Private Verloren | Lost

[The Praetorian]

He missed the music.

More than breathing air and grasping coherent thought, he missed the music that once filled the countless hours poured into his study. His study, he remembered that, or at least he believed he did. A modest office found in the bowels of the Sith Academy on his homeworld. It had been small and without any excess, but it had belonged to him and him alone, a place of respite and peace.

Attempting to recall more than the most basic of details brought pain to his entire being. It was because he was no longer a body of flesh and blood or a mind with cognitive thought. The ages had torn piece from piece until he was base memory wrapped in an uncomforting blanket of emotion. That was his punishment, that was his hell.

What could he remember?

It was a pleasant game to play. He would try to remember certain details from the past life, his life. More often than not the train of thought would become derailed before it had met completion, causing his mind to wander for a time that he could not hope to comprehend. Sometimes it was hours and at other times it was years. How long would his mind be trapped in solitude after this attempt? Only time would tell.

His name was Kyrus. His surname was of no consequence. He was unsure whether he could not remember it or if it had meant nothing to him in life, but he was certain there was no difference to be found.

He had been born on a planet ravaged by desolation and darkness. It was the ancient throneworld to his people and their faith. A planet whose name he could not recall, a faith that the very thought of brought a certain restlessness to his being. He tried to focus on the planet. His eyes within the veil of The Force became blurry, rejecting the memory that he no longer had a right to. He dug deeper and the haze continued until finally he relented from the attempt. It was the moments like this before he lost himself, that much he could remember with certainty.

So, he would not recall the planet this day. He turned his attempts elsewhere. A memory that came easy. He assumed it was his final memory.

Ebony halls surrounded him. He was a healthy man of middle age, his skin was a faded shade of crimson, and he stood nearly a foot above those who surrounded him. Who surrounded him? Warriors clad in dark robes, however there was more than meets the eye. As they shifted, he could hear the faint rustling of metal upon metal. Their hands held cylindrical weapons firmly, their fingers hovering over the ignition switch. It was not the only metal to be heard. His wrists gave a near melodic chime from the manacles that were shackled tightly around them.

He too wore robes, yet his were not black as the others though they certainly seemed so in a dim light. His cloak was a dim tint of walnut. Beneath it was not armor, he did not hold the mantle of warrior in this moment.

The guards around him chained his manacles to an iron podium. This part of the memory always made him curious. He did not wear the trappings of a warrior, nor did he seem to have a weapon upon him. What could merit such security? There sat dozens of seats in a platform raised far above, with onlookers gazing down at him. This part of the memory, though familiar, he did not fully comprehend. They showed him such hatred. Even now in his incorporeal form their ire seeped into his very being. They did not merely hate him, they were disgusted by him.

A single being stood before him on even ground. He spoke in what Kyrus must believe was a fiery oration. He could not hear a word. This was a common plight of his memory seeking; he was unable to comprehend sound in his current form. It did not matter, as the orator spoke the scenes began to grow difficult to comprehend. Faces slowly melted into the recess of the veil and before long he was forced to end his push into the shattered web of his memory. If there was such a thing as exhaustion here, he could certainly feel it. It called him as a bed calls a weary man at the end of a long day. How he wished to dip into the respite and enjoy the bliss for a time, but every time he gave himself to the veil it kept a piece of himself as fare.

This had been his existence for as long as he could remember. A brief moment of memory, perhaps an hour of semi-cognitive thought...and then nothing for ages.

He did not dwell. Dwelling upon the reality around him was a recipe for madness.

This void was not without respite, however. He had company, a friend in an emptiness that had no names or faces. This friend of his was a part of him, every bit a part of him as his own memories and dreams. He could sense him, even when he drifted into the abyss and was stripped bare across the fabric of The Force.

He did not know his name.

He did not know his purpose.

But he was the last thread of sanity that Kyrus had to hold on to. How long had it been since they last shared a commune? They spoke through the fabric of the veil in waves of emotion, never once sharing a single word yet somehow coming to a place of synergy. Kyrus would believe it his mind playing tricks on him if not for this being the last vestige, he believed to have with the living world.

He had long since given way to the reality. He would be locked within this veil until his psyche shattered and he slipped into the abyss.

Still, it was nice to have a friend.

Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Restoring a broken mind was a delicate process indeed.

The Ashlan patriarch had come across the tomb in the last days of the Kaiserreich's crusade against the Sith Empire. It had hummed quietly as he'd wandered through the ruined halls of the Sith Academy, the scent of blood and sulfur still in the air from recent fighting. Several warriors had fallen around the tomb, defending it to the last as the programming they'd received from their masters bade them to do. His warriors had dealt with them before his arrival, muttered something about strange technology, and moved on to continue clearing the academy.

Cedric had made his away alone to the crypt. It was a dark and dismal place, the history of centuries etched into its decaying walls, stories lost to the grand passage of time. They were Sith tales, and Cedric had little interest in restoring them. No, the object at the center of the tomb stole all his attentions.

The sarcophagus was a strange thing marked with ornate symbols. Within, beneath a thin veneer of black liquid, the vague outline of a man was barely visible. Curiosity was the better virtue of the Kaiser, and he quickly ordered the sarcophagus discretely transported back to the Graywall.

Three years of experimentation had followed. Cedric consulted with his most trusted priests and sorcerers, their combined expertise slowly revealing the secrets of the sarcophagus. As they worked, when Cedric found himself free now and then, he would visit it and meditate. In those meditations, he felt the presence of life within the relic's dark visage. It lacked the ability to speak, and for a long time it did not notice him entirely, but eventually a feeling was expressed. A shift in the waters of the Great Ocean, a minor changing of the tides, and on them, a fragment of an emotion.

It washed over Cedric like a wave crashing down upon his back, sudden and wholly unexpected. It was curiosity. Cedric immediately began speaking to the presence but found no response. It was only when he communed further with the being that he attempted to send a similar wave back, a sentiment of understanding and sympathy. The being had, in turn, responded with vague understanding. Thus their 'conversation' began.

As the work continued, Cedric would continue to commune with the being. Their interactions were brief small things, vague expressions of emotion, infinitesimally short flashes of images, memories, things. It seemed the spirit could only comprehend the most basic of things, but Cedric knew it was still alive and sentient enough to relate to him. Enough to continue.

"The final lock is ready your grace," Major General Decius announced. The old hulking mass of a man's knowledge of Sith artifice had driven this endeavor. The warrior had served with Cedric since his boyhood, and though Decius was getting far up in the years, he was still one of Cedric's most trusted and capable allies.

Standing at 6'7 and weighing as much, Decius was an intimidating figure. His giant belly, gray muttonchops, red afro, and yellow spectacles helped to pacify his appearance. He looked more akin to an old grandfather than a seasoned warfighter, and he more or less was, the old man having raised young prince Lothaire as his ward for the past twenty years. He'd not seen combat in as much time.

"Is the medical team prepared for any complications?" Cedric asked.

"All set your grace, got a few droids ready too if he decides to get violent." Decius assured.

"I doubt that much. I've not felt much other than curiosity and loneliness from this one. He needs rescuing, not an execution." The Kaiser assured.

"He was ass-deep in a Sith Academy, bound by some of the finest technology and sorcery the Bogan has ever forged, and he was locked up for a reason. Sith don't generally restrain their own. They kill 'em." Decius countered.

"You're correct," Cedric replied, a little tired of the conversation. "And I'm curious as to why they did not do so to him. Undo the final locks Decius."

The old man's brow scrunched up with displeasure, but he nodded all the same. "Aye your grace."

He tapped a final command into the console he'd interfaced into the sarcophagus. The black screen crackled for a moment, the smell of burning hair and a flash of electricity gracing the room. Then, with a few final sputters, the shield gave out entirely, revealing the man hidden beneath.

"Hello."

The Praetorian

 

[The Praetorian]

It called to him. In an ocean that waxed and waned with the force of a thousand planetary rotations he suddenly found himself stable. That was the best word he could think to describe the feeling that clutched his being. He had felt it before, the grounded feeling that came from his indistinct bond with the other side. This was different. It was not the whisper thrown into the darkness. It was a hand, outstretched to pull him from the ocean. A part of him feared it. It could have been a trick, manifested by the Dark Side of the Force to compel him to drown in the ocean. He could not tell right from left or up from down, nor could he tell freedom from annihilation. A subtle amusement forced his will. It was time. Whether it was time to become one with the great tides of the Force or it was time to be free of this prison he was certain it was his time to make the decision.

And so he did.

In the sarcophagus that laid deep beneath the Graywall, the figure within stirred. Pale red flesh cut through the blackened fluids that covered and preserved Kyrus' form. A hand reached out, clutching into a tight fist before another pierced the black wall. Each hand shook violently as if taken by seizure, but it did not stop them from grasping the outer edges of the mechanical tomb.

A pause took the chamber as the hands fell limp against the cool metal. The screens showing the man's vitals flashed red and white in urgency. His heartbeat stopped and the medical droids looming around him circled in a flurry. One of the units attempted to place probes over his chest so that a shock could be administered to his heart. Just then one of the hands flew out, grabbing the droids metallic dome in an iron grip. The grip tightened, more and more until the metal let out a screech and wiring began to protrude from the misshapen dome.

A face slowly rose from the black waters, drenched in the fluid and glaring harshly at those who looked upon him.

"You dare..." The words he spoke were ill placed as his hazy vision slowly focused on who stood before him. Although it was not who they were that caught him off guard, rather who they were not.

"You are not of the Sith or their power." He spoke in a strained voice, his sunburnt eyes glancing from one individual to another until finally they found Cedric Grayson .

His eyes looked over the man for a moment in disbelief, it was as if he'd brought a dream from his slumbers into the real world. Never had he seen the Ashlan Kaiser before this moment, yet he was more familiar than any other.

"The Ashla..." He muttered softly. "It was you...the entire time. You kept my mind from drifting into the depths of the Force."

"You saved me." A second uncertain look took the hall. "Where am I? How long have I been in this prison?"

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The security team hurried in the moment the red-skinned man placed his hand in the medical droid Cedric held them back with a wave of a hand, the soldiers staring intently, ready to put their Kaiser's pet project down should it prove to be dangerous.

For his part, Cedric was the very picture of calm. He observed the stranger curiously as the man fought his way out from his prison. That he was a pure blood was an unexpected rarity. The red-skinned children of the Sith were an exceptional rarity of late. There was even talk of the Papacy pursuing such individuals for their own ends, though such gossip was rumor and nothing more.

Cedric had never seen one in the flesh before. Curiosity got the better of him as he regarded the stranger, offering an oversized brown robe to him so that they might not be cursed with unholy sights. "I dare indeed. Put this on before you scare my soldiers." A hint of amusement laced his words.

That amusement faded as the stranger made it clear that he had indeed heard Cedric's message. The Kaiser smiled, pleased that his efforts had not been a waste. "Far from the Sith, my friend. I am a Jedi Knight, though somewhat estranged from my cousins on Coruscant." The smile grew, "Though I would not say I saved you. I came upon your sarcophagus just a year ago - you've likely been in there for centuries, perhaps even thousands of years. We couldn't get a date on it - point being, you saved yourself. Just offered you an extra hand." He might well have rotted away forever in that tomb, but Cedric wasn't going to take credit for the man's survival. He'd endured his prison in his own power.

"You're on Ruusan, in my family home, the Graywall. It stood as a bastion against the Sith in the dark ages. Now it's a refuge from the battlefield of politics." He explained. "The year is 874, eight-hundred seventy-four years since the destruction of the Death Star."

“Or is that before your time?" A pause, "My name is Cedric, by the way. Cedric Grayson. Yours?"

The Praetorian

 

[The Praetorian]

As the Kaiser provided the robes to the man, Kyrus accepted them with a grateful nod. He pulled them over his bare body, sopping up the rest of the black fluid as he exhaled, enjoying the warmth that came from the robes. He could hear the amusement in his savior's voice and though he did not share the amusement he offered a mild smile at the words. The Kaiser's next words caused the Pureblood's brow to arch in genuine interest.

"Jedi? So, they survived. Good." The man stood to his full height, exhaling softly as he listened to the Kaiser's explanation of how he had come upon the Sarcophagus. The man turned to face the abominable device before offering it a sour gaze.

"Thousands." He repeated. "I see." He let out a guttural sound, although it seemed to be one of amusement.

"Ruusan. I know of this world, though only through text and holoreport. In my time it was held by the Republic and their Jedi Knights. Are you of the Republic?" He questioned, not even knowing how far from relevance his question may be. "I admit my ignorance to the Graywall and the destruction of a Death Star. These things are beyond me, it seems." He did not seem overly bothered by the revelation as Cedric introduced himself.

"Kayrus Jayara. An honor." Far from the Sith mannerisms he was born to, he extended a hand to the Kaiser, as an equal and not as a Lord. "I was once High Praetorian to Darth Errina. Tasked with her safekeeping and that of her interests." He gestured back to the sarcophagus with a simple nod of his head.

"Honored reward for loyal service." He said sourly. "When the Dark Lady found I was studying about the Light side of the Force...Well let us simply say she took exception to it." He gestured to his face which held a number of scars, the greatest being his flesh cut open just above the crux of his lips, revealing a number of teeth. "For my heresy I lost her patronage and shortly after my place as an instructor within the academy. They came for me not long after that and sentenced me for treachery against the Sith Code."

Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

(Phone post)

The pure blood stood a full head taller than Cedric. Fortunately the Kaiser had grown rather used to dealing with mortal giants in his days at the head of the crusade. "Survived is a choice word," Cedric mused, "Though not untrue. The Jedi are no longer the force we once were. The order is shattered into a dozen different sects, each claiming to be the true successor to the Jedi Order. It's a miracle we've managed to push the Sith back as well as we have." With a wave of his hand, the security detail left the room, leaving only Cedric, the medical droid, the Pureblood and Decius.

The old man opted to chime in. "Jedi are a shitshow," he pulled at the whiskers of his beard and eyed the pure blood. "Only ones with their heads on straight follow the goddess. Rest of 'em stick to the old ways. Stuck in the past."

Cedric offered a light shrug, "He isn't wholly wrong. I come from such a splinter group, Jedi that follow the ways of the Ashla. Our doctrine is the logical evolution of the old, but we can discuss that later."

The Kaiser lofted a brow as the pureblood explained his ignorance. It was a logical question: the Old Republic had stood for thousands of years and to one from its time, might have seemed immortal, for good or ill. "The Republic as you know it is long dead. The Sith shattered it hundreds of years ago from within. A Sith Lord managed to gain the chancellery and slaughtered the Jedi Knights," Cedric explained. "The Jedi rebounded, and new institutions took the Republic's place. The closest successor to it in modern day is the Galactic Alliance, seated on Coruscant."

He waved a hand out toward the room itself. "Ruusan is in the hands of a government similar to the republic, led by Jedi that differentiate themselves from others with their color: silver. Good people, if not a bit misguided. I hail from the Holy Ashlan Kaiserreich, we follow the ways of the Jedi Lords and the goddess Ashla." A servant droid came strolling in, a tray of glass beverages and grilled nerf arrayed on its single manipulator. Cedric gestured toward the small feast, "Yours. First in a long time, I imagine."

A hand was offered. Cedric took it without hesitation, looking Kayrus straight in the eye as he gave a firm handshake. "Yes, I imagine the Sith would not take kindly to such heresy, let alone the Sith of old." His brows scrunched up with displeasure at the thought of such creatures.

"Perhaps this is destiny, then. You sought to know the Ashla, and she provided the only means by which you could do so and thrive. Perhaps you're needed here now, rather than there and then." He mused, "She works in strange ways, the goddess."

Kayrus' scars were nasty. They bore similarity to several of Cedric's own, though the Kaiser had undergone surgery to hide the damage to his visage. The fact that half his face was a mesh of durasteel and artificial organic tissue was a well kept secret, usually only learned of when someone tried to take a fist to it and found themselves slamming a steel slab.

"I'm sorry to say the Sith have changed very little since your days."

The Praetorian

 

[The Praetorian]

Upon hearing that the Jedi had been significantly weakened in his slumber, Kyrus let out a sound of distaste before inhaling sharply. "I admit this is little surprise. Forgive me, Master Jedi but the members of your order from my time were far too impatient and easily felled by their own Hubris, not unlike the Sith." He realized the way such words may be taken but he did not apologize for them, though he did continue. "Even still, I held them in some regard. Certainly more than the Sith Order. Mindless, hate-filled infighting." This he spat out, not caring to hide his distaste for the order. "In the end my loyalty was to the Empire and unification, not to the Dark Side." He admitted openly.

To hear that the Galactic Republic had eventually fallen was no sour taste. The Republic of his time has been a spoiled, discontent beast. In many ways he believed it to be inferior to the Empire's unilateral power system. Still, as he heard of the Galactic Alliance he wondered if the dogmatic politics had fallen out of style in recent years.

Not likely.

As the servant droid approached the Pureblood, he glanced down before gratefully taking the glass and raising it to his lips. "My thanks." He drank down the glass heartily before taking another, drinking it down twice as fast and savoring the flavor as it washed down his pallet. He breathed out a sigh of relief before taking a strip of the grilled nerf and chewing the morsel with a rather gleeful chuckle.

"Delicious, it is as if every flavor is it's own symphony." He mused aloud before glancing back to Cedric as he spoke. This time when the Kaiser spoke of the Sith, Kyrus snorted scornfully.

"Damn the Sith and damn their works. They are a disease, a festering evil that the galaxy should have exterminated years before my birth." He said.

"All my life I was told of the pride I should be filled with, for my blood is pure and my line is impeachable." His hand scraped over the scarred flesh that marred his face. "I am grateful and filled with pride. Whenever I need find my enemy, I need only search for my own face." He growled out.

"Sith." He scoffed. "Pureblooded." He scoffed again.

"Never again will my hands forge for the darkness or fight for the sake of war. I am glad to know the Sith have not changed, it makes my mission that much easier."

Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The Ashlan Patriarch regarded his experiment with bristling curiosity. He was a strange specimen indeed. It was no secret that the Crusade had turned a blind eye to certain... proclivities its less civilized legions tended toward when Sith Purebloods were involved in their campaigns. More than once had stories of villages simply disappearing reached the desks of generals and been dismissed as undocumented migration to unrecorded destinations. Youths with Sith blood flowing through their veins were often rounded up by the judges of the church to be raised in monasteries in hopes of quelling their evil nature. Men found themselves deported or conscripted by local lords; the women often being absconded to the sisterhoods for protection from more barbarous communities.

Such things were not espoused by the Kaiser or supported, but what he did not know, he could do nothing about. He only knew rumor and the remnants of burned reports; a silent conspiracy of cultural and racial oppression against the old enemies of Ession. A problem that needed dealing with if the Ashlans were to rule as God bid them.

"You speak as a poet," Cedric chuckled, arms folding about his chest as he regarded the pureblood. "You have rather... radical views on your people. However, none of them wrong. Garnered from lived experience I imagine, the truest of informers." A serving droid clinked through the door to offer Cedric and Decius glasses of pale-blue wine. The Kaiser drank of his deeply, savoring its sweetnees before returning his attention to Verloren.

"What is your mission then, Verloren? Perhaps it coincides with our own. The end of the Bogan is our great calling."

"We ousted the Sith from their worlds," Decius boomed, raising his glass in a toast. "But the crusade continues."

Cedric raised his own glass, "The crusade continues."

The Praetorian

 

[The Praetorian]

Kyrus was enjoying another bite of the morsel before him as the Kaiser spoke. He arched a brow to the man's words before smiling softly to himself. "Every warrior is a poet in some form or another." He mused. Yet his musing continued aloud to respond to the Jedi Master's assumption. "Indeed, radical though they may be, they are well warranted."

Cedric's next question put a pause on the man's thought. The destruction of the Bogan. The end of the Darkness? For a moment he was tempted to laugh at such a notion but thought better than to insult the man who had so freed him. Instead, he remained silent for a moment of contemplation before answering absent good thought. "The end of the Bogan." He repeated, before turning his eyes to Cedric only to be interrupted by the man Decius' pride filled toast.

"A just crusade. Some would say a Crusade to match eternity." He considered for another moment. What was his purpose now? What was the next mission.

After a lengthy pause, Kyrus turned to the two with a fire alight in his eyes, one born from understanding. "I do not know and i will not seek to hide my ignorance. I do know this. For well over three hundred years I served the darkness, I built a thousand of its works, and I guarded it's avatars. Atonement is necessary if I am to believe the Force has returned me to this world for a just cause."

He held a hand out, gesturing to Cedric.

"So I shall endeavor to serve the Ashla, as you name her. I will serve the light, and I shall build it a thousand works, and..."

His knee bent, bowing his head before Cedric in deference. "As my savior and the avatar of the Ashla, I shall guard you with my life. My lord."

"I swear to serve you and your house until the fire within me has faded and I become one with the Force."

Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

"Perhaps so, and the tales they write are so often bloody ones," Cedric mumbled, somewhat amused by the conversation. Kyrus carried a certain refinement to the way he spoke that Cedric found lacking in many. Perhaps it was the old man's arrogance alone, or perhaps it was simply that he enjoyed the company of the more intellectually inclined. His detractors would certainly lean toward the former.

"It is an eternal crusade of sorts, and will certainly not be completed in my lifetime, nor that of my sons, but it is achievable. There was a time when the galaxy knew only darkness. Before that, in during the infancy of our races, a time when it knew only the Light. We will return it to its natural state, restore the paradise that was once lost to us." Cedric explained, a vigorous passion finding life in his voice. He truly belied in what he said, so certainly that any that might question it might seem foolish under the Kaiser's righteous gaze.

What Kyrus spoke further moved some part of the old patriarch's heart. It reminded him of his youth, of the fire with which his fellow knights had taken to during the darkest days of the Crusade. Indeed, in those times, their light seemed to shine brighter still amidst the shadow. An oath of fealty had not been expected of this experiment, but it was not unwelcome.

"I would be honored to have you within my service," Cedric cracked a warm smile. Decius watched in respectful silence. "Your experience is unlike anything the Crusade has had access to yet. It will undoubtedly prove invaluable in the trying times ahead of us, and your skills even more so." In this age of growing factionalism, Cedric could not afford to turn down any allies. That Kyrus might be deceiving him seemed a silly notion - the scientists and archeologists all backed up the ancient nature of the sarcophogus, and Cedric would have sensed discontent during their many spiritual meetings.

Who better to serve his house, and his house alone?

"If this oath is what you feel you must do, then I would take you among my kingsguard. Your fealty is to myself, my heirs, and my house alone. You will answer to no one else. Not even the priesthood shall bid you to do as they wish." His arms folded behind the small of his back, "And we shall teach you of the Ashla and her true nature. Whatever you wish to learn, we shall share the knowledge."

The Praetorian

 

[The Praetorian]

As the pureblood rose, he nodded to his Kaiser with understanding. Though he was uncertain on what the priesthood was, whether it was a sect of the Jedi or something more he was uncertain. This did breed a thought in his mind, one that he was not content to contain. "For a time, my ignorance of the worlds and how they have changed will be an active hinderance. I cannot effectively defend your House from a galaxy I do not understand. Because of this I would make a request of you. An attaché, one who could better educate me on the reality that is formed around us. One versed in your own realm as well as those surrounding us would be preferable. I believe this would be the greatest way to sate my boundless curiosity while allowing you to maintain your sanity, absent a persistent inquisition on every minor detail."

Kyrus looked to his hands, opening and closing them in a paced manner. "I would also request a space to call my own. I must reconnect with the Force. It seems so distant right now...evasive of my commands. Even my foresight is clouded."

It was true. Since he had stepped foot back into the physical plane, the Force seemed to flow around him, yet not through him as it once did.

"The Dark Side has abandoned me, yet I am not trained to use the Force in any other way. This will surely take time, to evolve into the light side of the Force. It is something I am knowledgeable about in theory, yet I myself have only dabbled in the art." He showed an all too genuine smile as he looked to the Kaiser. "I would very much appreciate your knowledge. As I welcome the challenge that will be presented to me."

"But for now, I would know more of your House and my charge. Is there a Lady of the House? Your scions?" He questioned. Although Kyrus was not a naturally inquisitive person, when it came to the fulfilment of his goals, he could certainly be a man of questions.

Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The request was a sensible one, and Kyrus' concern for Cedric's sanity was certainly noted. The Kaiser huffed a quiet laugh at that, nodding along until the Pureblood had spoken his piece. "I will assign a tutor for you to instruct you in the Ashlan ways. There is much to learn, and still so much more to discover beyond that. One of the priesthood will do, and I will see to it that my sons takes care of the task prudently." Lothaire had been trusted with little since the disinheritance. This much might help to lead to further trust -- if the boy could not handle so simple a task, he would have to be left by the wayside.

The second request was easily met. "I will have quarters for you prepared in the capital building on Ession. It serves as my palace when I am within the realm. Otherwise, I remain here on Ruusan, in my ancestral home. Quarters will be made for you here as well, though we will spend little time on Ruusan. the politics of the homeworld have grown too obtuse for me to be away for long."

That was a bit of an understatement.

"There are Jedi among us that will teach you, as too will experience. I will share with you what knowledge I can when you feel you are ready. The path is long, but nothing worth having ever comes easy." Cedric had trained many students, some of them going on to become hallmarks of their era. All of them were bright burning candles, and almost all had been snuffed out as quickly as they were luminous.

"I am betrothed to Lady Emiery Athelon. Soon enough she will give me children, whom will serve as my heirs. Otherwise, there is Lothaire , my bastard. He holds the title of prince but has been disinherited from the line of succession. His mother was a witch, and her evil is in his blood." He spoke matter-of-factly. There was no disdain or hatred in his heart for the boy, simply factual understanding of what the youth was.

"Other than them, my nephew Mikhail Grayson , though he stays out of the public eye as of late."

The Praetorian

 

[The Praetorian]

If there was one thing that Kyrus did well, it was listen. He listened intently as the Kaiser told him of his quarters, sure but more importantly he could understand the meaning behind his liege's words. "Obtuse. Forgive me my lord, yet I sense you are placing the matter in a delicate fashion. Has some form of discontent or dissidence raised itself against you?" He asked directly. This would certainly be something for him to know of. If there were factions growing against his liege, then that made his life all the more targeted.

Still, for now he could only ask questions. There was no statement he could make that would not have the spell of ignorance within it. For now, he would let the matter rest.

To know he would be trained by Jedi was an interesting thought, one that nearly brought a smile to his face. His now-ancient masters had imprisoned him for daring to go against the Sith ways and now it seems they delivered him directly into the hands of the Light. How fitting this day was turning out to be.

"The Lady Emiery, the Prince Lothaire, and the Lord Mikhail." He committed these names to memory. There was no reaction to the Kaiser having a bastard child, it was something quite common amongst the Nobility, why should this be any different. He was interested to see if the darkness in the boy's blood was something the Kaiser was inferring, or had he seen it firsthand? He did not seem the type to make blanket statements or act without reason. This led Kyrus to believe there was an action that directly caused the Prince to be disinherited from his royal rights.

"Forgive me my lord but the blood of your House seems to be running rather thin. Are these the only others to share your blood? My studies often showed that there is great power in the line of blood and the unification of family." He said, though he also believed there to be a proper answer for this as well.

Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Decius boomed with laughter before Cedric could offer a response.

"The fucking church thinks it runs the nation, for one." The portly man took another long, sloppy drink from his second glass of wine. His second since coming into the Kaiser's company for the day, anyway. Decius was known to imbibe from the earliest hours of the morning, a matter quietly overlooked by the general staff as it did not seem to affect his abilities to lead, nor did it make him particularly unpleasant to be around. It did, however, lead him to be overly honest about his opinions.

In response to yet another show of Decius oversharing, the doors to the chamber immediately slid shut with a mental prodding from Cedric.

"Ye can ask me to be quiet about it, but we all damn well know it." Decius grumbled as he slinked back into his chair.

Cedric pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed a quiet sigh. "The church is overreaching, it is true. More specifically the Cardinal of the church. I ordained him and built the Ashlan church up from nothing. Now he seeks to make declarations of war without my approval. Our Cardinal is not respecting the separation of church and state, and his overreaching will corrupt both systems if he succeeds." The Kaiser explained, "That being said, he has not acted so brazenly that I might strip him of his title. Not yet. He has been severely reprimanded for his attempts at war-hawking."

The patriarch began to pace as he recounted his foes, "Then there are the Vanguardists. They seek continued eternal war. No time for state building in their eyes. Prefer fiefs directed wholly toward war with the Bogan. Admirable idea, but ultimately a failure to do our duty to the people." Cedric shook his head, "The Republicans seek to bring representative rule in the vein of the Galactic Alliance, without a monarch to guide the state. They want anarchy. We have representative democracy already in the House of Lords, but the monarchy is required to hold the nation together. The king is the father of the nation; without a patriarch, our society will lose its traditions, and become a nation of trends and convenience."

He had other private opinions, and they would remain just so.

"From without, the empire of Bastion warhawks on the core. They will either have us as allies or victims eventually. We'll have to pick a side between them and the alliance eventually, I am inclined toward working with the latter. The Cardinal and his family are heavily tied to Bastion however, and they favor the imperials. Beyond them, the Brotherhood of the Maw is a Sith cult that, while beaten, is not broken. They are the last remnants of the Sith, scattered tribes and warlords in the far north."

A pause as Kyrus commented on his family.

"Mine is a family of Jedi Knights, Kyrus, and ours is a time of chaos. Most of us have perished in the wars with the Sith. Just fifteen years ago, the homeworld of Ession was a slavecamp devoted to the Sith war machine. My people suffered near-extinction, and I've only recently found a woman worth mothering my children." Cedric sighed, "Were it that my relatives could be alive, I'd certainly wish it so, but we've ever been called to duty, and so often has that duty been war."

The Praetorian

 

[The Praetorian]

Harsh words were often spoken from the deepest part of the heart. Was that not the sentiment? As Decius heartily spoke his mind there was a subtle, distant quake in the Force. So minor that Kyrus wondered if he may have fabricated it in the back of his mind. Just then the doors to the room began to slowly close. He glanced over to Cedric, saying nothing but believing the mental order to come from the Kaiser. So Kyrus' connection to the Force was not entirely muddled? A comforting thought. He pulled his mind from it's dwellings and instead looked to Decius.

"You speak boldly. An admirable trait. In my time amongst the Sith it was rare to see a person's words match their heart. You leave little to wonder." He complimented. Still there was a worrying thought behind what Cedric disclosed.

Separation of church and state? It is a thing that must be total or not at all, eventually the two will come to find bitter entanglement, the lines must be drawn in steel. "It is rather difficult to pull a treat from the hound when it believes itself to be the master of the hunt."

"And do you believe this Cardinal could present a danger? Is his war-hawking political bluster or something more calculable?" He wondered aloud.

The Vanguardists seemed to be the more zealous of the Crusade. There were many kinds of warriors in the galaxy and those who reveled in the endless conflict were an enigma to Kyrus. The pureblood did not believe eternal peace was possible, nor did he believe eternal war was something that the galaxy could sustain. However as long as the coin existed, there would be both sides to contend with. "These Vanguardists will find it is the times after war when the greatest of weapons are forged. When new hearts are hardened and when the old wounds can finally be tended. An eternal battle would deprive us of this, not after long we would war with sticks, stones, and blood turned to dust."

So it seemed there would be no shortage of enemies. It did not bother Kyrus. In a galaxy such as this there will always be such people. In fact, for how large the galaxy was Kyrus was surprised the list was so low.

"I see." Was his response to Cedric's statement on family. "Forgive my inquisition." He bowed his head in polite apology.

"Then it seems my duties are quite clear. With your leave, my lord, I would seek rest. I need time to meditate and gather whatever of myself yet lingers in the great flux of the Force."

Cedric Grayson