Halketh
Libertas quae sera tamen
Just after 13:00 local time...
There was something to be said for the brave souls willing to stake it out on the icy world for the sake of progress and opportunity. Carlac had transformed from a desolate, discarded, and undesirable world to a planet worth the mettle and grit it required to reside there. A world of untapped resources and potential, seemingly gone ignored by everyone- ironically- save for the blind man who rose to the occasion and governed it. The summertime was moving in now, warming the planet considerably compared to its typical sub-zero temperatures, nearly everywhere except the pole where the Warlord of this icy world made his roost. The towering keep was nothing to scoff at on approach to it, and it only seemed even more mighty up close. The front face offered to the sheer, snow-capped cliffs between the jagged mountains bore no windows; none that were visible at least.
It was a massive, polished white structure that seemed to rise directly up out of the ice and snow, with its primary base emerging from banks of the slate grey and white blankets. The white and black banner bearing the symbolic, skull-faced bird of the autocrat set against the iron sun of the New Imperial Order hung from the steep, towering walls. To the flank were the gates leading to the bio-dome gardens, and to the West, facing the valley was the port any inbound ship would have the need to dock to in order to reach the keep at all. One way in, and one way out. Surely, like most of the more notable structures on the planet, the castle extended beneath the ground- built into the mountainside.
Tucked away inside this lonely fortress, Lord Halketh wandered the polished marble halls, humming softly to himself in his leisurely roam. Somewhere closeby, in another room perhaps, sat his prized apprentice in the midst of her studies. The distant shuffle of footsteps caught his ear, disturbing the peace he typically preferred when he resided at home, and when no business had ordered others to his doorstep for negotiation or discussion. This, of course, would have been the case for the day, no different from the rest, had he not the inkling to invite one of the more familiar Imperial Knights to his abode for lunch.
Why? He had recalled asking himself almost the instant the invitation had departed him. Why? What was the point of it? He was mostly unsure. Snow continued its gentle fall outside, blanketing the frigid mountains The Vulture roosted in and enveloping those at the keep in some isolating sense of solitude and peace. Tranquility fell like the snow, and while he could never see it, he could always feel it. Maybe that's what it was that had drawn him to this otherwise forgotten world in the first place. The sense of tranquility so prominent even he, a warmonger at heart, could be moved by it.
"My lord, your guest should be arriving shortly, we've had contact with the pilot." A voice to his flank earned a slow turn of his head and he nodded, flashing an appreciative smile where the man could see it.
"Thank you," the miraluka sighed, rubbing his scarred hands together before him in some warming, yet anxious gesture.
The sound of the door being closed behind his messenger ushered in the relaxing of his posture and the slouch of his shoulders. He hoped his guest, as it were, would dress warmly enough. While it was delightfully warm in the keep and kept so by the generous spread of cozy hearths and central systems, there was still the bone-chilling creep the frost outside could easily afflict someone with. Maybe.
Hopefully.
It was the first time since he had moved onto this world that he was to have guests, and truthfully, the first time in nearly two decades that he had found himself with any guest at all. Self-imposed exile had done him no favors as far as growing his social circle. He hoped he looked presentable enough. A hand raised, brushing along the edge of his jaw and tracing the facial hair trimmed over his lip and shaped down his chin. It felt proper. Cassiy had not led him astray yet. His attire for the day was a certain level of toned down, with the majority of the slimmer, more streamline black pieces hidden away beneath the heavy cloak clasped over his collarbones and draped generously over his form. Across the useless span of flesh where eyes should have lain in his skull wound his usual crimson silk blindfold- the rather ordinary one with only the embroidered gold thread in its geometric pattern to give it any flavor.
The scar splitting through his lips forced a gentle twitch as his anxious stride carried him back out into the corridor and around the bend, seeking the glowing source of red-tainted energy emanating off the familiar rattataki. She, of course, looked up from her journal from her place tucked in the quaint alcove. "What is it, Master?"
"I think I'm nervous." Master Kezec sighed dramatically, shaking his head as though he disapproved of his own emotions. He found respite by leaning against the doorframe.
"It's fair to be nervous, you haven't had any visitors in a long time." She assured him, waving a hand in dismissal.
"Yes, but-"
"You're you and you don't get nervous?" She cut him off, snickering as she knew exactly what he was going to say.
The miraluka could only purse his lips and sigh from his nose, obviously bothered by the whole thing. "Maybe I should tell him I'm sick and th-"
Rapid footsteps. An abrupt stop. The Force illuminated an outline behind him. "Lord Halketh, your guest has arrived."
"-shit. Okay, I'll be down at the landing in a moment." The Warlord rubbed at his face with a bare palm as the steward hurried off once more.
"Showtime. Go be social. It'll be good for you." Cassiy teased him, shifting her weight and drawing her blankets more tightly around her. She was enjoying her day off in luxury, lounging about the keep.
"If you're wrong about this-" Kezec paused just after turning to step back out into the hallway, "-I'm throwing your speeder into the valley." He chuckled- the sound echoed by her own resonating from the library.
Quickly then, the lord of the keep rushed his stride, carrying himself down the winding stairs, past the dining room which already filled this entire floor with the rich smell of lunch, and down even further, coming to a skidding stop just before the landing bay doors. He allowed his robes and cloak to settle, yet he took a moment to smooth them anyway, and once the beep of the massive, automatic doors on the other side resonated across the hangar, The Vulture pushed open the entry doors and stepped out into sight to greet the Imperial Knight with his keep guards flanking him.
