K i n g
SUBJUGATION
Several Years Ago
The Shattered Court of Illyria
Long before the rise of The High Court of Illyria, the planet was ruled by a cruel assortment of aristocrats. The Shattered Court, as it would come to be remembered by time, was not a true government system. Instead it was a neutral meeting place where the many feuding nobles could gather under a banner of peace. The Shattered Court of Illyria
"Damn you and your House, Pascal!" The Elder Lord of House Orion spoke out, striking his hands together in a show of frustration. In the massive atrium there were a number of well-dressed Lords and Ladies whose voices took to errant calls and bitter insults. The two greatest lords to stand in the center of the circular chamber? Barons Pascal and Orion, who had been two of the leading contributors to the war that plagued the planet for the last hundred years. Orion had been an older man, yet Pascal was a more youthful, yet slightly gaunt, man who was closer in appearance to a ghoul than a man. The grim looking man spat on the floor before Orion, snorting at the older man's outburst. "You sanctimonious old fool, how dare you insult my House when you aging relics have barely mined an ounce of Phrik in three decades!"
"It is not my fault that Maalraas plague our lands! I am sure your thrice damned father was the cause of the plague!" The older man rebutted. This caused Pascal to take a threatening step forward, however a younger man with flowing blonde hair stepped between the two, placing a hand upon their chests to halt a confrontation. "My lords! We must stop this now. We gathered to speak of peace, not bring the war within these chambers!" At this Pascal pointed a finger over to Orion, cutting the man off before he could even speak. "Then House Orion will forfeit their right to the throne and proclaim House Pascal the Kings of Illyria. Then we will have peace...I may even present you with a Barony for your loyalty." The man's words grew more and more snide as they carried on. The older man seemed taken aback by the words. "House Orion has ruled the throne since the War of Iron and Phrik! It is our birthright!" He proclaimed, only causing Pascal to rise in anger once again. "A birthright stolen from House O'mer, my ancestors! You are nothing but a usurper!"
These words caused Orion to growl out. "And your mother was nothing but a back alley whore, yet here we are!" This caused Pascal to try and charge the elderly man once again, only to be met with the blonde haired Lord once again. "Lord Pascal!" The younger man called out.
The elder lord, Orion exhaled, running his hands through his weathered hair before clearing his throat. "A King must sit the throne." He said in a sullen voice. "But I will be damned for seven lifetimes before I let the son of a whore sit upon my great grandfathers throne!" His voice grew louder and more hater-filled as he threw a hand towards the throne that laid in the edge of the room.
The words of Lord Orion caused the entire hall to erupt once again.
Pitiful.
So many squabbling lords. Like golden children arguing over whose coat of polish is shinier.
A world of resource, promise, location, and Security laid before them and all they can do is argue over who should rule it?
Luckily for them...the burden of choice has been taken from their hands.
A loud rumbling could be heard within the chamber. It seemed to grow louder and louder, until finally all of the gathered Nobles turned their eyes towards the door that led into the chamber. One by one the aristocrats fell silent, turning their eyes to the door with obvious confusion. The rumbling grew louder and louder, until finally the Lord of House Pascal spoke shakingly. "W-what trickery is th-" Before the young lord could complete his words the doors to the room opened with a loud slam, the massive metal hinges that held the large doors to the Atrium creaked and gave way as one of the door's fell to the with an audible slam. Lord Orion spoke out softly. "Whe-where are the Guard?" Almost in response to the man's words, two bodies flew through the dark doorway, slamming into the ground before the feet of the lords. The two bodies were armored knights wearing marvelous Phrik armor, however their heads seemed to have been unnaturally twisted back, snapping their spines and killing them instantly. The group of nobles stepped back from the bodies, some of the men and women glancing from one to another.
The silence was palpable. The tension so thick it would need a vibroblade to be cut. In the thick of the silence all that could be heard were footsteps. They were soft at first but in time they grew louder until the darkness was pierced by a single figure.
He wore a suit of midnight black with an amethyst tie. His hair was perfectly kept to where not even a single strand was out of place. There was something about the look in his eyes that caused this outside to take the breath of each Lord that stood before him. He paused for only a moment, his amethyst eyes looking over the group that could only stand in stunned silence. He chuckled softly, tucking a hand into a pocket before continuing forward. As he approached the Lords, the group parted, moving away from the man who had seemingly destroyed a door without so much as a second thought. They parted live a wave of water and he allowed them, he was not yet concerned with the overgrown children who called themselves the leaders of this planet.
Rather than address the group, Adron made his way up the steps to the throne that laid before him. Resting down in the throne, he let out a soft exhale before closing his eyes for a single moment of accepted bliss. "Now, that is better." He said, before opening his amethyst eyes and glancing down at the group before him.
Finally, Adron was met with a tone of challenge from the young man, Pascal. "Who the hell are you?" This caused Adron's harsh eyes to descend back down onto the man with a curious gaze. "My name is Adron. Formerly the Count of House Malvern." The nobles all spoke, chattering among themselves as they tried to discern a House Malvern, yet Adron's voice came alive to silence them. "My House is not from this world. I held a Countship on the distant world of Serenno. However, that was a lifetime ago."
The elder Lord spoke up this time, stepping forward with an understandably angered expression. "Then Count Malvern, what are you doing on Illyria and do you realize where you sit?"
"Excuse me." Adron said harshly. Standing from the throne for a moment to smooth down the folds of his vest. "But you will all address me as King. As I am now the Sovereign Monarch of this world." This caused the entire chamber to fall to uproar once again. Several voices taking to screams and yells of protest, some calling for the man's head, yet they lasted only a single moment.
"Silence." His words echoed out one thousand times in the minds of those gathered, many falling to a knee and cradling their heads from the immense pressure that came with the warning. "We'll have to curb that out of you lot. Within my Court you will learn respect and proper Court culture. You do not speak to a King unless spoken to." Adron settled back into the throne before holding a hand up to silence any words that may come next. "Most of you do not understand so I will make things expressly transparent. As of right now hundreds of starships are descending upon this world. Most linger within the upper atmosphere, however in less than a few hours the landing procedure will begin."
"I claim Illyria by right of conquest." He declared. It was in that moment that the sound of metallic clanking could be heard. One after another the hall was flooded with a number of the man's Battledroids. The standard B-1 models were outfitted to expressly display The Confederate emblem. "You see, I've watched you all for months. Do you understand the lives you've cost through your senseless squabbles in only a few months? I shutted to imagine what you fools have done over years of misguided warfare."
"Your people starve." The man said, his eyes turned to the aristocrats accusingly. "They are illiterate, many are plagued with disease and sickness, and worst of all there are pockets of slavery."
"You all disgust me." He said with no intent of hiding the ire behind his words. At this point the gathered nobles could only gaze at the Battledroids that had entered the room with wonder and fear. "However for the first time in decades you will all have the opportunity to do some actual good for your people." One of the Battledroids held a small holoemitter in his hands. With the press of a button the world of Illyria could be seen from a view in space. This view showed the myriad of ships that lingered in the planet's atmosphere. Many of the nobles placed hands over their mouths in shock. "I brought soldiers. Plenty of Security Droids to maintain peace. If all of you banded together and fought against me I believe you would last two weeks, three at best. Your technology is outdated, you cut yourselves off from the galaxy to horde your riches but all you've done is grow weak and detached from reality."
"Now. Those of you who submit, those who bow your heads to my rule and swear yourselves to my Crown will be allowed to maintain your titles and lands under my authority. Your lands will receive technology, food, shelter, and all else that is needed to stabilize your economies. You will pay a tax to the crown that will be used to redevelop this world but your authority and riches will remain. In fact, i intend to magnify them. This court will fall and in its place will rise a High Court where every noble who earns their place, will be given the right to speak." He promised them.
"For those of you who will not submit, who will choose war and slavery. I will exterminate you and your entire House. When the dust settles you will be forgotten and I will still rule this world."
"The new age is here. Make your choice where you will be when it washes over Illyria."
The King watched as one by one, the men and women before him fell silent to their knees, bowing their heads in deference to his words. It was the only choice, of course. Yet, as his eyes washed over the young Pascal who remained standing in defiance, Adron exhaled softly. "Lord Pascal, is it? You do not bow." Adron questioned with an arch of the brow. That was when the man nodded, stepping forward. "You are not my King."
Adron stood from his throne, taking a single step down as he spoke to the young man. "No. It seems I am not." Adron's left hand came up in a steady motion. Pascal felt the pressure building in his throat. He coughed, bringing a hand to his neck as he realized the pressure that was wrapping around his windpipe. The young man coughed, choking as he fell to a knee. He struggled, shaking his head and grasping at his throat, attempting to find the air that was being robbed from him. Adron's hand curled into a fist and there was a sound of pain that erupted from Pascal as his windpipe was crushed. In only seconds the man passed out from lack of air and descended into the Greater Force only moments after that. Adron turned from the group, making his way back up the steps of his throne before glancing back at those gathered. "Return to your lands. My forces will need your cooperation to ensure a successful occupation. And if any of you are considering raising arms against me....consider taking Lord Pascal as council." He said.
The noble lords could say nothing but a single phrase that had not been heard on Illyria in hundreds of years.
"Yes, your highness." They sounded off shakily.
