Private The Dead Speak | Where the Steel Fist meets the Man of Iron

[Julius Haskler]

T H E _ D E A D _ S P E A K
Tags: Rurik Fel | K Kraig Haskler

It would be the first time Julius saw the Man of Iron as the Sovereign Imperator. Many changes had occurred since Julius had left the scene for a few months. As the Sith Empire began to disappear, the Moff turned his gaze to the next objective. There was an urgent need to prepare the imperial return to power on Anaxes, but first, colonies of the Azure Jewel had to be visited. The diplomat visited Azure and some other planets, trying to buy their support and bring them into his fold. All wasn't successful, but the old man was convinced Tavlar would appreciate his efforts to extend the reach of the Iron Sun.

And as he travelled back to Yinchorr, the news struck. Tavlar dead, Carlac lost, the revolt menacing everywhere. Only a swift counterattack and gigantic sacrifices had allowed the disaster to be avoided. After the tense showdown at Nirauan, the Imperial-Anaxsi had not been spotted in the Order, retreating to their fortress and cutting themselves off the celebrations following the fall of the Sith Empire. Only the call for arms had drawn specific units out, but it would be the first time Julius himself travelled to Bastion since the crisis meetings to deal with the Chiss displaced populations. And his objective today was far from what one would expect.

It was a show of force and a ceremony of renewed partnership. Escorted by the whole Azure Hammer Command, Julius and his special guest would descend on Bastion to meet the Man of Iron. Spearheading the fleet, the venerable Tormentor was a peculiar sight. This more than obsolete vessel belonged in a museum, yet it served without question. Old legends reemerged as the Rothana-class Battlecruiser joined the orbit of Bastion, legends of ancient predators stalking the void and devouring innocent vessels. Immediately afterwards, a shuttle was making planetfall, escorted by a squadron of TIE/Vx Viper. The fleet soon began to drift above the skies of the capital, the magnificent sight for any true Imperial. The elite of the Navy was parading for the pleasure of impressing civilians and commoners.

On the ground, however, no particular ceremony was needed. Six characters left the shuttle, entering resolutely the palace, and made their way to the throne room. It was strange to see the place of so many battles be so quiet and empty. In fact, no one was seemingly trying to stop the group from getting to the throne.

Julius felt strangely confident about what was going to unfold. He was not adept at brash and violent demonstrations, but Commodore Orcana had managed to convince him that deploying the entire fleet was a good idea. It was dangerously close from being considered treachery or intimidation, but a man of war would recognise it for what it was: a parade. Likewise, the intrusion of four TodHusars and two high-ranking Anawsi officials could be considered an invasion, but it was in truth a group of Imperials trying to get to their Emperor.

So much time had passed Julius felt a bit estranged in this palace and the new atmosphere among the politicians of the Order. His self-imposed exile had taken its toll, and while the isolationist policy imposed on Yinchorr had prevented a backlash regarding the Nirauan affair. However, it also prevented his guest from learning of the current state of the galaxy. He had tried to keep him to pace, but it was impossible to account for every detail of a galactic-scale geopolitical system. Hence, the encounter to come would be decisive.

It was all like a dream. The palace had looked empty and miserable, but the throne room looked empty and impressive. The only person apart from the Anaxsi in the room was the Man of Iron himself. Like he was awaiting them. This newfound omniscience was surprising the Moff. It seemed people never ceased to gain new talents when they accessed to more important positions. From where he was, at the entrance of the room, it seemed like the Imperator was slumped on the throne, maybe sleeping. But Julius knew he was not. At best, Force-gifted people would meditate, but a predator like the Man of Iron never slept. Or, this was what the rumours said.

The four soldiers knew their place and remained at the door, guarding the entrance and ensuring the two Anaxsi were safe inside the throne room. But their presence was futile. Either the Imperator would try to kill them and they would be unable to protect their lieges, either he wouldn't try to kill them and their presence would only add so little to the most secured building of the Empire. Anyway, the protocol was important and the TodHusars were playing their part. The two remaining characters had to play their own role.

Draped in heavy, dark travel cloth, the two officials walked slowly until they were standing at the foot of the throne. Before them, the Imperator. In a rather emphatic move, Julius revealed himself by discarding his cloth. The hood was brought back and the cape followed, sliding along the diplomat's shoulders and back. Now free of his moves, the Moff proceeded to kneel and decided to break the silence reigning in the palace.

"My Lord, Imperator Fel... It is an honour to meet you here. Please, forgive my sudden arrival: pressing matters are to be discussed... And I would like you to meet a man of exceptional talent, a hero of the old Empire, my own ancestor. My Lord, for you, the Dead will speak. Please..."

Getting back on his two feet, Julius had a gesture of the hand towards the second hooded figure, who mimicked the emphatic move of discarding the cloth by letting it slide along its shoulders. The cape fell, revealing a juvenile face, a deep blue uniform, a rigid gesture, and a Moff rank plaque.

"Please meet Moff Kraig Haskler, founder of my House, protector of Corellia, craftsman of so many victories for a beleaguered Empire. Brought back to life to serve again the cause of the Empire."

Content of the introduction he had given to this 800-year-old warlord, Julius let the silence fall again, as the three men stared at each other.

 

[Rurik Fel]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Julius Haskler | K Kraig Haskler

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Anaxes. The actions and exploits of House Haskler were well known across the New Order. Whether Rurik had interacted with them directly? Not in any great length. The Crusader Warlord that was Rurik Fel had seen himself largely removed from the Imperial political sphere. All the ties Irveric had sown among his fiefs...shattered in a moment, shattered not within a mile or so from where Rurik lingered now. In the Gardens of Pellaeon- within the Iron Sun at its center, he sat on the floor, his masked face away from the sole entrance into the chamber.

Flanking the entrance way, two of the Knights Sentinel, Rurik's own specially assigned guard unit- plucked from the most elite war fettered knights of the Force Corps. Not long after the door pried open with a metallic hiss, he awakened from his transcendent blur to the sound of heavy footfalls along the ornate surface beneath.

Argent eyes pried open and he began to rise to his own feet, turning to face the two with a placid gaze of steely indifference before he met their gaze evenly with their own rise from the gesture of respect owed to his newfound power as Imperator.

As Haskler introduced his comrade, Rurik's eyes narrowed. This was...a very distasteful display, though he wasn't fully aware Haskler knew well of that. Tavlar was assassinated by those able to infiltrate Fortress Imperator due to their nature...as undead. To introduce another revenant starkly and directly before himself seemed nigh insulting, a cruel joke.

"With recent events, Lord Haskler...you realize how horrid an image this might be to trounce this undead soul into our sanctum of order. But so you seem to speak in praise of this man...why? His deeds are of the past, what can he give us now?" Rurik asked, his gaze shifting toward Kraig.

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