Private When the Wolf Beckons

[Gerwald Lechner]

TAG: Diarch Reign

The Obsidian Spire seemed to see its fair share of business and important guests recently. Gerwald Lechner had taken to the more political side of what it meant to be a Dark Councilor as of late, and continued to maneuver in ways which would set him in a positon of considerable influence beyond what he currently had. It had begun with small alliances and friendships which blossomed into the culmination of a movement which had seen many of them join together.

The Revivalists would be strong. They were strong. No longer did the movement limit Sith to the philosophy of the Eternalist, Kainite, or Tsis’Kaar. They were old wineskins for old wine. A new form was needed, a structure which would not rupture or burst with the introduction of new life and new ideas. It was not that the philosophy or what it meant to be a Sith had to change. The opposite was true. The Order needed to return to practicing the Sith Code, not just giving lip service to it.

There was no room for those who claimed to be Sith but behaved or acted like Jedi.

A holomap flickered to life on the table where the Dread Wolf sat. His eyes scanned a region of space which had laid quiet for far too long. A new power had risen there, The Diarchy. While they were young, some of their ideals were not. Gerwald was curious about them, and curious as to what their relationship with the Sith Order would be. That required another visit.

It required the Wolf to be the diplomat once more.

“My lord, Diarch Reign’s ship has touched down.”

Ice blue eyes looked up from the map to a short and stocky attendant. He was balding slightly, but otherwise not as homely as he should have been. Naturally the man was paid as the Wolf nor his mate condoned the use of slaves. It was one point of contention between the Dread Wolf and the Butcher King. It was an impasse for another day.

“See to it that he finds his way here.”

A nod was the only response.

Gerwald had to admit he liked the portly fellow, enough that he had been made off limits to Oleander Webb . If the Anzat wanted to feed, it would not be on any of the staff which were employed by the beast, not without his approval. Gerwald fed enough of his enemies to his shadow.

The Dread Wolf stood, preparing for the entry of the dignitary. It would be rude of him to remain seated. Two goblets of mead sat on a cart near the table. The Lupo was not so refined he would not at least try and get them both drinking mead together from the outset. Being a touch inebriated during negotiations was not always a bad thing, especially when Gerwald was not completely prepared to make any concessions.

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Jutrand | The Obsidian Spire
Tags: Gerwald Lechner

---

As the Diarch landed his ship, he was met by a rather portly but kind enough fellow. Following him into the spire, the Diarch marveled at the sights around him. This was his first visit to Jutrand, the seat of the Sith Order's power. The planet was, in short, awe inspiring. But, he was not here for a social call, he had been summoned.

As he ascended the stairs he was curious what the summons had been for, he had met the Dread Wolf only briefly on Bastion, but the man seemed amicable enough. He had his thoughts to be sure, chief among them was his friendship with Korriban and her King. He would imagine that may rub some in power the wrong way.

As he arrived at the entryway, he saw his host. Oddly enough, similar in many features to himself, yet far taller. The Diarch had come out of goodwill to see what it was he could do for this Dark Councilor, but while friendly on the outside, he had no doubt that there would be tensions arising from this meeting. It was like he could feel it brewing, a storm one can smell on the air but not yet see.

But for now, cordiality and friendship. Approaching the large man, he bowed, not low enough to be seen as deference, but just enough to be respectful to his host. "Thank you for the invitation, this is my first time on Jutrand, I must say it's quite impressive."

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Obsidian Spire
Direct Tag: Gerwald Lechner | Diarch Reign

______________________________________​

The chamber of polished obsidian was one that she had oft visited when she stopped to visit with her former Lord Commander between one debacle and the next. The flickering light had never bothered her, nor, the scent of braised meat that always seemed to linger. It was an expansive tower that still managed to seem homely after it had been dipped in relentless grandeur. Three identical figures simultaneously moved through the main portal, each a perfect case study of grace and femininity.

Their arrival was akin to a whisper, the rustle of long silken robes the only sound. They moved with ethereal synchronicity, each step measured and fluid, their presence more suggestion than substance. It was the direct opposite of the woman they usually were. No, not courtiers. They were the living, breathing, manifestation of the Sith Empress split into a symbol of holy geometry—A self-sustaining triangle. Trinity. It was in homage to the deific creatures of myth who spun, measured, and finally cut the threads of all who existed. Be they mortal—Or divine.

The reasons for her intricate deception were vast.

To begin with—It could be difficult to press down her force signature, even, through clouding. What seeped through without her permission was but a drop in an ocean, a speck of might, in an endless sea of pitch. Those who knew her best would recognize her arrival not by sound, nor, by sight. It was scent. Her power had notes that stirred memories of the evening, of jasmine and rain, layered with ozone. What was thought to be perfume was not. Cloying, bewitching, and impossible…

It heralded her.

Gerwald Lechner would know it.

Diarch Reign would not.

Those who knew her identity rarely acted as they would normally. It made studying them, and their motives, difficult. It was yet to be determined if this rising power was friend or foe despite certain relationships that had been cultivated and it was her duty to make an assessment. Bringing him to Empyrean would have been...Overkill. This. This, was much better. For now.

The first of the sisters, dressed in red silks, face hidden with a veil came to stand not far from the table with a large carafe of dark mead that was intended to refill the goblets of both Sith Lords. The second sister moved toward the furthest side of the room, near the fireplace, whilst a harp on repulsor lifts followed her. She wore robes of chocolate that fell around her like a waterfall when she took a seat on a low stool and began to play. Not too loudly. Not too soft. It filled the emptiness…

But would in no way interfere with the ability to converse or do business.

The final woman, clad wholly in white, moved toward the center of the room with footsteps that were touched with reverence and poise. Her head bowed low, fingers, tethered in the silks of her skirts whilst she performed an imperial curtsey that would have turned the court green with envy. Her posture was perfect with a swan-like neck that craned just so, such respect, such deference exuding from the three women that it would be nigh impossible to realize the truth.

She hated every second of it.
​

Srina Talon bowed for no one. To no man, no creature, no King—Not her husband, and certainly not an individual she'd never met. Yet in this form…She was intelligent enough to do what was required without giving away her displeasure. The wintry woman was incredibly hard for most of the court to read on a daily basis. It wouldn't be hard to keep a stranger guessing. Her face remained hidden behind the white veil and gold-trimmed hood. When her head finally raised, though not completely, it was with a subservient apology leaving sweetened lips. "Jutrand is pleased to have you my Lord…"

"We beg your pardon, for our late intrusion."

"The Lady Darcrath is feeling unwell and bid that we greet you in her place. We shall attend to anything required. Refreshments. Entertainment. And—", the diminutive woman spoke, her head tilting, as if something unspoken held some sort of amusement. It would be simple to see that she spoke of her red and brown garbed sisters with that, considering, the roles they had immediately taken. "—Security."

That left her. This small…Waif—Slip of a woman…As security. It would seem laughable between two Sith who looked as if they could well handle their own. But…The worries of a wife?

Rational or otherwise…Whom could fault or disagree with that?

"May my sisters and I remain, Lord Lenchner?"

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

TAG: Diarch Reign | Srina Talon

Cold hued eyes watched as the Diarch of the The Diarchy walked into the room. He was shorter than the Dread Wolf, but bore similar features. Those rumors had been true at least. It was not often that Gerwald found himself meeting with the leaders of other nations, and perhaps it was arrogant of him, but where the other lowered his head, the Dread Wolf did not. His arm extended as he would greet any man from Stewjon, seeking to clasp his forearm. The gesture was one of familiarity not formality. Gerwald had learned part of diplomacy was remaining true to himself. In that mindset he greeted his guest.

“Forgive my familiarity, but it seems that while you may be able to remove the warrior from Stewjon, you cannot remove Stewjon from the warrior.”

Gerwald motioned to the mead which was laid out for them. Everything about the arrangement screamed a relaxed and friendly atmosphere. While the Wolf was curious about the happenings of the relationships held between the man before him and others within the Order, the Dark Empire, the Empire of the Lost, and the Galactic Alliance, they would have plenty of time for that. His methods were not those of any other among the Order. Perhaps the one thing which made the Wolf an odd choice for diplomatic matters was that he had no pretense. He was always the Dread Wolf, nothing more or less.

His brutality was known by many, and his hospitality rivaled it. Like the warriors of Stewjon he could both kill and entertain with great talent and efficiency. It was not a question among the Second Legion, or among those who had entered the halls of the Obsidian Spire. Even the room where they meant was designed for home and hearth despite the opulence of it all. It had been gifted to him as a jewel, and Gerwald had made it into something else.

He was about to extend a more formal greeting when something in the room shifted. The Wolf smelled it long before the three sisters of fate came into the room. It was the fragrance of jasmine and rain.

It was her.

Gerwald had not expected the arrival of his mistress, but the Dread Queen had never needed his permission. She did as she wished, and no one dared oppose her. Those who did quickly discovered their mistake. The ones fortunate to survive the mishap were certain to never repeat the offense. Despite this, Srina Talon had earned the loyalty and oath of the Dread Wolf by caring for his broken body and mind long before either of them were part of the Sith Order, before the Emperor of that Order was her husband or the monster he had become.

He watched as she entered. The role she chose to play was one which made Gerwald her instrument. They had practiced this, and yet the Dark Councilor felt an uneasiness in his stomach when the woman bowed to the Diarchy as her sisters took their respective places. Her greeting…

“Jutrand is pleased to have you, my Lord…”

…filled the room with a familiar tone to the Wolf. His eyes did not leave her until required to allow Srina her anonymity.

Gerwald inclined his head at the news his mate was unwell. Her name had been invoked as a reason for admittance. He could not help but smile in response to the irony of Naedira wishing for the small sisters to offer security, however she did have a protective nature. It was the one part of her which Gerwald believed to be truly hers, a trait which inherit long before her decision to face Prazutis.

Would they be allowed to remain?

“If my she-wolf has asked this, who am I to say no to her?”

It was honest. Gerwald could not deny Naedira Darcrath . Whether that was by choice or because he was incapable of it did not matter. The answer also served as a way to allow the Diarch to believe that as any wife, she was the neck which turned the head.

“You may remain, and when you return to her see to it that she eats.”

He motioned to the table, inviting the Diarch to sit.

“I am happy you find Jutrand impressive. What I witnessed on Bastion delighted me as well. Please, drink, and tell me a little about yourself. I am curious to know the man behind the title. We can speak on other matters soon enough, unless you are the sort of man who likes to get right to the point?”

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Jutrand | The Obsidian Spire
Tags: Gerwald Lechner Srina Talon

---

Green eyes locked on to the cold hued eyes of his host, the Diarch smiled at the Dread Wolf before clasping his forearm firmly. His tone light as he replied

"To do anything less would be a dishonor to those that have come before you. I welcome a piece of Stewjon and the warrior that brings it"

The comment was genuine, and if the Wolf searched his presence he would have known it, Reign valued history and all that had come before to beget the man standing before him. The Diarch in his own way was coming to this completely open, he had no fear being in the realm of others, but that did not mean his sense of decorum would lapse. In the Wolf's Den, he commanded respect, and Reign would give it to him.

As the trio of women entered, Reign could not hide a smile, it appeared even one as fearsome as the Great Dread Wolf, was still at the command of his mate. A feeling the Diarch knew all too well, for his own wife Lady Nocturne had nearly commanded him not to come here, for fear it was a trap. To alleviate her, he had promised regular check ins.

As his host bid him sit, The Diarch took the seat offered, grabbing the mead from the table. Thinking about the Wolf's question he answered slowly.

"I am pleased that Bastion was to your liking, the hard work of many people has turned it once again into a crown jewel of the Outer Rim. I must say, it is relieving to hear that no matter where in the Galaxy you go, a wife still worries after her husband. My own has expressed concern for me even from the other side of the Core."

He smiled softly thinking of his wife and daughters, steadfast in their support and the bedrock of the Diarchy.

"What would you like to know? I have nothing to hide, but so few people ask the right questions. I must admit I'm curious about you too. One can only glean so much from intelligence reports and dossiers."

The warm smile on the Diarch's face would tell the Wolf that he was not all business all the time, and would be more than happy to entertain pleasantries before something unpleasant may happen.

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Obsidian Spire
Direct Tag: Gerwald Lechner | Diarch Reign

______________________________________​

Naedira Darcrath had been most accommodating, though, the mate of Gerwald Lechner owed just as much to the diminutive monarch as he did. Perhaps, more. It was the pale hands of the Dread Queen that had drawn her soul back from oblivion, that had stabilized her mind, created a body for her rebirth. Few knew the truth behind the sudden relationship the tall warrior from Stewjon cherished above all else. Few, very few, knew that he had taken a recently dead woman for his bride.

The Empress of the Order ensured that Naedira had life within her—Created, from Gerwald. That she was fit to walk this world in strength and beauty, fit, to bear his children. His she-wolf was simply not a wolf at all. Merely, a casualty of his heart's greed-laden desire. It was laudable. That the beast and bloody wrath of Jutrand…was in love, entwined in matrimony, with a ghost. When the Lord of the Spire presented her with the order to ensure his mate was well cared for and fed the response that flowed from pristine lips arrived in crystalline cadence. Flawless…As if she knew what he might say, before it was spoken.

"As you wish, my Lord."

The same velvet voice pulled from beneath the white veil while her head bent even lower than before. It was true that the Obsidian Spire did not hold slaves, but there were protocols to observe. A servant was a servant. They were less, inferior, or they would not be bound to a future of domestic labor. When she felt the eyes of her betters move away, it was only then, that her head dared rise. A perfect act of abasement from one who was not fit to breath the same air, not fit, to share the same glass of mead. Not fit to share the same hearth.

It was a state of mind that Srina found abhorrent in so many Noble Houses but it was what was expected of a high-ranking member of the Imperial Court and while Diarch Reign may or may not realize it—There were very few higher than the Dark Councilor. The subsequent dismissal might have incensed the sensibilities of the Empress…But the ivory clad sentinel was gladdened for the invisibility her guise brought her. She was not worthy to be spoken to nor acknowledged. Good.

It meant that she had not caused offense.

It meant that the evening could continue in earnest.

The faint strains of the harp wove through the air like delicate thread while the red-robed sister seemed to be frozen in place. If she breathed behind her veil none would be the wiser. Pale hands, delicate, just held the carafe aloft for when one of the Sith present might call for a refill. The harpist, ensconced in in her designated area, held a similar stillness. There was no artistry to her movements but the melody flowed with a sweetness that seemed entirely foreign. Each note was a calculated pulse, a heartbeat, and her attention never wavered. Entirely oblivious, to the men's conversation.

The figure in white backed toward the middle of the grand hall, her hands unfolding, revealing a coiled bilari electro-chain whip. Her statement of security might make a little more sense now. There were few who were adept with such a weapon. Naedira Darcrath, was one such person. Traditionally it belonged to Praetorian Guard but their training had been derived from Echani fighting techniques that had long ago been adopted by the Imperial Guard. For the veiled woman in white…It was the language of her home. It was the talent, creativity, and grace of her people.

The metallic links caught the light, gleaming, as they fell to her side. A flick of the wrist made the whip solidify into a rapier and she fell into her first fighting stance, seeming, to challenge someone that wasn't there. The area around her was muted to prevent sound from interrupting the atmosphere but it didn't seem to bother her. She was precise, swift, a display of controlled power and finesse—Not overwhelming, wasted force. There was no empty movement. The ivory sister spun, twisted, and broke her weapon to the gentle thrum of the harp.

It was not violent.

It was a performance, the entertainment, that had been promised. It spoke to the heart of the Sith with the passion it invoked without a single patch of skin on display. It was strength cloaked in elegance. The chain whip hummed through the air, the silent arcs and snaps a testament to the latent danger in every gesture. She could have easily lost an arm…But her movements were sure, beautiful, underpinned with the promise of the potential for lethality.

It drew fear from the unaccustomed—Fascination.

It was a distraction.

From this position, she could listen. More importantly, she could learn. For all the grandstanding most Sith seemed to hold an uncanny penchant for they always seemed to forget the core tenant of their power. Knowledge. While it might not have been mightier than the sword…

It certainly made her more precise.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

TAG: Diarch Reign | Srina Talon

Embracing Stewjon was a diplomatic move. This Diarch seemed to know all the right things to say when in it came to appeasing the Wolf in manner of pride for his home and upbringing. It still did nothing to show Gerwald what sort of man this was. While he embraced the man, he did not know the beast, and perhaps if he had known more of Gerwald's exploits he would categorize him among those whom he had threatened just weeks prior.

Gerwald watched as it seemed the man did not acknowledge the sisters beyond their function. He supposed it was a good thing. His Empress attended under the guise of a servant, and while the Dread Wolf wanted to be offended at the slight, there was none if the Echani fates were mere attendants in the house of the beast.

So, he smiled.

He watched as she took her place after nodding to him. As the wintry woman pulled out her whip, Gerwald was transported to the first mission he had ever taken with his mate. Naedira Darcrath carried a lightwhip with her. It was not their personal battlemeld which allowed her to be skilled with the weapon, rather her sharpness enhanced his own skill with a blade. She made his strikes more precise whereas his beastly instincts allowed her to sense what she could not see.

His mind touched that of his mistress.

<< "Did she want you using the whip too?" >>

Srina would understand. Gerwald often wondered if Naedira remembered that part of their past. She was not that woman any longer, a fact Srina had warned him of. His selfishness had changed her. The Wolf had been unable to move on, and yet if he had…

…he did not want to entertain those thoughts.

His eyes locked with the Diarch once more.

"We protect each other. Our nature and circumstances has made us… possessive… of each other in ways only the force can explain. Naedira is not tame where the wellbeing and safety of her mate is concerned."

Was it a threat? That was for the Diarch to decide. Rather than dwell on it, the Wolf took a drink of the mead which had been set before him. The goblet set on the table with a clink as he pondered the question he wished to ask the Diarch.

"I must admit your rise, that of your Diarchy, was swift. I suppose the superficial questions of background and origin are a good place to start. There are matters of governance and how our nations will relate to each other considering your… announcement… but that can wait for now. I would know your history."

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Jutrand | The Obsidian Spire
Tags: Srina Talon Gerwald Lechner

---

The Diarch's suspicion of the new attendants grew ever slightly when his host's gaze lingered on the woman with the whip. However, he was here to solidify a position that appeared tenuous at the moment.
The Declaration and the overt threat he had made was not out of some form of arrogance but conviction, even so. Reign knew he could not afford to face down all the galaxy at once, he needed to pick and chose his battles.

Acknowledging the other man's attention he returned his gaze, saying

"I would expect nothing less, one with your reputation must have made many enemies. My own wife has of late, become increasingly concerned and fierce in her defense of me."

As the Wolf drank, the Diarch did as well. He would match his hosts actions so as not to offend the man within his own house. But the Diarch needed to know certain things. Conflict with the Sith was inevitable, it was half of the reason his father had put Reign and his brother on this path. But that conflict did not need to happen today, it was not beneficial for either group with so many enemies at the gates. So concessions would need to be made to keep them all alive.

That did not, however, mean the Diarch was not looking forward to matching blades with someone as storied as The Dread Wolf, in fact, if the Sith was paying close attention, he would feel the spike of anticipation and excitement as the Diarch contemplated it.

"I suppose that to those outside of the Diarchy, our ascension would seem like it happened overnight, but I assure you, it is the culmination of decades of work and planning. Both from my brother and myself, but as well as our father who preceded us. Our background is intwined much closer than you may think."

He paused, taking another drink of the mead provided.

"My father, was a powerful Sith Lord, and served the Order as you now do. However, time opened his eyes, the duplicitous and chaotic nature of the Sith and the false peace and denial of self that the Jedi preach have created a never ending cycle of war and chaos that has plagued the galaxy long before any of us. To this end, he went into exile, formulating plans to bring true order and peace to the galaxy. Imparting that Grand Plan to my brother and I before his death."

It was common knowledge that the foundations of the Diarchy were laid by a former Sith, however, what the Wolf knew of the enigmatic Darth Kakus was to be seen, as his name had only recently found its way back into the annals of galactic history.

"I suppose I also have questions about your journey. How does one go from the Confederacy of Independent Systems, to the Wrath of the Emperor?"