Relationship Status: It's Complicated
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG:
Helix
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Quinn Varanin
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Mercy
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Revna Marr
War had a way of consuming every hour afforded to those tasked with waging it.
For weeks the Dread Wolf had been little more than a shadow moving from one command chamber to the next. Fleet manifests had replaced sleep. Supply reports had become his evening reading. The training yards of Jutrand, the foundries producing weapons for the coming campaign, and the endless meetings of the Dark Council had demanded his attention in equal measure. Every decision carried weight now. Every transport assigned, every commander elevated, every world strengthened or left vulnerable would echo once the Sith Order crossed blades with the High Republic in earnest.
The arena had almost slipped from his thoughts.
Almost.
Gerwald had always believed there was value in watching warriors before entrusting them with war. Battlefields forged legends, but arenas stripped away excuses. There were no armies to hide behind, no logistics to blame, and no subordinate to shoulder failure. Only instinct, discipline, and resolve remained once the gates closed.
Those qualities interested the Dread Wolf far more than spectacle ever could.
The doors to the observatory opened without herald or announcement. Conversation softened of its own accord as the towering Dark Councilor entered, his presence drawing attention without demanding it. Gerwald acknowledged no one immediately. His eyes were already upon the arena below where crimson, orange, and violet blades painted violent arcs across the dust while the crowd answered each exchange with thunderous approval.
He recognized each combatant in only a few heartbeats.
Lirka Ka
.
Darth Strosius
.
Varin Mortifer
Then his attention settled upon the youngest among them.
Aerik Lechner
.There was no flicker of pride upon Gerwald's face. Whatever existed between father and son remained separate from what unfolded below. The apprentice had earned his place in the arena beneath Darth Prazutis' tutelage, not because of the blood that flowed through his veins. Today would either validate that belief or expose shortcomings that still demanded correction.
Satisfied he had not arrived too late, Gerwald made his way toward the seats overlooking the contest. Only when he reached the empty chair beside Revna did he finally turn his attention from the arena long enough to acknowledge the Queen of Korriban with a respectful inclination of his head before lowering himself into the seat. An attendant silently offered a glass, which Gerwald accepted without ceremony.
"I'll back Quinn's wager."
His voice carried the calm certainty of a man accustomed to making decisions that committed lives rather than credits. There was no flourish, no attempt to sway those gathered. Quinn had placed her confidence in the apprentice. The Dread Wolf merely affirmed it.
His golden eyes returned to the arena.
Aerik slipped into an opening as Strosius committed elsewhere.
A faint nod.
"He committed when your master did," Gerwald observed quietly to Revna. "Good. Hesitation would have squandered the opportunity."
He took a measured sip before resting the glass against the arm of his chair.
"The opening is earned. The victory still has to be."
With that, the Dread Wolf settled comfortably into his seat, content to watch warriors reveal who among them deserved to help shape the war that waited just beyond the horizon.