Private An Aged Doctrine

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

Relic Of A Bygone Age
Personal Jesus
Location: Dantooine, Irveric Tavlar Special Warfare Center
Tags: Damien Vourc'h

​

“-close quarters is both the best and worst place to put yourself in, Captain Iblis demonstrated an important tactic in his attempt to disarm me,” Lyra addressed the cohort of troopers, the faint sound of helmets hissed as men shifted and weapons were dropped at the sound of the alarm. Her heart thrummed away under her ribs even then, a bead of sweat spilling down her face along the faint lines of age. The cramped black quarters stunk of spent power cells and blood, scorch marks from blasters were embedded into the training equipment around as the scenario ended. She had singled out a target for them to flock to or rival, the shift in gaze came with a sour disposition amongst the soldiers; a telling sign. A poignant memory rested on her tongue but she let it simmer, abandoning recounting the story-another lesson for a later time and one that was earned.

A claustrophobic feeling lingered as she surveyed them, it radiated off the dark walls, letting the warning settle in. Kyber Introductory courses had been overseen with such special interest-to much rested on preparatory action. The Knighthood had snubbed any involvement in the matter long ago, they were too stream-lined. To sparse in numbers too. So she was left to peel back the top layer of her own skin, to offer a window’s gaze into this occult. It required a certain level of surrender to arm a man with knowledge.

“We will be cycling teams through simulations again tomorrow, see the roster. I expect a better show of initiative, team work will be your best approach,” the woman surmised, dismissing them without questions.

The helmet felt heavy in servo as she exited the training room, doors hissed shut behind her before the rest followed. Tension still coiled itself up in her shoulders and jabbed and ached as she discarded armor plate for combed wool. The faint ringing in her ears would fade, the controlled climate, it lacked all the real risks of field encounters. Lyra’s form hunched over, mulling long on the situation as the benches cleared out from last class, stragglers made a point to vacate as she slipped into her boots. Standing tall, her hands ran down the front of the lapel coat leaving all but her sabers for the aides to collect. The weight of the vambrace steadily beeped and reminded her to move. It was something she would discuss with Arroyo in time, or maybe the woman simply missed the grit.

Twenty years and this was the slimmest pick of candidates the college had seen to date. A string of reports burned in a cerulean blue erupted from the interface at her wrist, pulling her from ever looming concerns. She guarded her back with one fist, studying the updates as she exited the Triarii Center in favor of the transport waiting. It wasn't a grand occasion that involved Moffs or a steep order of perfection. She had met enough shoddy consuls in her time with weak attempts to slip their progeny into the ranks of the Warfare Center. It never ended, but the situation on Ord Trasi came back to mind, trumping even the concerns of her own office. Lyra would have met the likes of this 7th Regiment at their doorstep to spare her the disappointment; had they had one. The moment her back hit the seat and the door closed on the land speeder, she considered ordering the man to bring her back to the main facilities-abandoning the meeting entirely.

She did not have high hopes for much these days.

Remnant, nationalist, pellaeonist. This is what the Imperial Order had unraveled into, a dry chuckle broke her silence and the woman’s head shook. There was not a man who had stood on the stone steps of the Hand Of Thrawn left, none left but her but that had been almost half a century ago. She remembered the absolute truth, yet the woman could only hope Michael Barran could guard against the chaos. Yet that old sweet rush of adrenaline reminded her she too felt the call. It would not happen, no she swore it under breath. The serviceman was kind enough not to comment on the outburst as the Aerial Flats came into view, just past the tree line, all training flights had been postponed to hail in their guests. She could only advise theses days, it wasn't her place otherwise-but the director would see what this new crop wanted out of this mess.

 

[Damien Vourc'h]

An Aged Doctrine
The Seveners

---

BOOK ONE, PACING UP AND DOWN THE GALAXY
› Back to Old Affairs, I ‹​

900 ABY, Raioballo Sector, Outer Rim Territories
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

Aboard the 'Bourlingueur II', the flagship of the 1st Company, Nukth thought about the mission he was meant to see through. He knew Lyra Voikryt by name; the woman had been famous since the first days of the New Imperial Order and the Decree of Defiance which Tavlar had signed. Mygeeto, Alashan, Bastion, Dantooine -- so many conquests she had led successfully under the Imperial banners. Voikryt was now secluded on Dantooine, training future recruits for the last remnants of the Empire. The Sieur didn't quite understand the point. The Seveners found themselves alone after Jonas decides to excommunicate his son and each soldier or officer that would have liked to follow him. So then two thousand men were forced to leave their homeworld to live a life of suffering through the Imperial Space. After almost two years spent near the Chiss Frontier, where the Second Brigade had established campaign headquarters, the Seveners were finally found by a group of Chiss remnants that had driven them out.

Following those events, the Seveners had become nomads again. With no other allies than themselves, Damien Vourc'h started a plan to find new, unsuspected ones. According to these principles, Nukth had been chosen to meet the infamous Lady Voikryt. Even if the Sieur and Sybila had never met each other, Damien knew that the two came from the same walk of life: the Old Empire. As a consequence, they would be able to understand each other and make things work as well as possible. A couple of days before, the Lt.-Colonel's arrival had been announced through the HoloNet to the Dantooinian government, and his meeting with the Lady wasn't a well-kept secret.

«Sieur?» a Hussar asked while appearing in his back, «The shuttle you demanded is ready to lift off as soon as you want. Shall I show you the way?»

Kelga'an spun around, observing the Sevener. His tan complexion was proof that the man hadn't skimped on training during the days spent within the Chiss Territories. He held himself upright, with a fierce gaze in their eyes; the man was clearly going to war, ready to beat everyone that would put themself on his path. The Sieur let a grin appear on his face while seeing the young boy, then asked: «Put your helmet on, soldier. If the enemy can see your face, he can see through your soul. (He saw the man reaching for his holster, clearly signifying that he was ready.) I'd like t'say: there's no way this will turn into a demonstration of strength. Lady Voikryt knows what we merit an' where we come from, Hussar. I talk; you'll do the angry guy standing next to me. C'mon,» he then said, moving to the turbo-elevator at the end of the deck. The soldier nodded and the two of them walked towards the door.

---

The unstoppable rolling that the shuttle produced while entering Dantooine's atmosphere had always made Kelga'an dizzy. Space travels weren't his cup of tea but particularly going through the atmosphere was the worst part of the thing. He was currently trying to make his counterparts think that he was good. But everything wasn't going as well as he wanted it to be. Alongside him stood four Hussars, among the best troopers of his company. They were meant to be his guard, people he could lean on. He doubted anything would go wrong during the argument, but the more prudent, the better.

Before he had anything more to think about, the holopad on his hip jingled, announcing an incoming message from the surface, <Identify yourself, sir,> the tri-dimensional operator asked.

Clearing his throat, the Sieur answered quickly: «Captain Nukth Kelga'an, from the Seveners. I've got a meetin' with Lady Voikryt in... (He looked at his chrono.) Five minutes, it seems.» His conversation partner remained away for a couple of seconds before replying that everything was OK. Nukth thanked him and shut off the device in his hand, putting it back in his chest pocket. First contact but everything was good until then.

Five minutes later, as planned, the five Hussars were on the ground. They went through the hatch, walking towards the Lady he came to meet. The Sieur gave a quick look to the man standing next to her, but also to the many troopers all around, probably working for the Warfare Center. He shook Voikryt's hand and declared: «Lady Voikryt. I dare say it's both an honour an' a pleasure to finally meet you. You probably talked to Colonel Vourc'h so you could plan this interview. The name's Nukth Kelga'an. I expect great things from this meeting -- an' I hope you'll be able to help us the way we want.»​

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

Relic Of A Bygone Age
Personal Jesus
Location: Dantooine, Irveric Tavlar Special Warfare Center
Tags: Damien Vourc'h

​

There was a contrast between Dantooine’s endless skies against the shape of the Bourlingueur II that rested just outside the planet’s atmosphere. The sight of the flagship was interrupted only by the small carrier descending. Lyra watched it with vague interest as the thrusters stirred up a fierce wind around those present at the landing pad. She did not need to turn to glance at her second to know his distaste, the shuffle of his boots but the radiating thoughts were loudest of them all. They both had heard of the trials these ‘Seveners’ had faced.

There wasn’t a man or woman, Imperial that couldn’t claim some distasteful choices in the field but she would not justify a blind eye either. Not that a tribunal existed to weed out the tare from the wheat theses days either.

A methodical click of blast plate sounded around them as the the ramp hit the deck, Troopers-those enlisted within the Academy that had been chosen for the honor guard presented their arm before their guest? Dark brows lifted as she regarded the entourage before her, but unsaid questions rested on the..aging individual himself. He was short of something Galidraani about him. What they might have offered one another had been presented in initial talks, as brief as they were but it was at best an abstract idea. She never committed, never sold an idea-she wasn’t an entrepreneur. Yet that was the least of her concerns, Lyra Voi’Kryt knew well enough this wasn’t Damien Vourc'h.

The woman glided forward a visage of gray and black, her shadow just a step behind as she met the old soldier’s handshake with a firm grip. He was too stubborn to give up or matters had gotten too desperate to call him back to the ranks. Retirement was a luxury in their Empire though, and having a regiment of guns at your back was the safer bet in her mind at least.

“You are correct, I did speak with the Colonel,” Lyra answered curtly, her voice akin to raked gravel. She met his eye as her hands retreated behind her back short of the exchange, she had seen his name on what intel had been presented, she just hadn’t bothered reading in to him. Her chin jutted just so she could direct their attention to their company as her voice raised again. “This is Colonel Daival, commander of the two hundred and first reg-he’s on rotation here to select his next batch of soldiers..and please. Lady Voi’Kryt was my mother, I would prefer Director.”

Ebony boots clicked on the cement as she stepped aside, her servo rising to gesture to the grandeur horizon of steel amidst planets mountains. The valley itself was still green this time of year and the iron sun hung-even as other sectors questioned it’s place.

“Welcome to the warfare center, our classes are in session until seventeen hundred so the grounds will be quiet. A tour might be amical unless you have an itinerary, then we can touch on this end goal you seem to have in mind,” Lyra, presented as the officer on duty, called for a retreat on the modest row of Troopers. It was a polite offer-but the absence of his commander still hung silently in the air.

​

 

[Damien Vourc'h]

An Aged Doctrine
The Seveners

---

BOOK ONE, PACING UP AND DOWN THE GALAXY
› Back to Old Affairs, II ‹​

900 ABY, 'Irveric Tavlar' Special Warfare Center, Dantooine
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

Right after the quick handshake the two parties shared, the Sieur noticed Voikryt was looking at the skies of Dantooine. Nukth's flagship had something special in its shape; something old. The second 'Bourlingueur' was a vessel from the Donnager II-class line. Built two decades before this meeting, it still could carry troops, guns and dropships. Its ancient architecture didn't even confuse the younger crewmen from the Corps. The Seveners and their many star cruisers were well known among Imperial society -- or what was left of it. For sure, not every dignitary, Moff or governor within the former Imperial Space liked the members of the 7th Regiment; but their path was a path of honour, a path of glory that showed what they were capable of.

Nukth was this state of mind's spearhead. He was Anaxsi-blooded and born, a type of man who had disappeared in recent years within Imperial troops. Left with no other choice than to leave Yinchorr after Damien's ostracism, the Seveners had been forced to find new homes, and now new allies. It was why their destroyers were so easily identifiable. In a way, they were their home. They were bound to them. Their lives depended on those vessels. The Sieur got a look at the troopers who surrounded the Director, while she was confirming the fact she met Vourc'h before this very moment. Those men and women reminded him of the many soldiers that had been serving under Gowrie's banners during the Second Great Hyperspace War. It was quite obvious that they came from the Galidraan Region, one of the most famous Imperial recruiting grounds.

«This is Colonel Daival, commander of the two hundred and first reg-he’s on rotation here to select his next batch of soldiers..and please. Lady Voi’Kryt was my mother, I would prefer Director,» Voykrit added, introducing the man to Nukth.

The Sieur nodded and then quickly answered, «My apologies, Director. I was pretty sure you had earned this title because of your many feats of arms under Imperial banners. (While he ended his tirade, Kelga'an turned his eyes to face the mentioned Colonel. Like many former-Imperial planets and systems, Dantooine had its own forces, and decided to train them in its own ways.) Enchanté, Colonel. You seem to be a man of many talents.» He then introduced his men, saying with a circular movement of his hand: «Those men are my company's Hussars. Here are Major Beulé and Private Sarrus; they're the best of what it remains from the former 2nd Yinchorri Regiment.»

«Welcome to the warfare center, our classes are in session until seventeen hundred so the grounds will be quiet. A tour might be amical unless you have an itinerary, then we can touch on this end goal you seem to have in mind.»

As the woman described the environment and the many buildings around them, Nukth got a look to the mountains in the background. Those ones reminded him of the Anaxsi landscapes, with the Yinchorri ones weren't this astonishing, consisting in deserts, deserts and... deserts. Nodding to Voikryt, the Sieur ordered his men to be set back while he was going on a tour with the Director. Nukth wanted to be one-on-one with her, so they could speak freely of what was needed on the two sides of the agreement.

After a couple of steps together, the Captain finally declared: «Well, Director, 'am goin' t'be honest with you: I need your resources. It's been two years since we took off from Noris, on the Border. An' from this point we've survived without any help relying on our supplies, but this situation isn't sustainable anymore. We aren't just soldiers within our cruisers; we've got husbands, wife and children to feed too. So I'd like to ask... Sort of a service. We could become your privateer; an' in exchange for our services, we only ask for supplies and a bed. That's pretty simple in fact, and I think the Seveners are able to do anything you'd ask.»​

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

Relic Of A Bygone Age
Eat Your Young
Location: Dantooine, Irveric Tavlar Special Warfare Center
Tags: Damien Vourc'h

​

Trust was something that had gone and went, spent like the last few credits between much of her staff and herself over the years. Daival had gone grey in the mane and he chuffed too much. Lyra observed as he accepted the praise from the elder and returned some measure of respect to their guests. He may of never been put between the rock and hard place like them, but they could discuss the entirety of the Rider’s history and her exploits if they were going to start playing jury and judge.

Nukth’s placating had been a footnote in the introductions, and she had briefly offered the Major and soldier alike an acknowledging look. She refused to waste a few words over titles and filler. Hussar had to be some honorary term she would find amongst the overwhelming majority of Galidraan traditions, though she noted it. Lyra mused over the overwhelming differences that made up the galaxy. If she dared ask, she’d be in for a history lesson or at least a clash of cultures more likely.

Perish the thought. That would have to be another day, Lyra took one look over her shoulder as she dismissed the Colonel in their footsteps-catching on to the like of the elder’s own intention by the time they had rounded the facility.

The symphony of boot clicks followed a strictly rehearsed assessment of the dour fort, but the pride as she introduced the halls that made men. Nukth seemed attentive enough for his part, he didn’t possess the annoying sting Moff’s wore like their badges. Nay did he offer to interrupt or pitch. Polite was a stretch, because between her drawl and his silence, it was simply a man waiting for the right time to be truthful and it simply radiated. She didn’t dig by principle but by the time they had reached the green of the martial fields-

«Well, Director, 'am goin' t'be honest with you: I need your resources. It's been two years since we took off from Noris, on the Border. An' from this point we've survived without any help relying on our supplies, but this situation isn't sustainable anymore. We aren't just soldiers within our cruisers; we've got husbands, wife and children to feed too. So I'd like to ask... Sort of a service. We could become your privateer; an' in exchange for our services, we only ask for supplies and a bed. That's pretty simple in fact, and I think the Seveners are able to do anything you'd ask.»

"And in all honesty did the Colonel have too much pride to come down here and ask me of that himself?" Lyra all but bluntly retorted, her hard gaze falling on the bronzen statue of Tavlar-hands resting on the lapels of her coat. What a man, to come asking like this her own head shook. The rock and hard place came back to mind, the public information's office would have a hay day with this, privateers. Her’s was the last position to be promoting anything borderline renegade but she already knew her answer..She wanted a gun pointed in every direction, you couldn’t trust the sun of a galaxy to turn nova in this day in age. The rapidly depleting security across the outer rim as the last of the Order gave out..The woman’s lips pursed together in a thin unseemly line, they already stood on a dwindling line. Her voice did not reflect the concerns of tomorrow though-"I have a Legion, I have an installation- and those are just the ones that are the forefront of my concern. I’m surprised COMPNOR or other Moff hasn’t considered your services for hire. Don't tell me you're genuinely black listed? We’ve never been above hiring mercenary forces, but those tend to provide the most unsavory of deployments. Why come here looking for a hand to feed?"