Voph stood atop one of the taller buildings of Theed, looking out across the crowds of protestors far below. Horace, as always, was perched on the man's shoulder. Things had been turbulent of late. Thyferra and Ra'Katha had moved swiftly and decisively, calling for a vote to expel the Vicelord from office. All because of one small fact of life. Sith. It was a word that still haunted Voph's nightmares to this day. What the Sith had done to him...What they were still doing to him... He understood the mistrust. He'd not enjoyed his time among the Sith Empire of old. And yet, when he went to the Jedi, begging and groveling for forgiveness and redemption, he was met only with threats against his life. To be told that he was beyond redemption. His salvation rested solely in destruction.

So to see the crowd below clamoring for the same effect... it resonated with him on a level he didn't expect. Everyone was worthy of redemption. It was a belief he clung to. Adamantly. He had to. Some days, it was the only thing that kept him going. But such things did not matter when the mob had decided who was worthy and who was not. And now, they had deemed Darth Metus a threat to the mighty nation of the Confederacy. Metus, and every other being with ties to the Empire. Voph felt fear. Fear for his brothers and sisters of the Thorn chapter. While he could not share their close-minded beliefs that the Dark Side was a true path to power, he respected them as allies, and valued what each of them brought to the Confederacy. He felt Anger. Anger that the man who had built the mightiest nation in the galaxy had been disposed of on a whim. But most of all he felt remorse. Voph had left the Sith behind. They were a blight upon the galaxy. And he swore that he would permit them to exist only because the balance must be upheld. For light could not exist without darkness. And without light, what then is darkness?

But Darth Metus was more than that. The War had taught Voph much. At the end of the day, there was only one being he could rely on. Only one whos orders he trusted. He had been at the mercy of those claiming superiority too many times. But Darth Metus? He would have followed him to the depths of the void without a second's hesitation. Perhaps the only man in the galaxy Voph would follow without question, such was his respect for the man, in spite of his origins.

And so he felt remorse, that when his leader needed him, he was not there.

Much as he feared with the Inquisition, he now feared that the paranoia slowly gripping the nation would spread too far. To burn out the Sith, and leave only a pure Confederacy behind? It was a noble goal. But he'd seen what a purifying light could do. Were the Confederacy not careful, it would consume itself in its paranoia. Voph expected that the Inquisition would be called once again. Gerwald would soon be faced with a choice he did not envy. But he would also be loathe to sit and wait for destiny to arrive. Voph knew a few people. If the Confederacy was hunting Sith within its ranks? Then so be it.

The Empire had given Voph one very useful skill. One that he still employed to this day. After all...

...who better to hunt a Sith threat than one who was once like them?