Private The Five Veils Conspiracy

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

The trip to Farstine had provided Brandyn with a reasonable amount of time to assess Lysander's progress. He was impressed, though could not take any of the credit for himself. In many ways, Brandyn felt like he had failed Lysander. Master in absentia. But he had determined that would no longer be the case. Home life was settled. The pregnancy was going as well as could be expected. He could spare some time to be away.

The mission that he had picked up was a relatively simple one. It was more an opportunity to spend time with Lysander, and get moving with his training. They had come to Farstine in order to check on the disappearance of a Naboo businessman that was last reported to have taken a business trip to Farstine. After looking over the man's circumstances, Brandyn suspected that it may simply be a case of running away from your problems. The galaxy was a big place to get lost in, and Farstine was a point of connection to many disparate corners of the galaxy.

"There," Brandyn said as he tightened the breathing mask on the back of Lysander's head, "take that seal to casually and you will be sucking methane...and dying on me. We can't have that."

He turned his back and pointed to the connector on the back of his mask. "Check mine please?" He said.

Their shuttle shuddered to a halt. And Brandyn's stomach lurched. The feeling of anxiety was less from the ship's poor and abrupt landing, and more for the unease that he sensed in the dock master's voice. Perhaps there was more to this mission that met the eye.

---

Dock Master's Office
​

The comms device beeped. "Sir, two Jedi have just arrived. From the Naboo Republic. You asked me to let you know when..."

"Thank you, Drenk. That is all. I will see to this matter. It is likely nothing," said the mechanised voice on the other side of the comm unit.

"I shall let them land?"

"Of course. They are Jedi. If we tell them they cannot, it will give them all the more reason to do so anyway. No. There is nothing to fear. They will find nothing."

| TAG: Lysander von Ascania |

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Brandyn Sal-Soren

​

For a Padawan who'd been on this path for years now, he couldn't help but note the limited extent of his travels across the galaxy; the routine trips between Naboo and Korriban had become the most familiar. The hop to Farstine felt like more than just another flight through space— it felt like stepping into a new season, one of growth. Like Spring, it was fresh and even a little exciting, as if there was a call toward something positive. Yet, with this change came a storm of questions; there was one that tugged at him constantly, close to the heart.

Lysander chuckled, a sound that came through the mask as more of a crackle. "Don’t worry," he quipped, "I don’t think many could handle me being a Force Ghost."

The camaraderie that enveloped the Padawan was palpable as he leaned forward to adjust Brandyn’s mask; his fingers moved meticulously along to work a small tug here, another press there, making sure everything was secure. “There you go,” he said calmly. “Wouldn’t want you becoming one with the Force just yet either."

A short stretch of silence followed, one that felt comfortable as words settled. Lysander couldn't help but smile beneath the snugness of his own mask. "You know," he continued, his tone softening from a rare note of fondness that few rarely ever heard. “It's honestly pretty great having you back."

Immediately after the dock master's voice cut through the air, a flicker of unease rippled in the air around them. It wasn't lost on the boy, detecting something beneath the other Jedi's exterior. His playful antics were already taking over, and he nudged Brandyn with an elbow. The Padawan then cast a sidelong glance. "Master, don't tell me you've already started counting down the days on your datapad until you see Cybelle again."

Besides, he knew what it was like missing someone all too well-- or at least, he thought he did.

Moments later they were descending down the ramp of their shuttle. The blonde took in the foreign atmosphere quietly, emerald orbs darting from the workers to cargo crates, along with an occasional droid.

A figure was already waiting on them, carrying an air of professionalism that appeared natural. The man’s expression was neutral, but there was hesitation as he stepped forward to greet them.

“Welcome to Farstine," the humanoid said, his voice polite. "I’m Tarek, dock administrator. We’ve been informed of your visit and have prepared for your arrival. If there’s anything you need during your stay, don’t hesitate to ask." Tarek gestured toward the side of the bay, in the direction of a corridor. "I’ll escort you to our office. It’s much quieter there, and we can discuss what brings you here without any interruption."

The unease from earlier was still present; in fact, it was even heavier now. The tension in the air was something even their masks couldn't protect against.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Lysander meant it positively, but Brandyn felt the stab in his conscience. For someone as self-critical as he, noting his absence was close enough to an accusation. Pending fatherhood had distracted him, but it had also turned his attention to the fact that responsibility came in even Lysander-type shapes and sizes.

"It's good be back in the saddle," he said. It was a poor attempt at disguising his moment of pain, but it was a noble attempt. The comment made about his eagerness to get home brought a smile, alleviating the guilt for a moment. "I think that is what you call projection...you are the one that is constantly going back to check your datapad." Brandyn was not blind. He had noticed. There were few things that could make a guy behave like that. Brandyn was pretty confident he knew which one this was.

He set his jaw as they descended the ramp. The sense of looming threat kept him on edge. He glanced down at his datapad again, but as he did he flicked a glance at Lysander that was more grin then reprimand. The datapad readout gave details as to a businessman named Ganner Ets. Shipping and logistics company, second mortgage, second marriage...looks like life was getting difficult for the poor soul, he thought.

“Welcome to Farstine," the humanoid said, his voice polite. "I’m Tarek, dock administrator. We’ve been informed of your visit and have prepared for your arrival. If there’s anything you need during your stay, don’t hesitate to ask." Tarek gestured toward the side of the bay, in the direction of a corridor. "I’ll escort you to our office. It’s much quieter there, and we can discuss what brings you here without any interruption."

Through the thick mist, Brandyn could make out silhouette of the speaker. Brandyn stepped closer, to find a man in a breathing mask that was a slightly more expensive model to the one he and Lysander wore. "Is a discussion really warranted? We are just here to find out the..."

"Please. Master Jedi. Follow me. It is better that we talk in private," said Tarek before scuttling off in the way that he had indicated.

Brandyn shot Lysander a glance. The Knight's frown was visible through the mask. "I sense a lot of concern over our visit. Keep your wits about you," he said before moving at a quick walk to catch up with the dock administrator.

The door slid open, and Tarek waved them towards his office. He was already taking his mask off, but signalled to Brandyn not to take his off. "It is better if you do not take them on and off all the time. Increases your chance of not getting a good seal. The generally accepted custom on Farstine is to leave your mask on should your stay only be for a few minutes," he said, as he ushered the Jedi into his office. There were a few personal touches, a picture of himself and his family on the desk, and a few trinkets that could easily have. been gifts. Other than that the office was almost depressingly grey, as was the view out the windows.

"You get used to it...after a while," said Tarek, noting Brandyn's frown at the view, "forgive me. I have...never met Jedi before. This is all very new to me."

Brandyn glanced back at the man with a warm smile. The novelty of the experience could surely explain some of what he was sensing, but not all of it. If not this man, then someone or something else was wound tight was a spring. He could feel the eyes of attention on he and Lysander.

"We are from the Royal Naboo Republic. We simply seek to find the whereabouts of a Ganner Ets. Our reasons are our own," Brandyn said. His tone was steady, sure but not harsh.

"Oh. Well. I do not wish to pry further into Jedi business, but let me see if I can help you with this," Tarek said as he tapped away at the dials and knobs next to his old convex monitor. His face darkened with acknowledgement after a time, and he looked up with a look of discouragement. "It seems Mr Ets was doing some work with the Skynara Trade League. They are not strictly local but do have an office here. There even happens to be a delegation present for negotiations...but...that is probably not important."

"And just where would we find..."

"Oh. The Finance District," Tarek said, before tapping into his control panel further, "and there appears to be a railpod departing in just a few minutes...bay four....just down the hallway to the end and on the left."

"...the...well, thank you then," Brandyn said with a courteous bow, "come on, Lysander...we wouldn't want to miss our pod."

NPCs:
Tarek - Dock Administrator
Drenk - Dock Security

Factions:
Skynara Trade League

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Brandyn Sal-Soren

​

Lysander’s steps may have been quiet, but his mind was very much alive with curiosity. His gaze flickered from his Master and back to the dock administrator, trying to study the figure’s demeanor without making it too obvious; faint twitches in his expression hinted at being uneasy. As the Jedi hung back, an eyebrow raised. "Concerned? About us?" he asked a hint of amusement in his tone.

Despite the already growing discomfort of the mask, Lysander resisted the urge to tamper with it too much, partially due to Tarek's advice. But then regret then crept in. Other than the name Ganner Ets, the Padawan had gathered little information on their target or Farstine as a whole. Luckily, the brief exchange in the office offered a promising lead.

Once outside, they were moving down the hall to their next destination; he then cast a sidelong glance at Bran. "That Tarek guy," Lysander murmured, "seemed a bit nervous, didn’t he? I guessed we would’ve paid a longer visit to the office than that."

As they made a left turn and quickly located the correct pod, Lysander felt his mind wandering. The doors slid shut just as he settled into one of the seats. For a moment, he found himself lost in a different world. “Do you think they’ve got any decent food on Farstine? Or are we looking at ration bars all week?" As it departed, seriousness settled in. “What do you make of the Skynara Trade League's involvement? I’ve never heard of them. And why would Ganner Ets be dealing with them?”

Their journey to the Trade District was brief. Lysander's eyes scanned the area, noting how crowded it was. His focus first landed on the tall figures of a pair of Muuns, easily standing out since the rest of the district was filled with unsavory faces from various races. It didn’t feel all that inviting, and there was an undeniable sense of unease in the air here. Not that he was expecting a welcoming committee, but it did remind him about the absence of his lightsaber, which was a necessary precaution, given that his once purple kyber crystal had been bled out in the Outer Rim.

"Perhaps we should start at the local registry," he suggested, his voice calm. "Surely someone here knows the whereabouts of Mr. Ets. I'm sure it's only a matter of asking the right questions to the right people, no? One of the traitors should have the info on their tongue," he continued, flashing a smirk, "I mean traders."

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Brandyn nodded thoughtfully at Lysander's assertion. "In my time undercover with The New Way, they regularly used voice print verification for determine if someone was the person they claimed to be," he said while briefly casting back down the hallway, "he wanted us in the office for the conversation, but not in there too long. And then that very helpful guidance he just happened to have access too." Brandyn rolled his eyes a little.

As they stepped up to the pod, Brandyn smirked. "It seems someone is trying to railroad us," he said before the food question piqued his interest, "there has got to be a XacTrannalls around somewhere. Galaxy is full of them."

The pod lurched forward. Brandyn leaned back on the support bar. The mists of Farstine seemed so ominous and oppressive. The silhouettes of those walking the streets lent their ghostly image to the scene. Brandyn listened to his padawan's questions but also contemplated why anyone would choose to live here. It was a good place to hide though.

"A businessman with connections to a trade league?" Brandyn said with a shrug, "welcome to the exciting worlds of logistics and shipping manifests. Thing I have learned from picking up some of the piece of my father's businesses...is that containers are very easy ways to smuggle things. Even if they manifest is ninety-nine percent accurate, with the thousands of containers coming through a place like Farstine every day....well...there is a lot of money to be made. Spice runners. Slave traders. Arms dealers. If Ganner Ets was involved in any of those, well, we could be walking into real nightmare."

Brandyn turned and slapped Lysander on the shoulder. "Or! He ran off with his secretary and covered his tracks real well! Who knows!"

The suggestion from Lysander was a keen one, and Brandyn nodded approvingly, while following up with a shake of his head. Lysander reminded Brandyn so much of himself. There was always a quip to be made. Even when it got him into trouble.

He pointed down the causeway and started off in the indicated direction himself. The foot traffic was heavy. Beings of all species, different heights, shapes and appendage counts, walked by with various shaped face masks. Very few species actually breathed methane naturally, so it made sense that mostly everyone would wear a mask. It gave the planet an oddly homogenous vibe despite the varied demographics.

"Alright, Lysander. You take lead on this one," Brandyn said. He could feel the room tense when they walked into the registry office. Checking on Ets' comings and goings via official documentation might be harder than expected if Farstine had any privacy laws, but Brandyn was keen to see Lysander try. "I want to see what raw material I am working with," he said with a wink, and a nudge forward.

| TAG: Lysander von Ascania |

NPCS:
Ganner Ets - Missing Naboo Businessman
Tarek - Dock Administrator
Drenk - Dock Security

Factions:
Skynara Trade League

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Brandyn Sal-Soren

​

While absorbing Master Brandyn’s words, he quickly realized how complex things could actually be; the many layers of intrigue surrounding Ganner Ets were clearly more than just a simple story of disappearing. The slap on his shoulder jolted him back from his musing, and though the mask hid much of his face, it still couldn’t hide the smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth from the comment.

Stepping into the registry office, the atmosphere shifted; it was a rare feeling of unfamiliarity and opportunity. It wasn’t shyness that kept Lysander silent in the moment, but rather the foreign terrain, as it was all uncharted territory, far from his usual comfort zone.

The air was filled with quiet murmurs of the different clerks going about their business. The blonde opted to the central desk, exuding a calm demeanor that felt natural. His gaze briefly met those of the clerk, a blue skinned Twi’lek woman. She greeted him with a polite nod.

"I'm here to inquire about a particular individual," Lysander began, the words flowing with effortless grace, evoking the same authoritative tone he was capable of wielding back on Ukatis.

"Ganner Ets."

The clerk raised an eyebrow but was quick to mask her expression. "Ganner Ets, you say?" she echoed, tapping into the database. Lysander watched as she scanned the records. Without warning, she paused, studying the screen. "Seems there is one recent reference.. nothing much, just an note with coordinates here on Farstine. Said to be.. near the old mining outpost. There's no explanation for it."

Leaning forward and allowing a gentle smile to blossom, one that was typically born of mischief. His voice, smooth, broke through the hum surrounding them. "Ah, the old mining outposts," he mused aloud. "Interesting location for mysterious notes. Could you help chart the route for me to get there?”

The Twi’lek’s eyes softened from the request and her lekku twitched slightly with a flicker of mirth. “Of course,” she started, gesturing to a digital map that suddenly appeared between them. "From here, you'll want to take the transit to the city's edge. Look for the path leading towards the western ridge, it's a road barely visible as it’s hard traveled, but it should get you there. Follow that path until you see the old marker with the mining crest. Can’t miss it once you’re close.”

The warm smile lingered; his head then inclined in gratitude. "Thank you, truly."

Just as he turned on a heel, her voice cut through the air once more. “But be cautious," she added. "Things aren't.. always as they seem in those parts."

There was a spark of doubt, but also something more daring flashing in his gaze, as he finally looked to Brandyn.

“What if you're right though," he began, his voice laced with skepticism. "What if he really did run off with the secretary or some other baddie, plus a suitcase full of spice, and he’s living his best life somewhere while we’re out here looking like fools?” The Padawan’s expression shifted. “I mean, based on what I've observed here, it’s not entirely out of the question.”

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Brandyn couldn't help but chuckle at Lysander's suggestion. The Padawan had good instincts, and a willingness to accept less exciting possibilities. At his age, Brandyn would have been leaping to conclusions that involved maximum drama, and at least two lightsaber battles. Instead, Lysander seemed unphased by the realities of a universe that was often more mundane that it was exciting.

Still, Brandyn felt as though the Twi'lek hadn't been as forthcoming as he would have liked. An old abandoned mining site off the beaten track? Sounded like a great place for someone to get murdered.

"Keep that wit about you, my Padawan," Brandyn said with a smirk, "but let me have a quick chat with her and see if I can't get more."

As Brandyn turned back he noted that the Twi'lek clerk gave the Padawan a lingering glance—equal parts amused and impressed—before returning to her station. Brandyn side-eyed his Padawan, and indicated with a quick flick of his head that Lysander should go on to the transport hub.

Brandyn stepped forward, then leaned on the counter with easy confidence. "Excuse me," he said, resting an elbow down like it was second nature, "just wanted to clarify something. You mentioned coordinates, but not much else. That sort of vague trail usually ends in a wild mynock chase—or worse, paperwork."

The Twi'lek didn't look up. "I gave your Padawan the relevant data," she said smoothly, typing away. "He seemed quite capable of handling it."

Brandyn chuckled. "Sure, he's growing into his charm, but I've been in this business longer. People usually tell me more."

At that, she paused. Just for a second. Then looked up—expression unreadable but coolly amused. "Did they?" There was a twitch in her lekku. Not playful this time—guarded, maybe. Brandyn caught it, even if she was already glancing back at her screen.

"Look," he said, softening just a hair, "you do this kind of work long enough, you get a sense for when something doesn't sit right. And this? This feels like someone wanted us to go somewhere shady."

She met his gaze for a moment—long enough to register the flicker of something just beneath the surface. Then offered a tight smile. "If I had more to give, I would've said something," she said. But it didn't quite ring true.

Brandyn nodded slowly, realizing the charm routine had run dry. "Of course," he said, voice drier than before.

As he turned away, she added with a hint of dry amusement, "Tell your Padawan to keep asking questions. He listens."

That one stung just a little more than he'd admit. A few moments later, Brandyn fell into step beside Lysander, jaw set. "She didn't know anything else," he muttered.

| TAG: Lysander von Ascania |

NPCS:
Ganner Ets - Missing Naboo Businessman
Tarek - Dock Administrator
Drenk - Dock Security
Unnamed Twi'lek Clerk - Registry office

Factions:
Skynara Trade League

​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Brandyn Sal-Soren

​

Lysander stood back but was still close enough to catch the words exchanged between Brandyn. Though he gave a firm nod, curiosity simmered in his gaze, anticipating what may be further revealed. He went back and forth between the Twi'lek's more subtle expressions and then to his Master. In a light verbal spar, all else faded ahead. Unconsciously his hands clasped behind his back, appearing nonchalant.

When Brandyn returned, the Padawan's brow furrowed, speaking long before the words escaped his lips. "Maybe it's because you don't have the royal blonde hair?" It slipped out with an edge of humor that did serve well to mask the deeper suspicions churning in his mind. In truth, he knew it wasn't because of failed charm, but more about hidden motives. He wondered if the woman was perhaps trying to buy more time or guarding something more important than the coordinates given.

Abandoned mining sites. Shady location. Typical fare. Lysander assumed they’d just stick to protocol and figure it out when they got there.

Before much longer they were making their exit.

“Master," Lysander started, walking just alongside him. "Her warning felt.. odd. Like she was trying to say more than she could. What if she knows something dangerous about those coordinates.. but for some reason, she didn’t spell it out?”

Questioning her again seemed pointless, especially if she was guarding something. They needed some kind of physical proof. Besides, now she was watching them too.

With time slipping by, they followed the coordinates to the old mining site, remaining in the shadows to avoid detection. Lysander, having honed his skills in Force Concealment, fell back on the technique he’d meticulously practiced. It was done subtly, hoping that it might even elude Brandyn, though he doubted it. The trace of his aura was faint, mainly done in case there were any other Force sensitives nearby.

As they drew closer, his senses tingled from signs of activity at the location. Several shuttles touched down while crates were being loaded and unloaded by figures whose affiliations weren’t entirely clear. But what didn’t escape him was the various uniforms in their assembly, as if representing different factions, yet still in unison on something specific.. most likely an illicit activity. Amongst them all was one specific individual that drew his full focus, dressed in garbs he would’ve expected to see on someone from an underground syndicate. With that in mind, it was a strong clue pointing towards spice trade if he had to guess.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Brandyn said nothing at first, though the quip about “royal blonde hair” earned Lysander a dry look and the faintest twitch of a smile. He didn’t bite back—not out of annoyance, but because the Padawan wasn’t wrong. Charm had its place, but the Twi’lek had been guarded in a way that went beyond flirtation. That was instinct.

As they moved, Brandyn’s expression sobered. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “She was trying to say more… and couldn’t. Whether she’s protecting someone or just afraid of who’s watching, it doesn’t matter. If someone’s pulling strings here, I’d like to know where the other end of the thread leads.”

They moved quickly and quietly along the route she’d described, and as they approached the perimeter of the mining site, Brandyn felt a shift in the air—more precisely, a hollowing. He paused just behind a rusted out transport shell, eyes narrowing.

Lysander’s presence in the Force was faint—deliberately faint. It wasn’t the passive quiet of an idle mind, but a refined absence. A veil. Brandyn couldn’t help but let a hint of a smirk touch his lips.

Good, he thought. Very good.

Then, with a soft exhale, Brandyn dropped beneath the surface of the Force himself.

The shift was immediate, like stepping into still water and leaving no ripples behind. The bond between Master and Padawan would let Lysander sense the moment—it was the kind of subtle flex that said, yes, I noticed, but also I’ve been doing this since before you built your first lightsaber.

He leaned in close, voice barely above a whisper. “Nicely done,” he murmured. “Force concealment was practically a second skin back when I was with the New Way. You don’t tail cults through abandoned sewage lines without learning how to vanish.”

With both of them now submerged beneath the Force, they advanced through the mist. The landscape twisted into shadowed rock and creaking scaffolds, the stale scent of methane tinged with rust and chemical discharge.

Brandyn’s gaze scanned the operation—shuttles, cargo, figures in mismatched uniforms. It was organized chaos, which usually meant only one thing: profit.

Then his eyes landed on the individual Lysander had already marked. “There,” he whispered. “See him? Mid-level operator, maybe mid-management. Not a soldier—he’s got too clean a cloak, but he’s not calling the shots either. Probably a facilitator. Perfect.”

His jaw tightened just slightly. “Different uniforms. Different groups. Coordinated effort. This isn’t just one shipment,” Brandyn muttered. “This smells like a network.”

He crouched lower behind a stack of long-forgotten mining cylinders and looked over to Lysander.

“Let’s shadow our friend,” he said. “If we can figure out who’s bankrolling this, we’ll have a lot more than a missing businessman on our hands.”

| TAG: Lysander von Ascania |

NPCS:

Ganner Ets - Missing Naboo Businessman
Tarek - Dock Administrator
Drenk - Dock Security
Unnamed Twi'lek Clerk - Registry office

Factions:
Skynara Trade League

​

 

[The King in Red]

Even as you slip through Farstine's perpetual haze—chasing a vanished businessman and signs of illicit trade—something older, deeper, and infinitely more unsettling cuts through the noise. Late at night, or in the quiet space between heartbeats, you sense it: a distant, metallic grinding in the Force. The echo resonates like an ancient cog turning for the first time in eons.


In the moments you let your mind wander, a fragmented vision takes hold. Shadows flicker across battered hyperlanes collapsing in on themselves. Spiraling star-charts vanish into darkness, as if the Galaxy is slowly being devoured from within. Then an eerie form—half-ethereal, half-terror—flows across your sight. Its visage bears long, jagged features, and its whisper is static, like wires being ripped apart.


A single name sears itself into your consciousness: Calladene. It's an ancient whisper echoing through centuries of half-buried holorecords, yet now it howls as if awakened from a deep slumber. Before the vision dissolves, you see other Force-sensitives snapping awake across the Galaxy, each one gasping the word at the same moment you do.


Then, a final flash—Freighters drift dead in the emptiness of hyperspace. Pale, wraithlike shapes swirl around them. Your heart hammers in your chest as the vision collapses, leaving you trembling with a dread you can't fully name.


Suddenly, you're back in the here and now: the stale air of Farstine's methane environment, the hustle of secret deals, and the elusive trail of Ganner Ets. Yet the echo of that name, and the haunting images of twisted hyperlanes and spectral attackers, refuse to leave you. Something bigger than local conspiracies stirs beneath your feet… and it's only just begun.

Lysander von Ascania // Brandyn Sal-Soren

If you guys would like, unsure how it deals with your story, but if interested Ganner Ets could have stumbled onto references about Calladene—perhaps he vanished not merely for personal reasons but because he brushed up against the Galaxy's deepening crisis. If interested, let me know and I can get something written up for you.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Brandyn Sal-Soren The King in Red

​

With narrowed eyes, Lysander scanned the shifting shadows, his mind trying to piece together a puzzle. Despite having a couple years of experience as a Padawan under his belt now, real-world experience was still lacking, but the boy's natural confidence continued burning bright within. And in a moment most would consider tense, the unexpected approval from his Master managed to catch him off-guard; however, the boy welcomed it, and would use it as fuel for his determination.

The subtle gesture directed him to focus on their new target, and upon further inspection, he too believed this could be the man weaving order through chaos. The blonde fully committed to downloading every detail of the current scene to his psyche while curiosity threatened to get the better of him.

Everything shifted in an instant, leaving Lysander wide-eyed as visions assaulted his consciousness.

Hyperlanes crumbled.

Worlds vanished.

Life dissolved in a mere heartbeat.

Confusion gripped Lysander, and his body froze as if he’d been held captive. Any control he had over Force Concealment was lost, now replaced by fear, for the boy found himself worried about two individuals he carried close to the heart. One he believed to be safe in the Inner Rim; the other, was in the Mid Rim. Even the specters that should've made the images more haunting paled in comparison.

Within the corridors of his troubled mind, a name echoed, carrying an emotional weight he didn’t fully understand, one that was visual.

Calladene.

Having momentarily lost track of time, the vision would soon fade, but by then anger was already simmering beneath the boy’s exterior, a cruel blend of frustration and feeling completely helpless. Hands covered his face, rubbing both eyes, as if it were enough to make the lingering thoughts vanish.

"I don't understand what the feth is going on right now," he muttered, the words lost in the moment. His mind spun with countless question. And through it all, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something worse.

Brows deeply furrowed, his focus fell back to Brandyn, desperately searching for an answer he could not find. The world all around appeared distorted, everything jumbled together. "I need to go back to Theed," the Padawan stated, his voice carrying notes of confusion.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Brandyn didn’t answer right away.

The echoes of the vision still rippled through him—like the last aftershocks of a quake beneath the Force. His heart was steady, his breathing measured, but only because he’d been trained to ride out the storm, to let it pass through him like wind through trees. And yet… the metallic whisper of Calladene clung to the inside of his skull like rust on steel.

He’d seen horrors before. He’d felt tremors in the Force. But this?

This felt old. Hungry.

His gaze shifted to Lysander, who now stood hollowed by it, the anger and helplessness roiling beneath his skin. Brandyn recognized that look. He’d seen it in other Padawans. He’d worn it himself.

And he knew better than to respond with platitudes.

“You felt it too,” Brandyn said, voice low but calm. “Not just a dream. Not just a flare in the Force. That was a summoning.”

He stepped closer, a hand resting lightly on Lysander’s shoulder—steadying without pressing.

“I don’t know what Calladene is yet,” he admitted. “But I know this: visions that reach across the galaxy like that? They don’t come from the dead. They come from something trying to wake up.”

He looked out at the makeshift operation before them—the smugglers, the spice, the crates. Suddenly it all felt so small.

“But we can’t run from it. Not yet. Theed will still be there.” His eyes met Lysander’s, sharp with conviction. “This thing—whatever it is—it wants us scattered. Disoriented. If we chase it from fear, we give it that.”

Then, gentler now, with that subtle warmth that only more frequently leaked through Brandyn’s sardonic front these days,“But if you need to return to Theed because of someone you are worried about, we’ll make it happen. Just say the word. Jedi aren't machines. We protect people, Lysander. And sometimes that means going home. But I wonder...if the Force has us here for a reason. Perhaps we trust it's timing?”

A pause. Just long enough to let Lysander feel the weight of that choice—not as a command, but as a gift.

Then Brandyn glanced back toward the shadowed ridge. “If you’re still with me…we follow this guy. Learn what we can about what is happening here...and we find out why a name lost to the ages just screamed back to life.”

| TAG: Lysander von Ascania The King in Red |

NPCS:
Ganner Ets - Missing Naboo Businessman
Tarek - Dock Administrator
Drenk - Dock Security
Unnamed Twi'lek Clerk - Registry office
Factions:
Skynara Trade League

​