and faded blood, and was apparently carved using bone. After some digging, he had discovered that the tablet had been left behind centuries ago by a legendary Arithmancer by the name of Mersil-Nur. She had been renowned for her grasp at complex mathematical concepts, possibly the greatest in Galactic history, but had been driven completely mad before her death. Just before she had died, she had etched the carvings of some strange equation no Mathematician or Arithmancer could decipher since. And she had carved the entire long, incomprehensible sequence with her bare fingers, taking no heed to how much she bled or that it wore her fingers down to nubs, until she finally died from blood loss, all of her fingers gone before she could finish. The carving on her wall had been cut out and kept safe ever since, but nobody could decipher.
That was, until Nizhalgal found it. He never considered himself the greatest of Mathematicians, and he was self-taught in Arithmancy -- considering nobody could even sense that he was Force-sensitive, and he suspected he was some variant of Force Void, except instead of appearing as a blank in the Force, he appeared as a normal non-sensitive -- yet as he looked upon the equation, the expressions seemed to make somewhat sense. He realized it was some kind of prophecy, one that told of coming Galactic chaos that would bring the entire Galaxy to its breaking point, then plunge it over. And that breaking would awaken the True Force, which would bring True Salvation for the entire Galaxy.
Nizhalgal had no idea what any of that actually meant. But he still knew it was monumental. He told some of his closest Arithmancer friends, who were just as astonished. Although they could not know the exact details of the Mathematical Prophecy, they were all believers from then on. That was when their secret group had been born, the Arbiters of Chaos. At first, it had merely been for fun, their own little secret group. But when Nizhalgal was presented with the position of Ambassador from Yag'Dhul and eventually the president -- a position they originally did not even have -- he knew what his role was to be. He knew that it was the Will of the Force to expand the influence of the Arbiters. Here and there, he spread his beliefs silently, using agents and proxies while maintaining his public image. He acquired agents within political groups, crime syndicates, Force traditions, and even within Outer Rim Confederacies. It wasn't anything overly grand, but it was enough to have a bit of influence from the shadows. A little nudge here, a bit of misinformation there, and chaos could be sewn. Because chaos was what was needed for the prophecy to be fulfilled.
The problem was, he had absolutely no idea how much chaos was needed. He could not decipher all of the prophecy that was there, and the entire thing had never been finished before Mersil-Nur's death. He always felt like he was grasping at straws. Until the visons came. He had awakened in a fit of laughter. The vision of gears had brought a portion of the prophetic equation to mind, one called the Calladene Paradox.
That particular part of the entire equation was one of the most difficult, and he still could not really decipher it. Still, he knew the visions held clues. And he knew the visions, as scary as they were, were part of the prophecy. Perhaps this was what would lead to the breaking point? The Arbiters would need to be ready to lend what chaotic aid they could. But first, he had to address his people. The Arbiters of Chaos would remain a closely guarded secret. Very few knew in the organization knew he was the head, everyone answered to someone else instead, a man who went by the name Kilgorin. And nobody outside knew of their existence. But the grinning Givin did think it was time to let the public know about the prophecy. It would give them some answers, even if it also raised even more questions. And it might even give them some hope, some hope that even if the worst were to happen, they would still be fine. The Galaxy would still survive. And Nizhalgal would make damn sure his people survived as well, even if it meant sacrificing himself.
