He sipped the deep botanical with a hardened expression. The war that raged just outside the Gubernatorial Hall in Ketaris city threatened all the work the Imperials were attempting toward the restoration of order. The King stared at the Galactic Map with weary eyes.
Every world they won was a new microcosm. Each planet had its own woes. Every continent had problems different from another. The unique situation of Ketaris came in the form of an antiquated regime that refused to die.
Republicanism, the very concept of Democracy, revolted him. To put the fate of a world in the hands of multiple, unskilled, unfit "leaders" flew in the face of structure. As Galactic superpowers clung to their Senates and Viceroyalty, the Empire stood fast with a unified council that merely advised. What was good for Ketaris, was not necessarily good for Naboo.
There were those in the Galaxy who disagreed. He heard the words of some foreign leader condemning the actions of the Imperium because they failed to assist in the fight against a very real threat in the Galactic South. Enlil placed his wine down and folded his hands.
"Does the Republican Guard still hold strong in the southern quarter?" he asked idly.
"Yes, my lord," the advisor hurried forward and activated a holographic map. Enlil glanced over it.
"Have an evacuation order issued, and tell the insurgents that they have twelve hours to become compliant," he stated flatly. "If they have not turned themselves in by then, authorize a tactical strike from the Imperial Star Destroyer Resplendence."
"Sir, if I may-"
"You may not," Enlil waved a hand. "We have tried the hand. Time and again, they have bitten. It is time for the blade."
With one cell of insurgents destroyed utterly, the others would lose hope. Without hope, rebellions died. The King knew this well.
There were other, more pressing matters. The Imperium itself waged a war to end the Sith. They were a blight, a pox on the Galaxy. Those who propped them up wasted precious Imperial resources. Resources that could have been spent fighting a greater threat.
Yet this "Confederacy" called for their condemnation.
The King shook his head. "I knew on Siskeen that allowing them to exist would only throw more lives needlessly to the flame," he sighed. "I only wish I had destroyed all of them then."
"My lord?" the attendant questioned.
"It is nothing. An old regret, insignificant now. A man cannot change the past. Only the future is ours to shape." Enlil rose from his seat and offered the man tired smile.
"My priorities are this war, and bringing law back to Ketaris. Its people have suffered too long under the foot of a wayward regime based on some tyrannical majority. Once I wipe away the Republican Bloc, Ketaris will lend all of its support to the New Imperial Order and its efforts."
"And what of the Bryn'adûl?"
"The problems of the Sith, the Jedi, or anyone else are not the problems of Ketaris. If the Imperator wishes it, we will send aid; but until that day, I have my own priorities, and people crying out for justice."
He turned toward his chambers and made his way toward bed, another sleep certain to be troubled and restless.
Every world they won was a new microcosm. Each planet had its own woes. Every continent had problems different from another. The unique situation of Ketaris came in the form of an antiquated regime that refused to die.
Republicanism, the very concept of Democracy, revolted him. To put the fate of a world in the hands of multiple, unskilled, unfit "leaders" flew in the face of structure. As Galactic superpowers clung to their Senates and Viceroyalty, the Empire stood fast with a unified council that merely advised. What was good for Ketaris, was not necessarily good for Naboo.
There were those in the Galaxy who disagreed. He heard the words of some foreign leader condemning the actions of the Imperium because they failed to assist in the fight against a very real threat in the Galactic South. Enlil placed his wine down and folded his hands.
"Does the Republican Guard still hold strong in the southern quarter?" he asked idly.
"Yes, my lord," the advisor hurried forward and activated a holographic map. Enlil glanced over it.
"Have an evacuation order issued, and tell the insurgents that they have twelve hours to become compliant," he stated flatly. "If they have not turned themselves in by then, authorize a tactical strike from the Imperial Star Destroyer Resplendence."
"Sir, if I may-"
"You may not," Enlil waved a hand. "We have tried the hand. Time and again, they have bitten. It is time for the blade."
With one cell of insurgents destroyed utterly, the others would lose hope. Without hope, rebellions died. The King knew this well.
There were other, more pressing matters. The Imperium itself waged a war to end the Sith. They were a blight, a pox on the Galaxy. Those who propped them up wasted precious Imperial resources. Resources that could have been spent fighting a greater threat.
Yet this "Confederacy" called for their condemnation.
The King shook his head. "I knew on Siskeen that allowing them to exist would only throw more lives needlessly to the flame," he sighed. "I only wish I had destroyed all of them then."
"My lord?" the attendant questioned.
"It is nothing. An old regret, insignificant now. A man cannot change the past. Only the future is ours to shape." Enlil rose from his seat and offered the man tired smile.
"My priorities are this war, and bringing law back to Ketaris. Its people have suffered too long under the foot of a wayward regime based on some tyrannical majority. Once I wipe away the Republican Bloc, Ketaris will lend all of its support to the New Imperial Order and its efforts."
"And what of the Bryn'adûl?"
"The problems of the Sith, the Jedi, or anyone else are not the problems of Ketaris. If the Imperator wishes it, we will send aid; but until that day, I have my own priorities, and people crying out for justice."
He turned toward his chambers and made his way toward bed, another sleep certain to be troubled and restless.
