The Admiralty
[member="Kana Truden"]
"You requested Master Truden specifically."
"Yes." a rigid posture, hands locked behind his back and steely-blue eyes looked out of the window inside Rhen's office. Unease spread through him as he noticed just how fething high they were off the ground. Not that space travel was any different, but still. Cole wondered if they couldn't have opted for a less... impressive design.
One that was structurally less fragile.
"Any particular reason, Knight Katarn?"
Expected. She had gone dark. Details were sketchy, but the fact that Truden had fallen to the Darkside wasn't up for debate - what was up for debate were her reasons and rationale. But that was the kind of discussions left to the Marshals.
"She isn't like the others."
Rhen wasn't letting it go. "Our Order has multiple experienced Masters. Men and women of proven integrity."
Right. Militant jarheads, investigators sniffing around healer zabraks and prancing Masters playing house instead of fighting the good fight. Sometimes the Galactic Alliance felt more like an episode of a random zeltrosian drama HoloNet series.
"They are... determined."
That earned him a chuckle, but he could almost sense the Marshal shaking his head.
"I promised your father I'd guide you, Cole." and that hit a note. Cole turned around, rigid posture turning even more stiff. A silence swept in between them. It continued for a few seconds, before Cole looked away again.
"And I appreciate it, Grand Marshal Rhen."
Maybe the title was there to put some more distance between them.
"Cole."
"Master Rhen." the older man sighed, shook his head and then stood up. He walked around his table and halted in front of it.
"You have made up your mind then?"
"We both know that I don't fit with the rest of the Order's culture."
"Very well then. Once she is out of her probation you can report to her."
"Thank you, Master."
A wry smile accompanied the second sigh. "Don't thank me yet, lad."
"You requested Master Truden specifically."
"Yes." a rigid posture, hands locked behind his back and steely-blue eyes looked out of the window inside Rhen's office. Unease spread through him as he noticed just how fething high they were off the ground. Not that space travel was any different, but still. Cole wondered if they couldn't have opted for a less... impressive design.
One that was structurally less fragile.
"Any particular reason, Knight Katarn?"
Expected. She had gone dark. Details were sketchy, but the fact that Truden had fallen to the Darkside wasn't up for debate - what was up for debate were her reasons and rationale. But that was the kind of discussions left to the Marshals.
"She isn't like the others."
Rhen wasn't letting it go. "Our Order has multiple experienced Masters. Men and women of proven integrity."
Right. Militant jarheads, investigators sniffing around healer zabraks and prancing Masters playing house instead of fighting the good fight. Sometimes the Galactic Alliance felt more like an episode of a random zeltrosian drama HoloNet series.
"They are... determined."
That earned him a chuckle, but he could almost sense the Marshal shaking his head.
"I promised your father I'd guide you, Cole." and that hit a note. Cole turned around, rigid posture turning even more stiff. A silence swept in between them. It continued for a few seconds, before Cole looked away again.
"And I appreciate it, Grand Marshal Rhen."
Maybe the title was there to put some more distance between them.
"Cole."
"Master Rhen." the older man sighed, shook his head and then stood up. He walked around his table and halted in front of it.
"You have made up your mind then?"
"We both know that I don't fit with the rest of the Order's culture."
"Very well then. Once she is out of her probation you can report to her."
"Thank you, Master."
A wry smile accompanied the second sigh. "Don't thank me yet, lad."