Private Whispers of an Heir

[Durin Vexis]

Lokondo,
Outer Rim Territories

Snow-capped mountains, wind howling through the valleys, and grim reminders of an Empire quickly fading into history. Lokondo was not what Vexis had imagined on his return into deep Imperial space. The Outer Rim Territories were vast and Outpost Epsilon on Zeta-Zera-Nine was a short hop from Lokondo, ideal for resupply on his voyage towards Bastion. He had been warned by the mercenary that had provided passage that the Empire as he knew it was gone. Refusing to heed his warning, Vexis came to this wasteland expecting a warm welcome at the local Imperial base. There was no welcome, only silence.

Durin Vexis trudged through waist-deep sleet, the bitter cold biting through his crimson cloak and robes, blood stained against the white snow. Powerful durasteel walls loomed overhead, the outer fortifications of a now abandoned outpost. Vexis snapped his head to sensor towers in the distance, flickering red lights that once signalled them as active were gone. When he stepped past their sphere of influence no alarm was raised, and closer to the base he noticed the shield generators had failed. How long had it been? He wondered, the Empire must have collapsed shortly after he was assigned to Epsilon, perhaps even days after.

The blast doors were open, snowdrift huddled against walls and down darkened corridors. Vexis raised his crimson glove, a micro-pad held in the palm. Holographic readouts burst to life in his hand, among them a recent message from an Imperial Moff who had shared concerning news that confirmed the mercenaries assessment, another warning Vexis had not heeded. The Empire was gone, but there were still holdouts scattered across the galaxy, and whispers of an heir to the Empire. His colleague had gone quiet after mentioning a former ISB who could help Vexis, the two had shared their location data, and then once again, silence. Vexis hated it.

He had spent years on Epsilon facing silence from Imperial High Command, and now even when he had left that accursed planet he was faced with more silence. Vexis clenched his gloved fists and heaved his boot to a lone helmet on the floor, sailing it down the hallway. The rolling clatter echoed, confirming once more that the Royal Guard was completely and utterly alone.

 

[Kallirróē Vrenth]

OUTFIT: x
TAG: Durin Vexis

LOKONDO, BRAXANT SECTOR, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES​

The cold wind that ravages the icy soil of Lokondo bears a reminder to the once, glorious Empire. Decaying machinery preserved by the freezing weather, abandoned steel structures haunted by the clanking sounds of the gust, dead Imperials curling inside transparent ice blocks. It's almost like the wind is whispering to me, it's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone. This outpost was once a lively station where Imperials stop by and rest between the spaceport and the prison facility. The eerie silence it remains today is a reminder how far we have fallen. Only relics of the past, including a certain towering figure bearing costume of the old days.

I know a zealot when I see one. Long, crimson Imperial Guard robe. It's been ages since I've seen such a display of reverence. The Empire were unlike The Jedi nor the Sith, the Ashlan fanatics nor the Maw savages. Sure, most of us were fighting for an ideal. But it wasn't a blind devotion, based on mere faith on the force, nor was it where little tyrants nor cunning men haggled for unadulterated zeal. It was an ideal that emerged from the people, willed almost into being, brought forth by the great sweetness of the virtue of the combined wisdom of the good people of the Empire. And when the Empire crumbled down, what's left are petty warlords, polluted with foreign interests, decadent wealth, and grubby with compromises.

I wasn't a zealot, I have never been, nor am I an idealogue, at least not anymore. Somewhere along the line, I lost my hope, I lost out of touch and out of tune. This person, on the other hand, I'm not sure if he was ever an idealogue. All the information I have pointed out that this man's pure devotion is reserved for the Emperor, for a bogus hereditary line, polluted with foreign interests, decadent wealth, and grabby compromises. I know a zealot when I see one.

Yet, a job is a job. There is no longer an Empire. The space that I was born into, the people that I belong to, the ideals that I hold on to, vanish. You take the soul out of a galaxy, and all lefts are ladders. Spiked ladders, surrounded by an eternal mosh-pit. And boy I climbed, I climbed since day one, and I climbed even faster after the Empire. Looking back, it's a horrible tragedy, but deep down I've always known that I am destined to be a climber, to one day sit on the mountaintop. The daughter of a swindler and a war hero, the niece of a trillionaire, the granddaughter of slaves and vagabonds. I am a woman of every world, the good, the bad, and the ugly. If the climb leads me to a sham heir of the Emperor, so shall it be.​

"Kallirróē Vrenth. I hope I haven't made you wait"
​

 

[Durin Vexis]

"Kallirróē Vrenth. I hope I haven't made you wait," she said from nearby, his visored gaze turned to peer over his shoulder. Near enough to his height, and almost equal his age, but he was never quite good at guessing human ages. He turned to face her, his force pike brought into the crux of his arm and rested against his shoulder. "I've become accustomed to waiting of late," he said coolly, appraising her further.

She lacked the trappings of an Imperial, and he wondered briefly should he even continue this mission, but she had come highly recommended. A gloved hand emerged from his robes and held his micropad out for a data transfer. Flight logs of a highly classified Imperial Star Destroyer, reassignments of key Royal Guard and Imperial Knights to Dubrillion immediately prior to the Empires collapse, the name Amintius Fel.

"The Empire lives yet," Vexis announced, "I failed Rurik Fel, but I will not fail Amintius, I will not fail the Empire." Vexis had not been present at the Battle of Tython, the Iron Emperor had gone to battle without his most elite and paid the ultimate price. A shame that hung heavy upon Vexis' shoulders. "Name your price and it is yours, but you will do nothing less than bring me before the Emperor," he spoke with clarity.

 

[Kallirróē Vrenth]

OUTFIT: x
TAG: Durin Vexis

LOKONDO, BRAXANT SECTOR, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES​

"The Empire lives yet," Vexis announced, "I failed Rurik Fel, but I will not fail Amintius, I will not fail the Empire." Vexis had not been present at the Battle of Tython, the Iron Emperor had gone to battle without his most elite and paid the ultimate price. A shame that hung heavy upon Vexis' shoulders. "Name your price and it is yours, but you will do nothing less than bring me before the Emperor," he spoke with clarity.

Stoic. That's how I would describe the former Imperial Guard. Straight to the point, voice coming out from the deepest point of devotion. The price he is paying me is not my biggest concern. He knows, everyone knows that my service doesn't come cheap, and I know that he can at least cover the baseline. The details and the extra 1s don't bother me.
​

"Ah yes, the Emperor. I've heard some activities. I know where he is, at least to the level of proximity. That's not the hard part."​

The hard part is the Sovereign Protectors. Truth be told they terrified me. My sources indicate that these folks were Imperial Knights, ISB, COMPNOR, you mention it. It wasn't the only thing that scares me, however. I was also in the ISB, after all. What scares me the most is their leadership. I hear whispers of Force-cultists, unstable lunatics, and functional addicts. I never seek them out for that reason. Yet now I have a professional excuse to do so, and honestly, I am intrigued.
​

"You are not tuned in in the force, I presume? This offshoot Imperial creed is not The Empire we all know and love, I'm afraid. Yes, they have who's presumably to be the heir of the Fel line. But these folks, the Sovereign Protectors, as they call themselves, they are nothing but a force cult, stringing the Emperor along. The very thing we were devoted to cleanse our polluted galaxy from."​

I glanced at Durin's body language to gauge his reaction. Some zealots would no doubt have my head for just thinking of the sentences I just spewed. However, he needs me to find the Emperor, and I need him to take all the considerations he needs and to realize how risky this job is. My reputation and life are on the line here.
​

"But it's not my place to judge, no. I'm here to do my job. Dubrillion, the planet is ruled by a degenerate monarchy, possibly with ties to the Sith. I've had some people do recon for me, I know a safe route. Worst case scenario, we kill some Sith. I've done it before, I'll do it again, happily."​

The government is the least of my concern. I've dealt with savages, warlords, and primitive sub-human monarchs. They are simpleminded brutes, there are a million ways to circumvent them. A highly organized, Imperial trained deep cell, on the other hand. That's the real challenge.
​

"I can lead you to the Emperor's gate. After that, it's all you. The Sovereign Protectors are very protective of him. These folks, you can't kill them. You have to convince them to let you see the Emperor. There, you can judge yourself, if that is what the Empire truly was, or if they are just another petty warlord who got their hands on the Fel bloodline."
​

 

[Durin Vexis]

"This galaxy is nothing if not run by force cults," Vexis all but sneered the last remark, his force pike dropping from the crook of his arm and standing beside him, held like a staff. The clack of the pikes butt echoed down abandoned halls. "The greatest dynasties are the result of the Force, it is the will of the Force to use its power to impose security and order, without it there is only chaos," Vexis spoke sternly, an ideological line had been pushed. "From the first Emperor to the last, the Force guides them," he said, but knew truly that he did not understand this esoteric power, "And if these Protectors utilize that power, so be it."

The closest servants of the Emperor was a brotherhood that could not be tarnished, to admit the wrongdoings of one was to admit the shame of all. Vrenth continued to speak, and Vexis remained silent, although he slowly closed the gap between them, pike clacking metal tiles. "The Sith can be dealt with," he announced as though their challenge was insignificant, the royal guard was all fervour.

Deep red gloves reached up for his helmet, a quiet hiss of released pressure and the elongated helm slowly rose from his head and was then magnetically clasped to his belt. Vexis was as pale as moonlight, his eyes a fierce black and white, his head all but hairless. He offered a hand to shake to seal the deal, "My transport is unlikely to be suitable, and I would prefer to send it back from where I came. Where is your ship?"

 

[Kallirróē Vrenth]

OUTFIT: x
TAG: Durin Vexis

LOKONDO, BRAXANT SECTOR, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES
​

I noticed that the Imperial Guard is getting agitated over my remarks, getting closer and clacking his pike in an erratic rhythm. I should've known, dealing with a zealot can be a headache. Yet it was needed, I'm not taking someone who would change their mind in the middle of a mission, and I need to say that about the Empire that is. Get it out of the system.

With these types of people, I learnt early on that the best way to gain their respect is to stand on my ground. So, I straighten my back and stand directly in front of him, staring at his hidden eyes beneath the jet black visor.
​

"Once again. It's not. For me. To judge. It's just a job for me."​

"The Sith can be dealt with," he announced as though their challenge was insignificant, the royal guard was all fervour.

"If it all goes smoothly, we won't even have to. Faster, cleaner, better."​

It's best not to leave any trail behind, after all. Sure, killing Sith can be fun. But you don't survive this long, even past the nation that birthed you, by choosing fun. You pick your fight, reserve violence to the very last straw, never under any circumstances expose yourself to unnecessary risk. It's not called being coward, it's called winning the war. Besides, this Sovereign Protectors are in-hiding for a reason, and leaving too many marks can expose them to dangers. I might disagree with them in all fronts, yet the worse Imperial is still better than the most tolerable Sith.
​

He offered a hand to shake to seal the deal, "My transport is unlikely to be suitable, and I would prefer to send it back from where I came. Where is your ship?"

I took Durin's hand for a shake. A deal. To think that I am earning a fortune while also witness the remaining of what's left of the Imperial fervor in the galaxy, it's going to be an interesting job. I pointed my head to the entrance gate to answer Durin's question.
​

"It's a starfighter. Imperial issued, heavily modified. I hope you don't mind the lack of space."
​

 

[Durin Vexis]

Vexis rolled the thought of being in a cramped starfighter for an extended period, not an ideal situation but Epsilon needed his shuttle. There were survivors left behind waiting for supplies and a ship. "Very well, if it must be," he said in resignation, reaching to his helm and sliding it back over his head. The force pike raised and returned to rest in his elbow as he began to walk past Vrenth and towards the opened blast doors.

Having waited in the darkness of the outpost the light outside was blinding. The visor took a second to recalculate and the royal guard could see again, what little there was to see. Wind buffeted his cloak, speckles of snow danced around him. He passed a glance over his shoulder at the Imperial outpost one last time. The calm of the place unnerved him, the feeling that time was quickly passing him by.

"So we make for Dubrillion," Vexis said, striding towards the makeshift landing zone as he raised his micropad up, fingers tapping along as he set destination coordinates for his shuttle. Engines in the distance roared to life. "I have all that I may need, best we make haste."

 

[Kallirróē Vrenth]

OUTFIT: x
TAG: Durin Vexis

SOUTHEAST DUBRILLION, DUBRILLION, MYTO SECTOR, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES
​

After an hour that seems like forever, we finally reached Dubrillion. The bright sun and tropical wind of the Southeastern part of the planet offered us a warm welcome, an irritating welcome. I grew up in Mygeeto and the cold has been a part of me. This is something out of my comfort zone. I can already feel the sweat sticking underneath my tight bodysuit. I imagine it feels even worse for Durin. We are currently in the southernmost city in Dubrillion. Still a long way to go. Getting in was tricky, I had to placate the right officials, order the right supplies, and even after that, this is the closest we can go by air. Flying too close to the smuggler attracts too much attention from the central government, while going directly to the Sovereign Protectors' facilities is a death sentence. So, here we are, sitting in a shady café, waiting for the ship that will take us to the smuggler's base.
​

"So, you've been here before?"​

I asked Durin, trying to get him to talk. This could be a three hours wait, for all I know. The smugglers, as everyone knows, are the furthest thing from punctual people. Besides, I'd like to know more about the Imperial Guard. It's not everyday you meet an ex-Imperial in this time and age. Who knows if we'd shared a station, or even a room before. Either way, there's must be something underneath the stoic front he puts on. Tragic backstory or else.​