The Great Imperial Library, Ravelin,
Bastion (870 ABY)
'My thanks for the patience, Ms. Letham. You may return to your regular duties for now - it appears I have everything I need this time around anyway.'
With the relevant forces summoned to battle, it wouldn't be long before Lord Erskine's name was mentioned in relation to the Ashlan attack on Dromund Kaas, though this time, Barran would consider a smaller IMPAF showing for the sake of allowing the replenishment of his Sabretooth troopers to take into effect properly. So, with all the right playing-pieces readied for deployment already, everyone serving the Lord-General's endeavours this time around would find their own ways to pass the time, waiting on the refuelling of the NIV: Tigress as the other Imperial aircraft were already well on their way to the old Sith capital. For the Stormchaser, this could only involve a visit to the only place outside the Heartlands that ever made any sense to him, the Great Imperial Library of Ravelin - Lord Erskine's very own humble, reverent realm of ambitious dreams.
'Fair enough, sir. Speak soon.'
Leaving the Lord-General alone with his requests, Ms. Letham's high-heels would click across the marble flooring, down the hall to the reception at the main entrance, steadily receding in echoes to silence and peace to read without interruption.
"Remnants: The Desperation of Sith-Loyalists in Exile", and,
"The Shadows of Exegol", were the orders of the day this time, and to make the readings even more essential was the fact the authors were both retired soldiers of the Galidraani Free-State, and not a single soul could be seen or heard to distract Lord Erskine from it. The only thing he could hear was the rain beating against the windows, drawing the old man's attention to the streets outside, looking through the glass of the window nearest him to see the shimmering droplets seemingly paint Ravelin with the prettiest watercolours imaginable; a pretty sight for all it was worth, though Barran couldn't help but admit that it made things feel somewhat more cosy on the inside looking out, though at least in comparison to those struggling with the weather outside.
'Heh! At least it's not acid-rain anyway.'
All the quiet wonder was further-adding to the serenity as Lord Erskine finally ventured to open the book on the Sith remnants for the first time, lighting a cigarette as he did so - with a lighter that the Lord-General had taken to leaving magnetically stuck to the inner-wrist of his cybernetic left arm of late. Little habits picked up along the way, among other things, and all very noticeable to the Lord-General as each new trait took precedence over all it's predecessors, traits Barran knew he was none too fond of in such moments. Such was life as the Lord-General of the Imperial Armed Forces, though he never had to like it, especially if it meant smoking more than drinking in the latter years of his military career; if Lady Carla disliked the chainsmoking, then there was every reason to see the difference it had made on his image as something quite counterproductive indeed, something the Stormchaser was quite keen on rectifying before long.
But not on that day, not while he had the free time to himself - free time to do as he pleased before embarking on deployment once and for all.
The last effort to rid the Galaxy of the Zambrano holdouts, held off for so long on account of the fact Dromund Kaas had become almost entirely irrelevant after the fall of the Sith Empire, only relevant once more due to the fact the Ashlan Crusade weren't quite finished with the Galaxy's former tormentors yet. This was to be an extermination, as all who dared stand against the Imperium in it's darkest hour before had been wise enough to make themselves scarce in their own, for having the audacity to strike out beyond that point would only strengthen the Imperator's Casus-Belli for decades after. Even if the Ashlans were the ones fated to lead this endeavour, there would be nothing stopping the Imperium's finest from having their say on Dromund Kaas, nothing impeding Fel's vision from finding manifested will on the one planet everyone despised more than the others.
THE LAST DANCE: BARRAN'S FAREWELL TO THE SITH EMPIRE - PART 1
Historical District, Kaas City,
Dromund Kaas (870 ABY)
'Sir Rosk'Aiar's just asked what we're doing here if we're not just executing the locals?'
Seeing the obvious truth that they'd get no such information from them or any other locals like them, and certainly not as the city burned all around the Lord-General's little war-party, so all that remained was to execute whoever and whatever would probably share information that would get everyone there with the Stormchaser killed. The small war-party would be grateful for this, as the reliance on the NIV: Tigress' ground-bombardment capabilities had meant not being able to rely on a still-reorganising Sabretooth Legion, leaving them without a trooper-majority to utilise to their advantage on that occasion. None minded this, but the IMPAF-Knights knew they'd be hypervigilant for the entirety of the operation's lengthy proceedings, a small blight they knew was a small sacrifice for the safety they would seek in low numbers; their rationale was simple as far their role as executioners went,
'Finding symbols of Sith legitimacy that can be used against us in the future, taking the most-dangerous evidences of this and destroying the rest with the Tigress' firepower.'
An easy task to see to, but still one that surely required their full attention in the right settings, and Kaas city's Historical District was littered with them in abundance, something Lord Erskine had been counting on greatly; Barran also intended to coordinate with other units that day, understanding that there would be several of the Imperium's best and brightest on Dromund Kaas with their own directives to endeavour, so some of that time would be spent locating and linking up with as many of their comrades as possible. Everything about that outing, right down to the investigative framework, had been mapped out by the Lord-General personally, knowing how careful he would need to be throughout. Since joining the NIO in 863 ABY, Barran had been nothing but an issue for the enemies of Irveric Tavlar and Rurik Fel respectively, making more than enough enemies of his own in the process of surviving the next seven years; and so, in being acutely aware of this fact at all times, Lord Erskine knew that this would never be felt more intensely than it would on the surface of planets like Korriban, Ziost and Dromund Kaas alike.
<"Barran to Bridge! Ready to fire on the last of the district's corporate skyrises.... Mark targets - fire when ready.">
<"Copy that, Lance One! Brace for the shockwave. Bridge One out!">
With fewer buildings and houses on the horizon, there would be fewer spots that hidden enemies could use for cover, or as a means to hide and snipe at their positions with impunity, and the Woad was more than happy enough to deny the sneaky ones of their little reprieves - scant though these reprieves would have been at the time.
Then, as soon as the buildings on the near-horizon were atomized from above, with the promised shockwave shaking the inner-city districts all around the blast-radius not an instant later, the Stormchaser chuckled as he turned back to his bodyguards, beckoning them follow as he stepped into the library they had only just searched through for propaganda and subversive reading-materials.
'Everybody else out! I want a word with my knights alone, s'get shiftin'!', the Lord-General exclaimed to start, imparting a need for silent urgency before he even ventured to pause for effect. When the entrance doors closed up behind them, Lord Erskine continued to walk deeper into the library-complex with his back turned to the others until he stopped at the,
"Rare Literature", room, opening the door and walking in before finally turning round to address his subordinates' concerns.
'Everything in this room, absolutely everything in this room can be used to radicalise a Sith-remnant element against us - not joking in the slightest, lads.... There can be no stone left unturned, not at the most-vital part of erasing the Zambrano filth's dynasty from history and recollection alike. Failing here means losing everything to these freaks down the line, as we cannot count on future generations to finish our work in our absence.'
'Alright then, get the fuck out and leave the burning to me.', Sir Martin retorted, lighting a cigarette and setting the first of the rare-literature collection ablaze in the process. Barran would then snatch the book out of Wyll's hand and slam the hardback shut, unleashing a billowing series of paper-ember smoke particles everywhere as the recently-knighted subordinate looked on disapprovingly, concluding,
'Take it easy, sir. We obviously know what's at stake! Served in the same civil war, did we not?', before being rounded on with a viciousness that expressed a promise of genuine violent intent beyond that point. Wyll had never seen this intensity in his Lord-General before, but in that moment, the young former-staffer was glad to see it; previously unsure if the Woad still had that animal roaring out from within him or not, the sudden fright was serving it's purpose in assuring Sir Martin that his life and career were still in good hands after all.
'I can only hope so, Wyll. You do worry me at times, even now.... I need you to keep your wits about you - aye. You, most of all.'
'Best behave yersel, Martin. Its not just the Lord-General who's worried.', Lord Carwood chimed in, stepping up between his Lord-General and the subordinate in question as the city continued to burn from it's first few rounds of pre-deployment bombardments. Executions could be heard a few streets away, with shouted timings and synchronised trigger-pulls clearly audible over the sounds of the distant crumbling architecture, though this wasn't doing anything to dissuade or dishearten the 2nd-Lieutenant, as he was steadily showing signs of receptiveness to suggestions already, which was enough for McGechin to relent with a polite tilt and nod of his head. Turning his attention back to the Stormchaser, Lord Carwood silently nodded regained confidence and muttered,
'Ease off, his eyes aren't so insufferable any more.', before stepping back to study the books on the table in the corner for a while.
'In any case, as soon as we're done here.... None of this city block is going to exist when we clear it, so there's literally no point setting books ablaze', Lord Erskine continued on from his old friend's assurances, taking a little look around for himself as he considered the amount of headache's he'd be alleviating down the line, and all with a simple transfer of their exact coordinates to the star-ship skirting the planet's orbit above them. As his gaze returned to the others, the Lord-General smirked in silence before concluding,
'The Ashlans might be the coordinators of the first push, but everything else is MY PROVERBIAL CABBAGE-PATCH!!!! I coordinate the rest! And I want to do a wee-Csilla, boys.... I want to collect some heavy-hitters for a little something I'm brewing up. Cunning, this is the new mission-statement.', with every confidence that what he planned was the safest course of action in such a setting.
'Starting with my champion.... The 16th are going to be needed - on this matter, we all can agree.'
