Private Cards IV and II, The Emperor and The Priestess

[Kaila Irons]

​

Summons from The Emperor was not something one could refuse. But secret summons? How could one even consider.

But to say that Darth Anathemous was not concerned by the implications would be a lie. Hundreds of Kainite families were slain on Jutrand before Carnifex had even finished his speech, declaring that the Kainate and Inquisition were to be married as one. And the rumors all pointed toward Darth Empyrean . For many years, Kaila had believed that there was safety in obscurity. That in appearing unworthy of notice, that she would escape the violent politics of the sith and be allowed to pursue her scholastic duties unbothered, rarely having to speak with her master nor his nefarious peers.

That day proved her wrong.

She was already gaining momentum within sith space ever since she was recalled from behind enemy lines, deployed to defend besieged Echnos from the Galactic Alliance. For her efforts, Empress Srina Talon had personally made her the military governor, An honor which she'd humbly accepted despite doubting her own capabilities. Learning sith politics after so many years spent alone in the field had been challenging. She'd faced Wanosa assassins after the Kaggath, she'd formed temporary alliances with Tsis'kar which revealed more of her own secrets than even she knew she had.

And it had led her here, into this throne room.

She strode forth, silken cloak and war-skirt obscuring her body and graceful movements such that she almost appeared to glide across the floor like a black specter more so than walk. But as her masked visage took in the sights, it became apparent that while she may have cut an imposing figure anywhere else, everything here seemed to dwarf the tall "youngest darth" as Srina called her.

It was a dark place deep inside The Black Pyramid of Jutrand, but spacious enough to easily house hundreds of sith. Today it was all but empty, it's vastness swallowing her dark form like the void of deep space, which could be seen high above her. It appeared in fact as if there were no ceiling at all, as if they truly were floating amidst the cosmos as stars and spiraling galaxies twinkled and spun above. She wondered if it were some manner of observatory, but whose? Was she looking out at the stars beyond, or if she looked close enough, might she spot dark Jutrand from here?

But her insatiable curiosity mattered little, for she was coming upon the throne.

It was made of solid Kyber, hewn of several grand crystals that could easily destroy the galactic economy in their rare splendor, gleaming blood red like the little shard in her own lightsaber.

<<...It could be yours>> a voice whispered gently as she approached.

But it was not one she recognized. She had bound a number of spirits now, such that her force signature reeked of dark power beyond her years and more souls than any one body had right to possess. The secrets of Darth Parasideus were hers, whether she wanted them or not. She had learned the lost art of Force Walking to bind him before he could finish stealing away her own body. She had done the same to his spectral apprentice merely to demonstrate the ability to her own student, reduced beings who'd outlived the 400 year darkness to mere fuel for her own power. These were only the unwilling participants. For there was another who'd formed a deeper, stranger bond, through the dark magicks of Dathomir.

And yet this, whatever it was, sought to tempt her as if she hadn't learned her lesson already.

<<...you could be Empress, never have to bow again. All you have to do...>>

<<...is kill him>>

<<Begone.>> She whispered a psychic demand, and through the power of her alchemized circlet, the telepathic link was severed. It could not speak to her again so long as she wore it, and so long as she did not wish to hear what it had to say.

Much as she wished it's promise was true...

"My lord," she threw her cloak back, a bodygloved leg slipping out from the split in her skirt to take a knee in one fluid motion as she bowed to The Emperor, her sleek black armor on display for but a moment as the silken cloak slowly drifted back over her shoulders like wafting smoke.

Truth be told she hadn't the feintest clue what to expect. She had merely glimpsed The Emperor in the aftermath of their battle upon Echnos, the only trait he displayed beside raw power being utter apathy for the sacrifices of his own imperial citizens, perhaps even his Empress. Whatever was happening here, the cynical young darth could not see it being good, nor the nefarious Force having not meddled in destiny to bring her here. The question was, were the fates as angry with her now as they had once been? Or would this newest chapter of living perdition be The Emperor's will alone?



Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Black Pyramid​

Jutrand​

​

The black marble plates that made up the opulent floor of the throne room spoke of the depths of the Empire's pockets, even if their economy seemed to shutter with every battle. Each were shined to a near perfect mirror, and below or above, all one could see was stars - a subtle nod to the Sith's claim - that all the stars were theres, and here they were, bearing witness to the Emperor upon his throne.​

​

The Emperor, however, was a beast in direct contrast to the opulence of his throne room. He was a leathery thing, dead for many years and kept persistent by sheer willpower - but he bore the scars of his death poorly. He seemed crumpled in his chair, the structure of his left half failing him as his body folded in the slightly unnatural way. Where eyes should have been, they were long replaced with metal orbs that when trained on someone - they would feel it.​

​

Kaila Irons would feel that gaze now, as it focused on her. Like an ichor, his gaze felt heavy and disgusting. It was not as simple as a predator looking at prey, it was something unnatural staring down its contradiction. It was the sensation of the sun burning the skin through an eclipse. An umbra of prickled skin.​

​

Her bow heralded no response from Empyrean for a few moments as he continued to study her - but eventually relented only in the slightest as he leaned forward.​

​

"It is a good thing you know to bow. Many a Sith have learned a harsh lesson for hubris.", he intoned. By the rumors, Empyrean had killed more Sith since his rule began than any other Sith in the last two decades. His rule was one of assassination and kaggaths, to break what sought to break, and his Empire was held together by his inhuman strength.
​

"Darth Anathemous. Remove your helm - I want to look you in the eye when we speak."​

​

It was not a question, but a command - plain and forthright.​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Anathemous said nothing in turn, awaiting the silence to end without ever lifting her eyes to meet his. she could feel his gaze in all it's wrongness, the way it made her near-human skin crawl and tingle like familiar blaster fire slipping dangerously close, or the haunting impression that he was not looking at her so much as through her, though this was not the reason for her machine-like stillness.

Rather it was that she'd grown used to debasing her own pride in the presence of beings she did not truly understand.
Or perhaps hiding it from them, anyway.

She was no assassin by any means, no Tsis'kar serpent nor Yalaran shadow despite learning from Darth Keres, Carnifex hadn't taught her to hide from sight nor the force, perhaps wisely holding back the student he'd given cause to seek vengeance time and time again, though it only stoked further her anger towards him. But she had become quite adept at hiding things in plain sight, her murderous hatred one of them, and what little remained of her pride being a close second.

But could she hide her thoughts from a man so powerful and so learned as The Emperor?

"Darth Anathemous. Remove your helm - I want to look you in the eye when we speak."

She hesitated for but a moment, knowing that her mask held her truest ward against the metaphysical invasions performed by so many sith of this era. She had worn it always since it's creation, refused to allow her own master to see her face and even some of her allies. The only reason in fact that her face had ever been seen upon imperial shores was because the jedi knight Dreidi Xeraic had broken it during the siege of Echnos, and it still bore weld marks in it's cortosis shell for it.

Still upon her knee, gloved hands slowly rose and cupped the black painted cheeks of her war-mask. As it rose, silken hair spilt out and over her shoulders, gold and wavy like windswept fields of grain. Then came the first glimpse of her face, giving cause to Srina's name for her —"Our youngest darth". Anathemous did not know if she were truly the youngest amongst her peers or simply the newest, though her face could certainly lead one to believe so, it's smooth but chiseled quality and the subtle flush of yet living blood in stark contrast to The Emperor's withered form. It was however similarly neutral in it's expression, though it was not so apathetic. More so she had forced this blank slate so many times to hide her truest self from the world that it almost seemed natural now.

Last were the eyes. Observant yet focused as they flicked up at his, the golden corruption of the dark side evident, although they took on a slight glow in the dim light, like the distant fire of twin suns, fittingly displayed in this observatory. They burnt with hatred, with passion and with hunger that was carefully cultivated beneath the surface and locked away to be unleashed as needed, though not for The Emperor and not for his throne. Her ambitions were not so base.

No, he was something new. Something unknown, and the young scholar did not like things that were unknown. Or rather, she did not like her own inability to adapt in the face of things unknown to her. It was not a flaw, merely an impossibility she often faced, yet she treated it like one all the same.

Despite the intensity of The Emperor's own metaphysical glare, her eyes did not waver from his, for he had demanded to look her in the eye, and despite how badly she wished to tear them away, she would acquiesce.

The mask was set upon the smooth marble, the subtle sound of rough cortosis momentarily grinding against it's black surface almost deafening amidst the silence in it's reminder of her newfound vulnerability, her bulwark against psychic invasion left open and exposed in ways few others were allowed to glimpse.

She swallowed, and rose to her feet to be at eye level with him. She would play it safe for now, meet his demands as best she could, demonstrate as she had to The Empress that she was loyal, reliable. All the while she would observe, she would calculate. Unlike the sith who had come and died before her, Anathemous did not seek to break that which cannot break. Rather she sought, as she always had, to know the unknown, and act according to discovery.

"Is this satisfactory, my lord?"

Her voice was soft, carrying with it an accent characteristic of a woman of court, yet there was something off in that it's dialect was indistinct, or perhaps even a subtle blend of others, passable to most ears but something only those most familiar with the aristocracy might notice. Whatever records the empire had on her however made no mention of her upbringing in the days before she became the apprentice of Carnifex. Actually they made mention of very little, and Anathemous wondered if perhaps that was the reason for her summons. The empire knew her as but a Vahla woman who was admitted to a hospital for some cranial injury many years ago in occupied mandalorian space, and nothing else. Many years had passed, and now she was a military governor, A dark lord, and a rising star connected to one of the most powerful men in the galaxy.

A wildcard.



Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean was a hard thing to please. On one hand, he enjoyed subservience and knowing ones place - but on the other, he absolutely detested a dogmatic approach to it. There was often no way to win with Empyrean, his world views had grown so jaded over the years there was little and less that could do anything but annoy him - but perhaps Srina Talon . The Empress never faced the brunt of his anger, never felt the sharp jabs of his outbursts - but in turn, she became the only one who ever received something akin to a kind gesture.​

​

For Darth Anathamous, she would receive only a slight grimace, barely noticeable on dead flesh that no longer wished to move. His eyes seemed to adjust, metal orbs carved deep with runic symbols spinning in his sockets before settling - and she would feel a renewed watch on her. Same as before, only more encompassing. Hyper vigilant.​

​

"It will do.", he offered her, possibly as a jab, or possibly because he simply wasn't that impressed. It was hard to tell with the Dead God.​

​

"You have risen high in my Empire, Darth Anathamous, coming to even rule one of my worlds. You've seem to become a staunch ally of Darth Carnifex, and your blood runs rich and hot with the fervor of youth. I have no doubts that soon you will even sacrifice your pride - and make it as far as us.", he said.​

​

A nebulous 'us', but it was clear who he was referencing. The ones she didn't understand. His eyes tested her for every reaction, every nuance.​

​

"My eyes see far, and I've seen the wake you have left even if you have not. I take pride in knowing who of my children are my enemies and who are not - but I want to see where you lay. Where you lie.", he reiterated. A play on words, a correction? Was he just playing a game?​

​

"Tell me how my world fares, then tell me of your family.", he said as he leaned back - seemingly content to force her to explain herself on numerous fronts.​

​

Kaila Irons​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Though she was doubtlessly outmatched by The Emperor's perceptive devices, Anathemous was less watchful herself. Her own eyes studied his as they began to adjust, noting the intricate runes, and the way they spun smoothly into place. She wondered then how much was the work of the force and how much might be mechanical? It was surely alchemical, the runes reminding her vaguely of the ones which lined the inside of her mask, or the intricate alchemical tattoos all across her master's body.

If there was one thing for his ever observant eyes to take from hers, it was that they held within them an insatiable curiosity for all things, knowledge it's own reward. Perhaps that is why her master had named her High Inquisitor after his grand speech.

"You have risen high in my Empire, Darth Anathamous, coming to even rule one of my worlds. You've seem to become a staunch ally of Darth Carnifex, and your blood runs rich and hot with the fervor of youth. I have no doubts that soon you will even sacrifice your pride - and make it as far as us.",

While she acknowledged she had come quite far in a short time, If he was complimenting her in his notion that she may come so far, it was either lost on her or she simply did not believe it. How could she, deliberately held back as she was?

His statement led her jaw to clench ever so slightly. While it was good in most cases that the world still believed in the loyal persona of Darth Anathemous, the ever loyal Kainite, Kaila Solus could never quite come to terms her own lie. She had tried to delude herself into believing that she truly was his ally many times before, but each time she had always been met with the harsh reality that she was little more than a servant. And as of late, she was coming dangerously close to being his enemy.

And perhaps it was this bias which made The Emperor's next words all the more confusing. She took this nebulous 'us' to mean beings like himself and like her master. But how could one say that of a man who lords over his followers as a God? how could he have possibly sacrificed his pride? One who surrounds himself with gilded concubines and sycophants?

No, she did not believe for a moment that he had sacrificed his pride. She did not believe he had ever sacrificed as much as he asked of his own people, of her.

But then she wondered if this notion was ignorant of her. Clearly The Emperor had sacrificed much pride and dignity indeed, corpse that he was. If he could truly compare this to Carnifex, then perhaps her master had sacrificed something yet unknown to her. He had told her so little even after so many years, perhaps by design.

"My eyes see far, and I've seen the wake you have left even if you have not. I take pride in knowing who of my children are my enemies and who are not - but I want to see where you lay. Where you lie.",

Curious then that he should bring up pride after claiming to sacrifice it. Perhaps then he was not so inhuman as he appeared at a glance, or by reputation. Perhaps these stories, as all stories were in her experience, but half truths.

Initially she seemed receptive of these hints of recognition, curious what his perspective was, chin subtly raised. She was loosely aware of her own accomplishments, knowing on some level that her service to the empire had been worthy of notice and that she had come further than her peers in a short time. The Empress had picked her for a reason, Gerwald Lechner had taken the time of day to give her advice which he might not have if she were not worth his time, and she had acted accordingly, as she would explain in time.

However, these accomplishments were not solely for the empire, and it appeared he was aware. Something told her after all that this play on words was quite deliberate.

"Tell me how my world fares, then tell me of your family."

She blinked, her nostrils flaring in an inaudible exhale as the young darth's stomach became a pit. Of all the questions he could have asked her, she was perhaps the least qualified to answer his second.

"Reports indicate progress, my lord" she chose to answer these questions in order, and with facts rather than her own opinions nor flowery language which The Emperor must surely be tired of hearing.

"I have personally invested assets into the city, with the majority of buildings now repaired and fully operational, save perhaps the governor's mansion, as I have ordered only those rooms most necessary to it's governmental function be restored for the time being, and reallocated funds from it's repair to that of the city and improving living conditions for it's people. However, we have also been about the quiet yet violent work of stamping out traitors and infiltrators in the night, and I am told those responsible for sabotage during the siege have all perished, work I have cross referenced and confirmed with information provided by Lord Lechner. Since then, military personnel previously assigned to the world's defense have since been replaced with droids and transferred to the Second Legion, however I have found the local culture to be quite hostile to droids and cyborgs for fears of replacing them."

"Following lord Lechner's advice," she added, unafraid to admit that she had accepted the wisdom of others in her effort to complete the task for which she was assigned, perhaps a sign that he was right to claim that her pride too would soon be sacrificed.

"I have compensated for this by expanding local industries. Given that most major exports are tech based, I have focused on weapon and starship components bound for the frontlines. We have also, with his lord councilor's permission, begun using my own criminal connections to keep tabs on the local underworld and expand into former Rimward Trade League worlds to locate rebel smugglers and their clients."



"...as for my family" her gaze dropped to the floor as she pondered the question for a time.

Her expression twisted in a mix of confusion and perhaps even shame.

"If I ever had one, my lord, I... I do not remember them."

It was both a half truth and a double meaning for one so devoid of allies nor connection to the empire she now served, even despite her best efforts. She hated and distrusted the other Kainites, and yet for her affiliation to them, she was shunned by all others. In that way, she was doomed to stand alone in all things.

But it had not always been this way.

"Many years ago, before the tenth empire fell, I awoke in a hospital with no memory. I was ordered aboard the Malsheem, and I have been in my master's service since."

The words flowed easily even if somberly from her lips. For so many years that was the only truth she knew, though it was here that her honesty would begin to falter. She had discovered the hidden truth of her origins only recently, or at least a part of it. While it was certainly true that she knew nothing of her biological family, she now knew that it was a Mandalorians clan who had raised her until she was taken from them too.

She truly did not remember them, but now she knew why.



Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean grimaced, though perhaps not perceptibly. Her words were flat and direct, there was to be no complaint in her delivery - but her motivations, her intentions, her goals, they lacked foresight and understanding. It was unfair of the Emperor to wish upon the rising stars of his Order to know the unfathomable truths that he knew, but he wanted more of them regardless. Always more, always for his own ends.​

​

"You sound like a slave.", he said flatly, bruskly.​

​

"I do not remember my family either - but I do remember my mother. Not her name, and certainly not my own, but I remember seeing her only once as she hung from a tree."​

​

It was a painful memory, but Empyrean had long learned to grip emotion by the scruff and bury it deep for his use later. There was to be no issue now, his corpse facade would hold as he would express nothing but an apathetic stare. Watching for more of her cues.​

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"In that, we are alike. No chains that bind us to ancestry or familiarity.", he said slow and deliberately. Not because he knew the truth about her family, but because it was a sore spot - and the Emperor pressed where the softest pieces fell, just to see how she might squirm.​

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"My Wife says you are to become one of the many of the next generation to lead the Sith into a new era. I am not yet convinced.", he uttered as he slowly lifted himself from the confines of the crystalline throne.​

​

"Follow.", he said as he began to move, slowly and unsuredly in a direction to the rear of the room. He was the Emperor, there was no doubting his strength, but his form moved like a man in the later half of his first century. Shaky and hesitant, he moved at a pace she likely would force herself to slow down for. He could go faster, but he had found it an interesting thing to see how people reacted to the truth fraility of moving a corpse like he did.​

​

"What is the Force, and what does it mean to be a Sith?", he asked as they moved down a maze of hallways.​

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Kaila Irons​

​

 

[Kaila Irons]

"You sound like a slave."

She ground her teeth on impulse. He was undeniably correct. she sounded like a slave because that is exactly what she was, no matter how hard she tried to be anything else, for her master had spent years molding her like clay, a statue laid helpless to the hands of an artist, shaped to His desires irregardless of her own.

It left her bitter, and some nights, unsure who she even was anymore.

But others, it left her with a burning hatred that threatened to burn down everything she had built. But she was determined not to let her passions bleed into the perceptions of others, she would not die as the late Lord Inquisitor had. No, her hate must become a cold thing, a quiet thing, that crept along unnoticed like frost upon the window, threatening to one day snuff out the fires of her enemies in the night.

Or so she hoped.

But for all her recent momentum, she was still but the slave, and so for now she would answer to a higher power.

"I do not remember my family either - but I do remember my mother. Not her name, and certainly not my own, but I remember seeing her only once as she hung from a tree."

She glanced downward momentarily, but that appeared to be the extent of her sympathy for The Emperor's troubled past. It wasn't that she couldn't understand the pain, rather that it was a pain and that it surely affected him. She understood and empathized with loss, but as Darth Malum of House Marr had surely learned, she seemed unfamiliar with the concept of that familial bond, and so the true depth of that loss appeared lost on her.

Perhaps then he was right, and she had one less chain to break.

She looked contemplative of the thought, unsure just yet how one should feel about such a comment. It could just as easily be a boon as a curse, or perhaps it was in some way both. The thought had once left her feeling alone in the void, but now that she knew the truth of her origins, or lack thereof, it had actually strengthened her connection to both the sith and the dark side, having realized that there was no alternative, that it was far too late to be anything else.

What an enlightening visit.

This thought of her place among the sith seemed to gain merit as The Emperor allowed her a glimpse into the opinions of Srina Talon , who she secretly looked up to in some ways. The knowledge of Empress Talon's seeming praise, if she was correct about his particular choice of words, caused the young Vahla's thin brows to raise some.

Her conversations with Gerwald Lechner had led her to believe that The Empress simply used her in a pragmatic move to secure the logistics of Echnos, citing her quick thinking in the apprehension of saboteurs. She had assumed then that The Empress would quickly forget about her, and Echnos, moving on to grander things.

The woman was certainly pragmatic, but now she wondered if perhaps whatever she saw in her extended beyond that momentary use.

Even though The Emperor expressed his disbelief, Kaila did not let it discourage her, instead lingering on the thought a moment longer whilst awaiting him to leave the throne.

"I shall endeavor to live up to her claims, my lord." she intoned, carefully rephrasing her desire to prove him wrong, both for her own sake and genuine desire to prove Talon right.

From there she followed him through the expansive throne room and then deeper into the pyramid, indeed slowing to accommodate his elderly pace as he'd predicted. She walked with a practiced grace, bodygloved footsteps difficult to hear even amidst the deafening silence of the empty pyramid, war skirt veiling the movements, appearing to slowly hover about. All the while, she observed with morbid curiosity the way he moved, the way his limbs shakily took small steps, the awkward balance of a dead thing moving against the will of fate.

It fascinated her, that one so decayed yet lived in this twisted mockery of nature. She wondered what was preventing him from simply possessing a younger, more intact body? perhaps clones as her master and his wives had. But most of all, she pondered the nature of what dark and forbidden powers he'd used to stubbornly retain control . Both as an aspiring necromancer, and one who sought to cheat fate, it brought out an almost childish curiosity to her face when she thought he wasn't looking.

But then he interrupted it with another subject she'd thought long and hard over.

"What is the Force, and what does it mean to be a Sith?", he asked as they moved down a maze of hallways.

"...the force, my lord?"

She seemed genuinely surprised by the question, as few had ever asked for her opinion nor philosophy. And she knew, by it's intentional vagueness and the nature of his previous questioning, that he was indeed looking for more than the basics of a living energy field.

"I believe it to be... It is... A will," she chose to answer honestly.

"An uncaring, but intelligent will. One which meddles in... fate."

Her words were hesitant at first, for of the few which she had previously shared her honest views of the force, half had ridiculed the notion.

"It manipulates people and events toward it's desired outcome, irregardless of the lives it destroys or uplifts in the process. And therefore, in it's meddling with the destiny of all things, it is..."

"The ultimate enslaver."
​

She left the words to hang for but a moment as she recalled her words to Tamsin Graves , knowing then what it meant to her to be sith.

"And I believe, as the Jedi do, that to be a practitioner of the Dark Side, to be Sith, is to corrupt that will. To make it bleed, and bend it's blood to one's own will. With this in mind, I also believe that through the dark side, one may learn methods of stealing back control over one's own destiny."

"And so, to be sith, is to wage war against fate. against The Force, and it's belighted servants."

She glanced up at him, unsure how he would take to her seemingly rare philosophy of which she had not encountered among any who yet lived, save perhaps Tamsin, who she had personally turned to the dark side of the force and spoke to extensively of her beliefs.



Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean listened, and was even impressed by her answer - but he wouldn't show it. He'd contemplate her words for a few moment, even as he watched her without ever looking at her. His form teetered and rocked as it made its way down the hallway, and eventually a door sunken in an alcove opened for them to enter. Inside, there were many thousands of books, and even a cursory glance would show that these shelves were lined with more knowledge than almost any place in the Galaxy.​

​

It was the Emperor's personal study, and it was well used. Stacks of books lay in piles around alchemized carved chairs of obsidian, their intricate patterns glowing ever so slightly with unknown purpose. As Empyrean took the first steps into the room, he began to respond at last;​

​

"You've a good answer for a hard question. Most have not considered the Force - they make mockery of the Sith Code by implying it is only for the blind search of power, or fall victim to the disastrous effects of the Dark Side due to their lack of will. Who taught you this answer?", he asked as he me moved towards one of the carved chairs, surrounded by books.​

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"Was it Darth Carnifex ? The Sepulchral? The Eternalist Church?", he mused. When he sat in the chair, there seemed to be a weight lifted off of them both - as he relaxed into it like he was partially alive once more. The air grew warmer, more comforting, but still heavy laden with the sensation of death.​

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Kaila Irons​

 

[Kaila Irons]

The library was... exquisite. It reminded her in some ways of the Malsheem's own, which housed shelves that the young seeker herself had stocked with obscurities she had personally translated from the walls of ancient tombs or stolen out from under sith and jedi alike. But there was something different about this place, and it filled her eyes wandering eyes with wonder as she imagined the contents of each and every book they passed. And they all belonged to one man.

It was no surprise of course that The Emperor would have such a vast personal collection, but to see it with one's own eyes?

His response however, finally breaking the awkward silence she'd tried to distract herself from with these sights, indeed surprised her. She blinked a few times, pulling her gaze away from all those books, eyes settling on him with no pretense behind them.

Who taught you this answer?", he asked as he me moved towards one of the carved chairs, surrounded by books. "Was it Darth Carnifex? The Sepulchral? The Eternalist Church?"

Kaila paused a moment, unsure how best to answer without sounding too arrogant for her station. But whether it was the subtle relief they both felt, or her own nature, she chose to answer honestly.

Mostly.

"I did, my lord."

"It took time, admittedly, to draw such conclusions. Years of research into the philosophies and methodologies of many sith and jedi alike, and others too. I've spent most of my service to the Kainate traveling to study civilizations ancient and recent, spoken at length with Sith, Witches and even the enemy, once or twice."

"I've also had some... experience, I suppose. Visions of death which have since proven prophetic, coincidences with life altering consequences, to name a few. Not to bemoan my circumstances but it seemed a natural conclusion for those who've suffered at the will's hand, and that those who serve the light do so because they are naïve, having not experienced the world for what it truly is below the clouds surrounding their high towers."

Where once she had forcibly hid herself behind a veil of forced apathy, she now frowned bitterly at the thought.

"Forgive me sir, If I am being... Overzealous, about my opinions of the force and fate. It's not often that I speak of them, and rarer still that one takes interest enough to ask how they came to be."



Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean watched her for a few moments, his still present hand moving to press a thumb to his chin, as though studying her. It was hard to make out any facial expressions he made, as it was clear the will he imposed on his body was better meant for large movements, not the tiny expressions he once would have unconsciously had as a living man. It was a cold thing, to be dead yet not, and Empyrean was a clear example of the cost of raising beyond your station.​

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"The Sepulchral tell our people it is Zealousness that will protect them, and in turn, the Empire.", he said idly.​

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"I concur with them. I believe zealousness is a virtue best kept, and directed towards your studies and beliefs. The Empress did not sell you short.", he offered her. His tone was cold, but the words were a compliment - if entirely rare for the notably callous dead man.​

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"The Force is the Great Enslaver, Fate is the Chains that bind us, and it is through the Dark Side we are set free of our own destiny. Sith are unnatural to the natural order, and thus we determine our own fate, our own nature, our own drive.", he said before motioning to a few of the books on the shelves.​

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"Go ahead. Browse them while we talk."​

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He adjusted in his chair, then continued;​

​

"Fate dictated I be born as a slave. I was bereft of any possessions, and my autonomy was not my own - what name I was given was lost with the death of my Mother. For more than two decades, I walked this galaxy with nothing but an anger that knew no bounds. I killed many men - many who deserved it, and many who did not. For all of that, it has cost me greatly. The Force fears me, and thus it enacts these cruel punishments.", he said with a glance down to his bisected torso.​

​

"My point is to not earn your sympathy, I do not need it - and if you gave me your pity, I'd make you choke on it. No, my intention is to let you know that I know a slave when I see them. In the way they walk, in the way they protect their thoughts behind practiced masks, and even if you can't tell - I can see the weight of those chains as you walk. You fight against Fate, but you should fight against the one who really holds your chains first."​

​

"I know you, Kaila Irons . Better than anyone else in this Empire - because we share that struggle. To be chained, to thrash violently in spite of it. I know you for what you are, so tell me about yourself again."​

​

"But this time, be honest."​

​

​

 

[Kaila Irons]

"The Sepulchral tell our people it is Zealousness that will protect them, and in turn, the Empire.", he said idly. "I concur with them. I believe zealousness is a virtue best kept, and directed towards your studies and beliefs. The Empress did not sell you short."

Her thin brows rose in surprise at this shift in the conversation. While his expressions seemed unchanging, the words he chose were almost night and day.

"Go ahead. Browse them while we talk."

She bowed and then wandered a few steps to the nearest shelf, idly tracing her fingers across the covers, checking each title as The Emperor spoke. This continued for a short while as he explained his story, occasionally drawing her eyes back to his form momentarily before she continued on to pull out a book, clearly listening but also eager to take advantage of this opportunity, assuming there would be time to read later of course.

There were valuable lessons to glean from both sources after all. The notion that he was being punished for example had many implications, and she wondered if this peculiar state he'd been left in was either a stroke of misfortune that might befall those attempting some manner of ritual, or if it were perhaps inflicted upon him by the Jedi somehow, both of which could easily be attributed to the insidious will if so. How likely was it then, that she might meet the same fate if she continued on her path? Perhaps she might ask more some day, so that she may better prepare herself for such a challenge.

Even still, the power to make the force fear oneself was quite the achievement no matter the cost. Plaguis had achieved the same, but been slain by the hands of fate for it.

He survived, in his own way. And so the Sith were getting closer to truly conquering the will.

I know a slave when I see them. In the way they walk, in the way they protect their thoughts behind practiced masks, and even if you can't tell - I can see the weight of those chains as you walk. You fight against Fate, but you should fight against the one who really holds your chains first."

Kaila looked up from the strangely marked cover she was pulling from the shelf, then turned to face him slowly.
She knew exactly what he meant. She knew exactly who he alluded to.

"I know you, Kaila Irons. Better than anyone else in this Empire - because we share that struggle. To be chained, to thrash violently in spite of it. I know you for what you are, so tell me about yourself again. But this time, be honest.

She took a deep breath, leaning back against the shelf in silence, book held close to her chest.

And when she looked away, it was clear by the way her lips twisted, then settled into acceptance, that Kaila was well aware that she'd been caught in a lie.

"...I was a Mandalorian, once." she said at last.

"He... tried to hide this from me, stole my memories, via technology, by alchemy, I'm not exactly sure. But I kept digging when he wasn't looking. It took years but I found my clan again, confronted them. Turns out I wasn't truly one of them either, I'd merely been adopted before He took me from them, made me... what I am now. Just another act of fate, wrenching control from me."

"Altough there is a witch in his service who believes my lineage connected to Dathomir in some way, which would explain why it calls to me as of late, I suppose."

"I do not know if I was born there or if perhaps one of my parents were, given that I am Vahla and not Zabrak. I wasn't lying when I said I did not know them, I just... left out why" she shrugged.


"Or were you looking for more than a sad history lesson?"



Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

"This Galaxy is nothing but sad history lessons, Kaila Irons .", he said flatly, as though it were simply a fact and not some poetic wisp of words unbefitting a creature like him.​

​

"Once, I wielded the Dark Staff. Perhaps it is more correct to say it wielded me. In their bid to claim it from me, the 10th Sith Empire captured me, brainwashed me, led me to believe myself a man named Darth Maliphant. It was a title I kept even when my memories returned, and I consolidated the persona they had made for me, with who I truly was. You should do the same - know yourself not as a child that never came to be, but a woman with a story.", he continued.​

​

"I've read much about the Witches of Dathomir. I even was a member of their old crusades, once upon a time. The Primeval, they called themselves. Led by a woman named Boethiah. She was powerful, to say the least, and from her I learned many things. I believe I even still have her artifacts...", he said idly as he seemed to look off into the open air of his study.​

​

After a brief moment, he lifted a finger, and reality tore open with a screech like metal tearing - and through this opening, a few items fell out. Two books, and a sword. They floated gently down as the rift closed, and each were laid on a table near Kaila.​

​

"These are artifacts from the greatest Witches to ever grace this Galaxy. They denied their connection to the Sith, but the Witches of Dathomir are kin - and our goals align more than either the Sith or the Witches believe. If you are being called by Dathomir, it is for a reason, and you are to inherit it's will. I would support this endeavor, on condition.", he said as he leaned forward.​

​

"You stay in my Empire for as long as I require it, and when the day comes my wife or I request a boon, you will honor it. I will make you just as powerful as your Lord, but only to achieve my own ends. For now, I'd have you report back to me what you see of his political movements - but do not push into his personal life, or his dealings with Srina Talon . If you learn the wrong thing, you will not be spared.", he said, with a completely nebulous warning.​

​

How was she supposed to both spy on him, and avoid some critical information she wasn't even sure what it was? The emperor was hardly a reasonable person, however, and his tone brooked no argument.​

​

"These things...", he said with a motion back to the table.

"These are artifacts from Mother Talzin, and Boethiah. The sword is Dreamweaver - is makes illusions manifest physically, and can harm opponents through it. The book next to it has no name, but mind it - it will teach you a great deal about Force Illusions, things that will help with witchcraft - but once you break the seal on it, it will demand of you your dreams. Last, Mother Talzin's grimoire - the full breadth of her knowledge, and the history of the Witches. Inside, you may even learn something about your people."​

​

"These items I offer to you - but the condition is loyalty. Loyalty without question, without doubt. Do you understand the offer, and do you accept it?"​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Kaila came a little closer, drawn in by the deadman's story. In just a few words, he'd weaved a tale of many twists and turns both electrifying and horrific. Those were the sort of stories which captivated her, and the people. Beings reborn of tragedy, whose souls screamed at one's every instinct to flee, to look away, yet refused to relinquish their pull of the eyes.

Perhaps in some small, twisted way, she felt a kinship with those broken things. It was as he said after all, that this galaxy is nothing but sad history lessons. And it would seem then that he might truly know her better than anyone in the empire, for they were both broken things.

"We were broken by the same empire?" And perhaps by extension, the same man?

She wondered then if the staff was destroyed, for certainly she would have been more comfortable in a galaxy where it was, or at least sealed away. No one should have that kind of power, nor could it be used without corrupting it's wielder, if the stories were true. Then again, he had grasped it once, and so he would surely have greater insight.

Kaila could live with that, just so long as Carnifex didn't get his brutish hands on it.


She also wondered if these "Primeval" witches had anything to do with it. The Dathomiri, Nightsisters especially, seemed to have a knack for uncovering dark and ancient things the rest of this galaxy ignorantly though lost or make-believe. To hear then that he was no such fool, but had even joined this "Boethiah" in a Dathomiri crusade, something she, perhaps ignorantly herself, had never considered being possible, was a most intriguing detail. Had the red planet not always been so fallen behind galactic affairs then? And could they yet rise again?


Kaila abruptly flinched as The Emperor tore a hole through time and space, filling her mind's eye with screams which radiated outward from the very force itself. It was in pain. Something which should have been music to her ears, but it would take getting used to.


At last, a strange trio of old and powerful things fell from the open air, then slowed into a gentle descent in front of her. Though his terms at first drew a wary glance, these things seemed to bring a light to her eyes, which slowly traced each form with great curiosity, slowly drinking in every sight.

"Dreamweaver." she echoed quietly, as if savoring the name.

Her hand reached out to touch it, but then hesitated. She shouldn't touch them unless their pact was sealed, nor without first knowing what might happen if she did. Of all his servants, Kaila might be one of the most cautious, sometimes to a fault.

The nameless book drew a look of suspicion, it's price unclear but perhaps great and terrible, it's boons however of some interest.

And last, but certainly not least,

"Mother Talzin?" she nearly gasped.

The previous book in her arms left without so much as a gesture, gently floating back from whence it came as slender fingers came to idly trace the grimoire's cover. From these writings alone could she advance her dark powers well beyond her years if this was what she thought it to be.

However...

"You... drive a hard bargain, my lord..." ​

She stepped back, gaze still held by the grimoire, but thoughts dragged away from fantastical daydreaming to The Emperor's terms.

"...one master for another."


Blind obedience was exactly as Carnifex wished of her, it was everything she fought against. The 10th Imperial Army, Her master, The Force, all these things had sought to steal away all agency, all mastery of her own fate.

But Darth Empyrean was the first man she had ever known to offer something in return, or even a choice.

The stipulations were confusing yet final, and placed her into a very dangerous position. And yet no matter the outcome she envisioned, no matter how many futures she could imagine in which she did or did not accept these terms,

It was still a better deal than Carnifex would ever offer.

Carefully, she took Dreamweaver into both hands, idly dragging her fingers across the flat of the blade, finally coming to a decision.

"...I do..."

Her eyes flicked up at him, studying his one last time.

"I am at your disposal, and that of The Empress, should she wish anything of me."



It wasn't ideal by any means, but nothing about being made sith had ever been. Sooner or later she would have to make sacrifices to survive, and if they meant that she could one day challenge Him, then she would have to live with that decision. Perhaps the first that was truly hers alone.



Darth Empyrean