Private Fortunate Imperials [Irveric]

[Fiolette Fortan]

Prefsbelt IV
Ruined Imperial Academy
Irveric Tavlar

Fiolette stood with her old Atrisian Empire officer's jacket hanging off her shoulders, a pair of 'Aviator' sunglasses, her strawberry blonde hair let down to feel the breeze. She wore combat boots, pants, and the ol' Imperial fabric belt with her shirt tucked in, a plain blouse that went with the 'business casual' feel of her visit. A Nadir Black Label cigarra freshly lit, burnt with an ember glow as she took a drag. Oh, Taeli would have such a fit but then Fiolette suspected her wife had grown something of an accustomed disdain for the habit. She wasn't completely alone at the ruined academy, a set of guards on either side of her and a pilot in a single TIE hovered around keeping an eye out for Tavlar. She looked at the crumpled frame of the academy and pondered it a moment, "and once more it shall be rebuilt." She mused aloud.​

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As the Third Imperial Civil War progressed, Fiolette found herself increasingly disinterested in the affairs of the Sith Empire. Amused that they could scarcely keep their own territory together, she wondered if all the of the strategic minds had left the Sith Empire for greener pastures. What she had not been amused by was Madelyn Lowe and how often it seemed her family bailed the woman out. Fiolette took another drag she found comfort with the head rush that accompanied it, and it helped that these cigarras were aids for keeping a calm and serene atmosphere. Fiolette pondered a moment or two longer before turning away from the destruction and walked toward one of her guards. ​

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Far off in the distance, she could see the destruction being brought to New Avalonia. "What a waste," she said to herself and sighed with exasperation, at the very least New Avalonia served its purpose as a testbed of construction methods. "Oh well." Fio murmured and waited for the Irveric Tavlar to arrive.​

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I R V E R I C _ T A V L A R
S O L D I E R _ S I D E

It was deeply foreign feeling. To simply bare witness to the fires in the distance as the battle contesting New Avalonia began to sputter out with the ongoing surrender of the Sith-Imperial garrison stationed to guard it, most of which in a state of disarray as they felt the crushing realization of a missed respite and failed retreat only to find out they were the last in line. Fortunately enough for the colors they bared as opposed to their counterparts imposed in a similar predicament, the New Imperials could not afford a show of cruelty and instead pressed many of the remaining legionnaires into service. Willing or unwilling, a war still had to be raged.

What had drawn a schism in view point between the former Lord General and former Lord Admiral of the Sith Empire was the very comfort they'd feel in the fray. As much as he lamented the shrieking memories in the back of his mind, the helmet sliding over his head and the heads up display bringing itself into view calcified his deeper subconscious from worrying over anything else. Only the need to finish the fight, the drive to survive.

Stepping unto shattered ground with the boot at the base of his black, armored dress uniform he approached the venue of their meeting, his own escort mirroring hers in the visage of two Nova Commandos armored in black and gold, an elite unit with the specialized task of protecting high value targets. And at last, his gaze met hers. Embedded in a face marred with fresh blaster burns, baring the fainted scars and marks from shrapnel and other lacerations surrounding the jagged beskar horn which protruded from his skull above the eyepatch covering his faux cybernetic eye. A far far too recognizable for Tavlar's tastes considering such insignificant origins.

Whatever stature he'd accrued. He was remarkably...mortal.

"Never thought the chance would arise...though after all my tenure in Sith-Imperial High Command was short...and dramatic." To put it simply.

"I'd only think you'd speak to one of my ilk with the hull of The Rae Sloane between you and anyone else, given the last tether of loyalty which keeps you bound to the Empire. Even so, we speak." Tavlar states. He was never one to feint from speaking his truest sentiment. It was what began the Third Imperial Civil War after all.

Fiolette Raaf

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

Prefsbelt IV
Ruined Imperial Academy

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It was one of the guards who pointed out the Sovereign Imperator's arrival. Fiolette waited patiently while New Avalonia's destruction played out in the distance. She took the time to study the war-scarred face that he bore and recalled that there had been a time where she bore her own physical scars of battles past. Those days were well behind her now, even if, somewhere in her bones battle called for her the sound of the fight. The way the turbolasers seemed to thrum in harmony as they spooled into action. The sight of durasteel beasts as they crawled through the void with their massive and foreboding superstructures daring any and all to attack them.​

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As Tavlar spoke his voice sounded the way a stone might as it pressed against the side of a mountain, a boulder that pushed its way through to be seen. She gave a light chuckle, "dramatic is an understatement." She underlined the last word of that sentence Fiolette held no ill toward the man and it was clear from the meeting they had now, and more so from her voice. "Even so, we speak." She repeated his words, "it is rather unfortunate that we hadn't been afforded an opportunity before this." She gestured toward the destruction of New Avalonia behind her.​

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"Nevertheless such is war and the collateral it requires, come let us walk you and me. I'm sure a stretch of the legs will be good." She waited for him a moment longer and gestured toward the slightly clear path that rounded the academy grounds. The moments would tick on and Fio would break whatever silence had befallen them. "The most recent Sith meeting proved quite enlightening, you might find it humorous, however." She puffed on her cigarra and took the opportunity to withdraw an argent case, "cigarra?" Fiolette offered the argent case still held the faded First Order emblem of old, it had clearly seen better days, however. Dented, scared, and burnt in a few places not so unlike either of them - for while Fiolette's physical features hid the scars of the past - she still remembered them quite clearly.​

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Irveric Tavlar ​

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

"it is rather unfortunate that we hadn't been afforded an opportunity before this."

Though to Irveric's credit, it wasn't as if he was a very popular man before the darkness was revealed in the Ascendant Hall on Bastion when he'd first outted himself a traitor. Prior to that he was only the greenest of the Lord Generals in the Sith-Imperial Legions. Though he'd had his mettle tested on Kintan and Mandalore, he was still that wayward son of Dantooine raised in grain and poverty. Now, donning the dress uniform of a head of state he postured himself to be far more important, speaking to a woman who all but seemed to regard him in the same echelon. Not as if she shouldn't, all the same it was a jarring realization.

"The most recent Sith meeting proved quite enlightening, you might find it humorous, however."

"If its any like the first and the last I bared witness to, I can only imagine." Tavlar states. To the offer of a cigara he characteristically obliged, taking the cigara between two crimson metallic fingers of his cybernetic. As soon as it was alight he'd take a smooth draw between his lips, taking in the smoke to his lungs before exhaling it into the ashen air.

"I hope that's you saying you'll divulge details of it..."

Fiolette Raaf

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

Prefsbelt IV
Ruined Imperial Academy

"Of course," Fiolette replied while offering to light the Imperator's cigarra. Once it was lit and she had tucked the ol' One Sith lighter into the liner pocket of her jacket. She proceeded to give him the play by play as best she could remember of the most recent Sith Circle. Or as Fio liked to call it the never-ending wheel of pride wherein they could all only agree on one thing but disagree on how it was all worded. She recounted to him her stance and the infallible, gullible Imperials who thought that truly the Sith Empire would now begin to see them as equals. "Sith never see anyone as an equal, not even each other, at least - no Sith worth their salt on Korriban."​

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Fiolette could see that he was posturing himself and she thought it amusing but understood his reasoning. She was married to a high profile Sith within the Sith Empire of all places and here she was going for what seemed to be a rather casual stroll through a wartorn setting having a cigarra. She saw him as a man who took charge where it mattered a man with a goal in mind and she could admire that. Respect it even, Fiolette disentangled herself from the Sith Empire in the wake of Kintan as far as she was concerned. Mandalore had been but a blur at best. None of it seemed to be what it was, it wasn't the old battles it hadn't been Castameer, Kaeshana, Anoat, Hoth, Bespin, or even Varonat for whatever that was worth.​

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"You must be wondering why I would ever want to speak with you and in truth, it's quite simple, the first was to share what I had, and the second was to inform you that I wish I had remained in service just long enough to have turned with you on that day." A pause as she drew from the cigarra. A moment or two passed as she let the rush of chemicals race through her mind. "But." There it was she made it a casual comma, "as you so elegantly pointed out, my hands are tied, and any about-face from me - even now would have consequences." Consequences that Fiolette wasn't quite ready or willing to pay, but she understood his plight. Rather, Fiolette knew of it and knew it well it was one many non-Force Users were faced with. Of course, some might wonder, why bother? But then, Fiolette would answer, why not? There was nothing to gain here except perhaps the start of something, what that would be still remained to be seen. ​

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Irveric Tavlar​

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[Irveric Tavlar]

Sith as equals. A curious philosophy to undertake within a creed solely bent around biding and vying for more and more power selfishly. There was no making equal in an order where each and every single member of it occupied a rung on the ladder with the sole drive to climb. A viable enough path to walk, but a delusion to think arbitrarily leveling the scales would do anything to repair the broken foundations of their empire.

"You must be wondering why I would ever want to speak with you and in truth, it's quite simple, the first was to share what I had, and the second was to inform you that I wish I had remained in service just long enough to have turned with you on that day."
"But."
"as you so elegantly pointed out, my hands are tied, and any about-face from me - even now would have consequences."

That might've been the different that set the two along their deviation from one another in how they felt scorned and marooned by the rule of the Sith. Where one donned apathy and contentedness another donned defiance and nigh suicidal impulse to throw stones at the gods. It made the 'consequences' irrelevant for Irveric and far too high of cost for Fiolette.

"I admire the sentiment, I can't expect the entirety of the Empire to draw themselves into either corner. But not all of us are in such a position to make that choice yourselves. I wasn't, when the Sith pressed me into conscription. Afterall...that's who I wage this war for to begin with. I could've very well rode my tenure in Sith-Imperial High Command out to either a swift death on the field or a slow one in bureaucracy and live a life in comfort. All the while, my fighting men and women are put to the slaughter at the behest of delusional fantasies of those who claim themselves to be gods. It was an easier dilemma than you might think." Not that Irveric was a wholly stable man to begin. He finished his sentiment with another draw from his cigarra in a moment of faint respite as he prepared for the worst in a possible retort from her. Regardless, the smooth buzz was enough to calcify any worries of that for now.

Fiolette Raaf

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

There it was, Fiolette heard it and instinctively knew the difference. She took a drag from her cigarra and got a happenstance look over at the Imperator. It was the difference between them, not that she was married to a Sith - no that wasn't quite the whole of it. No, the whole of it was that he had been conscripted, where she had volunteered. Life was interesting, funny even she mused to herself of how this all plays out. Once a man shackled to the Lord, now a Lord himself who now wields the very power in his hands to shackle others. The Galidraani exhaled and watched for a moment as the smoke lingered in the air before it dissipated. ​

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"A soldier conscripted cannot compare to the heart of a soldier who volunteered," she remarked plainly and turned to look at him. "That right there is where our differences truly begin to appear." Fiolette volunteered, she volunteered back in her days with the Atrisian Empire near its end, she volunteered again in the One Sith, however brief she served but then she chose to serve once more, and again, and again, over and over. There was something about the fight, but in her later years, there had been a disdain for it as well. "But, while that might make us different, your conscription and mine voluntary - there is something similar."​

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She took a moment and drew a breath a cold, sharp inhale to wash away the stench of the cigarra. Fiolette took her fingers and delicately twisted it to an end. The embers fell silent and she dusted the ash from the tips of her fingers. Once more, she looked at him, at his jagged and scarred face and she spoke with clarity. "I was branded a traitor by the First Order. I left, resigned my commission with them." It would be clear to Irveic that what she was about to tell him had not been something she confessed often. "I urged them to focus on the interior of the nation, the war had gone on long enough, but they wouldn't hear of it. Instead, they wanted to press the attack against the Galactic Alliance." ​

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Fiolette pushed her lips together it still frustrated her. She shook her head and scoffed lightly. "It was their downfall, in the end, a nation stretched so thin, an exhausted military pushed to the brink."​

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"After Mandalore, I realized I was walking that same path again, only this time for masters who sought to control what wasn't theirs to control." She wore a half-cocked smile and in that time her gaze had not left Irveic's. "So, you are very correct there are many who cannot make the choice for themselves, to simply refuse or to walk away. There isn't an option for them, and for a lot of the children that the Sith seem to throw at you they know no better. They only know what they've been fed, and quite sadly it'll be what they'll die for."​

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"I enjoy the art of war to an extent, there is a feeling unlike any other when I am at the helm of my ship with the fleet at my disposal, but that feeling that ability - there is a cost." Fiolette's gaze only softened. "There isn't a day that goes by that I do not think of the men and the women who served with me, the ones who didn't come back. The ones whose remains are still out there, floating in the void, charred beyond all recognition." A slight crack in the armor she looked past him now. It was also the reason she stood there before him, as a retired Lord Admiral of the Sith Empire.​

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She exhaled, and her shoulders seemed to relax if only slightly. "I often doubt that the Sith are aware of the toll their arrogance takes, but I am in some regard pleased to hear that you at the very least are aware of it."​

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"At least someone in this bloody war is."​

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Irveric Tavlar ​

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

"It's all I've ever been aware of. The toll, the price. All the same, someone has to pay it. The Sith are far too eager to spend their lives and thus have swelled into the Empire they have off the backs of their chattle. If no one is willing to do what it takes to destroy them, then the reign of darkness will continue forever. The Jedi clearly aren't up to it else the Sith would've seen retribution for Kintan. They didn't. Too risk averse, too afraid of the retaliation to do what must be done. Because they've always had the choice, the safety." Irveric stated bluntly, with a hint of bitterness staining his voice.

"My service had expired long before I ever set foot on Kintan...I never continued that march for myself, for any delusions of grandeur or glory. I did it because it was either I lead those men and women, my comrades, my brothers, sisters or the Sith who'd see them as little more than faceless fodder, a rabble. A means to the end. To me...they're everything." Tavlar admits, his voice growing solemn with his admittance.

"I respect them...I admire them so much because...when I made my choice, the first time in my life that I was ever able to decide my own fate, even when it seemed I would be faced with a certain end. They followed me. Thus, just as they would never fail me, I would never fail them." The Imperator says.

"I don't care at all what they think, they believe me to be power hungry, deceitful, corrupt. Whatever the propaganda is spewing. I don't care, none of this is for them. Men acting on their own interests do not last so long, as you can see now with Kaine Zambrano fleeing the throne. Its a shame though...that you didn't join us. But I understand, love is a peculiar beast. All the same, it takes a great deal, a sacrifice to realize you're acting not in your own interests but in the interests of something greater. The identity of the Empire is at odds and what path it will trek in the wake of this war. Whether it be to take its destiny into its own hands or follow the path of the death march the Sith have set before them in servitude. That is why...in spite of everything...we're here. Because the New Imperial Order knows of sacrifice. The Sith...are far too afraid of what they have to lose." The Imperator states. A deep draw of the cigara followed.

"And because of that...they may very well lose everything." He said, the faintest of smiles painting over his expression before goes for another inhale.

Fiolette Raaf

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

Fiolette listened to Irveric as he spoke, what he said wasn't anything new by any means but rather more revelation of the man behind the mask. Words often spoke louder than the actions they precipitated. Or in this case, explained, she gave him her full and undivided attention and studied his face whilst he spoke. When he was done she let the moment marinate, the air hang and the felt the stillness of Prefsbelt's absent wind all the while the hounds of war barked in the distance. She turned her head toward the direction of the fighting, even now as it died out with but a whisper. Death was cruel mistress and war was an ever eager lover wanting to please his mistress, it was as it was - war and death.​

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The toll that it cost was often the lives of the men and women who fought and died for them. "The Sith see their people like sheep, and any Imperial who believes otherwise deserves their fate." It might have been a cruel statement but in Fiolette's eyes, it was true. "They are not afraid they are simply too arrogant, but pride doth come before the fall." Even as the words left her lips she knew its meaning. Fiolette turned her attention back toward Irveric. "The Jedi are often too conflicted, and undecided an averse to risk, notwithstanding."​

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"It is good you do not dwell on their thoughts, leave that for the smaller minded folk whose task it is to drum it all up."​

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"Lose or win, the Sith Empire's fallacies are their own and I leave it to you to expose." It did not concern Fiolette if they lost or won, her heart wasn't theirs to keep nor were her ships or skill. "But, I will give this one piece of advice and you needn't take it, let it fall where it may."​

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"Don't spend all your time focused on the battle. There are people who followed you, people who have settled your worlds, tend to them as you would yourself, or your family. In time, you will find that beating the Sith Empire needn't always be on the grounds of war, but rather in the hearts and minds of the people." She looked at the twisted cigarra for a brief moment and then a glance toward the ruins of the Academy here they stood. "Take this Academy, for example, one day it could be the most prestigious school for your citizens to attend, if, you make it so."​

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She gave him a smile, "and you're right, love is quite the peculiar beast, and who knows, maybe one day the Imperator might find someone to share such a bond with."​

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"I digress, you have a war to fight and I," She fetched a fresh cigarra from the case that had sat neatly in the liner pocket of her coat. "I should run along before the wife catches wind of my meeting with you, at the very least buy her a new book to smooth things over." A cheeky smile as she tucked the case away and once more took out her lighter. "We should do this again, but perhaps less..." Fiolette gestured around them, "this."​

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A fresh drag of the cigarra she knew Taeli hated. "Thank you though, Imperator Tavlar. It is good to know the man behind the mask."​

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She called for her guards and signaled the lone TIE fighter with the crown emblem on its hexagonal wings. While Fiolette waited for the TIE to settle onto the ground, she gave the Imperator one last proverb. "Guard your honor, Imperator. Let your reputation fall where it well, and outlive the bastards." It was a rather long-winded way of saying, good luck. Fiolette boarded the TIE fighter with her two guards, and left Prefsbelt IV behind. ​

It was a shame indeed that she could not have joined the New Imperial Order, but Fiolette felt good in knowing that at the very least there was someone in this war watching the toll of lives because it most certainly was not the Sith Empire. ​

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- FIN -
[FIO EXIT]

Irveric Tavlar

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