Private The Enemy Of My Enemy

[Cedric Grayson]

It would be the last time he called the banners, or at least that was what he'd told himself.

His lifetime had been an epoch of conflict, and yet none had been more important than this. His return to the role of Jedi Knight had been the beginning; the return to Ruusan that followed cemented his path. With the chaos spreading throughout the galaxy, now was the time to make a move. The bastions of the Ashla were not so righteous as they once were, nor as impregnable as they might have allowed themselves to believe. Even now, Cedric could see the early links of rot worming their way into the foundations of the state he had helped to forge A society without faith was a society without morals, and the lacking of that mixed with an increasingly bloated bureaucracy would eventually bring an end to any civilization. Soon enough the servants of the great enemy would wreathe the galaxy in hellfire - would the democracies be able to put out the flames before they consumed everyone and everything?

Cedric thought not. The genocide on Csilla had only served to bolster his conclusion. He could only do so much for the people of the core on his own, and his own people suffered beneath their boots. The Essonians were little more than mercenary bands, vagrants, and church gatherings spattered about the galaxy. If he was to resume his role as a leader, then it would not do to ignore the plight of his kinsmen in favor of strangers.

A quarter of a million had set up camp both within and outside the walls of the Graywall. The lights of their fires colored the night in bursts of orange and crimson, their presence a constant reminder of what Cedric was setting out to do. He allowed himself a moment's break from the logistics sheet he'd been pouring over and stepped out on to the balcony of the fortress' highest turret.

"My lord," one of his guardsmen had entered his office unannounced. "There's someone here to see you. One of the Sages smelled the touch of the Bogan on him. We were moving to apprehend him, but he says he knows you." The guardmen let the words hang their as he awaited an order.

Cedric lofted a brow. Of all the places for one of his many enemies to show up, this was quite possibly the worst. "Is that so?" He asked, arms folding behind the small of his back. "Bring him in then." The guard could not keep a flash of worry from coloring his features. "Even the greatest of Sith Lords is little threat here." Cedric reminded, bowing his head toward the guardsmen to make it clear that he would brook no argument.

Darth Petrichor

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Ruusan... a planet steeped in a history of blood and conflict. Petrichor had visited the planet once before, many years ago. His intentions were to study the effects of the thought bomb that had been unleashed on the planet. It had been one of the biggest revelations that he had experienced on his travels. The Sith had put forth such a great amount of effort to destroy their enemies, only to destroy their own in the process. The planet stood as a monument to all of their failures and shortsightedness. Petrichor felt an incredibly strong sense of clarity as he walked among this living war memorial, this testament to Sith futility.

As he approached the Graywall, Petrichor could feel the Jedi he had met on Dantooine. The man had made an impression on the Sith lord, and Petrichor had been eager to discover more about the man. He may have been a Jedi, but there was a cold determination that the man possessed; an untold conviction that cut to his core. Something that Petrichor shared, in his own way. But beyond personal curiosity, Petrichor had other reasons to be visiting the man on this day.

He didn't offer any resistance when he was met by security. He could have taken them, should the need arise, but Petrichor wasn't here to start a fight. He merely mentioned the man's name, assuming it would be enough to get him an audience. It had appeared that his assumption was correct.

He entered the office accompanied by two of the guards that had attempted to detain him. They seemed dedicated to watching him, even in the presence of someone as powerful as their lord. Petrichor simply ignored their presence, calmly making his way toward Cedric Grayson .

"It is a pleasure to cross paths with you again, Jedi."

He said it in a joking manner, recalling the way he had addressed the man in their first encounter. Petrichor wasn't sure what the outcome of this meeting would be, but he would do his best to maintain a diplomatic approach. It had been a gamble, showing up to the Graywall, but there would be many gambles to be made on the path ahead. Csilla had been a catalyst for him to begin making moves against his brethren. Perhaps he felt some guilt over convincing his former student to not defend his own people. Perhaps it was him growing restless in his exile. Whatever the reason, Petrichor had finally come to a place where he would begin to unleash judgment on the Sith that were too lost for him to help. This continued destruction of the galaxy would not stand.

He could only hope that this gamble would pay off...

 

[Cedric Grayson]

A momentary confusion splayed across Cedric's features, and then morphed into curiosity. He'd met this one on Dantooine, though unlike most Sith he encountered that meeting had not ended in conflict. Be that as it may, it was foolish to come to the Graywall when you openly carried Sith titles. Were it that this one had been received by one of his less experienced me he likely would have had a fight on his hands.

"Bold of you to come here," Cedric offered in greeting, then turned his gaze toward the two guardsmen. "Waart dobaussen." The soldiers' anxiety was palpable in the empyrean, but they stepped outside as they were bidden all the same.

"You are aware my men have a strong hatred for Sith, yes?" He lofted a brow as he strode back toward his desk, and gestured for the Sith to take a seat on the opposite side of it. "Frankly I'm surprised they had enough willpower to deliver you here unharmed. They'll need to be rewarded," the exile wasted little time in digging through the desk's drawers. He produced a small ivory bottle that sported an engraving of what looked to be a large raptor spreading its wings over a black sun.

"Hausmeeschter Mead." He muttered as he poured himself a small glass of the golden liquid. "I'd offer you some, but that mask tells me you might be the anonymous type." A pause, "Didn't catch your name back on Dantooine."

Darth Petrichor

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Petrichor could sense the air of uncertainty around Cedric Grayson . It was to be expected, after all. This was likely one of the last places one would expect to see a darksider, let alone a Sith lord. The sight of him likely caught more than a couple of them off guard. He could feel the hesitation in the movement of the guards, likely due to them not wanting to leave him alone with Cedric. Such devotion to their leader... a quality that reflected well on both them and the man himself.

"I did get that impression, yes. Personally, I find hate to be a waste of valuable energy, but I will say that I share the distaste for my brethren more than they might think."

He politely waved away at the bottle of mead as he continued.

"Thank you for the offer. These days, I rarely drink. I have spent many years learning to combat intoxication from things more demanding than a drink, but in doing so, I have found my appetite for such things naturally lessened."

He took a moment to allow the man time to take a drink from his glass.

"Darth Petrichor, although Petrichor will do just fine. I only retain the title of Darth for the sake of appearances. After all, the Sith are much more willing to hear what you have to say if you carry the title. A silly thing, isn't it? The fact that one word can have so much sway over perception. It seems that, in many cases, the pen truly is mightier than the sword."

Petrichor knew that the man would likely have reservations, talking to someone with the title of Darth. Petrichor was willing to test the waters nonetheless.

"And you are Cedric Grayson, if my information is correct."

Petrichor wasn't sure how the man would react, but he wanted to demonstrate the reach that he had. Perhaps showing a level of usefulness would keep the meeting moving forward in a productive manner. After all, there was more to his intent than just a simple social call.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Cedric listened quietly as Petrichor made his introductions. He responded to the declining of the drink with a wave of his hand, "Understandable. Generally I steer clear of the stuff, but without it I'm afraid reviewing our supply lines would drive me insane." He'd never cared much for the statistics that made up a war. He was educated well enough on the matter of logistics because it was a necessity, but unlike some of those he'd studied alongside of in the academy, he carried no passion for it.

"When I made the call for my people to rally on Ruusan, I expected our major corporations scattered around the galaxy to provide aid. Evidently several of them have decided that lining their own pockets is more important than reclaiming our home. I can feed them all, but our equipment is lacking..." he ranted for a moment, eyes darting down toward the manifest on his desk once more before returning his attention to Petrichor. "I have sought to lead my people away from hatred in favor of faith. Many have seen the light, but so many more are consumed by grief. Even still, hatred has its place in the hearts of mortal men. It will serve them well in the war to come if nothing else."

He took a sip from his drink, allowed himself to savor the spiced flavor for a moment, then continued. "Titles are merely tools with which great men can create change," he philosophized, "Or damn themselves, depending on the title in question." He added with a pointed look Petrichor's way.

"So, my esteemed guest," he waved an arm about, "What, pray tell, brings a lord of the Sith into my home?"

Darth Petrichor

 

[Minka Vosh]

Only after the door had been closed for a few minutes and a suspiciously civil conversation began to unravel between the two men did the air first shimmer with foreign life. Like the wave of a mirage disturbing what was once a vacant space, it rippled up the wall with its distorted reflections and glimmers of light. The Zabak appeared silent and still, with a generous amount of space between her and Cedric, which was about the least threatening entrance she could safely come up with. Her position flanked Darth Petrichor , and she stood with her gloved hands clasped benignly in front of her.

The surprise, she guessed, would be about as unnerving as it was unwelcomed, but she had weighed their options before even stepping foot onto Ruusan. The risk was worth it, to her. It was either that, or waltz into what should be rightfully assumed as enemy territory, while being staggeringly outnumbered, and hope to be left unharmed. That would not do at all.

Hope was for Jedi.

It was also a test to see just how long, and how effectively, she could pull of a Force cloak. Though she wasn't sure exactly how long it would take them to journey through a sea of Cedric Grayson 's men to get to him, if she focused solely on cloaking herself and avoided interacting with anything, she was confident she could pull it off long enough. Thankfully, there'd been no significant detours or delays, his men had been wise enough not to attack Petrichor on sight.

"Apologies..." She spoke after a pause that extended longer than it should have. As if she'd almost forgotten it was her turn to be diplomatic. And that was putting it mildly, after her successful stunt. "This was what you might call a contingency plan. Because yes, your men do possess a strong hatred toward those who...appreciate the Bogan."

Minka offered a thin and cryptic smile that didn't reach her eyes as she watched Cedric. Without moving her gaze, she waited patiently for Petrichor to answer his question, before she had so unexpectedly revealed her presence. It wasn't the warmest or most reassuring introduction, but future responses would depend on his reception of her. For more than one reason, she still was not certain this meeting would go smoothly, or favorably.

If it didn't, she likely wouldn't leave this planet alive. Every time she used Force cloak, she pushed herself a little farther, but it was still a very draining skill.

 

[Darth Petrichor]

"Unfortunately, greed has become all too common. War has potential to increase profits, but it also has the potential to run corporations into the ground."

Petrichor was amused by the response Cedric Grayson had given. A Jedi who accepted the presence of hatred among their own... quite the anomaly, to say the least. But then again, Cedric did not seem like an ordinary Jedi.

"Indeed, hatred can provide a strong rallying cry for those who have been wronged. In fact, Such wrongdoings are why I came here."

With his words, Minka Vosh made her presence known. Her skills as an assassin had indeed proved useful. Admittedly, Petrichor had his reservations about bringing her along. The presence of one darksider would already raise suspicion. The presence of two could be seen as something more hostile. Nevertheless, he eventually agreed to her plan.

"The deception is unfortunate, but it is preferable to be prepared for all potential outcomes, when possible."

He took a step forward as he continued.

"As for the reasons for the visit, well, lets just say that we may have more in common than you think. Whether you realize it or not, we share a common enemy."

Petrichor didn't want to use the term "enemy" when talking about his fellow Sith. Unfortunately, the reality was that, no matter how many flocked to his banner, Petrichor would eventually have to clash with the ruling bodies of Sith. They had no true interest in peace. They had made that apparent when they attacked Csilla. There was no more time for waiting, only time for action.

"You see, I don't share the imperialist ideals of my brethren. After Csilla, well... it needs to stop. Since my brethren will not listen to reason, I see no other alternative than to put them down, and I hear that you and yours are rather keen on that idea."

He intentionally left out much of his knowledge of Cedric's people, as he didn't want to arouse any more suspicion. The negotiations were likely going to be tough as is, and Petrichor wasn't about to rock the boat further.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Whatever pleasantry Cedric might have allowed for himself in the discussion bled away as the empyrean shifted. The light itself moved in unison with the shift, and a moment later the Zabrak woman from Dantooine was standing in his office too. Cedric hadn't expected much hostility from Petrichor, but another force user in the room shifted the odds of a conflict in his guest's favor.

Not entirely certain on their intentions, Cedric idly grabbed his lightsaber off its place on his desk. The pressure plate it had been sitting on sprung upward immediately, and four twin-barreled turrets popped up from the many shelves and cabinets that lined Cedric's office. "You should have walked in with him," Cedric said plainly to Minka Vosh . "But, understandable."

The turrets hummed quietly as they idled. They would remain so until Cedric was convinced of their intent.

"A Sith Lord with a conscience? If the Sith's current actions bother you, you might subscribe to the wrong code," the exile muttered pointedly. "If I'm understanding your implications correctly, you're requesting an alliance of sorts?" Blue eyes darted from one face to the other. "The both of you? You should know my people's distaste for the Bogan is something I subscribe to."

He paused for a moment, took another sip from his glass, and stared down into it in quiet contemplation. A few beats passed before he shrugged in answer to some unheard question, then looked back to the duo. "I'll hear you out."

Darth Petrichor

 

[Minka Vosh]

Though Cedric Grayson 's response didn't come as a surprise, and was quite justified, it took every ounce of instinct-denying willpower for the Zabrak to remain still. He reached for his lightsaber, and as he did, four previously hidden turrets revealed themselves and hummed their quiet but threatening tune. Had the lightsaber ignited, she would have reacted, but instead she intently watched with little more than a twitch of her index finger. That being said, the tension was palpable, and her eyes didn't blink for a long moment.

A subtle flex in her jaw hinted at unspoken words. A checked impulse. Some retort or three that would have been needlessly inflammatory. As she had promised Darth Petrichor in a previous conversation, she was capable of diplomacy, and it was time to put that to use now. Especially considering the mountain of hostility the Jedi could bring down on them both at a whim. They took a considerable risk even showing their faces here. It could not be in vain.

"The Dark side of the Force is not the enemy. It is a tool no different from your Ashla. What matters is how the tool is used. Though I know you won't agree... We're not here to discuss philosophy." Her tone was even and quiet, though her gaze remained sharp. "The Sith Empire in its current state is a plague whose destruction knows no bounds. What it cannot dominate, it will destroy. When it runs out of targets, it will destroy itself. It places no value on life that it cannot control or consume. If Darth Petrichor had it his way, he'd cure them of their plague, and reform them. Sometimes...culling the herd is the lesser evil, however."

Minka smiled slightly, unmoving except for the gaze that flit from his lightsaber to his drink. "I assume the prosperity of your own people would take precedence over the..." With a pause, she considered her next words more carefully, "spiritual distress you feel over cooperating with those whose beliefs aren't aligned with your own."

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Petrichor didn't even flinch at the appearance of the turrets. In truth, he had almost anticipated it. He may have not have been able to predict this specific reaction, but he knew the Jedi's reputation. Cedric Grayson was a man who would take few risks without just cause, and this meeting was no different. Instead of focusing on their presence, Petrichor focused on the matter at hand.

"I am inclined to agree with Minka Vosh . The darkness, no matter how you despise it, is not your enemy at the end of the day. Your true enemy, is those who wish to use the darkness as a method of enslavement and destruction."

He simply paced back and forth as he spoke, never taking his eyes off of Cedric.

"I would argue that the only codes that matter are those that promote progress. We may not agree on our methods, but in the end, we both seek progress."

He took a minute to acknowledge the words of Minka. Wise beyond her years, she was. The only shame was the circumstances under which she had to obtain such wisdom. The harshness of the Sith was not lost on any in the room, although it had touched each of them in a very unique way.

"I am more than aware of your beliefs, and I honestly hold no grudge against such ways of thinking. In truth, I understand why you believe the things you do. My brethren have done little to prove you wrong. Nevertheless, I am a supporter of free will, prosperity, and peace. Take that as you will, Jedi, but it is true."

Petrichor took both of his lightsabers from his waist. Instead of igniting their crimson blades, he calmly placed them on the desk. It was a sign of good will, as well as an attempt to cool potentially hot tempers.

"I could grab those at any moment, but I'm sure you know that. I would like to make it clear that violence is not on the agenda today."

He steadily took a step back from the desk.

"I ask for nothing beyond the safety of my academy, at least for now. If a day comes where we should cross blades, then so be it. In the meantime, however, I propose we put aside our philosophical differences in the name of peace. Let us raise our fist in unison against those that would destroy and enslave the innocent. Surely you can support such a cause."

It was a tactical response, but he meant every word. The only question that remained, was whether or not he would share their views.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The offer was made.

Cedric leaned back far in his chair, the wood creaking beneath his weight as he steeped his fingers. He was not above working with Sith in theory. He'd done so several times in the past in pursuit of a greater goal, but they always lingered on the side of treachery. The moment their work was complete, and often times before it, Cedric would find a dagger at his back, both metaphorically and quite literally in one case. He listened to their offer nonetheless, a brow raised in mild interest the entire time.

"Ah, but we are here to discuss philosophy." Cedric pointed out, "I have worked with Sith in the past to achieve shared goals. Every single time, they have sought to undermine me once the goal was within reach. I don't know either of you, but experience has taught me to be critical of those that walk the Bogan's path."

Petrichor's show of good faith did not go unnoticed. Cedric mirrored the Sith, setting his own blade back in its place, the turrets whirring quietly as they slipped into their housings. "I will not work with you if I do not know the content of your character. Both of you." His tone brooked no argument. "You say the Dark Side is a tool. I have heard this perspective from many Sith that would have called me friend in the past. At the time, I believed them. I thought that, perhaps, the Bogan could be used as a means of change, not unlike a lightsaber, if tempered and wielded by one of great discipline and a pure heart."

The Jedi drained the remnants of his glass, and did not hesitate to pour another. "I fought alongside those Sith over many years. I gave them lands, wealth, and the love of my people. I made them heroes." He took a sip. "We called ourselves the Dominion of Ession, and thought ourselves to be the most forward thinking people of our time. We had crossed the great divide, mended the ancient wounds, and created a new society in which all people and all ideas carried equal merit. Tolerance was the word of the day."

"Those young enlightened Sith that used the Bogan as a tool for justice, that fought alongside me for the better part of a decade, that intermingled with my own family, and that my people looked up to as paragons, what did they do?" He set the glass down harder than he needed to in order to better emphasize his point. "They betrayed us. Opened our gates to the precursor of what we now know to be the Sith Empire. For all their values, all their grandstanding, all they claimed to represent, the offer of power the empire provided was enough to get them to turn on their own countrymen. They did not even have the honor of doing so openly: men and women women I trusted to protect my people opened the gates for the hordes to march in, and hell followed with them."

The Jedi cracked a sardonic grin as he continued, "You say the Bogan is a tool, but I have seen the effects that 'tool' has on its wielder. You may be fine now, you may believe you have it under your control, but the Bogan is hellfire, and it will consume you eventually. It always does. It is a cancer that must be excised from the galaxy if we are ever to know true peace. It is the enemy of progress, of understanding, of enlightenment."

He set his glass aside, stamped his hands on his deck, and leaned toward the both of them. "So tell me, my new friends, if all collusion with the Great Enemy has brought me is treachery, why should I trust you?"

Darth Petrichor , Minka Vosh

 

[Minka Vosh]

Never taking her eyes from Cedric Grayson , she watched in her peripheral as Darth Petrichor placed his own lightsabers down onto the desk in a gesture of peace, and paced the room. She didn't approve, though she understood his reasoning. Nevertheless, no one attuned to the Force was disarmed by simply dropping a physical weapon. Any Force user worth their salt was just as capable without their lightsaber as they were with one in hand. She wasn't aware of the full extent of his capabilities, but she imagined he had many defensive tricks up his sleeves, if the need arose.

Cedric set his down as well, and as he did, the four turrets disappeared. The tension was eased, if only a little. Minka wouldn't feel anything close to ease until they left the Graywall.

"Then get to know us, Cedric. We have time." Simple and direct. He'd said much in a short time, and she took a keen assessment of him with every word. Honesty, a balance of openness and skepticism, and genuineness. Jaded, yet hopeful, and certainly driven. These were the things she sensed, though there was bound to be more complexity in him.

"Firstly, for what it's worth, I no longer identify as Sith. I'm sure that means little to you, but it should be said. I use the Bogan, and I will until the day I die, but what the current Sith Empire embodies, I do not follow. Secondly... I will never deceive you into believing I am your friend." With that, she smiled. This one did reach her eyes, but it's sincerity was born from amusement. "An enemy? Potentially. Tomorrow, ten years from now, I don't know. That would be your choice, however. The Jedi simply disinterest me, and that includes your people and your home. The only intent I have is to be a tool against the continued expansion of the Empire. I would expect you to use me as much as I use you, in favor of a common goal."

Words meant nothing without the actions to back them up. For all the Jedi knew, she was an expert at manipulation and spinning whatever lies she thought would gain the most influence from him. As someone who thoroughly enjoyed illusions and deceptions, it was more probable that she was doing just that. This was something she considered.

"Nothing I just said is convincing, I'm sure. You have no reason to trust anything a Dark sider says, and you shouldn't. All of the treachery you've experienced, I experienced as well, by my own allies. Actually..." Minka stifled a quiet laugh, "they were more than allies, or so I thought. That is because, like you've said, they were consumed by the Force they claimed to master. They became its puppet as it became their addiction. We have all witnessed firsthand the corrosion it causes. How it eats away at them as much as it does everything they touch in the galaxy."

As she paused, her eyes finally glanced away from Cedric's, eyeing the glass he firmly set down after his second drink. There was a fine balance she was trying to maintain. She had no interest in lying to him about anything, unbelievable as it may seem. She didn't see the point. That being said, her style of candor wasn't necessarily one that contributed to trust, especially for someone in his position. She and Petrichor had a purpose in coming here. Even if she held reservations for meeting with the Jedi, and her own skepticisms over what the outcome of a such an alliance would be, they set out with a goal to achieve. If there was still one thing hardwired into her brain after her years spent with the Sith, it was that failing a mission of any kind was not an option.

"Talk is cheap..." She said finally. "You said you want to understand the content of our characters, so let's begin. May I show you something?" As she looked back up at him, expressionless, one hand began peeling off the glove of the other, finger by finger. It was the first time she moved since appearing. Slow enough to seem leisurely or bored, thought that wasn't quite it. After slipping it into a pocket, she took a slow pace to the front of his desk, and held out her bare hand to him. If he did nothing but stare at her curiously, which wouldn't surprise her, she'd eventually speak, "I need yours, if you will..."

She wasn't sure what his response would be, but if he obliged, he would receive a steady stream of memories, and all the unrefined emotions and sensations that were included. They were controlled enough to make a relatively short and sensible timeline, and expand the major events and realizations that occurred during her emancipation of the Empire. Glimpses of raw ugliness, both of herself and those she'd been close to. There was a genuine savagery and ambition in her past that was bound to be painfully reminiscent of what he experienced in his. Someone who was blinded by hate, corruption, and pain, which only strengthened to a near self-destructive degree during her bitter escape.

But the memories that followed slowly painted a transition. They told the story of someone who focused more and more on tempering their passions, opening their mind and ears to other perceptions through chance encounters they had during their wanderings, even if they didn't agree with them all. Someone who lingered on the brink of an all-consuming void after a full immersion in the worst of what the Bogan had to offer, and managed to evolve. Still, she was unlike him in many ways. The savagery and the violence were still a part of her, which she didn't attempt to hide. It was simply controlled and directed by her, rather than taking free reign. Power was no longer an addiction.

The gesture wasn't necessary. She didn't need to physically touch him for such a transfer. The purpose had been to seem less invasive. He could choose to easily break the link by removing his hand whenever he wanted--or simply never engage at all.

If he did allow the memories to be exchanged, she'd simply slip her glove back on, and take a few steps back to her original place. It would seem so casual on the surface, yet it was incredibly uncomfortable for her. Letting anyone share in such personal events, and most of all an unfamiliar Jedi, was the last thing she wanted to do. What made it even more foreign was that she couldn't remember the last time she voluntarily touched someone who she wasn't in combat with. But these things were kept to herself.

In the end, it couldn't deny the truth that trusting either of them would be taking a risk on his part. She wasn't naive enough to believe anything she said would sway him, and as a matter of fact, she wouldn't trust his character if he did believe them so easily. The point was to help him decide for himself if he wanted to entertain the possibility of trusting them enough to not to be a threat.

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Petrichor was rather surprised that Cedric Grayson followed suit, but was more than glad that the tension was, at least, mildly lifted. As the turrets returned to their hidden homes, Petrichor nodded in acknowledgement of Cedric's past. The treacherous history of the Sith was not lost on the Sith lord. He had suffered his own fair share at the hands of his brethren.

"But you see, that is the problem. The Sith have grown accustomed to such arrogance. Many of them believe that they can control the darkness, and in that arrogance, they fail. I have spent most of my life traveling, studying the Force, all aspects of it. And yes, there was once a time when I was more arrogant. A time when I was unaware of the extent to which one must go to avoid being consumed. But make no mistake... I have made it my life's work to change the Sith."

He didn't expect those words to be believed by the man, but they were worth being said nonetheless. Petrichor motioned toward Minka Vosh as Cedric drank from his glass.

"She was skeptical of me as well, as she should have been. It wasn't until she saw my academy that she became convinced."

He was careful to not divulge too much about the academy. As much as he would like to trust the Jedi, Petrichor knew that he couldn't. Not yet.

"Control of the darkness is difficult to achieve. It takes many years of constant training. Every waking moment is a test. Many don't succeed. But those who do are greater in number than you may think. I have found many who seek a different path from those who walk in the shadow of these false Sith. There are those who seek inner peace and clarity. Many have come to me searching for a way out, and I happily provide, with no stipulations, no need for control. And now I am seen as a heretic in the eyes of many Sith. Some have even called me an agent of the light, the Grey Sith."

He chuckled at the mention of his title. It was given to him as an insult from his brethren, but he always found it to be quite endearing. He didn't cringe at the thought of the light like his fellow Sith. In truth, he welcomed its presence within the greater ebb and flow of the Force.

"The treachery you suffered is unforgivable, there is no denying that. But the brutal reality of it is this... you will never fully eliminate the darkness. As long as there is light, there will always be darkness to balance it. To every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The only question is, how does one adapt to such circumstances?"

He took some time to allow Minka to speak her peace. She had proven to be very level-headed in this encounter, moreso than he had even hoped. She promised him back at the academy that she'd be able to do so, and she certainly delivered. As she offered her hand to the man, Petrichor found himself feeling quite impressed. Such impeccable timing, you'd almost think they had rehearsed it.

As she held out her hand, Petrichor simply stood in silence, curious as to how the Jedi would react. The gesture was a bold one, on her part. Petrichor was well aware of how guarded she was. The significance of this unexpected allowance for Cedric to see into her past might be lost on the Jedi, but to Petrichor, it spoke volumes.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Understanding of the man dawned on Cedric rather quickly, though it did not show in his features. The Lord of Ession visibly relaxed as he silenced himself, absorbing everything Petrichor had to say with the intent of an analyst. It was difficult to get a lie past Cedric, but Petrichor's mask would certainly help in that endeavor if he chose to.

"Ah," he nodded slowly as he leaned back in his chair, "Gray Sith. I've known your sort too. My father walked a similar line." The old man had always thought himself to be the master of control, and he had been for a long time until he was not. The shattering of Atrisia had often been painted as an act of selflessness by Cyril Grayson's admirers, Cedric had come to understand it as the desperate bid for vengeance that it had been.

"Your ideology is an appealing one, if I'm correct on my summation of it. The freedom promised by the Sith, supposedly augmented by a connection to the Ashla to keep the darkness tempered. The best of both worlds," Cedric offered a small smile, "True freedom, however, can only be found in righteousness. You don't need to consort with the devil to find strength, Petrichor, if you let go of it, its weight will fall from your shoulders, and the troubles of the world will follow suit. Until you do, no matter how strong your will or pure your intentions are, the Bogan's shackles will remain around your feet, their weight pulling you ever further toward the abyss."

A pause.

"Nonetheless, I recognize the sincerity of your proposal, though I have one final counterargument for you. You claim the Bogan cannot be wiped out. That it is necessary for the balance. This is the central fallacy at the source of both Jedi and Sith theology, and often of every other belief structure surrounding the Force. That both sides are aspects of a meta-being we call the balance, or the Force. This is the great divide between me and any other Jedi I've known aside from my apprentices."

He was pushing the conversation far beyond its initial scope, but that had always been Cedric's nature. The arena of ideas and ideologies was his favorite among the many battlefields he'd inhabited in the past.

"In truth, the only balance is the Ashla. Beasts kill for hunger, they do not kill for pleasure or out of hatred. Everything dies, but in doing so it achieves transcendence. When the galaxy is left to its own devices, the Bogan is nowhere to be found," he held his arms out wide, "And most often it comes about as the result of sentient beings carrying out acts of depravity. The idea that the Bogan has any semblance of a place in the pantheon of the Force is a lie told by the Legions of Lettow after they were defeated by the Jedi Order to justify the atrocities they committed during the First Great Schism. We have had near endless war in the galaxy ever since. You will not hear of any intergalactic conflicts preceding it aside from the Rakatan Wars, which again were orchestrated by followers of the Bogan." Far too much now, but he was rolling with it. "You may be the exception Petrichor. You may have the will to tame the darkness, but your students will not, and the legacy you leave them will be flawed for it. Be mindful of whom you wish to share your knowledge if you walk the line, they will use it against you far more often than not."

A warning not asked for and likely unwanted, but Cedric gave it anyway.

The Zabrak woman seemed far less driven by ideology, or at that was the way she sounded. One whom had turned her back on the Sith was not untouched by their influence, but walking away was the first step. In her, with the way she spoke, he saw potential. He saw that potential in Petrichor as well, but those whom had dedicated their lives toward an ideal rarely forsook it. This one, Minka Vosh as Petrichor had said, could be molded into something greater.

He responded to her outstretched hand with a raised eyebrow and silence. After she explained her reasoning, he reached out, and his physicality drifted away. Images of a life he had never lived played through his mind like a clip montage. He did not wholly understand their meaning, nor was he cognizant of much that Minka had experienced, but he understood the flavor of the memories. Fear, grim purpose, questioning, quite betrayal, ostracization, exile.

The Jedi exhaled a sharp breath as he pulled away. "I've met very few empaths that can share their experiences so viscerally," he muttered, pouring himself another glass that he really didn't need at this point. These two could be saved if only the could be shown the path. Failing that, even if they clung to their own damnation, they could prove useful. For all the great things Cedric spoke of and claimed to embody, he carried a coldness few Jedi possessed. Years of conflict with the Sith had taught him to be pragmatic when required, and right now denying these two would be a move for his ideals rather than one that would help his armies. If they could not be saved, then they could serve on the firing line in place of those that could.

"Let us say I accept your proposal," he muttered, "What are your intentions then? You solely seek the destruction of the Sith Empire?"

Darth Petrichor

 

[Minka Vosh]

Not long ago she has claimed their visit wasn't one for philosophical discussion. How wrong she had been... It seemed Darth Petrichor might very well have just met his match in that department. Listening to them talk amused her a bit, but she didn't let it show. Something told her that if she quietly slipped out the door and left them to their devices, they'd still be politely discussing their views at 5 am the next morning.

On the other hand, Cedric Grayson 's assessment of her had been mostly correct. She was less driven by ideology, though certainly open to hearing what others had to say about the Force. More of an observer and doer, and much less a talker. In this case, it presented a nice balance. What was there for her to share, when Petrichor could easily run circles around her with his own diplomatic philosophical discussion? He was not only better at it, but he relished it.

Nevertheless, she did possess her own perceptions on the Light versus the Dark, and what she believed strongly aligned with Petrichor's beliefs. She absolutely would not have followed him here if they didn't. In truth, she vowed never to follow anyone again, but the Force guided her down a rather unexpected and curious path. What was meant to be a brief and uneventful stop in Dantooine, lead to a collision with perhaps the only Sith she had ever come to respect for something other than raw power. She wasn't certain where any of this would lead, but it didn't seem like it was going to be boring.

There was one of Cedric's statements in particular that struck a chord with her, however.

"When the galaxy is left to its own devices, the Bogan is nowhere to be found,"

It made her eyes narrow, and she considered Cedric with a look that was both critical and thoughtful. She made no counter, but it was something that was bound to echo in her mind, perhaps long after their time together came to its inevitable end - whenever that was destined to be. Right now, she didn't know if she agreed, but she would stew on it.

One thing was certain to her, though.

"Petrichor is right... Even if you don't believe the Bogan is a natural and inseparable counterbalance to the Ashla, its practitioners will continues to exists, as they have for millennia. My intentions...? Yes, I seek the destruction of the Sith Empire, that is all. I have no desire to eliminate the use of the Dark side, obviously. Even if I did, I don't believe it to be possible. What I do believe is that it's both possible and necessary to put an end to the Empire's reckless and short-sighted destruction."

Watching Cedric sip on his third glass, she couldn't help but wonder how many it would take to affect him. At least, how much he'd need to drink to impact his ability to react to a threat. The tension in the room was almost completely gone now, but the Zabrak wouldn't dream of liquor in such circumstances. Then again, she was likely more paranoid and distrusting than Cedric was. Who knows... Maybe he was skilled at expunging toxins from his system on short notice. Nothing was impossible through the Force.

Funny that he would need a third drink after the little time lapse she shared with him. It was hard to blame him for that one. Nothing she divulged had been pleasant or easy to stomach.

"I will agree on one thing... Petrichor's beliefs and intentions are unique, and I find it hard to believe so many of his students could maintain the level of discipline, willpower, and wisdom he possesses. But I have been to his academy, and it is promising. There is no guarantee his followers won't have a change of heart, and slip down a path of destruction. Keep in mind, the same can be said for your own Jedi. Especially ones who so passionately hate those of us who use the Bogan."

Minka smiled slightly.

"If there is a Sith capable of changing the Empire into a more temperate state, it is him. I'm not saying he will...but I think he is the one who could."

Such a claim might come as a surprise to Petrichor, as she'd never voiced such thoughts before, but not everything needed to be put into words. Actions always spoke louder. Why else would she have followed him into the heart of Jedi territory? And not just any Jedi, but zealots such as these.

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Petrichor was surprised by the extent of Cedric's understanding of the path he walked. It was rare enough to hear from a fellow darksider, but even more so from one who walked a lighter path.

"Your father sounds like quite the fascinating man. As for your points, I will say, you make a good argument. I can see why your people are so devoted to you. In truth, however, it is my belief that the Jedi are the reason for the First Great Schism. If those who later became the Sith had been allowed the freedom to choose in the first place, I doubt things would have escalated so. But either way, the past is the past. As Minka Vosh states, I don't believe the galaxy would ever be rid of the darkness. After so many years, it has become almost ingrained into the fabric of the galaxy itself. Since this is the case, I choose to find a way to make things work."

He managed to let out a slight chuckle.

"Who knows? Perhaps, if we are alive at the end of it all, we will be having a different conversation."

Petrichor left the idea there, for Cedric Grayson to mull over. He wasn't sure if this path would eventually place them at odds with each other, or if any of their minds would change. In the end, it didn't matter. What did matter, was the way forward.

A moment was taken for him to think on Minka's words. She had expressed the concerns about his students before, and they were just as sound now as they had been in the past. Petrichor couldn't help but to hear the truth in her words, even though the thought made his heart heavy. Her following statement brought him out of his head almost as quickly, however. She had kept many of her thoughts to herself, only ever revealing just the right amount. He wasn't sure how much of what he had told her was believed, but now he knew. It gave him a sense of accomplishment to know that one more in the galaxy believed his intentions to be true.

"Yes, there is always a risk that my followers may fall. And, in truth, we have had to deal with the occasional failure. Despite this, however, I refuse to give up. After all, even if one of your followers of the Ashla fell, would you give up on your cause? I am inclined to think that it would only steel your resolve. As for intentions, I won't stop until these false Sith'ari and their ilk are either quieted or culled. Until they are, the galaxy will not know any level of peace."

He reached into his pocket, producing a datadisc and placing it on the desk.

"You'll find that I have many resources at my disposal, despite my time in exile. I took the liberty of compiling reports from my agents that you may find useful. You say you are lacking in equipment. Included in those reports are locations of arms meant for the Sith. I only bothered including the ones that could be easily taken."

He let those words hang for just a moment.

"My operatives have also located certain prisoners that may be of interest to you. Camps, prisons, places where they are holding people. Your people. I would imagine that liberating these prisoners would help to further ignite the support for your cause. Call it a show of good faith; a gift from one student of the Force to another."

Petrichor knew that there was no guarantee that the gift would be accepted, but he also knew that he had to drive his point home. Even though him and Minka had come here to find allies, the idea of being in the heart of these zealots' territory was a reality that was difficult to escape. The negotiations had to work.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The discussion satisfied his curiosity well enough. He would need to spend more time with the two of them to truly determine the contents of their characters, but the brief peak into their thoughts had tempered Cedric's more defensive impulses. What could not be swayed could be controlled under the right circumstances. Whatever this movement was that Petrichor sponsored could be used to the Ashlans' advantage, and for the time being the Sith Lord had little reason to engage in any traitorous activities.

That would very likely change in time, and Cedric had little intention of taking his eye off the man. The Zabrak woman would be more difficult to keep tabs on, but she seemed keen to serve the Sith, so it seemed logical any treason would begin with Petrichor.

"Alright," he relented, "Your intentions seem pure, despite my better judgement. I will utilize what resources you bring to bear, this 'gift' included. You are no lord, no Darth, no title, only Petrichor from hereon. If asked, you are one my enforcers. The same with you," he nodded toward Minka Vosh . "When conducting matters alongside the crusade you will consult me and me alone. Should your nature be revealed, I expect you to disappear."

Simple enough.

"And before we finish," his gaze turned to Minka. "My Jedi do not hate the Sith, or any other being. We pity them in the way you might pity a man stricken whose mind is being consumed by a plague. If one cannot be saved, the only merciful option is to end their torment before they get the chance to hurt others, or even worse, spread the plague." The slight burn of the alcohol lead him to speak perhaps a bit harshly, but it was what he believed, and it was true. "A Jedi feels every death, sometimes even as if we are dying ourselves. How could we wage war and not fall to the darkness if we acted out of hatred? To shoulder the weight of what our duty entails is an act love, wouldn't you say? Our love for the galaxy and for the people gives us the strength to do what others cannot, and to bear what few can. It is because we love the Sith that we must destroy them."

"That aside, I believe our business is near concluded. You will find a protocol droid waiting for you outside. He will show you to your quarters."

Darth Petrichor