Private Wheel Smashing Lords

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

Where I have passed, grass will never grow again.

Hapes Nebula
Undisclosed Location
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How many long months since that day on Coruscant when he confronted his brother and the accursed Carrion Queen? How much time had he spent in search of Vahl's True Flame?

Did his rivals truly think him idle, wiling away his hours as a coward might twiddle their thumbs and heave sighs of melancholy? Look upon his works and despair.

Retribution will come.

Hot-tempered Gerra knew well how he might fly into a fit of rage at the mere sight of those who spat upon his aid and pushed him from the Core. So he remained absent from the Core and the dilatory functions of the Sith. He seized the treasure fleet of the Galactic Empire in the Chiloon Rift and turned those gains toward his own ends... and that of his Hapan wife.

The enormous Vahlan ceased his pacing before the viewport and came to a stop beside the Queen Mother of the Hapes Consortium, that venomous and silver tongued Aurellia . He gestured with a hand dismissively toward the immense structure that lay before them outside the viewport of her Battle Dragon.

"As you can see, the Xi Char Cathedral Factory assembles itself. The finest shipwrights, as they tell it."

The bugs took great pride in their craftsmanship, which Gerra admired.

"You will have your new line of Battle Dragons, as I promised," he rumbled. "But you can feel their fingers stretching out. To the west, the High Republic and their corrupt politicians. To the east the feckless Mandalorian Empire. And to the north..." his lips curled in utter contempt and derision, "to the north sits the Carrion Queen, glutting herself on the bones of the Empire just as Solipsis did upon the Alliance before her."

Pathetic.

The Sith warlords who should have emerged, carving out their own destinies, were stifled by that woman's lust for worship. No. She sought to be that whom she would never be. Revered and respected as Ashin Varanin was revered.

Gerra snorted.

"Once again you must balance upon the knife's edge."

His eyes narrowed and he looked down at her, unable to avoid being swayed by her beauty for in truth even among the Hapans there was none so finely formed as she.

"If only you knew the freedom of a nomad."

Yet in truth, the nomad had no home. No connection to ancestral lands. Nothing but the ships they stole and used until they needed to be broken up for parts.

"To build the fleet you wish, we require further funds. I have heard rumors of a treasure trove within the Blackwall itself. The vault of the Dark Lord Empyrean. Do you know of this?"

 

[Aurellia]

Gone was the usual relaxed graced Aurellia so often carried. Gerra’s words fell over her as she stood a pillar, eyes boring into the operation below, as if her will alone could do anything to piece the fleet together faster. There was a delicious irony in there truth of his words, somewhere, but it was lost on her in the devouring rage. Already, she had heard rumors of the Republic standing up some pretender. Hapes would be a fine jewel to stand next to Naboo. As for the Mandalorians… were less than a big beneath her heel. A culture so vile, she only wished the Sith had been successful in wiping them and their histories with it from the galaxy.

No, Gerra could have his nomad’s freedom. Her mantle was countless generations of beauty, strength, and nigh on divine purpose. It had been rightfully seized by charm and conquest, and the Queen Mother would sooner drive her own battle dragon into her capital than let an outsider raze it once more - or worse, poison her government with a silly little idea such as democracy.

Yet before Aurellia could carve the proper words to convey her righteous fury, the warlord said something that made her stumble. Her head snapped sideways, mouth curled, expression begging to ask if he had gone mad. Instead, she took a moment, and considered the actual question.

“I have.” Aurellia stated plainly. “Courtiers whisper. All rulers love a game of whose vault is bigger at the state dinners.”

The Queen turned away from the viewport fully, leaving one hand on the railing. Despite her reservations, the query had captured her attention.

“There’s been no outsiders who have seen it, as far as I know - much like a dancer behind a curtain, an economy behind a wall never gives a full picture. I highly doubt the claims myself.”

Disdain for the policies of the empire dripped from her words. It was a wonder the nation still stood.

“How would you even get the fleet past their defenses?”

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

"You would not."

The huge Vahlan warlord pursed his lips, watching the synchronized movements of the Cathedral factory for a moment. A hive of unified mind, moving in harmony. Beautiful, but lacking true individuality. To strive against the galaxy and grow from speck to bonfire burnt into the memory of history, this was what it was to be truly great.

Gerra looked back to the Queen. His queen - though she sought only to use him for his fleet and his genetics. Like a faithful war hound. For all the enmity between them, he could not help but admire the woman's cunning.

"Even if successful, a fleet action would draw the wrath of all the other Sith lords who would follow the smell of treasure like slavering dogs," Gerra shook his head. "No. A single ship, perhaps. With the right crew. This could be done."

All of the hoarded credits of the Dark Lord...

"The infobroker Mauve du Vain," his eyes narrowed on Aurellia's features, watching the angles of skin smooth and the pallor of honey, "I believe you are acquainted... She delivered me a set of coordinates, but expects a percentage. We would need a team."

Aurellia