Private Draw the Sword

[Dagon Kaze]

DRAW THE SWORD
THE GREAT ERROR vol. II
Issue #6 w/ Ryv

Once more the darkness bears its fangs to the galaxy, its long shadow of death looming over the sanctity of life. Not long ago that same darkness had been vanquished by the righteous blade of the Jedi. With the galactic capital, Coruscant, put to the torch, Dagon Kaze hardly had any other choice than to seek the very hand that had wielded the blade to banish evil.

The Sword of the Jedi.

It's a twenty-block walk to the End of the Road. Without the New Jedi emblem on his leather jacket, the journey's pretty educational. Sized up like a piece of meat by the borg boys on Cardas Avenue, then trudge through the pleas and threats of cyberpsychotics and spice junkies at Selwick Park. If you could still call it a park, that is. Ten blocks in and the scenery changes - not every apartment's boarded, not every soul on the street's got a rap sheet and you could make out End of the Road in the distance. Who'd thought a bar could stand like a watchtower on Denon?

The tension subsides, no more sizing up, no more ambushes to look out for, so his mind goes places back in the past. Feels like a lifetime ago when Ryv, the man he'd learned everything about crime-fighting and investigations, brought his blade up in defiance against the Sith. An enemy that seemingly had been ignored for far too long. Behind him stood only a few youthful faces just like his but they all made up for the number's deficit with pure determination. Will. Grit.

Only to come home as the villains of the story.

Ryv, Maynard, Loske, and the others among them of the first that marched against evil had all but vanished. Or were rather banished by a galaxy fed on lies.

Makes the blood boil.

If Dag could afford it, hell if the galaxy could afford it, he wouldn't be here. They had paid too much already but... it was his duty as a Jedi, the duty to the universe that urged him to call upon a much-needed help before everything collapsed.

End of the Road. Definitely stands out in the Suicide Slums; not flashy, no, but like... well, it doesn't really look like a suicidal dive, y'know. No hustling racket in sight. Not even a goon lookin' for a quick buck, either. Feels so foreign to give your eyes on the back a break on Denon of all places.

Sizing up the three-story building, Dag almost turns heel but duty compels him to force his legs forward. Like he's been taught, he sweeps the bar with a glance gathering every detail, and silently sits on the bar.

 

[Ryv]

Everything was clean. Meticulously so. The floor lacked the tell tale stick of old beer and even older puke. Not a single mote of dust could be found on any visible surface. The tables were scrubbed clean of dirt and grime. The bar top looked as if a layer of wax had been applied sometime early that morning. Looking closely, Dagon could even see a faint reflection of himself within the slate gray counter. Both in and out, the End of the Road certainly did not belong in Denon's Suicide Slums.

Aside from the Jedi Knight, the bar was empty. No droid approached Dagon offering service. There weren't any guests tucked away in shadowy booths. A faint tune played overhead, carried throughout by speakers installed into the ceiling. The place was far from lively, but that wasn't a surprise. Few bars in the slums of Denon managed more than a few patrons even at the busiest hours. Threats and extortion from local thugs kept most businesses in the dirt, groveling for protection. The sun was still high in the sky. Night workers had yet to descend upon the city street.

A sound like a small stampede echoed out from a set of stairs behind the bar. One by one, four children hurried out and past the countertop itself. Not one of them spared Dagon a glance as they raced past him to the front door.

Descending the steps a moment later, a disheveled man scratched at an overgrown beard. His hair fell in and around his face, making it difficult to see more than a pair of amber eyes and honey colored skin. An apron stained with flour covered a modest t-shirt and pants. Upon noticing Dagon, his demeanor stayed the same. Stoic. Stern.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

Dagon Kaze

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Impeccable. The whole place is. Almost like a hospital. Almost like he'd just entered a portal straight to Kamino. It sure as hell didn't fit anything he'd seen on Denon, or at least in the Slums. Plenty of polished places in the high rises that cut through Denon's smog but down here? No way this was the right place. No way Ryv - the man dying for Hutta Burger's grease - stewarded this bar. As impeccably clean as End of the Road was, it was as equally empty. No surprises there. Bars, cantinas, all these joints were a luxury for the downtrodden denizens of Denon.

Not even that.

Escapism, itself, was a luxury.

And then the stampeding, little steps of children trampled through his disbelief.

Wait... children?!

"One, two, three... four... four?! Has he-- did he-- what the--"

They spared no glances at his flabbergasted face as they hurried to carry on their games outside. Kids runnin' outside in the Slums - that, too, was a luxury for a lot of kids on this ill planet. It makes him sigh - he's done so much and yet achieved so little. Hope died last but it sure was flickering. Now more than ever, it seems.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

The question faintly startles him. Not a lot of people in the galaxy could sneak up on Dag. But this scruffy-looking, apron-wearing man that clearly shouldn't have belonged among the spotless tables and chairs was one of them. Because it was the same man that had taught him vigilance. It was the same man that had lunged at the maw of the Sith and crushed it but most importantly... it was the man that somehow had made it possible for four children to play on the streets of the Slums.

Dag gleamed. Like a kid seeing his Life Day present for the thousandth time.

But the stern face on the Sword throws a faint shadow over the bright grin and it abates into a soft, slightly confused smirk.

"You're kidding, right?" he stands up as if that will help Ryv recognize him, "It's me, brother - Dag."

Ryv

 

[Ryv]

Only two of the children carried any resemblances. The oldest of the four, a human boy no older than twelve, dragged a younger sister by her wrist. He led the quartet with confidence found only in children and battled hardened soldiers. Though much smaller than who could only be her brother, she hurried to keep pace. The other two, a blue-skinned twi'lek and a green-skinned mirialan, didn't have much trouble following their would-be leader. Corin lacked their outward excitement. He definitely didn't move at the speed of a gaggle of excited children ready to face the world. His gait was reminiscent of a man who'd already seen far too much for one lifetime. No sense of urgency. Only a desire to get from point A to point B in a reasonable frame of time.

He fixed Dagon with a look trapped somewhere between acknowledgment and apprehension.

"Lot of folks come through the End of the Road," Corin tugged open a cabinet behind him and withdrew a perfectly translucent glass. He set it down before Dagon. "Glad to see you back. Hard to keep a steady flow of customers with everything going on out there," he motioned towards the door, but his gaze remained affixed on Dagon.

Corin lifted a middling bottle of wine from beneath the counter and filled the glass for his guest. "I'm sure you could go for something harder after a walk in the slums, but better to keep an even head, huh? You don't know who could be watching."

He emphasized his final words to the Sentinel now standing at his bartop.

Dagon Kaze ​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

"You know I don't drink." he arches an eyebrow, then stares at the offered glass before him, "... ah, why the hell not." taking the glass, Dag sweeps the liquid in one go just like the typical featherweight, amateur drinker that he was. He knows perfectly well how booze affects him, what it unlocks... but after everything that had transpired - from the Stygian Campaign to the Sacking of Coruscant; he needs the drink.

Pushing the empty glass away with a sour grimace on his face, he looks up back to Ryv, eyes fixated on every detail of the man.

His mind shuffles through blurred memories, both old and new, but one remains at the forefront of them all. Vivid, clear as day - both Aelys and Dagon staring in sorrow and regret at the empty seat of the Sword in the aftermath of the Sacking.

And he begins to talk, lips unlocked by the taste of alcohol and the anguish he keeps repressed inside, "You know why I'm here, Ryv... Solipsis played us. Turned the Alliance against us and torched Coruscant to the ground..." there's a slight incoherence in his words but he carries on, aiming to spill everything out, "...look, this--" he gestures at the joyful children leaving the bar, "-- I don't wanna take you away from this, man but... I'm lost, hell... I'm afraid." he brushes away locks of raven hair from his eyes, then carries on, "Afraid that I can't do enough. That we can't do enough to stop them... like nothing's ever enough, man..."

A long and tense sigh escapes his lips,

"... we need you back, Ryv."

More than ever.

Ryv

 

[Ryv]

"I knew it!"

The door behind Dagon burst open as the group of children cascaded through. One of them, the boy leading the procession from before, pointed his finger at the slovenly kept man behind the counter. Whispers erupted between the group. Only the young girl seemed confused by the declaration. Still, the excitement around her brought out the excitement within her. She bounced from left to right foot, a broad smile on her chubby little cheeks.

Corin sniffed, then looked back to Dagon.

"Was he followed?" the Jedi Master posed his question, his attention still on the visitor.

"No," the twi'lek quickly answered. The young girl shook her head in agreement.

"Good," Corin motioned towards the kitchen behind him. "Go get your breakfast. Fix a spare plate for our guest, would you?"

The eldest boy's eyes widened. "I don't understand! You're Ryv! The Ryv Karis! I don't want breakfast. I wanna know why you're here in the slums!"

Corin's shoulders slumped. His body appeared to deflate as he leaned against the counter, propping himself up with his remaining arm. He scratched idly at his cheek, saying nothing for several long seconds. His eyes did not leave the excitable young man demanding answers.

"Fine, fine," the boy eventually caved. Corin undid the dirty apron hanging around his form and tossed it on a hook beside the bar. He transitioned to a large table behind Dagon and motioned for the Jedi Knight to join him. The quartet stepped behind the counter and into the kitchen, whispering as they went.

"Last I knew, I was a wanted man."

Dagon Kaze ​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

He blinks, once-twice, "You're not-- what's with everyone using different names lately. You're not Ryv, Aelys is the Black Mynock . Maybe I should get a new one, too..." he murmurs mostly to himself, then shakes his head as he joins the Sword on one the tables of the establishment.

"Last I knew, I was a wanted man."

Dag hrows a glance at the children behind the counter chattering in excitement over their most recent revelation, then turns his gaze back on Ryv, "Yeah, well, I think the Alliance's got bigger issues now, especially when it was things like putting you on the crosshair that got Coruscant fucked." a coarse note of contempt sneaks in his tone, he then leans forward, arms placed on the table.

"You're the one who taught me to blend in with the crowd down in the under levels, Ryv - I'm pretty sure we can slide beneath their radar if need be." his conscious tugs at him, to look back at the children. At their age... they'd be selling spice at the Seven Corners back there. They'd still be if it wasn't for Ryv.

But he knows - as much as his conscious claws at his mind like a rabid animal - that one more glance back at the kids and he's gonna fold. Stand up, apologize and leave. Ryv had paid enough for ten lifetimes ahead.

He forces his eyes to remain on the disheveled figure before them that, to him, still stood as a beacon of hope.

Ryv ​

 

[Ryv]

"Hmm," Corin absentmindedly fiddled with his seat while Dagon spoke. Every time the exile shifted his weight, the chair squeaked faintly. He frowned and stood, leaning beside the seat. A cursory glance revealed an empty hole in need of a screw. Rather than fix it right then and there, Corin lifted the chair from the ground and carried it beside the bar. He set it atop a pile of nearly identical seats. Each one appeared worn or ruined in some way, with only the recent addition lacking any real wear and tear. Returning to the table, the Jedi dragged another chair from another table and took a seat.

"I'm not worried about being found. I wouldn't of settled in Alliance space if I thought the SIA could manage. I'm more concerned about the New Jedi Order altogether," Corin motioned to Dagon with a flick of the wrist. "You and some others were more, uh, involved with how I did things. I'm not in the mood to return to Coruscant to have to deal with a bunch of Romi's and Arenais'. I don't have it in me anymore to juggle all the politics of being a Jedi in charge. It gets old being told everything you do is wrong by people one day, when a few days before they were screaming at you do to exactly what they're pissed about now."

Before Corin could continue, the children roared out of the kitchen carrying plates and utensils. A plate, alongside matching cutlery, was placed down in front of Dagon, then Corin, and four other spots around the two men.

"Thank you," Corin said aloud to the children.

"No problem!" the eldest boy exclaimed over his shoulder.

"That one's Kyric," Corin said, motioning to the boy who disappeared into the kitchen a second later. "He's Kyla's older brother," his eyes went to the young girl who lingered beside the bar shyly. "The twi'lek is Vhi, the mirialin is Losa. All four of them were squatting here when some drug lord ran the place. Used it as a front to move sticks, mostly. Real lucrative outside of the Slums. Didn't feel right kicking them to the curb once I bought the place, they were here first and all. So, I let em stay. They pull their weight, they get a safe place to sleep and a warm meal."

Corin looked back to Dagon. "I'm not telling you no, Dagon. I knew someone would find their way here looking for me eventually. I've prepared for that. I just can't keep doing all this crap the same way over and over again. Sword of the Jedi or not, I'm not gonna be under the Alliance's thumb any longer. First chance they got to get rid of me, they took it. Chances are the Order's been dealt the same hand while I've been gone."

A hefty plate carrying a dozen freshly baked cinnamon rolls exploded out of the kitchen, held aloft by Kyric. Cinnamon and sugar rolled through the main room in a wave. It brought the other children to attention faster than the Jedi Master could ever manage.

All but Kyla clambered up into a seat. She stepped over to Corin and gently pulled on the bottom of his shirt.

"I wanna sit next to you, Corin," she pointed at Dagon, who currently occupied her seat.

Corin smiled at the young girl. "How about this, kid," he slipped his arm around her waist and lifted her up. He set her atop his knee and pulled a second plate closer to his. "This alright?"

Kyla sat quietly for a few seconds, seemingly weighing her options as she looked between Dagon and her cinnamon rolls. "Hmm...." she scratched her cheek, mirroring Corin only moments before when Dagon first saw him. "This is good!"

"Good, good," Corin turned to Kyric and the others. "Thanks for putting everything together, guys. I've been looking forward to this since I started prepping it last night."

"Me too!" Losa said. "I didn't know baking could be so much fun!"

Corin looked to Dagon. "Give em a try. Lemme know what you think."

Dagon Kaze ​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

There's a lot to take in. Dag had isolated himself from all the politics surrounding Jedi ever since they went to the Silver's Assembly to learn that Master Heavenshield - a childhood hero of his - had indeed stood side by side with the Sith Emperor. Ever since then, the raven-haired Jedi had kept his head down and focused on doing what's right. But Ryv's words made him rethink the notion that it was all Dag's 'tunnel vision' that kept him off the migraine-inducing preaching. Ryv, taking the mantle of the Sword of the Jedi, may have played a much larger role in that, effectively safekeeping the rest of them from the nerve-wracking politics among Jedi.

What other ruminations may have been unravelled were cut short by the introduction of the children. He shakes his head, brushing away the thoughts, and smiles at each one of them, "Hey, hey, nice to meet you, guys - I'm Dag." he scratches the back of his head, tension and shame rushing up his cheeks and voice. Ryv had practically saved these kids' lives and now Dagon was here trying to take the man away. Without the Sword, they may as well have been one of the many faces of shot kids he'd seen after a gang drive-by in the Slums. The Knight's jumped straight at the maw of death countless times before but this... this somehow seems the greatest challenge he's ever faced.

He's got no appetite but he eats - the plate right now's an escape from the curious glances of the kids and what Dagon's arrival might herald to their protector. Munching on the cinnamon roll, he nods his head in approval, "Mmhmm... should be charging double for this. Thanks a lot" the rolls were probably tasty but the numbness in his buds wasn't about to relent, all the while his eyes were running from Ryv's.

Putting the other half of the roll down on his plate, he finally looks up to his brother, "Look, uh, things happened after Coruscant. With the Order. We've taken the decision to pull back from the Alliance. In, like, an official capacity. No more Jedi Generals in the Force, no more Jedi in the SIA, no more Jedi in the Feds...and, uh.." his brow furrows, recalling himself storming the Circle's chambers and issuing an ultimatum to his old friend Auteme , "...no more Jedi in the Senate. It's either one or the other... some chose Jedi, some chose... not."

A long-drawn sigh escapes his lips and he continues, "And in regards to other Jedi, the politics and all that, right - fu--" he purses his lips, catching a few glances from the kids, "-- I don't care. We do what we do for the galaxy. We do what's right. Hell. Most of the galaxy will never see us as any different from the Sith, just a bunch of lightsaber-wielding freaks running around crashing stuff. I don't blame 'em, man. You've seen the under levels of Coruscant, you see the Slums here every day - people got bigger problems. Day to day, trynna put food on their tables and not getting shot crossing the street. We gotta protect them, all of them, from the problems, from that darkness, that they don't see."

"That's all that matters to me, Ryv."

Ryv ​

 

[Ryv]

"We don't bake for the customers. Usually, we make a few dozen. One dozen for us, then the little ones take the rest and hand em out to folks who come by for breakfast," Corin looked to the door as he spoke. "Which should be soon," he leaned back in his seat and ran his hand through his hair, pushing back a flock of unruly hairs. "Do you have everything ready, Kyric?"

"Yeah," Kyric mumbled out in between bites of his cinnamon roll.

"Good. Tell everyone the bar is closed for the morning, but throw in something extra. Maybe make a few fruit bowls or something, I dunno," Corin pushed his plate away from him, his breakfast untouched. "My friend and I are gonna catch up. I don't want anyone out there involved in all this Alliance nonsense. Not fair for them."

"Yes, sir!" Losa saluted and hopped to her feet. "I'll go get the fruit bowls ready!"

Vhi followed Losa as she darted off into the kitchen. "Kyla! Come help me get the drinks!"

"Okay!" Kyla shoved the remainder of her cinnamon roll into her mouth and squirmed off of Corin's knee. She waddled away swiftly, intent on beating her elder brother to the kitchen. She hadn't yet realized the young man remained in his seat. Kyric's eyes were glued to Corin. They were clouded. He appeared ready to speak but struggled to find the right words.

"What's wrong, Kyric?" Corin inquired, his tone gentle and soothing.

"Are you gonna leave?" the boy finally managed, his face red, eyes glassy. The others peered out from behind the bar, curious about the answer they couldn't find in themselves to ask.

Corin's gaze shifted to the ceiling. Stubble crinkled and crackled as he scratched at his chin. "Do you remember what I told you when I took you in?"

Kyric nodded. "Always help someone in need. No matter what."

"Good, good..." Corin sighed. He motioned to Dagon. "My friend here is in need, kid. And he's not the only one. Loads of people are in trouble. If the Jedi can't find peace for themselves, they won't bring peace to others. The sad truth about it all, well, is the Jedi are lost. They've been lost for a very long time," he paused, considering the many sleepless nights since settling down on Denon. "It's rare for someone to come along who can keep the hope strong in this galaxy. Seems like everyone is out to get them, no matter how hard they try or what to do. Even if they don't know it yet, the Jedi need their Sword."

He climbed to his feet. "Unfortunately for them, I'm the only guy who can seem to manage that job."

Kyla came dashing out of the kitchen at that, her face awash with tears. She threw her arms around Corin and buried his face in his leg. "Please don't go," while her plea came out muffled, her emotions were clear as day to the two empaths.

Corin placed a hand atop her head. Before he could speak, Kyric spoke first.

"Will you come back?"

"Of course," Corin smiled. "This is my home, and you're my family. I just want to make sure the rest of my family is safe, okay?"

The other three children looked between one another. A complex web of emotion spread between them. Fear of being alone, of losing someone they only recently came to rely on. Losa was the first to wipe away her tears. She hurried over to Corin's side and wrapped her arms around him. Vhi followed not long after, sobbing loudly as he embraced the Jedi Master. Kyric lingered behind the others, his hands balled into fists, knuckles white from the strain.

"C'mere, kid," Corin smiled.

Kyric broke. His walls fell away, replaced instead by a rush of pain as his sobs joined the others. He threw his arms around Corin and his siblings, holding them tight as he cried.

Corin looked to Dagon with the same stoic expression he wore before every horrific battle. "Give me a few hours to get everything settled, and we can go back to Coruscant."

Dagon Kaze ​