Private A Faithful Servant and His King

[Draconis Sederius Wolf]

It had been months since the Exodus. Since the entirety of the SLDF literally stripped a system of all necessary equipment, and left. Almost 200 kilometers of fleet power, in support vessels, ships of war, fuelers, civilian vessels, and others. Draconis had left a single message for those they left behind, and for the greater CIS. Draconis remembered taking off his pin, the look in his eyes as his Vicelord had asked him to step back from the ledge. He'd felt cornered then. That if he'd simply done as asked he would have invited much greater evils, evils that the rest of them could only dream of. None had the forces at their command that he did. None had the planets, or peoples rebuilt from the ground up that had to fight and claw their way through bloody revolution.

None had a war machine that was capable of what the SLDF was.

He knew exactly what would have happened should he stayed. He was certain the Vicelord had the final reports sent to his office. The riots, the infighting, the all out clashes between families, brothers and sisters alike. There had been blood in the streets and in the representative's chambers. Clan leaders had come to blows repeatedly, demanding that should such words be tossed about, such threats openly made, that they should have the steel to either back them up or be put down. Surric First was a popular phrase among those who had seen the broadcasts. A twisted version of the very thing that had inspired their own fight for freedom. Draconis rubbed his temples as he thought back to the time. His people were on the brink of an all out second civil war, and what he was afraid of was what would happen should those who wanted all out war with CIS. To make them understand at blaster point that they would not be ignored anymore. They would have fought and died to the last man, woman, and knowing the allegiances of certain viceroys, child. But the damage they would have wrought would have been much greater. They had been designated a fortress system for a reason. No single fleet had the power to break them. No one, had the ability to project the kind of power needed to bring such devastation in a swift fell blow. And no one could be expected to. Surric had been built up to singlehandedly break the nose of any invasion fleet. To hold the line against all comers while the CAF mustered and responded.

And now, his gaze went back to the fleet of ships behind him. The full might of that war machine was now far, far away from where it could do immeasurable harm. From where it might be used to burn worlds to cinder, murder millions, and wage a war that the galaxy had never before seen. The people aboard the ships were less unruly than before, but there were still whispers of discontent among the fleet. Those who after being out here for so long, knew that they could bring the fleet back at any point and seek vengeance that was rightfully theirs. Battleships and Star Destroyers that had no equal in all the CAF, Cruisers and support vessels that gave this fleet teeth like none before it. Pilots, gunners, shipmen and women who through the fires of hardship and war had hardened their hearts and understood the true cost of freedom. Men and women willing to die for that freedom, not only for themselves but in the past had proven time and again for others. That only through the sacrifices and blood of loyalist and despot alike would freedom flourish. That if one wished for a free peace, the must be prepared for all out war. That's what his fleet was made of, millions of men and women who knew this, understood it and were ready to die for it.

He sighed again as he thought of the road that lead to here. Of all the missteps. He hated that he had to break the law to save the greater CIS from what they had unknowingly enabled. He hated that from his perspective there was nothing to do.

But now there was hope. A chance. Maybe a snowball's chance on Mustafar, but a chance nonetheless. A chance for cooler heads. A chance for a peaceful resolution to this. Instead of Draconis hoping the fleet didn't decide to finally settle this issue once and for all out here. As the ship made the calculated series of jumps to a set of coordinates, far and away from the fleet itself to protect it from them, and also them from it, it would finally activate its beacon and wait. Draconis would settle in his seat as he waited for the delegation to arrive. Unfortunately since his time out in deep space, his dress uniform had to be stowed, as had anything unnecessary to make room for anything deemed necessary. So they would find him in his battle uniform, sans the helmet.

He hoped they wouldn't notice the smell on board.

Darth Metus

 

[Darth Metus]

The departure was surprising.

The aftermath was damning.

It was no secret that the then-Vicelord was keeping tabs on Surric. Declaring intent to break with the southern systems was an unheard-of sentiment. And though the sable-skinned warrior did his best in the moment to prevent Draconis from walking out the chambers, the door slid shut behind him. In the wake of that day, reports came quickly across his desk. The event which had transpired within the chambers had resulted in quite the snowball. Violence erupted in the streets of the Fortress World. Brother against Brother. Sister against Sister.

By all accounts, a monumental rift had torn the world asunder. It was then that a choice was made by the one burdened by leadership. Mass Exodus.

When the armada departed their borders, the Vicelord stayed the hands of his own forces. Requests had come to do something - anything - to intervene. But, he opted to let them pass in peace. This was not a decision to come lightly. And, given the violence, it was a decision made out of necessity. Either there would be blood in the streets of Surric, spilled by its own people. Or there could be the blood of Confederates attempting to stand in the way. Neither was an attractive resolution for either side. And with seemingly no way forward, the armada slipped into the unknown.

Months passed. And in that time the Confederacy knew upheavel. Paranoia regarding the destruction of the Sith had cost Isley his own mantle. The successor to the Vicelordship had made a mockery of the position, sending lives to be lost en masse at Rhand. From where He was sitting, his beloved nation was a quilt that had finally caught a snag. And now there was a monumental tug, attempting to unravel the masterpiece. He would not let that stand. And therefore, change was needed. Change, even when there seemed no way forward.

His vessel picked up the beacon that was laid and promptly arrived at the appointed location. Isley's corvette, a sign of humility, promptly docked with the Surric vessel. And upon entering, the sable-skinned man was greeted with a stench. He knew this well. It reminded him of those months spent out in the field as a young Mandalorian warrior. Away from anything but the absolute necessities. So, too, was Draconis. There was no time for pomp and circumstance. There was only room for survival.

"Draconis." he began, greeting the man with a nod and a genuine smile. "It's been far too long."

Isley had come alone, save for a single droid. It marched a few paces behind its liege, pulling a singular pallet upon a hover cart. The sable-skinned man then motioned to its form. "A gift. An olive branch. I'd like our discussion to begin on the right foot."

Within would be something new of Isley's own design. An alternative to bacta, born of alchemy. Cheap. Easily accessed. And for an armada so far away from home, most likely it was a precious commodity. Or so he hoped.

"I call it Salix, an alternative to Bacta. Should you accept it, I hope it serves your people well."

Draconis Sederius Wolf​

 

[Draconis Sederius Wolf]

Draconis would feel his vessel go to a holding pattern and initiate the docking procedures between the two vessels. The telltale signs of the ship making slight adjustments in space, before the two shuddered lightly as they kissed in their embrace. Draconis furrowed his brow to himself as he thought of what he was doing. What he'd done. He knew he had to establish a line of communication. If there would ever be true resolution, they would need to actually come together. They would need to speak and come to an accord. That accord may not be reached today, but something had to be done.

As he walked forward to greet the Vicelord, he saw that he was without guards. Or any kind of escorts, save a single droid.

So he'd kept this meeting secret as requested. Draconis didn't know who to trust at this point, but that the Vicelord had agreed to finally meet with some strenuous if necessary precautions was hopefully a sign of good. The former Viceroy nodded his head towards his guest. Despite the way he'd left, he still very much respected the man. He was a fellow warrior, a leader of men on the battlefield as well in room for debate. When he saw the pallet, he didn't want to show too much of his appreciation for the gift. To give away his hand too much would be to his people's detriment, regardless of how much they actually needed anything and everything.

"My Lord, your gift gives me much joy that you saw fit to bestow this upon my people and I. I will happily accept their behalf and see it is used most efficiently," Simply motioning for the droid to leave it as he led Isley to the common area of the light freighter he'd commandeered for this mission. His subordinates had almost demanded to at least take a cruiser class vessel, for security's sake. Draconis however wouldn't have it. Being too aggressive now would only serve to harm the process. Plus the looks that the Vicelord would have drawn might not have been the most comforting, or the other extreme. He would risk nothing in this meeting, save himself.

He would motion to the table with a few chairs around it. On it, was a small serving of zero g drinks labelled of a few various beverages, with a few nutrient bars. This was a far cry from the absolutely massive and variety laden feasts on his home, but again, seeing as his lord had arrived in plain space faring gear, he understood. Out here, there was zero room for waste on these vessels. If Isley cared to look about, he'd notice that not a single thing aboard the vessel was either wasted or unnecessary. Some of the containers had to be kept on the ship due to space shortages, and while they were sealed labels were quite visible. Two crates with markings for rations, another ammo, and several containers marked simply "I5A". Still though, Draconis would lead with his mannerisms of old.

"I must apologize for the lack of decorum, or food variety that is normally custom for my people when hosting guests. I'm sure there were many questions about when we departed, even more now, so I'll get the first and probably most important issue out of the way. I led my people out here to keep them from doing irreparable harm to the rest of the Confederacy. Despite what some may have said, I'm sure because of a few disputes between myself and other viceroys, I did this because I had to," he sighed as he looked to the ceiling to see if it had any advice on how to proceed.

It would disappoint him, being that it was a standard bulkhead and not some elaborate teleprompter of some kind. He would pick up one of the beverage packets, labelled "milk", unscrew the cap on the packet and take a drink from it. The packet would shrink slightly from the use, designed to be used in zero gravity should the inertial compensators fail. Or power be lost. He regretted not being able to properly bring food and drink fitting a Vicelord to such a discussion, but out here it was the best he could do for now. Their stations were gone. Their homes now in a fleet of ships where space was at such a premium that even though they were recycling as much as possible, they were on the razor's edge.

"So, having said this, where do you think we must begin? What news of the Confederacy do you bring?"

Darth Metus​

 

[Darth Metus]

"Your heart has always been with Surric, I know that these will be used well."

With the former Viceroy's acceptance of this gift, the droid set the pallet into place and returned from whence it came. This simply left two men within the freighter. From the transmission that had been provided, the meeting was to be as quiet as possible. Therefore, Isley did not broadcast to any that he was present. As far as they knew, he was still on Vulpter within his corporate offices. But in truth, he was doing what he must for the Confederacy.

The monumental man then motioned behind him, towards a table with a few beverages on it. Once more, Isley was reminded of old times. When only the bare necessities were available. The smile lingered upon his features as he stepped over. He was conflicted for but a moment - as any supply he consumed was taking from someone who could use it. But, if things went well today, the struggles of the present would be a thing of the past. Sure in this notion, he reached out and selected a vessel of water.

The ration pack was the very same he'd poke his buy'ce's built-in straw through. The sort that could be chugged quickly, even in the midst of a firefight.

As Isley settled himself, Draconis apologized for the lack of decorum or food variety. Then, there was not a wasted word. "You have nothing to apologize for. Survival demands what it does. You have still shown hospitality regardless." He raised his beverage along with a kind nod.

Then to his question. "In truth, the Confederacy is in a far worse state than you left it."

"Paranoia motivated the Viceroyalty. Hasty decisions were made. We poked a hornet's nest - the Maw - unprovoked. Suffice it to say, things are worse for wear." Isley released a heavy sigh. The burden laid upon his shoulders was collosal. There was so much work to be done. "Therefore, my goal is simple. Get thine house in order. To do this, I must take a realistic look at how things are, and were."

He motioned his dominant hand towards Draconis. Towards Surric.

"That means being able to admit when I was wrong, asking forgiveness, and requesting reconciliation."

Draconis Sederius Wolf​

 

[Draconis Sederius Wolf]

"Your words humble me,"

Then his responses would cause the former Viceroy to pause. It had worsened when he left? What had happened? Had he caused much more harm than he knew? When the Vicelord stopped and then motioned towards him, he mentioned getting the house in order. Draconis could immediately tell what the goal was now. All houses needed pillars of support. Bastions. They needed strength and resolve.

His people were needed.

"My lord, I think it be only fair that we share the blame here. You are not the only party who has wronged the other. In this regard it takes both sides seeking to reconcile for it to work. And I would be more than happy to begin. But there is a problem. The people do not see the Exarchs, the Viceroys, or you favorably anymore. They saw what the news painted to them, and after a certain Bastille's consistent comments alongside everything else my people almost went to war. Even those who wished to stay loyal, knew that the dynamic had changed and that we are not where we once were. This is fixable however, I believe we just need to show them or at least the Khanate that we are serious about this. My people cannot live out here indefinitely, but I know many are too proud to just go back and would rather die out here than just wash everything all away,"

Draconis would rub his brow as he thought to himself. How to do this? How could they possibly prove to the council that not only the Vicelord, but the Confederacy was willing to sit and see reason? Another question being that how could he expect some of his more animated members of the council to be respectful if not outright confrontational? Harsh language, jeers, fights and all out brawls were not as uncommon in the council chambers as Draconis would wish. The people of his system were very proud, not the kind to back down from a fight or challenge, and would rather argue and fight someone then and there rather than just use false bravado or being passive aggressive. Sure the Vicelord was a Mandalorian at one point, and the Exarch Talon was a well vetted warrior herself, but he wasn't sure if they or the rest would understand. That was how they did things. How they settled their issues. They fought each other over issues because that's how important it all was. Fancy words and talk were nice, but if you didn't actually believe in a cause enough to lay life and limb on the line how much was it really worth? The first civil war was proof enough of that.

"Sir, I may be able to call the Khans to assembly. We've been sort of busy out here trying to keep everything together and under control. They will know that you are coming, but I will warn you now they won't be happy over it. I can try to lay the ground work, but these men and women are a very hardened and proud people. I cannot promise they will be civil, but they will listen. My people have come to blows repeatedly over this issue, even council members with each other, but if anyone can convince them it's you and the Exarchs. It will take time for the rest of the people to buy in, but if we can get the Khans it will be a lot easier as they are much better at connecting with the common people of their clans," he would pause again as he thought it over. There was a chance, a very real chance it could work. If they could see, really see what he saw when he spoke to the Vicelord. It had to.

Darth Metus​