Private The Fourth Week

[Paila Dalle]

The stars of hyperspace dissolved into pinpricks of white as the little transport slipped back into realspace. Ahead, Nirauan hung quietly against the darkness, it's clouded atmosphere wrapped around mountain ranges and forests that appeared almost tranquil from orbit. Had she not known who awaited her below, she might have mistaken it for any other peaceful world scattered across the Outer Rim.

The navigation computer chimed softly as it confirmed arrival. Paila reached forward and silenced it. For a few moments she remained seated in the cockpit, simply watching the planet through the forward canopy. The journey had given her ample time to think. More, perhaps, than she would have preferred.

Four weeks. She had kept her promise. The holocron rested securely within a reinforced compartment behind her seat, untouched since its final closing. It's purpose had been fulfilled, at least as far as she was concerned. What it contained no longer existed in only one place. Weeks had been spent carefully documenting its contents, not by blindly reproducing every symbol, but by recording it's history, translating it's language where she could, and preserving what knowledge seemed worthy of surviving alongside careful notes of it's context and dangers.

It was not a perfect copy. Perhaps it never could be. Some things belonged to the object itself. Its age. Its craftsmanship. The impressions left by hands thousands of years gone. But if the holocron were destroyed, it's knowledge would not vanish with it. And that mattered.

Her eyes lingered upon Nirauan. She still did not know whether she intended to surrender it. Understanding what it contained had not made the decision easier. Only more honest.

Beside the pilot's seat rested her beskar staff, secured within easy reach more from habit than expectation. She had not come seeking a fight. If violence followed, it would not be because she had arrived looking for one.

"A promise kept," she murmured to the empty cockpit. Whether his would be remained to be seen.

She keyed the communications console, transmitting only the identification codes necessary to announce her arrival.

To Aurelian.

I have arrived at Nirauan, as promised.

Inform me where you would have me land.

The message was brief. Nothing more needed saying. With the transmission sent, Paila settled back into her seat and waited patiently in orbit, the world turning slowly beneath her while silence filled the cockpit once more. Somewhere below was a man who believed that the galaxy could only be saved by ending an age. She had come not to argue that history should be forgotten but to see whether two people who had kept their word could still find another path before either was forced to break it.

Tag: Aurelian of Vandemar

 

[Aurelian of Vandemar]

Aurelian

Hegemon · Lord Indomitus · Dragonknight

✠ Griffin of Vandemar ✠

✠ Directive ✠

Consecration

✠ Sector ✠

Nirauan · Eternal Triumph

✠ Wargear ✠

Armor · Sword

The silence of the void buzzed with activity. From the hyperlane points to the planet there was traffic, small freighters, tenders, large cargo ships moved as the Imperial world received and released them. The rebuilding obviously had an effect on the planet, with it came trade and industry to fuel the need for consumer goods, work and expenses. As typical for their kind, the government tightly controlled who came and who went. Signal and guiding boyes, custom stations with scanners, patrols were mandatory for entrance and for those who felt brave - above the civilian traffic corridors throned silent silhouettes of Star Destroyers, their cold presence being a menacing backdrop to the thriving ports.

It seemed a miracle that such a minor, short transmission was not completely lost.

She received a hail and coordinates as well as some security codes to move without interuption to her new destination. It was not on the planet, not on Nirauan. But led her further out of the system, through military installations and finally to what almost seemed like only void.

The Eternal Triumph suddenly appeared in front of her, from bow to stern measuring several kilometers, the massive battle-barge looked like it was from a different age with its split front and sleek design. Massive weapon emplacements, gun batteries and sensor spikes extended from its otherwise clean and smooth hull.

Her craft was guided to the flank below one of the prows where a several hangar bays opened, only now the clear white light from their interior becoming apparent. Their interior brightly illuminated by white-blue hue which seemed to originate from everywhere at once, not even a hint of shadow remained on the blue-gray deck as the ship would set down.

She was awaited by a single individual. Aurelian. He was out of his armour and dressed in a long doublet of gray and red, the weapon at his side reminding of his martial disposition. His hands were clasped as he waited for her.

✠ Dispatch Directed To ✠

Paila Dalle

Eternal Duty · Eternal Loyalty · Eternal Order

 

[Paila Dalle]

The coordinates carried her farther from Nirauan than she had expected. Paila guided the little transport steadily onward, watching the civilian traffic gradually thin until freighters gave way to patrol craft, and patrol craft in turn yielded to silence broken only by the distant presence of military vessels standing watch over the system. She could not help but notice the progression. A world did not simply defend itself. It defended itself in layers.

By the time the Eternal Triumph emerged from the darkness, she understood why the final coordinates had never pointed toward the planet below. The immense vessel seemed less like a ship than a fortress that had chosen to travel.

Her fingers rested lightly upon the controls as her transport approached under the guidance of its traffic systems. She found herself studying the battle-barge with quiet fascination rather than alarm. It was not merely built to wage war. It was built to endure it. A faint smile touched her lips. "A prudent choice," she murmured to herself. Had she been in Aurelian's position, entrusted with the security of an entire world while expecting the arrival of someone carrying an unknown Sith holocron; she suspected she might have chosen much the same. It left fewer variables. Fewer opportunities for misunderstanding. And considerably fewer avenues of escape. The thought was not lost on her. Neither, however, did it trouble her. She had come because she had chosen to. Not because she had been compelled.

The transport settled gently onto the immaculate deck. For a few moments she remained seated, allowing the engines to wind down into silence. The familiar hum faded until only the quiet ticking of cooling metal remained. She reached for her beskar staff, fastening it comfortably into it's sling at her back before retrieving the reinforced case containing the holocron.

She regarded it for a moment. Weeks ago it had felt like a burden. Now it felt like a question.

With a slow breath, she lowered the boarding ramp. White-blue light spilled into the cockpit. Paila stepped onto the deck without haste. Her eyes found Aurelian almost immediately. For the briefest instant she barely recognized him. Without the armor, he appeared no smaller, yet somehow less like the embodiment of an ideal and more like the man who carried it. It reminded her that convictions, however immense, were still borne by individuals.

She approached at an unhurried pace, the reinforced case resting easily in one hand while her staff remained secured across her back. Stopping a respectful distance away, she inclined her head. "You've chosen a very impressive place to receive visitors." A hint of quiet amusement warmed her expression as her gaze drifted briefly toward the cavernous hangar surrounding them before returning to him. "And a very difficult one from which to leave quickly."

Then her attention settled fully upon him. "I have kept my promise." She lifted the case slightly; not offering it, but merely acknowledging it's presence. "I hope that you intend to keep yours."

Tag: Aurelian of Vandemar

 

[Aurelian of Vandemar]

Aurelian

Hegemon · Lord Indomitus · Dragonknight

✠ Griffin of Vandemar ✠

✠ Directive ✠

Consecration

✠ Sector ✠

Nirauan · Eternal Triumph

✠ Wargear ✠

Armor · Sword

The hangar was not empty but its cleanliness and calm appeared almost unnatural for a warship. There was neither dirt nor grime, even the noise seemed to bend the knee to a superlative of order such as the individual that stood in its midst, commanded it at a whim with neither challenger nor contender. Starfighters, bombers were hanging in specially designed rigs that allowed them to be maintained from all sides without difficulties, crew were looking after them, pilots stood and talked, silent guard droids watched over every motion that occured in the hangar.

"My intention was not to impress but to accelerate my departure. As for yours', you have come to deliver the holocron." It was not a question. "Therefore you leaving this vessel should not face any obstacles nor a future meeting with myself or any of my Knights."

He turned his back on her, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword as he started walking. "Come." Another statement that lacked the room for an alternative. Every step echoed heavily as his heavy boots hit the armoured deck, he measured his pace somewhat to give her a chance to keep up. But only slightly, Aurelian was still huge and his pace quick.

His march was silent. The corridors were a reflection of the hangar, clean, clinical, pragmatic. Bulkheads were closed and required individual opening, Skytrooper guards stood motionless at intersection while black, gold, silver and white clad soldiers, probably Knights, were the most common sight of encounter, all saluting the white haired giant as he passed by with his unlikely retinue.

They finally reached another bulkhead which required some more input from the Hegemon to open. Behind the entrance lay a large chamber, septagonal with two levels, one was a step lower in the center than the other and held a small stone table. Stepping into the room though was disorienting, nauseating, a pressure on the ears that felt like something wrong just occured. The tall figure of Aurelian did go without slowing down, probably used to it.

"The chamber is shielded and reinforced with Force dampening fields, hence why you might feel discomfort." He stepped aside and gestured towards the stone table. "Place the holocron."

✠ Dispatch Directed To ✠

Paila Dalle

Eternal Duty · Eternal Loyalty · Eternal Order

 

[Paila Dalle]

Paila followed without objection. The corridors unfolded before her with the same disciplined precision as the hangar they had left behind. Every bulkhead, every sentry, every measured salute spoke of an order so thoroughly maintained that it bordered upon ritual. She noticed it. She simply chose not to comment. It was his ship. He had every reason to arrange it as he saw fit.

As they walked, she found herself studying the people rather than the vessel. Pilots. Engineers. Soldiers. Knights. They moved with purpose, each contributing to something larger than themselves. Whatever she thought of Aurelian's convictions, she could not deny that others believed in them enough to build a civilization around them.

When the final bulkhead opened, however, her attention shifted immediately. The sensation struck before she understood it. A subtle pressure settled around her, accompanied by a peculiar emptiness she had never quite experienced before. It was not pain, though it was undeniably uncomfortable. More akin to stepping into a room where every sound had been removed at once.

She paused almost imperceptibly. For her entire life, the Force had been present like the breeze across an open field. Rarely demanding attention. Rarely announcing itself. Simply there. Now it wasn't.

Paila took one slow breath, allowing herself a moment to adjust before continuing into the chamber. "So that's what silence feels like," she murmured almost to herself.

Her eyes swept across the reinforced room before settling upon the stone table. At Aurelian's instruction, she stepped forward. The reinforced case rested upon the stone with a quiet, deliberate sound. She did not open it immediately. Instead, she rested one hand lightly upon its lid.

For several moments she regarded the weathered case in thoughtful silence before lifting her eyes to meet his. "I will." Her voice remained calm. "But before I do, may I ask you something?" She waited only long enough to be certain she had his attention. "When we first met..." Her fingers remained resting upon the case. "...you never once asked me what was inside. You asked only that it be destroyed. I have since learned of what it contains." She watched him carefully, wondering whether, for the first time since their conversation had begun weeks ago, his certainty might make room for a question. "Would you care to know?"

The chamber fell silent once more. The holocron remained unopened upon the stone between them. Not yet an object to be surrendered. Not yet an object to be destroyed. For just a little longer; it remained a conversation.

Tag: Aurelian of Vandemar

 

[Aurelian of Vandemar]

Aurelian

Hegemon · Lord Indomitus · Dragonknight

✠ Griffin of Vandemar ✠

✠ Directive ✠

Consecration

✠ Sector ✠

Nirauan · Eternal Triumph

✠ Wargear ✠

Armor · Sword

He heard her comment but chose not to react. Aurelian did not share the feeling of discomfort, it was something he got used to. Silence. By now he felt like it was the only time his mind was undisturbed, his thoughts unimpeded, his dreams unobserved. The Force had grown into a parasite at the edge of his consciousness, a virus that plagued his will rather than an extension and enabler.

Now his grey gaze followed her movement. Was she playing a game? He did not believe so, but she was also not yielding her principles. A feat he could acknowledge, even if he did not appreciate it. When she hesitated, he remained unmoved, simply keeping his rockhard eyes on her, fully expecting her to make another verbal stand. A last stand in this case.

She spoke. He sighed, even if it was not physically. Was it curiosity that drove her? A genuine sense of all knowledge being valuable? It was ignorance, disappointing, flawed ignorance.

"No." The response was as final as the fall of an executioners blade. "No Sith offers knowledge or wisdom that I require to learn. No holocron holds value that is worth to be preserved."

✠ Dispatch Directed To ✠

Paila Dalle

Eternal Duty · Eternal Loyalty · Eternal Order

 

[Paila Dalle]

Paila held his gaze for a long moment. The answer did not surprise her. Instead it saddened her.

The pressure of the dampening field lingered around her like an uncomfortable silence, making each breath feel just slightly unfamiliar. She found herself resting one hand lightly upon the stone table, not from weakness, but to steady herself against the strange absence that surrounded the room. "Then," she said quietly, "I think that you have answered a different question than the one that I asked." Her fingers remained upon the weathered case. "You do not know what this holocron contains. Neither of us did when we first met." She inclined her head ever so slightly. "The difference is that I no longer need to guess. What disappointed me was never that you wished to destroy it." Her eyes remained upon him. "It was that your decision had already been made before either of us knew what it was."

She drew another measured breath, instinctively aware once more of the oppressive stillness created by the dampening field.

"Had it contained instructions for conquest..." she continued, "...or the means to inflict suffering upon others, I might have reached the same conclusion that you did." Her gaze drifted briefly to the reinforced case. "Instead, it contained the reflections of someone who had watched ambition consume their own people. It spoke of the blind pursuit of power, of certainty mistaken for wisdom, and of the cost that followed." A faint, almost wistful smile appeared. "In many respects; it warned against becoming precisely what you fear."

She looked back to him. "I have documented it's contents as faithfully as I was able. Not because every word deserved preservation, but because history deserves witnesses." Her expression remained composed. "If the holocron itself is destroyed today, that knowledge will not vanish with it."

Her head tilted slightly in quiet curiosity. "May I ask you one final question, Aurelian?" She waited only a heartbeat for any hint of a response. "If those same words had been written in a journal instead of a holocron, or upon a datacard instead of Sith crystal, or within an ordinary book..." Her voice remained gentle. "...would you still believe they should be destroyed? Or is it the knowledge itself that you reject..."She looked once more at the case between them."...or the hands that first recorded it?"

Tag: Aurelian of Vandemar

 

[Aurelian of Vandemar]

Aurelian

Hegemon · Lord Indomitus · Dragonknight

✠ Griffin of Vandemar ✠

✠ Directive ✠

Consecration

✠ Sector ✠

Nirauan · Eternal Triumph

✠ Wargear ✠

Armor · Sword

Now an actual sigh escaped his otherwise measured composure.

Aurelian stepped forward, calmly, his stride not more threatening than his presence was. "You might think such coincidence is fateful or indicative of my ambitions. It touches me not. A holocron may or may not hold knowledge that will grant me anything I envision and yet it is undone by itself."

"You mistake wariness with fear. I am not afraid of powerful Sith, wise Jedi, or whatever lurks in between. Nor does their rule scare me. It should scare you, it should scare anyone who is of sound mind and wishes nothing to do with petty religions and a malevolent will. They are mere slaves, serfs of their own idioms, so deeply rooted and corrupted that nothing will escape their dogmatic grasp."

He reached the center now and looked towards the box. "You believe that I seek the destruction of knowledge. You do not understand my vision. Who creates a holocron? Who is it made for? A commoner? Can a peasant of Alderaan, a worker from Coruscant, a ganger from Nar Shaddaa take it and prosper or wreck havoc? Nobody benefits from it other than the arbitrarily entitled class of people who have enough of the right blood cells."

Aurelian looked at her, unyielding as ever. "I have told you before, I am not merely after symptoms. There is a virus and a host, both must be eradicated."

✠ Dispatch Directed To ✠

Paila Dalle

Eternal Duty · Eternal Loyalty · Eternal Order

 

[Paila Dalle]

Paila listened without interruption. Within the strange stillness of the chamber, the silence seemed almost appropriate. The Force dampening field had stripped away the quiet familiarity she had known all her life, leaving only the conversation itself. Perhaps that was fitting. Here, there was nothing to lean upon except words, convictions, and the willingness to hear another person.

For a long moment after he finished speaking, she said nothing. Her fingertips rested lightly upon the weathered case that lay between them. "I don't think that you're afraid," she said softly at last. "Not in the way that you believe I mean." She lifted her eyes to meet his. "Fear runs from something. But you are walking towards something. Towards a galaxy where no one else inherits the burden that you once carried." A faint, sympathetic smile touched her expression. "That is an understandable hope."

The smile faded into thoughtful calm. "What concerns me is not your destination." Her gaze remained steady. "It is your certainty that only one road can ever reach it."

Her hand lingered upon the case. "The one who created this holocron believed that power could redeem suffering." Her voice remained gentle, almost reflective. "By the end, they had discovered something else entirely. Every attempt to control others first required them to justify controlling themselves." She allowed the words to settle naturally before continuing. "You seek not to gather power for yourself, but to remove it from others. Yet both begin from the same conviction..." Her eyes remained upon him. "...that one person has finally discovered what everyone else must no longer be permitted to choose."

The pressure of the dampening field lingered at the edge of her awareness. She drew another measured breath before speaking again. "When we first met," she said quietly, "I wondered whether we would eventually become enemies." A small smile returned, touched now with unmistakable sadness. "Today we have disagreed about almost everything, and yet we have done so with patience. We have listened, questioned, and answered without reaching for our weapons." Her eyes drifted briefly around the silent chamber before returning to him. "I find myself wondering whether those who come after us will be as careful."

She rested both hands lightly upon the stone table. "I have spent enough years among Jedi, Sith, politicians, and ordinary people to know that ideas rarely die with those who first speak them." Her gaze never left his. "They become inheritances." She paused only briefly. "And inheritances are not always carried by hands as measured as yours." For a moment, the room was silent once more. "That," she said almost quietly enough for only the chamber to hear, "is exactly what this holocron warned against." Only then did her attention return to the weathered case itself. "I documented it's contents because I believed that history deserved another witness. Not another disciple." Her fingers rested gently upon the latches. "Whatever happens to this artifact today, it's warning will survive. Not because it came from a Sith, nor because I believe every word within it deserves preservation, but because even those who walked the wrong path sometimes left behind signposts warning others where it led."

She looked at Aurelian one final time before opening the latches of the case. "And I think it would be a tragedy..." she said softly, "...if we destroyed every warning simply because we disliked the hands that wrote it and what it is stored inside of."

Tag: Aurelian of Vandemar

 

[Aurelian of Vandemar]

Aurelian

Hegemon · Lord Indomitus · Dragonknight

✠ Griffin of Vandemar ✠

✠ Directive ✠

Consecration

✠ Sector ✠

Nirauan · Eternal Triumph

✠ Wargear ✠

Armor · Sword

"Do you believe my patience to be equal to be tolerance? Or approval? Talking to you right now does not change the path ahead, allowing you to share your mind does not delay my plans. You may calculate in seconds or minutes, but I do not."

"Equally there is no 'after me'. No legacy, no provisions or last will. My plans span decades and centuries, my being does not permit death until my work is done. The very essence that I will bring down is allowing me to extend myself until the deed is done, ending it with the final stroke." Aurelian continued. "The Galaxy and its people have proven that they are not strong enough to face the tide of hate and ignorance that such undertaking as my own will bring forth. Trillions of people suffer not because they want to, but because the thousands and dozens with unspeakable power hold more of it than anyone can imagine. There is no wisdom, no knowledge, no further enlightenment I need to see or witness as to what might alter or improve my path. Nothing I have not already seen in the four-thousand years of my existence."

"You want to know if we are enemies. We are. Not every enemy is a threat though and even though you might have the potential to rally a threat, you do not seem like someone willing or wanting to wage a war out of disagreement. For that, I am too little of a threat to your life for now."

"My mission goes beyond dislike, beyond disapproval or intolerance. I do not care who the one was who created this holocron, what it contains. It is of no consequence to the cause."

✠ Dispatch Directed To ✠

Paila Dalle

Eternal Duty · Eternal Loyalty · Eternal Order

 

[Paila Dalle]

Paila remained silent for several moments after he finished speaking. Four thousand years. The number itself was almost impossible to comprehend. Entire civilizations had risen and vanished within that span. Languages had been created, changed, and forgotten. Worlds had gone from thriving to abandoned, leaving behind only ruins and echoes for others to discover.

So for just a moment, genuine surprise crossed her features. Then it faded into something quieter. It was sadness. "I believe you," she said softly. Her eyes remained upon him, not with disbelief or suspicion, but with the recognition that he had lived through more suffering than she could ever truly understand. "I believe that you have witnessed things that I could not imagine. Wars. Collapses. The rise and fall of countless people and nations." Her gaze lowered briefly toward the holocron. "Perhaps that is why you no longer believe that there is anything left capable of surprising you."

Her fingers rested gently against the ancient artifact. "The person who created this holocron reached a similar place." She looked back toward Aurelian. "Not because your paths are the same. Not because your goals are the same. But because they too had became convinced that they had seen enough. That they understood the pattern. That they had finally found the answer to suffering."

The silence of the chamber pressed in around them. "And that certainty became the very thing that they have warned others about. You have spent four thousand years trying to end suffering," she continued. "Yet the warning left behind by this holocron came from someone who discovered that the pursuit of absolute answers can create suffering of it's own. Perhaps the tragedy is not that you refuse to believe them. But perhaps it is that I think that they would have understood you."

For a moment, she didn't move. Then Paila stepped back from the table. The movement was slow and deliberate. Not fearful. Not submissive. Simply an acknowledgment that there was nothing more she could say. "I asked you if you wanted to know what was inside because I believed that knowledge had value, even when it challenged us." Her hand fell away from the holocron. "You have given me your answer." She glanced once more at the artifact. "The contents will not be lost. I have ensured that." Her voice remained calm. "The history, the warning, the lessons left behind; they will remain, whether this object survives or not."

Her eyes returned to him. "So now the choice is yours." She stepped another pace away, giving him the space he had requested from the beginning. "I do not believe that destroying it will accomplish what you hope. But I also do not believe that forcing you to preserve something you reject would honor the very principles I have spent this entire conversation defending."

The faintest hint of a sad smile appeared. "Some knowledge must be protected. And some choices must be allowed to belong to those who make them." Paila inclined her head slightly. "Whatever happens next, Aurelian, I hope that someday that you find what you have spent four thousand years searching for." Her gaze briefly returned to the holocron. "And I hope that before the final stroke is made, you remember that even the things we seek to destroy, may still have something left to teach us."

Tag: Aurelian of Vandemar

 

[Aurelian of Vandemar]

Aurelian

Hegemon · Lord Indomitus · Dragonknight

✠ Griffin of Vandemar ✠

✠ Directive ✠

Consecration

✠ Sector ✠

Nirauan · Eternal Triumph

✠ Wargear ✠

Armor · Sword

"You have my appreciation for protecting knowledge and making it available to anyone." His statement was cold, though it seemed genuine. He cared for knowledge, and he remained a steadfast defender of knowledge itself. He did not savour the task ahead, he did not relish extermination, but he knew of its necessity. He was absolutely assured of it.

"The wisdom with which you intend to speak, which you feel is right and sound, do not make the mistake of confusing it with knowledge. I do not doubt you consider your life rich with experience, but it is a light of a mere candle compared to a star. The Galaxy is old, its sentiments ancient, its terrors infinite. Your reality is narrow, so is your wisdom. My reality is less narrow but narrow nevertheless I do not wish to impart wisdom or lectures."

"I impose my will because philosophy, freedom, liberty and compassion are inherently inferior in achieving goals and undermined by the very adversary I am chasing. You feel estranged in this hall, disconnected, maybe even disoriented and confused. That is actual freedom. You are the master of your own senses, of your mind and body."

His voice ebbed as his hand extended and picked up the holocron. It seemed quite small in his hand, almost like a child's toy, ready to be crushed by a punishing parent. "Harmony and balance are an illusion conjured by the Jedi for millennia, the protagonists of the core believing themselves to be good and light. Yet light cannot exist without casting a shadow. They justify their own existence by invoking their own anathema, a circle, a never ending cycle. Does your compassion come from the teachings, the indoctrination suffered as a Jedi or did you do 'good' before you picked up a lightsaber? Do you actually feel what you say or do you feel compelled to say so because it is wisdom given to you by an institution predating your own birth?"

Aurelian placed the holocron back on the stone table, almost gently and turned away from it, facing the small woman. "Do you know who you are or do you merely believe to know who you should be?"

✠ Dispatch Directed To ✠

Paila Dalle

Eternal Duty · Eternal Loyalty · Eternal Order

 

[Paila Dalle]

For the first time since entering the chamber, Paila smiled. It was not because she found the question amusing. It was because, after everything they had spoken about, it was perhaps the first question he had asked that she could answer without uncertainty.

"I know exactly who I am." The words were quiet, carrying neither pride nor defiance. They simply were. "I was raised by parents who taught me kindness long before I ever knew what the Force was." Her hands rested loosely before her. "They did not speak to me of Jedi or Sith. They taught me to keep my word. To help my neighbors. To leave a place better than I found it if I was able." Her eyes remained upon him. "I did good before I ever touched a lightsaber. And I continued trying to do good after I set it aside." A faint smile touched her expression. "I left the Jedi because I discovered that agreeing with every answer was less important than continuing to ask questions." She shook her head gently. "No Council asked me to leave. No Sith persuaded me to. It was simply the honest path before me."

Her hand drifted unconsciously toward the beskar staff resting across her back. "My husband was Mandalorian." The words carried a warmth that memory alone could produce. "He taught me that honor is something you practice, not something you inherit. That family can be chosen. That keeping your word matters even when it costs you." She smiled softly. "Some of those lessons were different from those I learned as a Jedi. Some were remarkably similar."

Her gaze returned fully to Aurelian. "So no..." She spoke almost gently. "My compassion does not belong to the Jedi. It belongs to me."

The silence settled comfortably around her despite the strange emptiness created by the dampening field. "I have been shaped by many people. My parents. My husband. Friends. Strangers. Those who have shown me kindness. And those who have hurt me." She gave the smallest shrug. "I have learned from all of them." Her eyes briefly settled upon the holocron resting once more upon the table. "I suppose that that is why I find it so difficult to believe that wisdom belongs exclusively to any one Order, any one philosophy, or any one person."

Paila looked back to him. "You asked whether I know who I am. I think that the better question is whether I have finished becoming that person." She shook her head once. "I hope not."

For just a moment her gaze drifted toward the silent holocron. "And after four thousand years..." Her voice remained warm. "...I hope that there would still be something left capable of changing my mind. And if one day there isn't..." She met his eyes. "...I think that would be the day I should become most afraid of myself."

Tag: Aurelian of Vandemar

 

[Aurelian of Vandemar]

Aurelian

Hegemon · Lord Indomitus · Dragonknight

✠ Griffin of Vandemar ✠

✠ Directive ✠

Consecration

✠ Sector ✠

Nirauan · Eternal Triumph

✠ Wargear ✠

Armor · Sword

"Then you must understand that you are one of few, a few among thousands which grew up because doctrine told them how to think, because dogma told them what to think, because ignorance told them what to feel."

A sudden shift occured, something changed. It felt like the chamber turned into a spiral of gravity, inescapable and unknown. The Force would return to both of them, but it was cut, separated and not really flowing, it was just there, in the two of them and in the holocron itself. Aurelian's presence was oppressively subtle, it was a rock reaching far beyond the waves of a stormy ocean, yet so cold it should freeze the water that touched it.

His hand raised above the holocron, his open palm resting half a meter above it in the air as he started to force it open.

The Zakuulan's grey eyes looked at the woman. "You may leave now if you so wish."

It was clear he waited for her to either leave or consent to witnessing the act itself.

✠ Dispatch Directed To ✠

Paila Dalle

Eternal Duty · Eternal Loyalty · Eternal Order

 

[Paila Dalle]

Paila did not move. Her eyes rested upon his raised hand, then upon the ancient holocron beneath it. The invitation to leave had been genuine. She believed that. It would have been the simplest thing in the galaxy to incline her head, turn, and allow the chamber door to close behind her. Instead, she remained where she was. "No," she answered quietly. "I think I should stay."

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the holocron before returning to him. "For weeks it has been in my keeping. Whatever happens next, I bear some responsibility for it." A faint smile, touched more by resolve than optimism, crossed her features. "If others come asking what became of it, then they deserve more than rumor. They deserve someone who witnessed the truth."

The chamber shifted. She felt it before she understood it. The oppressive absence surrounding her receded as the dampening field changed, and the Force returned; not as the familiar current she had always known, but as though it had been divided into isolated pools rather than a flowing river. It was enough to breathe again, yet the room still felt profoundly unnatural.

Then she felt him. Aurelian's presence reached through the Force like the exposed face of an ancient mountain, vast beyond easy comprehension. There was extraordinary strength within it, weathered by millennia into something almost immovable. Yet beneath that immense endurance lay a coldness that seemed to resist every season, every thaw, every possibility of change. Paila found herself saddened by it. She made no effort to push against his presence. Her own remained what it had always been: quiet, warm, carrying no hunger to dominate the space around her. It reached outward instead of pressing inward, touched by memories of ordinary lives; parents who had taught kindness without speaking of the Force, a Mandalorian husband whose honor had been measured in deeds rather than words, neighbors helped with broken machinery, strangers whose names she had never learned. Those lives had shaped her as surely as any temple or philosophy.

At length she folded her hands before her. "I think it deserves witnesses." Her attention settled upon the ancient artifact once more.
"Go on."

Tag: Aurelian of Vandemar