.::. Hours Earlier .::.
Jake knelt before the alter to an unknown deity. His head lowered, his eyes closed. His rested upon his left knee while his right dug into the steel carpeted floor of his private room aboard the
Honoghrian Armored Diplomatic Escort. Thin blue sticks of incense burned on each side of the small alter; wafts of grey smoke rising to the ceiling and dissipating as though they were being pulled into an unknown reality. The smell was of Honoghrian tulips and Dantellian roses, a special blend that the Master of the Sword created for himself to always remind him of home.
‘You pray to a deity that you do not actually believe in?’ A voice said breaking the silence of the room.
“I do.”
‘Does that not make you a hypocrite?’
“It does.”
A small hologram of a woman sitting in a side chair beamed on his nightstand. The woman was dressed in a business suit; tie and all though a shadow cast her face by an unknown object which hid the womans identity. If she had not moved on occasion to take a puff from a cigarette the hologram could have been mistaken for simple discord. Even if could not be seen, Jake knew her eyes were fixated on him. Not in a means of arousal or an attempt at seduction but of careful calculation and judgement.
‘You hope for something you do not think exists or you hope for something that you do not think you deserve?’ She said.
Jake hated her at times. Moments like this the woman was spot on.
‘Tell me about your fears, Gravis.’
There were four people in the galaxy that were allowed to call Jake by his birth name; all of them family. Anyone else referred to him by the name given to him by his Lady Silencia. A name that struck fear into the very heart of the old Jedi Council and unnerved even the strongest of Sith Lord; Gravis.
.::. Presently Aboard Tribunal Station .::.
“MiLord.” Mycell spoke as he handed Jake Daniels a vibrosword that rested peacefully in its leather sheath.
Jake took the
blade in his hands, giving the hilt a very careful scan with his eyes. The blade was primitive in design. The style was a symbol to reflect what Jake himself was; a relic of another time. The hilt was made of Honoghrian oak wrapped tightly by stained leather gifted to him by Noghri warriors. The bottom of the hilt held a ball of
polished turquoise that Jake had taken from the private residence of
Ereza
. He could have asked. She probably would have probably said yes. The point of the stone was more than beauty or elegance; it was a symbol of the woman he had sworn to protect. Where he went, his Mal’Ary’Ush would be. For a man who lay awake at night growing lonelier in his own mind each new eve than he had the night prior it gave him solace. If she asked, he would confess. He would confess to a lot of things. Until then words would not be spoken.
Using the straps of the sheath, Jake fastened it to his side; not his back. He was heading into the unknown and an overhand pull of his weapon would be slower than a sideward yank. Tied tightly to his left, he tapped the hilt gently as his eyes refused to leave the hangar bay doors. He wore nothing spectacular; black leathers with the Shamalain symbol on his right shoulder. His hair was messy, his face unshaven. Sunken eyes told the tale of an exhausted man; either from lack of sleep or a recently exhausting life. Scrapes, cuts, and bruises hinted that he had recently seen combat.
In all honesty he could have done with a decent shower; at least looked presentable as he sought out the people in the texts he read and the ‘call’ he felt. The Je’daii. The texts he possessed in a messenger bag that rested on his right hip told the tale of a group of people that sought true balance. They were not necessarily war mongers nor were they daisy loving hippies. How true was this? Jake was about to find out. He trusted few Jedi; especially given the events with the Silver Jedi. If this group proved to be a threat, he would leave. If they got in the way of an escape, they would be dealt with. Really the only thing he knew was that the ‘call’ he felt in the midst of battle led him here.
“You do not have to do this.” Anahita said as she approached Jakes right.
Mycell and Anahita Le’Fey were Jake Daniels' personal assistants and guards. Two of his most trusted confidants were almost to him what he was to Ereza. Almost.
“I do.” Jake replied.
“We’ll come.” Anahita said.
“No. I need to do this on my own. Mycell, have Eduardo follow my signal from the ship. First sign of trouble I’ll trip my alert beacon. Then we leave. Anahita,” Jake turned to his Right Hand.
“Send word back home that I’ll be arriving late. There’s something here I need to do.”
Heading into the Station, Jake’s mission to investigate the call and to see if he could gain further knowledge on the mysterious ‘Je’daii’ his texts spoke of.
