The day had been long and filled with many distractions, inconveniences, and abrupt interruptions. But now the Emperor of the Sith could rest his weary patience, his titanic body reclining back in the reinforced throne that sat behind his office desk. The office itself was empty, all of his bureaucratic peons had been dismissed and only the pair of guards lingering outside the door were what remained of the usual guard that accompanied his majesty every waking moment.
But not he finally had some time to himself.
On his desk were scattered various report datapads, parchment paper with Aurebesh writing and illustrated drawings, and several knick-knacks and trinkets that he often decorated his working space with. One such object was the gilded skull of Ronin Fel, a rival Emperor he had dispatched nearly twenty years ago. His body had been harvested for its genetic material, and his skull clad in ornate gold as a memento of his victory over the Fel Empire.
Now another Fel Empire was trying to rise somewhere in the Unknown Regions, or so his spies had informed him. That seemed to be a common occurrence these days, the sins of his past haunting him with progeny yet unslain. The Dorns, the Serens, and now the Fels.
It was quite ridiculous if you asked him.
Kaine gently picked up the skull, staring absently into the empty sockets as if trying to discern some hidden wisdom in those orbless holes. With a grunt of agitation, the Emperor tossed the skull back on the desk with a thud and resigned himself to staring blankly into nothingness.