Shadow Hand
It stood as holy ground.While wholly apart of the gargantuan worldcraft over eighty kilometers in size, it may as well have been on a different plane of existence. A towering, wide bulb over two kilometers across stood apart from the remainder of the station. There were two dozen layers of security between the titanic structure and the rest of the station, perpetually guarded by a full garrison of Blackblade Guard on its perimeter. They stood at the farthest positions until they were replaced by the towering Imperial Crownguard who demanded sole authority here. To all blessed to live productive lives aboard Malsheem, to all who swore allegiance to the Kainate knew it as the High Palace, Residence of the Sith Dyarchy and Home of House Zambrano. No ground was more sacred than that of the High Palace and many lived their lives aspiring to greatness with hopes to one day receive an invitation to walk such hallowed halls.
It was a massive labyrinth of rooms, hallways, corridors designed specifically to provide the ruling family with everything they would need all in one place. Every wall was made from carved obsidian marble run through with seams of gold. Each surface was a delicate masterpiece by the greatest artists depicting beautiful mosaics of Sith and Zambrano origin, busts and tapestries covered other surfaces dedicated to curated ancestors of House Zambrano beside Dark Lords of the Sith. The luxury displayed within such halls could bankrupt entire planets, putting the greatest kings and emperors to utter shame with its majesty, outfitted with bleeding edge technology nothing compared to it. Deep within the Sith Dyarchy possessed all the tools necessary to reign over their shadowy empire, coordinating vast networks that allowed them to pull the strings of galactic politics.
The Dark Lord of the Kainate, the Shadow Hand Darth Prazutis sat atop his massive throne. Behind the dominant throne on either side stood a pair of Sith Statues, behind it still a large ceraglass viewport. The immense throne was levitating above the cavernous chamber on a qabbrat, suspended over a massive coreshaft and separated from the remainder of the room via one large, steep flight of stairs flanked by Crownguard. A t shaped walkway dominated the room with three separate blast doors, one in the center and two on either side of the room. All who walked into the room were forced to gaze upwards at the individual who sat atop the throne. The Dark Lord wore an elegant outfit of black and crimson zeyd cloth held together by shining silver crafted to depict the Eye of Solomon. A dark amulet sat around his neck its crimson gem blazing brightly, while he wore dark leather boots rising up halfway towards the knee. The throne glowed crimson at its base, its holographic system projecting a swarm of viewscreens in the air all around the immense throne.
It was from here that the Mortarch saw everything. The great web arrayed before him he stood over it like a great spider, weaving its strands. Each monitor held different bits of information, intelligence flowing from various directions, planets, people, things he was keeping track of. All at once he processed dozens of streams of information from varying subjects, the constant status of Malsheem and its positioning and heading, the status of Kainate interests on various worlds, the state of the Sith Empire and its conflict and expansionary interests, the Sepulchral, and so much more. It dominated his attention completely at times holograms of individuals were called before him, communications passed, and orders given, at other times his mind stretched outwards. The dark oracles were always able to reach him to pass their prophecies. The Dark Lord didn't even look when the blazing eye of AQUILA appeared before him. "Supreme Excellency, your daughter has returned." Six words. The AI spoke just six words, and it threw his world into disarray. That was something he didn't expect or foresee. Amara. How long had it been since she left on her own? How many conversations had it been before with Braith before he was convinced not to send the best of the Kainate to retrieve her, to give her space. After the loss of Vesta, it had become nearly an impossible task to let the daughter who finally walked on her own go.
"Where is she?"
"The residence, supreme excellency." The Shadow Hand dismissed the screens immediately and stood without a word descending the stairs to move to the rooms exit.
