Private A Lamp Unto My Feet

[Alicio Organa]

DROMUND FELS
ABANDONED OUBLIETTE
​

The last time Alicio had given himself to the Force's call, it had been a tempting voice, beckoning him with the promise of power. Whether that was ever the Force itself, or the long-dead spirit of a Sith Lord, Alicio never truly knew. Back then, Alicio had felt like he was doing something wrong, but necessary. Journeying into that Dark place had been, in his eyes, the only way to gain enough power to save the people he protected.

This time, the call wasn't tempting at all. It simply was.

Visions came to him at night, of that roiling sea of potential. Of infinite pasts and futures, things that could be, and things that might've been. Staring into it's depths, he saw a desert, cracked and arid, upon which rested a half-buried pyramid, holding the obvious architectural markings of a Sith tomb. But when he looked at it, he didn't sense any darkness or deception, only the salted taste of the sea. The Force wasn't coaxing him into danger. It wasn't promising him power. Alicio had asked for a path ahead, and the Force showed him one.

He decided to show it a bit of trust.

Alicio opened the exit ramp to his shuttle, frowning uncomfortably as he was blasted in the face with warm air. The massive pyramid rested beneath him in a crumbling valley, what would have been an imposing structure, were it not for the wear on it's stones over time, or the dunes that concealed it's true size. The flowered taste of the Dark side was certainly present, but faint. As if instead of festering for untold centuries, the darkness had simply faded over time.

This site wasn't on any old Cold War-era maps. Any records of this place appeared to have been scrubbed thousands of years ago. It made one wonder what the ancient Sith were trying to hide here.

With lightsaber in hand, and curious as to why exactly the Force would lead him to a Sith prison, of all places, the Count descended the side of the valley.

- Galahad Io -

 

[Dev Ossian]

Galahad approached the valley on speeder bike, the repulsorlifts kicking up a cloud of dust in his wake. Racing alongside him was his brother Lancelot—or Lance for short—who pushed his own bike to daredevil limits.

Naturally Lance arrived at the edge of the valley first. Galahad pulled up next to him soon after, his eyes on the prize: a pyramid-shaped ruin in the valley below, rumored to be an ancient Sith prison.

“Look!” Lance exclaimed, pointing. “Another ship!”

He drew Galahad’s gaze across the chasm, where a shuttle was parked. Not crashed, parked. It was a little hard to tell at such a distance, but it looked fairly high-end and expensive. Perhaps it was a pirate vessel? But what sort of pirate flew in a shuttle? Why else would someone with such a nice ride be all the way out here?

The little freighter Galahad and Lance had used to get there was a derelict they had found and repaired. Its unremarkable, nondescript appearance made it handy for avoiding the unwanted attention that came with flying in official House Io vessels, and allowed them to travel unnoticed. But here was someone who either didn’t know any better, or didn’t care if they were seen.

“And here I thought this place was supposed to be abandoned,” Lance said with a grin. “Do you think they’re here to explore the ruins too?”

Galahad pursed his lips. “I hope not. I’d rather not get into a fight with any rivals vying over fragile ancient relics.”

“Well, you won’t be doing any of the fighting.” Lance revved his bike’s engine, then tore down the slope, heading into the valley. Galahad followed him close behind—they couldn’t ride side by side down the narrow rocky path.

He’d heard this world spoken of with the kind of reverent awe afforded only to the most mythical of sites. Though he knew Dromund Fels was long deserted, part of him half expected to run into Dark Side cultists on pilgrimage to ancient Sith shrines. If nothing else, there were plenty of ruins to plunder, so why not have a few treasure-hunting adventurers hanging around?

Whatever awaited them, he did hope they were friendly. Or at the very least, he hoped they wouldn’t shoot first and ask questions later. He was curious about anyone who came to this place, especially someone who flew in a shiny silver shuttle.

Up ahead, he spotted a figure walking toward the pyramid from the other side of the valley. To Galahad’s horror, Lance sped up as he drew nearer to the lone figure, as if he were trying to hit them.

At the last possible second, Lance slammed on the brakes. A sand dune rolled like a wave, pushed by the bike’s repulsorlifts until he lost momentum and came to a shuddering stop. Lifting his protective goggles from his eyes, he grinned at Alicio.

“Howdy, stranger.”

Galahad slowed to a stop a little ways behind his brother, clearly approaching this encounter from a much more cautious angle. “I’m sorry if he scared you,” he said, glaring at Lance. “He doesn’t mean any harm.”

The pair had the appearance of identical twins, with the same dark curly hair and hazel eyes. They might’ve been in their late teens or early twenties, two good looking boys wearing dusters and backpacks. There was something oddly uncanny about their faces, though, as if they weren’t quite human—and in the Force, they had no presence at all. Just a hollow void where their life forces should have been.

“What are you here for, stranger?” Lance asked, cutting right to the chase. His fingers flexed along the handles of his bike, like he was itching to do something.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

The future sang to Alicio in dulcet tones as he picked his way across the arid valley. Dressed in his archaeology outfit, complete with wrapped leathers and blue-highlighted mask, the Count turned to the side, watching as a quick vehicle tore across the open dunes.

Alicio cautiously palmed his lightsaber, but refused to ignite it, even as the speeder showed no signs of stopping. Even as he was nearly hit, the Organa didn't so much as flinch, as he gazed a second into the future. But he did cock his head curiously to the side as he sensed... or, didn't sense... the two individuals that greeted him.

"I'm fine," he returned, glancing up and down at the two mathematically-perfect humanoids, trying to decide how honest he should be. Finally deciding to show a bit of trust, the Count pushed his hood back, removed his mask, tying it's loop around the belt at his waist, and replaced his lightsaber at his side.

"Ah... I was called here," he said simply, "I don't want any trouble. I swear." He hadn't even thought anyone would be out here. What were the chances...

Oh, right. The Force.

"Now... is this where I die, or do I get to know what you're doing here first?" He chanced a chuckle.

- Galahad Io -

 

[Dev Ossian]

The stranger was a man wearing a painted mask. Though it was meant to hide his identity, the fact that he was covering his face from view only made Galahad more curious as to who he was.

Well, that and the lightsaber he held.

When he removed his mask, both Lance and Galahad leaned forward in unison to get a better look at him.

<<Does he seem familiar to you?>> Lance asked his brother within the privacy of technopathy.

<<Count Alicio Organa, Senator of Alderaan,>> Galahad transmitted the information to Lance instantly, having picked up on facial similarities to pictures he found on the Holonet. Alicio was a fairly obscure figure outside of Alliance politics, but he was still a public figure who had been photographed and filmed on numerous occasions.

<<Should we, like… kidnap him and hold him for ransom, or something?>>

<<I came here for the ruins, not to abduct some prissy royal.>>

<<Can’t be bothered with the hassle, huh?>>

Their entire conversation lasted only a second or two in real-time. Galahad seemed to respond to Alicio’s question without hesitation.

“We don’t have any plans to kill you, no. We’re here to explore these ruins and preserve any artifacts we find. My name is Galahad, I'm a collector of religious relics. My brother Lancelot is a chaplain.”

“How do you do,” Lance said, waving his fingers. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Alicio even once.

“You said you were called here—by who, and for what purpose?” Galahad inquired.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

“We don’t have any plans to kill you, no."

Alicio allowed a small twitch of a smile to pass his face, before falling back into a neutral, guarded expression. The brothers seemed forthcoming, but there was obviously more to them than met the eye. They were dangerous, especially the one staring him down since they had arrived.

"Well met, both of you. Galahad. Lancelot." The Count inclined his head their direction, choosing to keep his name to himself. "I was called here by... the Force, I think."

The nobleman's hesitancy betrayed his inexperience, and perhaps a bit of lingering skepticism. "I don't know, exactly. Um... I'm rather new to... mystics... But I saw this place in a vision. I came to investigate. And... you two found it at the same time."

It couldn't be a coincidence.

"So... you're collecting Sith artifacts?" Alicio tried to keep the mistrust from his voice. "What for?"

Just in case, the Count spied a second into the future, canting his head to the side in thought.

- Galahad Io -

 

[Dev Ossian]

“The Force?” Galahad and Lancelot’s simultaneous exclamation echoed throughout the valley. For being dead in the Force, they sure seemed utterly fascinated by it. They fell silent, listening intently to the rest of Alicio’s explanation.

“Mysticism,” Galahad gently corrected. “You’re not new to mystics, you’re new to mysticism. Oh, what fun! It’s not every day we get to be part of the Will of the Force in such a vivid way.”

“Are you a Sith?” Lance asked bluntly. “Or a Jedi?”

“Don’t be rude, Lance,” Galahad chastised his brother before answering Alicio’s question. “We collect all artifacts, regardless of affiliation or origin. Many Force Orders tend to hoard their knowledge, keeping it only for themselves out of an arrogant sense of elitism. We are private collectors, but our goal is to make all our information available to the general public.”

“The Jedi call us terrorists and heretics,” Lance muttered. “And the Sith have tried to use us for their own personal gain.”

“But we’ve survived their machinations against us,” Galahad said cheerfully. “Anyway, as long as you don’t plan to destroy us or take all the relics for yourself, you may accompany us into the ruin, Mr…?” They already knew who he was, but didn’t want him to know that they knew.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

Alicio folded his hands neatly behind his back, twitching another smile as Galahad and Lancelot seemed surprised at his answer, and nodding modestly as Galahad pointed out his grammatical error. Their fascination with the subject shouldn't have been surprising, they were at a Sith monument, same as him. But they weren't Force-sensitive. They didn't even feel alive.

The two men left him with more questions than answers.

“Are you a Sith? Or a Jedi?”

“Don’t be rude, Lance.”

"No, it's fine," Alicio interjected, sparing Lance from his brother's wrath. "I'm not Sith. And I'm not really Jedi, either. I'm still... trying to figure that out for myself... I'm hoping this helps." That was what this whole journey was about. Self-discovery. Introspection.

Not dying in a Sith tomb, preferably.

“The Jedi call us terrorists and heretics. And the Sith have tried to use us for their own personal gain.”

More questions. But Alicio set them to the side for a moment, instead accepting Galahad's welcome. "Alicio," he finally said, after a moment. "It's dangerous to go into ruins alone, so... thank you." If they were going to delve into a Sith temple together, the least he could do was give them a name. Glancing at their speeder bike for only a second, Alicio decided to walk towards the tomb, pausing for the boys to either ride or walk alongside him.

"If you don't mind me asking," the Count murmured, a ponderous gait to his walk, "Who is this 'us' you speak of?"

Alicio had a particular soft spot for the Jedi Order. If they thought these people were terrorists, there was a non-zero chance they were.

- Galahad Io -

 

[Dev Ossian]

“Then would you say you are… a Force User?” Galahad suggested. The term seemed neutral enough.

Galahad and Lance parked their bikes nearer to the entrance and followed Alicio into the pyramid.

"Who is this 'us' you speak of?"

Galahad smiled thinly. “We are—”

“House Io,” Lance interrupted.

“Lance, what did I tell you about letting me do the talking?”

“I don’t give a damn,” he shot back. “I’m a Son of Io, and I’m loud and I’m proud about it!”

Heaving a sigh, Galahad glanced over at Alicio, watching for a reaction from the man. “Well, there you have it. I assume you’ve heard of Laertia Io, now known as Darth Xiphos?”

“We call her Mother,” Lance added with a smirk.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

"I think everyone that uses the Force is a Force-user, so... yes." He nodded slowly, keeping stride with Galahad and Lancelot as they caught up with him. "A more apt description might be... curious, I guess."

“We are—”

“House Io.”

Oh. So they were terrorists.

In the most strict definition of the word. Alicio had heard of at least some of the atrocities the House and their matron had committed. Alicio tried to keep his shock from his face, but of course, a little leaked through.

"I... know of Xiphos," the Count ventured diplomatically. To be fair, he didn't have much. Just the common knowledge every citizen could rattle off about enemies of the state. "A Sith Lord, unaffiliated with the Maw, or any other Sith factions. She's..." he stopped himself. Perhaps he shouldn't say anything bad about the androids' mother. "She has a brutal reputation."

The massive stone door to the prison, which would have been closed, was crumbling to bits, leaving enough room for the Sons of Io and the Organa entry. The room was dark, but pleasantly warm, with long-since worn iconography of ancient Sith Lords staring domineeringly from the walls.

"So, how versed are you in Cold War-era Sith tombs?" He phrased the question like a joke, palming his lightsaber, and igniting it for some extra light, letting the dark blue and black of his blade guide their way.

- Galahad Io -

 

[Dev Ossian]

“A reputation she doesn’t mind,” Lance said. “Precept 10: ‘War is Cruelty. There is no use in trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it's over.’ That’s one of House Io’s core tenets.”

Galahad frowned. Alessandra Io had also quoted Precept 10 to him recently, using it against her pacifistic brother during a spirited debate. The reminder was troubling, but more importantly Galahad sought to avoid conflict whenever possible, and he was afraid the Senator would become antagonistic now that he knew whom they served.

But Alicio didn’t seem too bothered by it, or at least not enough to pick a fight or flee immediately. He continued to lead them into the ruins, eventually winding up in a dark room decorated with Sith hieroglyphics.

The room was pleasantly warm compared to the desert outside. Accordingly, both Galahad and Lance shed their dusters. Galahad appeared to be wearing little more than civilian clothing underneath, clad in the type of outfit a stuffy college professor or traditionalist nobleman would wear. Lance, on the other hand, was fully decked out in a suit of scavenged armor he had built himself.

"So, how versed are you in Cold War-era Sith tombs?"

“Off the cuff, not much,” Galahad answered. “But I can access any relevant information remotely so long as I still have a Holonet connection.”

He began taking pictures of the icons on the walls with his datapad, while Lance bravely ventured forth beyond the radius of Alicio’s light, ready to take on anything that might emerge from the depths.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

Lance earned a heavy frown from the Count, lightsaber held high overhead to cast long blue shadows around him. "A war doesn't end until the wounds of the war have healed." He couldn't say much else. Instead, he just shut his mouth, gave Galahad a curious look, and continued on.

Still, the thought did irritate him. Cruelty couldn't be the answer to a better galaxy.

Alicio pondered over one of the walls, looking up at a masked individual on a frieze, their arms extended like a benevolent ruler, even as bowing slaves graced their feet. He ran a finger along a string of Sith text. The Kindness of Darth Custos. "I've been to only one before. On Tython," the Count said, dark eyes drinking in the scene. "It was... unpleasant. They did ever so love their trials and tests."

"But this place tastes... ah, feels different in the Force," the senator noted, lowering his blade to his side. "I don't sense much darkness. On Tython, the Dark was concentrated. Infested into the stones, over hundreds of years. Here's it's... faded, I think. Still present, but smudged. Lighter."

"If that makes sense."

Lance's incursion further into the temple was cut short by the sound of grating stone and metal, as two ancient blaster turrets dropped from the ceiling. They seemed to warm up for a moment, before sparking and firing at the android

- Galahad Io -

 

[Dev Ossian]

“What if the wounds don’t ever heal?” Lance called back over his shoulder. “What if they just keep getting worse, keep bleeding, keep hurting, without end? What then?”

Galahad kept silent, focusing on his work, not wanting to get involved in the discussion. He looked up when Alicio mentioned having been to another tomb. “Tython?” he echoed. The attempted annihilation of the Jedi homeworld had been… difficult for House Io. The damages and casualties incurred had been catastrophic…

“I’m surprised you found a Sith tomb there,” he continued, putting those thoughts aside. “What sort of trials and tests did you face?”

Alicio spoke of how the place felt in the Force. Galahad couldn’t help but be fascinated by any description of the mystical energy that bound the galaxy together. “Lance and I were designed to serve as spiritual and community leaders, yet due to our genetic makeup, we are ‘born’ entirely dead to the Force, the source of just about every faith and creed in the galaxy,” he murmured. “That creates something of a paradox at the core of our nature. We love that which we can never truly understand.”

Tilting his head, he moved closer to Alicio, trying to get a better look at the text on the wall. “The Kindness of Darth Custos,” he read aloud, translating the text. “It’s not every day you hear a Darth being described as ‘kind’. Perhaps that was how this Custos fellow wanted to be remembered. Unless…”

He trailed off, hearing the sounds of blaster fire. Further ahead, Lance had taken cover behind a wall, firing back at the turrets with his blaster carbine.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

"Then the war doesn't end," Alicio said, simply.

Galahad's surprise at a Tythonian tomb was warranted, as Alicio gave him a small smile. "Trust me, I was as surprised as you. I think it was an exiled Lord, left behind after an attack on the Jedi, though I never got any definite answers."

"Ancient torture machines to open doors, ring puzzles, Force locks... The works." It had been an unpleasant experience. So far, he far preferred Dromund Fels.

Galahad's continued musing brought a wistful look to his face. He had guessed the brothers had been made, especially since they'd revealed their allegiance to House Io. But an existence designed to study the Force, while never knowing the Force, was a difficult reality. Still, Alicio liked to believe in silver linings. "The Jedi say the Force flows through all things. Just because you can't interact with it, doesn't mean it can't interact with you. The Force led me here, to you. Which means, in a way, the Force led you to me, too." He managed a small nod, his kind eyes reflecting the blue of his saber.

Then, his eyes turned to the inscription. He was about to comment on the text, perhaps to say that the title was likely ironic, before the sound of blaster bolts could be heard from ahead. Alicio turned on a dime, dashing to the side of Lance, his blade flashing dexterously around him. "Pleasedon'tshootme-" he barked out quickly, stepping in front of the Io, blade spinning back and forth to create a wall of light between the blasters and his new ally.

Hopefully giving Lance the opportunity he needed to fire back.

- Galahad Io -

 

[Dev Ossian]

“Really? And you survived all of it?” Galahad was impressed. For such a squishy human, even a Force User, to have made it through such trials intact was noteworthy indeed.

Alicio had a few kind words for him on the subject of the Force, but all further discussion was put on hold by the attack from the laser turrets. While the senator rushed to help, Galahad followed him, taking cover behind the shield Alicio provided with his lightsaber.

“Shoot you? Why, I would never!” Lance destroyed one turret with a barrage of focused, continuous fire. The other continued to blast at the intruders.

Galahad’s hand began to hum, electricity sparking between his fingertips as he raised his arm toward the remaining turret and fired a blast of ION energy. Circuits frying, it exploded in a shower of sparks and rusted metal.

Lance laughed and clapped his brother on the back. “Nice one, Mr. Pacifist.”

One corner of his mouth turning up in a half-smile, Galahad shook the remaining static out of his hand. “Turrets aren’t in possession of a consciousness. Otherwise I would have left it to you two to defend us.”

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

"'Survived' being the operating word."

Alicio was thankful for his Soresu lessons with Amani, as they allowed him to keep track of the barrage of blasts from both turrets. Still, he couldn't do much else besides flash his blade back and forth, catching red bolts and turning them harmlessly to the side. In a classic shield-and-sword maneuver, Lance used the opportunity to destroy one, while the other was shocked into silence by Galahad.

Alicio lowered his weapon, letting out one long, calm breath, and regarding both brothers with a thank you in his eyes. If he had been alone, that battle would have been much harder. Having the two Io's around was proving to be a benefit. As long as they didn't betray him. Which was still a possibility.

Still, Alicio found himself sidling up next to Galahad as they all continued further into the structure. The floor sloped down into red sandstone steps, descending into the darkness below.

"Mr. Pacifist?," the nobleman repeated, curious. "It's hard to imagine any servant of the Sith to care for peace. Um... no offence."

- Galahad Io -

 

[Dev Ossian]

“His brain got damaged when we were trifurcated,” Lance answered first. “To be honest, I think it messed up all three of us. It was an accident, anyway. Uh, Galahad, our other brother Percival, and me used to be three-in-one, until we got stuck to this giant magnet, and—”

“You don’t have to get into all that,” Galahad interrupted. “My pacifism has been misattributed to an error in my programming, by members of the House who are less… contemplative in matters of war. But why resort to violence when it’s within my power to talk a person down, defeating them psychologically rather than with weapons?”

He gave Alicio a knowing look. “Sith or not, House Io’s ultimate goal is peace. Take the wording of Precept 10, for instance. ‘The crueler war is, the sooner it’s over.’ The end is still a cessation of hostilities, even if you do not agree with the means.” He inclined his head. “I don’t think there’s any ideology or philosophy that advocates for perpetual conflict. The Brotherhood of the Maw claims to be working towards a galactic rebirth—many of them truly believe they are killing in the name of a better future. Technically we all want the same thing, we merely disagree about how to achieve it.”

Facing the sandstone steps, he shone a light down into the depths. The beam, while high-powered, wasn’t strong enough to penetrate the darkness. "Who wants to go first?" he asked.

Lance, naturally, sauntered on ahead of them, descending the stairs. It was subtle, but Galahad knew his brother well enough to notice that he wasn't quite as brazenly fearless about it as he had been when they first entered the tomb.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

Alicio spared a glance to Lance, trying to keep the mild disdain from his face. The man's notion that being pacifistic was a flaw, rather than an ideal, rubbed him the wrong way. Lightsaber still held loosely in front of him, Alicio kept his mouth shut until Galahad corrected his brother, and further elaborated.

"Victory and peace are different," Alicio said, staring at the walls as they passed. More Sith runes were scrawled along the edges of their vision, depicting great Sith wardens and jailors, shown torturing prisoners and worshipped by their people. "I'm sure the Maw want victory. To attain a new galaxy. But they don't want peace. They want to win."

"'True peace' doesn't exist, anyways." Perhaps the one thing he and the Sith could agree on. "The chase for peace is a noble path, but it isn't worth committing atrocities over. That only adds fuel to the next fire. Continues the circle of violence."

Alicio stopped at the edge of the stairway, glancing down into an inky forever. In large text on the walls, was a poem.

May the Light be Swallowed by Shadow
Let the Heretics' Flames Burn them from Within
Until all is Dusk and Dust
​

Alicio was quick to follow behind Lance, lightsaber up and at the ready.

- Galahad Io -

 

[Dev Ossian]

“I would like to know how we could have peace without achieving victory first,” Galahad said sincerely. “It always seems like one side has to win, either by making the other side surrender or by defeating them.”

“Our enemies don’t want to stop,” Lance muttered in the dark. “But they must be stopped.”

“That’s true,” Galahad mused aloud. “The Maw are a good example of that sort of foe. The Bryn’adul were, too. They had to be destroyed utterly before they ceased to be a threat…”

But Lance had latched on to something else Alicio had said. “Really? If you had the chance to stop a brutal, bloody, wasteful war by committing a single atrocity, you wouldn’t do it on principle?”

“Lance, please.”

“Let me talk! I’m a Chaplain, same as you! Stop treating me like I’m all brawn and no brains!” Lance snapped.

Galahad was quiet.

“Now, let me give you an analogy, so you can see what you sound like to me," Lance continued. "War is like a group of people sitting down to a meal. Every person is a faction, and the foods they eat are their deeds. The vegetables on your plate are all the cruelties, war crimes, and other unpleasant things—I consider green peas an atrocity anyway. Dessert is peace. It comes only after the meal is over. But if you don’t eat your vegetables, you get no dessert. You’re the kid who pushes his plate away and refuses to eat his vegetables because he doesn’t like how they taste.”

“That analogy implies that war is healthy, while peace is not,” Galahad muttered, his attention divided between the conversation and the poem etched into the walls. “But I’ll humor you. What does the meat and other food on the kid’s plate represent?”

“All the people who will be slaughtered anyway, whether an ‘atrocity’ is ever committed or not,” Lance replied with a scowl. “I can't wait to see how many more lives will be lost by your refusal to swallow a few veggies, Alicio. No dessert for you."

"So... the kid in your analogy eats only meat at every meal?"

"Exactly!" Lance exclaimed. "Study a little history, and you’ll see that atrocities have stopped wars. So what's your real excuse, Alicio? Are you too afraid to dirty your hands? Do you actually think that your enemies will listen to what you have to say? Even Galahad can’t talk down Mawites. Believe me, I’ve watched him try. I had to save him afterwards when they tried to destroy him.”

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

"As long as victory is the method, and not the end goal," Alicio added after another moment of thought. There was no use in winning, if that was where it ended. Figuring out what happens after, the governance, the rebuilding, was far more important in Alicio's mind.

Lance posed an interesting dilemma. Slightly flawed, as Galahad pointed out, but it made the Count think, as they all ventured down beneath the desert sands. He let it stew in his mind for a minute or so before responding, grey eyes focusing on something beyond sight until they crystalized again.

"I imagine one acquires a taste for vegetables, after enough time," Alicio finally said, thoughtfulness in his voice. "If one chooses to stomach it enough, they may learn to love it. And vegetarians don't need the incentive of dessert to eat their greens."

"I'm... hesitant, of absolutes, Lancelot. Causing great suffering is probably the quickest way to resolve conflict, but it leaves the deepest scars, too. Think of the Scar Worlds. Think of Csilla." Alicio frowned. "The Bryn, the Maw, they've committed atrocity after atrocity. But the Bryn have nearly faded away, and the Brotherhood hasn't changed the galaxy yet."

"What enemies has House Io destroyed? Truly, completely pacified through violence?" It wasn't a 'gotcha', Alicio simply had no idea, and his tone betrayed that bit of curiosity.

- Galahad Io -

 

[Dev Ossian]

“It’s possible to develop a taste for any food,” Lance retorted. “And people who eat meat are just as common—if not more common—than vegetarians. Not all of them care about dessert, either.”

He seemed surprised when Alicio actually admitted (at least halfway) that Lance had a point. But his shock didn’t stop him from continuing to argue. “I don’t have to think of the Scar Worlds or Csilla. I’ve been there and seen it for myself. Those planets were attacked and destroyed by invaders who were allowed to get away, literally, with murder. The Silver Jedi and the Alliance and the Chiss tried to defend themselves, but they didn’t commit any atrocities to protect them. If anything, being just as brutal to the invaders as they were to the defenders might’ve saved those worlds!”

Galahad set his jaw, his gaze flicking back and forth between Lance and Alicio. He was wondering whether he should try to put a stop to this impromptu debate (after all, it wasn’t exactly the best time or place to be having a discussion), or if he should just let the conversation run its course. Part of him wanted to jump in and add his thoughts.

“House Io is not a major galactic superpower,” Galahad answered Alicio’s question. “We can’t claim any victories that were exclusively ours. Instead, we come to the aid of other, larger factions, operating as allies in their battles. We fought against the Bryn’adul throughout that war, and we’re currently fighting the Maw. Most recently we fought at Tython and Panatha, at great cost to our forces. Though they tolerate our presence on the battlefield, none of the major superpowers like us. We are seen as too brutal, even when they benefit from our help.”

Alicio Organa​