Private A Meeting With A Triumvir

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

The shower had refreshed him immediately, wiping away the grime and blood, and aches of his last battle. The Lochris again served as his home away from home, with all the creature comforts he would need to live independently on the ship. A kitchenette, bathroom, and toilet were the least of the amenities he desired, but the rest would come in time. Of the battle, to call it such was generous enough, he had been beaten through and through, yet he still stood, alive. It seemed his Mistress had no disinclination towards deceit, perhaps he should have assumed as such she was the leader of the Tsis'Kaar after all, and what need did a Triumvir have to kill an acolyte? There was no doubt they could, of course, but it was far below their concern. Indeed, it had been a test... of sorts, one which he had seemingly passed. He was apprenticed now, apprenticed to one of the Triumvirate, he had kept his giddiness to himself at that moment, for at the time he was fueled only by adrenaline, yet now, alone, without witnesses, he let his feast rock back and forth, smile a small distinguished smile, he was on his way, on his way to the greatness promised by his birth.

Indeed he was well on his way to the completion of that objective as well, he was close, he could feel it, he had almost decoded and translated the document he had found at Korriban. That meant, he was very close to the location of the great Darth Marr's Holocron. When he would return to Saijo, and the Palace of Silver Rain, he was going to have to move immediately to the library, and begin looking again. He was tantalisingly close, Dromund Kaas, he knew that much, but with just a little more, he could find exactly where all the knowledge he could ever need was.

However yet, there was still one more distraction before he could return.

The flashing lights of blue and white gave away, as the Lochris came out of hyperspace. The slight turbulence gave away, without his reaction, he had flown the Lochris across the galaxy, every movement was careful and caring now, like one of a lover's caress.

His red eyes looked ahead and found them softening. Jutrand. His home.

He was sorely tempted to fly to his family's manse, perhaps tell them in person what he was incredibly nervous to tell them, of Trayze's existence, of his new apprenticeship.

Yet he put those thoughts away from him, that was not why he had returned to Jutrand. For soon after being taken upon as Darth Ophidia's apprentice, he received a command, calling for his presence to Jutrand, by none other than Darth Empyrean, another of the Triumvirs, leader of the Eternalists. He felt less nervous than his meeting with Ophidia, for after he dueled a Triumvir and lived, there was not much to worry you, but he still felt his hands grow clammy in his gloves.

The question of why was questioned in his mind again.

Perhaps he wished to kill him?

Perhaps he wished to take him on as an apprentice?

The irony of the deja vu was very much felt.

His starfighter crested into the planet's atmosphere, and he could make out through the smog and smoke the massive city that was the entire planet. Many a company held dominion here, perhaps not caring for the presence of it as the Sith capital, perhaps being emboldened by it. His family had been lucky in a sense, here before such things, holding premium lands in the outskirts where they need not wake to the sight of urban development, instead, the very last forests and plant life on the planet.

He wiped his mind off the thoughts of his family, he was being summoned, so let him focus on that. The invitation had been to the Intergalactic Banking Clan's Tower, which was interesting in its own right. He had always thought the Kainities were the ones of wealth, of business, and political influence, perhaps he had judged too soon if Darth Empyrean held command or even influence of the wealthy Intergalactic Banking Clan. He could make out its height from kilometres away, of a city of skyscrapers that seemed to all wish to reach the heavens, it seemed they had made the most progress, it was lithe yet sturdy, perhaps a reflection of the company itself.

He flew the Lochris up to the top of the tower, finding a landing bay, and gracefully bringing it to a shortstop.

---

Malum's steps were covered by the sounds of strong winds which were the mainstay of any highrise, finding himself in the middle, he found none. This was not strictly the case, there were other starfighters about, parked on top of the roof, and a few guards and engineers scurrying about completing their jobs. But no Sith, should he just wait... or go towards the entrance? Perhaps the best option was to wait and see.

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

After a few moments, a Sith in great black armor descended upon Malum. His visage shrouded by an opaque visor, there was no words he spoke - instead Malum would feel the small tug of the Force to encourage him to follow. The large Sith turned around and began to walk through the halls of the great tower - offering nothing in conversation or contempt. Instead he was dutiful and stoic, bringing him to a large door and ushering him inside.​

​

Within was the Dark Lord. Just to stand in his presence was terrifying, like holding up a great weight, or breathing in sludge - it was constricting and eternal, endless and inescapable. Only now did the rumors of him being 'The Dead God' make sense - for more than he was a corpse, he was death incarnate. To stand next to him was to stand on the precipice of death at all times.​

​

The Dark Lord turned over his shoulder to the Marr Heir, his face placid and unreadable. His eyes were metal, his arm missing - and a giant wound into his torso visible. Instead of organs or gore however, an ever churning black smoke of pure dark side energy shifted within its depths. What carnage befell the Dark Lord was not obvious, but it was clear that even death was beneath him.​

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"Malum Marr.", he said plainly.​

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"You have become an object of notice. Good or bad, you've raised above your station to something dangerous. I am Darth Empyrean, and you will tell me of the circumstances surrounding your allegiance to the great snake, Darth Ophidia."​

​

Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He followed without complaint, the silence was perhaps more worrying than any negative reaction, and it would have taken a miracle for a positive reaction from the hulking, silent, and armoured figure. His red eyes made glancing looks through the darkened corridors, making out figures enumerating about, stands holding items of undoubted import, but which he could not make out, and closed cold doors, which only furthered the feelings of claustrophobia or perhaps it was agoraphobia. The temptation to ask questions lingered, but such feelings, such environments won out in the end, and he kept his lips silent.

The silence continued as the man stopped outside a set of intimidating large doors, taller than him, perhaps taller than two of hims. The smell of death wafted through the area and too filled him with a sense of dread. It only increased further as the man left, an unconscious comfort as the doors opened, and he found himself walking forth without conscious command. The smell only grew worse, as he felt his nose scrunch up to be away from the scent of slime and death, it was enough for him to taste, enough for him to feel a vague weight upon his chest.

The Dead God indeed, a Corpse King, a Carcass Lord. He was less man and more metal in many ways, more magic and alchemy than natural, an arm was missing, and a wound torn into his torso that smelled of ash and darkness more than copper. He had now found out that his Mistress had once fallen, and all knew that Emperor Carnifex had been felled, only to still belong among the living, was this last Triumvir too then also one who had faced death? Were they all led by more corpses than living?

Was it that they all had surpassed death, held no fear in it, that they still surpassed all of them? Would he need to die, to ever reach such realms of power?

As soon as he noticed Darth Empyrean's head look to face him, he had a knee upon the floor, his hand laying upon it, as his eyes stared resolutely upon the darkness. Yet he was not entirely fast enough, and for the briefest of moments their eyes had met red meeting metal, but nothing came about them.

His mouth motioned to introduce himself, only to be cut off.

Darth Emyprean knew who he was. He could not quite tell if that was to his advantage, or to his detriment. It did provide him a hint though, "Malum Marr", said as if it was any name, Darth Emyprean cared naught for nobilitas and titles, it stang, certainly, but he had already been through one such encounter with a Triumvir, they cared naught for his heritage, a conundrum all his family had faced, all his ancestors, it was to him to make them care.

It was the other statement that caused him far more worry.

He had brought himself into this contest of the Triumvirs. Bound himself to Darth Ophidia, in implicit opposition to Darth Carnifex-Demiurge, and of course, Darth Empyrean. It seemed one of them had decided to strike first, but if that would be bloody or diplomatic centred upon him. His Mistress had battled him with most of her power held back, he had doubts if Darth Empyrean would be so accommodating. The question of how he knew was another matter, as far as he knew, no one had witnessed his battle with his Mistress, and even if they had, Fiviune was a Tsis'Kaar world, who would have informed Darth Empyrean? Had he known as soon as he left Saijo for Fiviune? But he was nothing more than an acolyte, no one important enough to keep track of.

Time was running short, and questions like those could be investigated and answered later.

Darth Empyrean knew that he was an apprentice, and his Mistress would know his presence here, it was unlikely he would be slain here. He could not count on his Mistress having any affection for him of course, more that he was sure that she would not allow such an insult to stand. He could already see that the Triumvirate was teetering at the moment, as such an agreement always was going to be, for a Triumvir to slay another Triumvir's apprentice... it may be too much.

"Darth Empyrean, Triumvir of the Sith Order, I shall answer truly and justly," His eyes kept their resolute stare upon the ground, his voice raised to be within the Triumvir's register. He had to be careful here, he could not reveal too much, but at the same time, could not reveal too little, "I was summoned by Darth Ophidia to meet her, without any real explanation, there she asked me various philosophical questions regarding the Sith and personal worth. In a matter of circumstance, a duel erupted between us, one in which I was soundly defeated. However, instead of killing me, she took me on as an apprentice." It was vague, but it was true. Yet, in reciting the tale, something prickled his mind, what exactly did the Dead God mean by him "raising above his station" ?

He wisely kept silent.

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean turned away from him once more, and listened idly to the story he told. His only arm held itself in a fist near the small of his back, his gaze seeming to watch the horizon of the city world - but when he was done it would be as though his attention was always on Malum.​

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"Telling.", he offered simply.​

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"And in this, did you consider the consequences? Were you to return to your home upon Jutrand, would you be suprised to find it burned to ash and cinder for presuming I would not know you have aligned with my enemy?"​

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Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Well, he was not dead, so that probably implied he was doing better than he was doing worse. Yet he was not out of the battlefield yet, so he must keep his wits about him. He tried to keep his breathing calm, but the threat to his home, and his family, was close to too much to bear. He could need to truly consider having them move, yet... where would be a place that was outside Darth Empyrean's reach?

The only solution would be to convince him otherwise from this potential course.

His eyes still stared resolutely downward, both out of respect, and... so not to see his eyes again, a notion of fear had come upon his heart, and he did not wish to feed it.

"The House of Marr, myself included have always been loyal to the Sith Order, for thousands of generations and even more years we have revealed and proved our loyalty. I knew I need not be surprised to find my home well and orderly, for I knew this loyalty to be known to all. As I arrived promptly to your summons, as did I arrive promptly to Darth Ophidia's, as she took me on as an apprentice, it was my loyalty that made me not even consider refusal to one of the pillars of our hallowed order."

Loyalty was a hard colour to wear when one dressed in black and wore red eyes, but it was the sentiment that would hopefully save him. He could only be optimistic that it was a quality that would appeal to the Triumvir.

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

"A dog is loyal. I've put down my share of dogs all the same, Malum of House Marr.", Empyrean said with a cold certainty.​

​

"Consider the consequences of loyalty, and the actions you undertake for another. I have not harmed your house and its people - the honored bloodline of The Lord of Duty will be not turned to ash this day. If you act against me, there will be nowhere for you to hide from my wroth - and while you may have the protection of Darth Ophidia, your family does not."​

​

"Know my words as equal threat and promise. I do not take kindly to vermin in my garden, Malum. If she intends to act against me, you will tell me - or you will face horrors unspeakable. Is this understood?"​

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Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Well that had backfired, yet his head was still connected to his neck, so he had something to be thankful for, he supposed. What Darth Empyrean said, no matter how... worrying, was interesting in its own right. Either he considered loyalty to not be a worthwhile virtue, or he considered it alone to not be sufficient enough, whichever it was, would speak greatly on how Darth Empyrean ruled the Eternalists.

Of another note was a matter most surprising.

"the honoured bloodline of the Lord of Duty" ? Malum was taken aback, his family had always been derided as paupers, as fools chasing after a lost legacy, to have a Triumvir of all people... recognise his heritage, his ancestry, it was bizarre. Not even his Mistress had proclaimed such reverence onto his family, Yet, he was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and if it was an advantage to be used, it would be one to be exploited.

Of the threat to his family... well, a temptation came over him to take one of his lightsabers and slay the unkillable where he stood.

But that thought only lasted a second before his mind thoroughly clobbered the more emotive portion of his mind, snarking at the futility of that course.

"I can tell you with all honesty that my Mistress has not informed of any desire or plan to strike against you, moreover, I am forced to inform you that my Mistress as part of my apprenticeship has deigned to extend her protection to my family," It was a minor fib, one that he could not likely be confidently called out, but one that was absolutely necessary, a threat to his family, no matter how small or large, could not be allowed to act without restriction, "As a dog is loyal, so are friends, so are kin and allies, all up to the moment their daggers are embedded into backs. I will confidently state I am no dog, Darth Empyrean." It was cheeky, but absolute submission would not work, he could see, so how would some bite be responded with?

He felt his fingers grow clammy by their gloves, let it be a response that left him in his current state.

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Empyrean stilled at the response, and turned for the first time to truly face Malum. His face was contorted into fury - and the will of the Force he carried began to bear down on the Apprentice. The closest experienced to it was a high speed maneuver in a starfighter within atmosphere - as though the entire world pulled on him directly, threatening to drive his nose into the ground.​

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"Do not presume what you are to me.", he said, chastising the young Marr for declaring himself 'not a dog'.​

​

"I have given you a courtesy in not killing you, a courtesy I have not turned your family to ash before your eyes."​

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He stayed quiet there for a moment, simply staring and exerting his will upon the Acolyte.​

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"Do you know what would happen if I ended you here and now, Malum of House Marr?", Empyrean said with a snarl.​

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"Darth Ophidia would send me a warning - perhaps even demand recompense. Recompense that in my realm means nothing. Your greatest accolade would be a negative mark on my ledgers - so consider your words more carefully when you speak."​

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And then the pressure was free - his breath was his again, his will was his own. Empyrean turned away once more, and the room's dangerous edge faded, dulled, and fell away into the background noise of a conversation.​

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"I do not ask for details of her every meal - only what she plans against myself. This was not a request, nor a bargain - it simply is."​

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Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

Malum resisted the gasp that threatened to leave his lips as suddenly his entire body was forced to experience the full presence of the Dead God. His breaths came out quickly and sharply, as the sensation of thirst was felt prominently. A mistake then, no challenge should be given at all, either Darth Empyrean did not care for such in absolute principle, or Malum was too weak to warrant raising himself so. He noted it down in the future in his mental log, yet secretly hoped he would never need to actually be in such a position of submission to the Corpse King again.

"My Mistress' secrets are not for me to disclose, only for me to use for my own purposes," He gave a slight shiver, as Darth Empyrean's eyes left him, being able to properly breathe without the weight of doom being upon him, "If my purpose is to betray my Mistress, as Sith Apprentices have done time and time again, then it is so, I shall maintain my course of truth, my Mistress has no plans against you, Darth Empyrean." It was the truth, his truth, his Mistress had given him no indication let alone plan to strike against the Carcass Lord, if such plans did exist, they were not trusted to him.

He did hope that what Darth Emyprean said about his worth to Darth Ophidia was false, he did not expect her to have any actual affection for him, but he had now joined the great game, the competition between the Sith factions, and if his worth to one of her opposition could only be measured in credits, credits Malum did not doubt he would pay... it would be a troubling place for both him and his family. Perhaps it would be best for him to remove himself from Sith Space as quickly as he could once he decoded the document.

"My apologies Darth Empyrean, I thank you for the courtesies that you have thus far granted me." It was short and to the point, let it be what Darth Empyrean wished to hear.

Darth Empyrean

 

[Darth Empyrean]

"Stand up.", he commanded - though it lacked the dark implications one might expect.​

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"In time you will learn that even your 'Mistress' answers to someone, Malum. I do not doubt she has no designs she would impart upon you yet - but know that if you are to use the knowledge you have of her for your own gain, let it be that you gain your life."​

​

The door to the office opened, and the same Sith with no name or face entered carrying a box. He offered to Malum, and then departed. It would open upon his command, and within he would find a small bottle of ashes. He could sense the importance of it, the strength of this small artifact - no larger than his thumb.​

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"Within is a gift - for your family. It is a portion of Darth Marr's ashes, and while the church holds more of his artifacts, I have ordained you recieve a portion of what was. Know that I am a generous beneficiary, Malum of House Marr. Know that I am a vindictive one as well."​

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"Go. Do not forget your obligation to me."​

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Darth Malum of House Marr​

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

He stood up at the command, almost instantaneously, at first fearing for himself, before allowing the tone of the command to relax him, barely, he seemingly had not offended the Triumvir... he hoped. His eyes still refused to meet the Dead God, standing silently and stiffly as he allowed the voice of the ma- the corpse to waft over him. He refused to give anything, not even a nod, as acknowledgment or worse, acceptance of what was being said, deals with Devils rarely went well for those involved... well apart from for the Devil of course.

His body was coiled so tight that he almost collapsed when the door to the chambers suddenly opened, the guide from before which had led him here from the rooftop to within the Intergalactic Banking Clan Tower walked forth, every step being another tense moment for Malum, as he stopped in front of him. Malum's eyes finally had their curiosity tempted, looking up, and finding a box held by the silent hulking man. Without a great show, presenting it to him, and then walking away, the doors closing behind him.

Then, the box opened and he found himself even more curious. Ashes, in a small bottle. Yet... they radiated darkness, radiated power... radiated familiarity.

His eyes widened as the explanation was given forth from the Corpse King's lips. The ashes of the great Darth Marr, he blinked rapidly at them, perhaps not believing it to be true. His hands moved out, and his fingers coiled around the bottle, and instantly, he saw, a vision.

---

"It is YOU who fears death, "Valkorian." I do not. I will not kneel!"

He turned quickly, calling upon the Force to his hands, to push aside one of these so-called Knights of Zakhuul, bringing forth one of their lightsaber pikes to his hand. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw three of them advancing upon him, shields held high as if they would save them.

Throwing it out like a javelin, with all the strength behind him, he smirked beneath his mask as it broke through one's armour, and then with enough force to throw him back to his comrades and fell them too. His eyes moved to his peripherals, another charging him, another fool.

Bringing the force to him again, he pushed it out of his hands, with such force to send the man off the railing to his inevitable death. He was pumping with adrenaline, the intoxication of combat being far more powerful than all other forces. He would now just need to kill Valkorian himself, to end this farce.

His masked face, red eyes blaring turned to face the so-called Eternal Emperor, the ever-silent Sith Emperor, raising his hand to prepare to send lightning forth towards the throne of a tyrant.

The orange eyes were the last he saw.

Blazing orange eyes, connected to arms pointed towards him.

Connected to bolts of purple lightning.

He made not a sound as he accepted his fate. He had been beaten.

---

Malum's kneels buckled, as he fell upon the floor, one hand branching out to stop his full collapse, as another grasped tightly the bottle of ashes. He breathed in and out heavily, over and over, as sweat trailed his brow. He was not sizzling, nor were there burns, but he felt the pain acutely enough, all the way to his core he felt the lightning strike him. He felt it on his skin, he felt it in his bones, he felt it in all senses of meaning. Such was the power of Emperor Valkorian, was such power comparable to any of the three Triumvirs who ruled the Sith currently, comparable to any force across the galaxy? He could not quite say for certain.

His breaths were still heavy, as he rose from the floor, he was not certain what Darth Empyrean would make from such a show. The bottle was still coiled around his fingers, it felt natural, an extension of him, it was warm to the touch, a comforting warmth, a feeling of another, no longer feeling alone.

Feeling the dryness of his mouth, he gave a short bow.

"I thank you for your generosity, Darth Empyrean, my apologies for that display." Even if embarrassing, what could the Dead God truly take away from what happened? That he had a reaction to the gift was all, he would need to look into this, visions meant something, and such a visceral vision could mean either dread or ascent in equal measure.

He would await Darth Empyrean's last words, and then indeed take his advise, turn and leave back for Saijo, there was a lot to do.

Darth Empyrean