Private In The End, I Am Nothing

[PERSENUS]

Dromund Kaas, Five Years Ago

To be united by hatred is such a fragile alliance though perhaps the fragility and fickleness found in those that follow their ways is inherent in the teachings. Still, as volatile as the loyalties of a Sith was, there was still a brotherly bond to be made in war. Persenus helped carry the bodies to the awarding ceremony, draped cadavers in caskets of his Sith allies that have fallen in action. They weren't the only Sith to die on the battlefield that day but the acolytes didn't earn their badges. Sith Knights like Persenus were at least given a send off with honor in their deaths. He and four other survivors helped carry one of the twelve caskets, the first in line, and the others were carried by the troopers that they had led into battle.

They settled them down, two by six in front of a podium where one of the Consulars would give honor to their sacrifice in the war. He and the rest of the surviving Sith Knights who acted as commanders would stand behind the podium. The common soldierly stood by the side at attention and supposedly, the masters of these Knights were to be by the side of the caskets. Out of the twelve masters to arrive, only three showed up. The Consular finally arrived and began his speech.

"Today, we stand in honor before our fallen comrades..." He could hear it. He knew that he and his fellow commanders could hear it too. There wasn't a hint of remorse in the voice of the old consular. Perhaps it should be expected from one of their kind that spends all their time cooped up in their studies while he and the rest of his rabble suffer and struggle. He could taste the disgust, the disappointment. As much as he was a Sith, Persenus and his fellow Sith Commanders found a bond beyond hatred, and it was with those men and women in those caskets.

They suffered for their beliefs. They gave their life for the ideals they had fought for. Yet only three masters had the decency to come to pick up the bodies of their apprentices. They were not weak, he knew. They were at least promised to be remembered but their memory will be tainted with assumptions of their inadequacy. They were not inadequate, they were fully-fledged Sith, some masters in their own right. They didn't die because they were weak; war doesn't care for the strong either.

Luck and Chaos, he told himself in his mind. That is all there is out there.

Darth Prazutis