Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private A New Sheriff in Town


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Location: On Board the Dictator-III “Triumphant” | Harridan Orbit
Tags: Gavin Vel Gavin Vel
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather
Color Code: #bfa335

A shadow slowly passed over “spaceport city” the most populated and capital city of the planet Harridan.

This shadow belonged to the vessel known as “
The Triumphant” official designation of DIII-D16 a top of the line super battle cruiser from the N&Z Corperation.

The ship that now found itself in orbit carried the Iron Fist of the Diarchy. The elder Diarch himself had come to Harridan, news of its restlessness and lack of law had caught Reign’s eye, and his ire.

But his purpose here was two fold, for he had not come alone. He had summoned Gavin Vel to the cruiser before it had left Bastion orbit, not telling the newly risen optio the purpose of his presence.

He had kept himself distant from his former apprentice, leaving him to his training and meditations. Yet monitoring how the man comported himself as they travelled all the way across the breadth of Diarchy space.

As Harridan loomed in front of the viewport, Reign stood in front of the panes, the control pits on either side of him, he had finally summoned Vel, standing at the viewport gazing at the planet in front of him.





 
Gavin stood as still as a statue, his massive arms crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes closed, and his breathing measured. The Force wrapped around him like a living current, pressing against his skin, humming in his veins, filling every space of silence in the chamber. He remembered when that presence had been elusive, slippery, and impossible to control, always darting from his grasp no matter how hard he tried to seize it. Now it bent to his will. It was his to wield as he chose. Every lesson, every brutal spar, every word of discipline from Reign had shaped him into something greater than he ever believed possible. He was no longer the street brute breaking bones for credits on Nar Shaddaa. He was a weapon sharpened to a deadly edge, an enforcer for the Diarchy, a force to be unleashed on a galactic stage.

His eyes snapped open as the hiss of the chamber doors broke the silence. Without fully turning his head, Gavin shifted just enough to acknowledge the presence behind him. A nervous young messenger lingered in the doorway, shifting uneasily under the weight of Gavin's towering frame.

"Diarch Reign has summoned you," the messenger stammered.

Gavin uncrossed his arms in a single deliberate motion, the gesture alone enough to dismiss the man. The messenger bowed out quickly, eager to escape the tension that seemed to radiate from him. Gavin remained in place for a heartbeat longer, pondering why his master had chosen to summon him here of all places. Harridan was not a jewel of Diarchy space, nor a seat of great influence, but it had its worth. Perhaps there was a rebellion stirring, or some governor growing bold enough to forget his place. More likely, Gavin thought with a faint curl of satisfaction, Reign intended for him to remind Harridan what true fear felt like.

Turning on his heel, Gavin strode through the corridors of the ship with the predatory grace of a man who knew he commanded the room without uttering a single word. Once, his size had made him clumsy, reckless, but now every inch of his larger frame seemed honed and purposeful. His presence was weight enough to part those ahead of him, and he did not spare so much as a glance for the crew who dared to look his way. He was not their ally, nor their friend. He was Reign's hand, a shadow and a weapon, and to see him was to be reminded of the Diarchy's strength. Responsibility pressed down on his shoulders like the weight of a planet, and Gavin welcomed it. He wanted to be seen as unstoppable, a storm given flesh, a force of nature.

Yet the moment the doors opened and he stepped into the presence of his master, all of that fell away. The weapon was sheathed. The predator was subdued. In Reign's presence, Gavin felt a quiet unlike anything else in the galaxy, as if the storms within him stilled at the sight of the man who had forged him. He dropped to one knee without hesitation, lowering his head in deference. The black and gold of his robes whispered against the floor as he bowed, humbled in the only place he allowed himself to be so.

There was comfort here, strange as it was. The one who towered over almost everyone else became small in the shadow of the Diarch. Gavin had placed every ounce of trust, every shred of loyalty, into the man before him. It was not obedience out of fear, nor simply ambition. It was belief, absolute and unyielding, in Reign's vision and in the future they carved together.

"Harridan," Gavin said at last, his deep voice steady but tinged with anticipation. His head remained bowed, reverence clear in every movement. "Do they need to be brought to heel?"

The words came out slowly, but the hint of excitement was unmistakable. Beneath the surface calm, Gavin hungered for the chance to do what he did best.

Diarch Reign Diarch Reign
 

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Location: Triumphant Command Bridge | Harridan Orbit
Tags: Gavin Vel Gavin Vel
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather

As Vel approached, a faint smile could be seen pulling at the corner of Reign’s mouth. He could feel the fear that Gavin inspired in people, it was that fear that made the man such a powerful asset.

Yet Reign wanted more for Gavin than to just be a brute, he wanted him to learn to lead, to make something from nothing.

His eyes never left the planet as he spoke to the other man.


“Have I ever spoken to you about my father?”

Reign paused a minute before continuing.

“His teachings are the very foundation of the Diarchy. The marble within the high council chamber is from his manse on Taris, brought with us as we fled the encroaching Galactic Alliance”

He watched for a moment as a lone freighter entered the space the Triumphant was hovering in, and continued to descend towards the planet.

“He instilled in my brother and I, a hatred for chaos, and the ever present desire to bring order that is the mission of the Diarchy.”

He turned away from the viewport, striding through the command bridge, motioning Gavin to follow.

“Your purpose here is two-fold my friend. The people of Harridan are lawless, criminals by nature, they’ve lived this way since before even Palpatine’s empire.”

The door to the bridge slid open and they were now walking down illuminated and stark halls, Marines from the 1st fleet and their 1st legion counterparts patrolling and preparing.

“This planet needs to become a productive member of the Diarchy. I don’t want the destroyed, I want them contributing.”






 
Reign spoke of his father, and Gavin's head shot up as though the very words had been a command. He searched his mind, trying to recall if Reign had ever spoken of this before, but nothing surfaced. It was strange, almost unsettling, to hear his master reveal something so personal. Reign had always seemed untouchable, larger than life, a man shaped by vision and will rather than blood or heritage. For a brief moment, Gavin wondered what it meant, that Reign chose to speak of it now, and to him.

Of course, Reign already knew Gavin's story. Or rather, his lack of one. Gavin had no parents to speak of, no names to call upon, no heritage to lean on. The only truth he had ever uncovered was that they had abandoned him as an infant, discarded like trash on the streets of Nar Shaddaa. That thought, the echo of abandonment, lit a fire in him even now. His rage flared hot, boiling under his skin, and for a heartbeat he wanted nothing more than to smash a hole straight through the deck plates beneath his feet. His fingers twitched, but he caught himself. He wrestled that anger back down into the pit of his chest, forced it into the furnace of his will. He treated it not as a weakness but as a weapon, a resource that he could tap when the time came. Anger was not a curse, it was fuel, and he had learned to master it.

Rising to his feet, Gavin fell into stride beside Reign as they moved. He listened carefully, hearing once again the conviction in his master's voice. Reign despised chaos, sought to bend it into order, and Gavin had once thought the very idea was foolish. How could anyone bring order to a galaxy so consumed by war, greed, and corruption? It had seemed impossible, the sort of dream that only idealists clung to. Yet time with Reign had taught him otherwise. Gavin himself was proof of that truth. Once he had been chaos incarnate, a beast of fists and fury, yet under Reign's hand that chaos had been directed, sharpened, transformed into something useful. If he could be turned, then perhaps the galaxy could be as well. All it required was the right hand to guide it.

But still, there was weight in his master's words. To bring a world to heel was not the work of a single battle or a bloody demonstration. Fear could shake them, certainly, and Gavin could break bones and burn cities, but it would not change the nature of a people who had lived their way for centuries. Order would take time, resources, and relentless will. Gavin knew this, and for once, he did not shy from the patience required.

"I'll need time and resources," Gavin said quickly, his voice even and sure. He did not doubt for a moment that Reign would grant him whatever he required. "But I assure you that I can do what needs done. You have my word." His tone carried no hint of bravado. He meant every word. His word was his bond, and he had never broken it to Reign.

When the chamber doors opened, Gavin looked down upon the soldiers and officers rushing about, carrying out their duties. The sight stirred memories he thought he had buried. He saw himself as one of them once, a drone on the streets of Nar Shaddaa, doing whatever job he could scrape together to survive. He remembered the factory floor, the stench of oil and sweat, and the boss who had screamed in his face over some trivial mistake. Gavin had answered not with words, but with fists. He beat the man bloody, nearly to death, and it had taken five grown workers to drag him off. The memory made him grin even now. He had been a legend for a day or two in that corner of the undercity, the name on everyone's lips until the next spectacle replaced him. It was fleeting fame, but it had been enough to remind him that he was not meant to bow or crawl. He was meant to dominate.

"I assume I can do it my way, then?" Gavin asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked toward Reign. His question carried weight. Once, "his way" would have meant unrestrained violence, a trail of bodies left in his wake. But now it was different. He had grown under Reign's discipline, learned restraint, learned that violence was a tool rather than the whole answer. He was still a man of swift action and brutal consequence, but he no longer confused recklessness with strength. He had not mastered his temper completely, not yet, but he had learned enough to know he could not kill everything that opposed him. His way had changed. He would break when breaking was required, but he would also build, command, and enforce. Failure from others would not be tolerated, not by Gavin Vel.

Diarch Reign Diarch Reign
 

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Location: Triumphant | Hangar
Tags: Gavin Vel Gavin Vel
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather

They had reached the hangar bay, lined with shuttles and star fighters. The Triumphant was outfitted for war, Lilaste Order walkers and artillery prepped for battle.

He had felt the surprise at the mention of his father, Reign had assumed like most citizens of the Diarchy, Gavin had not considered where Reign and Rellik had come from, just that they were.

Yet the lesson Vel needed to learn was one Reign had to himself, once upon a time. Reign put his hands on the railing, looking out over the men and women in motion. All bearing the steel blue markings of the first. What Reign considered the “home legion and fleet”.


“I am leaving you the 32nd battalion of the 1st Legion Gavin. These men and women will be yours to command as you bring Harridan up to speed with the rest of our worlds”

He began to move now to the turbolift, making his way to the Upsillon shuttle that had become his hallmark. Myrmidons awaited the Diarch at his shuttle, as always. Snapping to attention as he arrived.

“You will have the time and resources you require, but make no mistake Gavin, this is a test. I will not be coming to pull you from the fire. For all intents and purposes, Harridan is now yours”

He settled into a chair within the shuttle as the pilot prepped for takeoff. They were going down planetside.

“But first, you need to pay a visit to what passes for a planetary government on this backwater. I will join you, but you will take the lead on this”




 
Gavin scanned the line of soldiers before him with a serious, appraising eye. Their armor gleamed in the hangar lights, black and crimson hues reflecting the colors of the Diarchy. Each stood tall and disciplined, yet Gavin could read the tension behind their rigid posture. He had worked with soldiers of the Diarchy before. They were well-trained, efficient, and loyal, but not always to the person giving the orders. Their loyalty lay with Reign and Rellick, as all proper soldiers of the Diarchy should. He knew that. Still, it made him wonder what they thought of him. Did they see him as a true commander, or just the weapon Reign kept on a leash?

It did not matter. Loyalty could be won in two ways: respect or fear. Gavin had no qualms about which came first. If they followed his lead and proved themselves, he would value them. If not, they would regret it.

"They'll do," Gavin said flatly, his tone offering no hint of approval or doubt. He turned away from the soldiers and fell into step beside Reign.

As they boarded the shuttle, Gavin's mind began to focus on the task ahead. The ship's interior was dimly lit, the soft hum of the engines creating a rhythm beneath his thoughts. He pulled his datapad from his belt, entered his access codes, and brought up the Network's archives. The screen flickered to life, displaying the emblem of the Diarchy before opening the encrypted files on their destination.

The name Harridan appeared in bold letters at the top of the screen. Gavin's expression darkened as he began to scroll through the intelligence reports.

Harridan was a world steeped in decay. Once a promising industrial hub on the Outer Rim, it had long since rotted from within. The planet's surface was scarred by endless refineries, mining pits, and sprawling urban wastelands where smog hung heavy in the air. Massive transport freighters carried supplies to and from its orbital docks, but the wealth generated by Harridan's exports never reached its people. It lined the pockets of the corrupt and the powerful.

The planet's capital, Spaceport City, dominated the northern hemisphere. It was a labyrinth of metal and grime, where massive durasteel towers rose from a sea of pollution. The streets below were choked with laborers, spice runners, and gang enforcers. The air buzzed with the sound of hovercraft and distant sirens, while the smell of burnt ozone and oil lingered in every breath. It was a city that never slept, never stopped bleeding, and never changed.

According to the dossier, two major gangs had carved the planet between them. On one side stood the Ravagers, a brutal organization that controlled the southern districts of Spaceport City and most of the black market trade. They thrived on fear, their ranks filled with spice smugglers and mercenaries who answered only to profit. Their leader, a Zeltron named Verris Kael, was known for his charm and cruelty. He ruled not by strength alone, but by manipulation, ensuring his rivals destroyed each other long before his enforcers needed to act.

Opposing them were the Iron Serpents, a far more militarized syndicate that had entrenched itself in the industrial sectors and outlying settlements. Led by a grizzled Nikto named Draek Soluun, they had seized control of the planet's most valuable asset: the Harridan Kyber Refinement Facility. The massive plant processed kyber crystals imported from Mygeeto, refining them for use in advanced weapon systems. The operation was officially sanctioned by the planetary government, but the truth was far darker. The Serpents had their claws deep in every layer of authority, using threats, bribes, and executions to maintain control.

The factory's workers were little more than slaves. Many were indentured citizens, forced to labor in hazardous conditions while armed guards watched from above. Anyone who refused was made an example of. It was efficient, brutal, and profitable, and the government pretended not to notice.

Gavin paused on the next file, which contained information on the planet's current Chancellor. The woman's image appeared on his datapad, her face framed by fine dark hair streaked with silver. Chancellor Merida Harn. Her records showed decades of service in the planetary bureaucracy, a sharp political mind, and a reputation for avoiding accountability. She presented herself as a reformer, but the reports painted a different picture. She had climbed to power through manipulation and double-dealing, forging quiet alliances with both gangs to keep her position secure. The Network's analysis labeled her as "complicit," but cunning enough to avoid being labeled a criminal.

Gavin leaned back in his seat, eyes narrowing at the dossier. Harridan was rotten to its core. The Chancellor ruled through deceit, the gangs ruled through fear, and the people survived in the cracks between them. Bringing a world like this to heel would not be easy. He would need soldiers who obeyed without hesitation, ships to enforce the Diarchy's will, and time to crush the systems that fed the corruption.

He looked up from his datapad and toward Reign, who stood quietly at the front of the shuttle, gazing out at the stars beyond the viewport. Gavin's jaw tightened. "Chancellor Harn," Gavin began, his tone heavy with thought. "She is corrupt, but useful. I intend to use her to get my way." He slid his datapad into the pocket of his robes, his expression hardening as he turned his gaze toward the viewport. Outside, the gray expanse of Harridan's skyline stretched into the distance.

As the transport vessel descended through the clouds, the landing pad came into view. A delegation was already gathered there, small figures against the harsh metallic surface of the platform. They stood in neat formation, each one carefully dressed, their posture rigid, their movements rehearsed. Gavin recognized the performance immediately.

It was a farce.

They were not there to greet their Diarch; they were there to survive him. The men and women assembled were not leaders, not equals, but sycophants and bureaucrats clinging to whatever scraps of power they could keep. They had been sent to smile, to flatter, and to kneel. Every face in the group carried the same mix of fear and false reverence, eyes flicking nervously toward the descending shuttle. They were terrified of Reign, and rightly so.

But Gavin's interest lay elsewhere. He was not concerned with the puppets; he wanted the puppeteer. The Chancellor. The one who allowed this corruption to take root and fed it for her own benefit. He would meet with her soon enough.

The shuttle jolted lightly as it broke through the last layer of atmosphere. The engines shifted pitch, guiding them toward the platform. Gavin's reflection flickered across the viewport, a faint image of a giant contained within the confines of a soldier's discipline. His golden-trimmed robes caught the dull light, the polished black fabric almost blending with the shadows.

"Does it ever bother you," Gavin said at last, his voice low but thoughtful, "knowing that all these people are only saying what they think you want to hear?"

It was an unusual question for him, more personal than most things he said. Normally, Gavin preferred silence or blunt orders, but the earlier conversation about Reign's father lingered in his mind. Perhaps it loosened something inside him, a curiosity he could not ignore. He had seen this kind of obedience before, the kind born not from loyalty but from fear.

Diarch Reign Diarch Reign
 

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Location: Reign’s shuttle | Harridan spaceport approach
Tags: Gavin Vel Gavin Vel
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather

Reign listened intently to Gavin’s assessment, it was very astute. The Diarch had thought long and hard on the theater for his apprentice’s test, coming to the same conclusions about the planet and its people.

He watched as the shuttle cut through the planet’s atmosphere on its descent. Reign had always found planet fall an interesting experience.


“Your assessment of Harn is accurate, I’ve always found the woman to be vapid and infuriating, but she will have her uses to you”

Reign could see the gathered delegation at the landing pad now, there to grovel and save face, they had lived hoping his gaze would not fall upon their planet. They must have now realized their time was up.

Reign could feel their fear, but also something else. A glimmer of ambition and jealousy reached out through the force to tickle his senses.


Scum

He thought to himself. The disdain he had always felt for these type, hoping to gain his favor while simultaneously going against everything he, and the Diarchy, stood for, could be read in the force easily.

Gavin’s question prompted a smile from the Diarch, it was a sign of his growth. He was thinking larger now, even if just a start.


“It does yes. I have no love for the cowardice these politicians often show.”

He paused a moment before asking Gavin a question of his own.

“Tell me, is it better to be feared, or loved?”







 
Gavin nodded his head as the ship continued to descend, the low hum of the engines filling the silence between them. At least Reign was not obsessed with the sycophants and their endless flattery. The fact that he saw them for what they were—cowards—was strangely comforting. Gavin had always assumed Reign felt that way, but hearing him say it aloud carried a certain satisfaction. For all his power, Reign did not hide behind pleasantries. He saw the truth of things, sharp and unfiltered, and Gavin respected that.

The question lingered in his mind though, circling like a shadow. To be feared or loved? It sounded simple, but it wasn’t. Gavin had never known love. Not the kind others spoke about with softness in their voices. His life had been a string of betrayals and survival. The closest thing to affection he had ever felt was the bond forged through battle, through shared blood and purpose. Reign’s guidance filled that void, but Gavin knew it wasn’t love. Reign saw him as a weapon, a tool of precision and destruction. A valuable tool, yes, one he had sharpened himself, but still a tool. If Gavin ever decided to set down his weapon, if he ever chose peace, Reign might not strike him down, but he would no longer see him as necessary. That knowledge stung more than Gavin cared to admit.

It was impossible for him to truly answer the question because he didn’t know what love was. The concept felt foreign to him, a language he had never learned. Caring for someone, wanting them to be happy, to feel safe—it all sounded like fiction. He understood loyalty, respect, and survival. But love? That was something others were born knowing, and he had been left out of that lesson entirely.

"I dont think it matters," Gavin said finally, his voice low, words heavy with the rough edge of his past. "Love, fear, I dont care which one as long as they obey." The words came out harsher than he intended, but they were true. Years of watching his back, sleeping with one eye open, and killing to survive had stripped away his softness. He didn’t have the luxury of caring how others felt, only that they listened.

"I want respect," he continued after a moment. "Whether they come to that respect through fear or love is of little consequence." It wasn’t really an answer to the question, and he knew it. He didn’t have the understanding to answer it fully, because deep down, Gavin knew he had never experienced both sides of it. Fear, he understood intimately. Love was just a word.

"When we land I'll request an audience with the Chancellor," he added, voice steady again. "I think you should make it known to her that I speak with your full authority. That way she doesn’t try anything cheeky." A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though it never reached his eyes. "People like her... they respect strength more than titles. She’ll listen if she knows I’m the one holding the leash."

He turned his gaze back to Reign, expression unreadable. "And if she doesn’t, well... we’ll remind her who she’s dealing with."

Diarch Reign Diarch Reign
 

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Location: Harridan | Landing Pad
Tags: Gavin Vel Gavin Vel
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather

The Diarch appraised Gavin’s answers, they were of little surprise to him. The man’s youth had been a hard one, which Reign would never fully understand. Even the harsh training of Reign’s own youth was tempered by the knowledge his father had loved him.

Yet this was the purpose of the test, to show that fear only bread temporary loyalty.


“You’re wrong, my friend. It does matter”

They were quickly approaching the landing pad now, if Reign wanted to accomplish this final lesson, he would need to do so quickly.

“The trillions that live within the Diarchy, the millions that fight in our armed forces. Do you think they do so with such zeal because they fear me?”

He paused only for a moment.

“No. They do so out of love, out of belief. They love us, because we love them. They bleed, they fight, and they die for us. Because they know I would do the same for them.”

His tone had never wavered, never changed, it was a lesson and Reign’s voice was that of the teacher still.

“The one that follows you out of fear, always looks for the opening to slip in the knife. They may respect you yes, but they will be looking to supplant you. To free your boot from their neck. However, make them love you, and they would sooner turn that blade upon themselves.”

He turned now, as if he had read his apprentices mind

“You view yourself as a weapon, perhaps that is what you think I view you as too. You are right, in a way, what you are able to do.. is extraordinary. But that is not all you are.”

He could feel the landing gear extending as he finished.

“You, my friend, are family to me. My daughters view you as kin. And we love you. I love you, as my father did me. He was a brutal man, and as you’ve endured training with me you no doubt feel the same as I did. But it is from a place of love that I have forged you, forged you so that nothing may take from you again. I’ve turned you not into my weapon, but into yours”

He rose then, making his way towards the exit ramp. He cast a smile over his shoulder as he spoke

“I’ll be sure to let her know who’s calling the shots. But watch your interactions with her, lest you find that blade I warned you about, between your shoulders”





 
Gavin listened as Reign spoke, his gaze fixed on the man but his mind struggling to keep pace. The rhythmic jostling of the ship as it pierced through the atmosphere filled the silence between their words, and for a strange moment, it all felt... cinematic. The glow of the console lights painted their faces in shifting tones of red and gold, and the low hum of the engines gave the air a kind of gravity. It was as if the entire galaxy had dimmed to focus on this moment between master and apprentice. For a fleeting second, Gavin even wondered if Reign had planned it this way, but he pushed the thought aside. Life was never that neat, never that deliberate. Yet there was something about the way Reign spoke, calm, certain, measured, that made Gavin wish—truly wish—he could be like him.

Then came the words that stopped him completely.

"I love you."

They hit him harder than any blow he had ever taken. His body went still, the air caught in his chest, and his face betrayed him before he could stop it. The sharp, controlled warrior that others saw was gone. What remained was something raw and unguarded. Gavin looked lost, like a child caught in a storm, uncertain whether to fight or run. Those words... he had never heard them before. Not from anyone. Not from the broken wrecks of his parents who had left him behind, not from the people who had raised him out of necessity rather than affection, not from his brothers in the gangs who had only cared for loyalty and violence. And now, from the one man whose respect he had devoted his entire being to earning, came the words he didn’t know he needed to hear.

He turned away, his throat tightening, staring out the viewport as the clouds broke apart below them. The urge to speak, to do anything, clawed at his chest, but he couldn’t form words. He had fought through pain, bled through training, survived battles that would have killed lesser men—but holding back tears in that moment was one of the hardest things he had ever done. His fingers curled into fists, and his breathing came slow and deliberate, trying to hide what he was feeling.

Thankfully, Reign turned the conversation back to the mission, and Gavin seized on it like a drowning man finding air. A mission he understood. Orders, objectives, results—those were things he could grasp. His head snapped back toward his master, composure returning to his face, the echo of Reign’s words still bouncing inside his skull.

"I swear to you I wont let you down," Gavin said, his voice steady but deeper now, almost reverent. The words carried more weight than before, as if something inside him had shifted. He wasn’t just speaking as a subordinate anymore. He meant it, from a place he didn’t know existed until now.

When the ship touched down, the sharp hiss of the ramp opening filled the cabin, and the atmosphere changed. Soldiers formed ranks with precise discipline, the metallic clang of boots against steel reverberating through the hangar. Gavin’s focus sharpened instantly. The flicker of vulnerability he had felt moments before was gone, buried beneath the armor of his purpose. He stepped forward, the black and gold of his robes cutting through the light like a shadow.

He moved first, ahead of Reign, his massive frame dominating the space. Every step was deliberate, his eyes scanning the crowd of attendants and soldiers waiting below. Fear rolled off them like heat, and he welcomed it. The weapon had returned.

"Diarch Reign," one of the diplomats began as he stepped forward, voice trembling slightly.

Gavin didn’t let him finish. He moved in front of Reign, his presence filling the gap like a wall. "Youre speaking to me. Gavin Vel. For all intents and purposes, I speak on behalf of your Diarch." His tone was cold and unwavering, the authority in his voice enough to silence the group entirely. He swept his gaze over each of them, eyes hard, unrelenting. "You'll take the silence of the Diarch as proof of my authority."

The weight of the words hung in the air. No one dared to challenge him. Gavin let the silence stretch for several seconds, his expression unreadable.

"Take me to Chancellor Harn," he finally said, his voice low but commanding. "I have business to discuss."

He didn’t look back at Reign. A few months ago, he might have turned, maybe even grinned, seeking approval or sharing some quiet jest. But not now. He had learned better. This was not the time for validation or pride. This was his test—his chance to prove that he could act with the confidence and restraint Reign had worked so hard to instill in him.

He was no longer just Reign’s weapon. He was becoming something more.

Diarch Reign Diarch Reign
 

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