Tags:
Marlon Sularen
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Antipater
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Dyans Keto
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Allister McAuliffe
The air in the room carried the weight of resignation, ambition, and quiet desperation as Allegiant General Domaric Mordane strode into the Council chambers. He had arrived in his usual fashion—unannounced but impossible to ignore. His black officer's coat was pristine, its edges sharp as a blade, and the silver insignia on his chest reflected the dim light with austere brilliance. A symbol of uncompromising order amidst the chaos.
Mordane's sharp, steel-gray eyes swept the room like an analytical machine, cataloging the scene. The holograms of Antipater and Empress Keto flickered faintly, casting ghostly shadows over the circular table. McAuliffe sat with his data cards meticulously arrayed, his expression neutral but his intentions clear to any practiced observer: scientific ambition mixed with practical cunning. Sularen sat at the head, a brooding figure burdened by the weight of decay and a legacy on the brink of extinction. These were no longer leaders of a mighty empire; they were scavengers picking over a carcass, fighting over what might still have use.
Mordane's expression betrayed nothing of his thoughts, but internally, a single word came to mind:
inevitable. The Dark Empire, like every other bloated regime built on tyranny and fear, was succumbing to the inevitable truth of stagnation. Without discipline, without unity, even the most grandiose machine would falter. His voice, low and measured, broke the silence as he came to a halt behind his chair, his gloved hands resting on its back.
"
Lord Regent. Councilors." He inclined his head slightly, not as a show of respect but as a mere formality. His presence was more akin to a stone being dropped into a still pool—disruptive but precise.
"
Before I address what has been spoken," he began, his tone sharp and deliberate, "
I must state the obvious: the rot we lament did not begin with Solipsis, nor does it end with his death. It has metastasized across every rank, every planet, and every decree issued in the name of this Empire. The wheel does not simply turn; it crumbles under its own weight."
Mordane let his words hang in the air for a moment, the cold detachment of his analysis underscoring the gravity of the situation. He finally moved to sit, the chair creaking faintly under his rigid posture.
"
I have reviewed the reports on Shu-Torun. I have analyzed the state of our fleet, our armies, and the fractured chains of command that mock the very concept of an empire. What we have here is not merely the 'collapse of an empire'—it is the implosion of purpose. And without purpose, all the resources in the galaxy will not buy us survival, much less resurgence."
His gaze shifted momentarily to McAuliffe. "
Your scientific facility, Doctor, and your projects may hold promise, but biological warfare? I would caution against creating weapons we cannot control. A hammer may be used to build or destroy. A plague knows no loyalty."
Turning to the hologram of Antipater, Mordane spoke with measured approval. "
You, at least, speak to pragmatism. Jaemus may indeed serve as a foothold should this empire fracture beyond repair. Consolidation of regional power is a necessity, but I would advise you to remember that the Mandalorians, like us, respect only strength. Collaborate if you must, but do not misplace trust in their honor."
Finally, his gaze fell upon the flickering visage of Empress Keto. Her disdain for Solipsis was clear, and her plans to resuscitate the Krath with a Silver Crusade sounded bold, if not reckless. But what truly caught Mordane's attention was her cryptic warning.
The Destroyer of Byss lives again.
"
So," he said, his tone colder now, "
the shadow of Byss rises. A specter among ruins. Perhaps it is fitting that the past continues to haunt us. Whether this figure is ally or enemy remains to be seen, but if they are tied to the rot you so despise, Empress, I suggest we tread carefully. The last thing we need is another mad zealot steering this sinking ship into oblivion."
Mordane folded his hands on the table, his posture rigid, his tone flat and almost dispassionate. "
As for me, I will do what I have always done. Prepare the military for cohesion, efficiency, and readiness. This council may plan for contingencies, but understand this: we will not survive by hiding in the shadows or retreating to scattered outposts. We must fight not for Solipsis or Korvan or any 'dream.' We must fight for order itself—unrelenting and uncompromising."
He paused, leaning forward slightly, his voice now carrying an edge of finality. "
If this Empire is to die, so be it. But I will see to it that it dies with discipline and on its own terms—not as a feast for vultures."