Author Topic: CC: Imperial March  (Read 69170 times)

Offline Syren

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Re: CC: Imperial March
« Reply #60 on: October 21, 2021, 09:36:17 PM »
“Strolling down these halls of rolling dice and waterfalls
I can’t help but smile
Troubled fortunes, lives in shambles, underneath the flashing lights
Gonna stay a while.”


-Gabriels


Byss: Imperial Capital
 
Surface: Emperor's Citadel

The conversation with Erinbol shook him to the core.
 
Affirmation and focus. It is not what he expected but it is what he needs. Dahlia’s visage in the flames solidified it for him and, for once, the promise of something more takes shape in his mind. He trusts the Voss-Ra. Erinbol, less so. He senses the angles in both their motives. The risk, however, calculated, was considerable. But it does make a sick sort of sense. Definition of insanity, etc. Reframing who is ally and enemy may very well alter the outcome. How many cycles passed before they began tinkering, allowing others to believe they could somehow harness the dark power of the prophecy? Reap the rewards, even those they conjured out of clever misdirection and selfish greed. Everyone with something to gain. Still, something does not sit right with him as he replays the mission over again in his mind so he returns to the princess’ chamber the following evening.


She has had some time to recover and deserves her solitude in this. Grieving is such a personal experience, with gravity and nuance even between two who share a tragedy. At the very least, he hopes she has begun the process even though he comes before her now with more suspicions.


Dahlia stands near the oval window, draped in a thin black cape with a high, arching scalloped collar, staring out over the eerie glow of Byss.


“Come to check on me?”


“Not entirely.”


She laughs, “At least you are upfront about it. I am fine, by the way. Physically, anyway. Emotionally? Touch and go. I appreciate the, uh, support. You got me back here safe and sound. Nice work, Inquisitor.”


“You did well and we accomplished what we came for.”


“Which, I take it, is why you are really here?”


Seif studies her carefully, knowing that she is too self-absorbed not to be a little smug. The tight smirk, half-hidden with her head turned away from him, confirms it.


“You did not appear surprised by the lack of progress Schrag had made. I want to know why.”


Sighing, she turns and approaches him, cape dragging along slowly behind her.


“For the same reason I secured my position as guardian over Dane and Gemma until they came of age. I offered up something he could ultimately do nothing with, despite what might be in it for me. I ran out the clock on the guardianship with vague and mysterious intentions of keeping them in Imperial control. The legacy gene was no different, not really. Although I did not truly believe he would be able to find success with it the way few others had, I could absolutely not allow a project with that kind of scope to remain a loose end. You understand. It would only be a matter of time before Schrag found the right person or, worse, gone after Dane or someone in his organization himself.”


“That is precisely what we want. One less variable.”


“Yes, but Dane has control of something we need. Means and position to leverage a powerful monopoly in the Corporate Sector. Diversified assets and the like. Capital, tech, weapons – all consolidating under a neat little Gellar umbrella. Do not forget Rutherford Gellar raised me too. Never hurts to have contingent resources. I love me some resources.”


He is caught between impressed and stunned, “Conniving. And I mean that in the best way.”


“Not offended,” she quips casually. “It has never been an insult.”


“Point taken. And?”


“If I had my druthers – Gemma and Riley would be eliminated first, wherever they are, leaving Dane space and time to become the greedy bastard he was always meant to be just in time for us to take it from him. I know, I know, it’s not the order they died before but it makes more sense from a, like, order of operations perspective.”


“Thankfully, the prophecy is not so rigid,” he says, recalling Erinbol’s words. “The order does not matter as much as the end result. The Winton must be the one that survives.”


“And I bloody well will.”


“I believe you. We know where Gemma and Riley are. They have retreated to Corellia in secret.”


“Oh, right. Your little spy.”


“We needed eyes on them,” Seif says. “And they would not be able to resist a Jedi in distress, not with me lurking in the shadows waiting to wipe them off the galactic map. Erinbol is monitoring the situation.”


“Did you…?”


“Tell him? No. It is not my story to tell. Nor my pain to bear.”


“You almost sound like you care.”


“Almost. As for Gemma and Riley, they may become painted targets for a vengeful Republic soon enough.”


“With Barrett tactfully nudging them in that direction.”


“The Speaker’s corruption is complete, the Republic’s reputation in tatters and mistrust was sown deep across the Mid and Outer Rim. It will not take much to incite a conflict only the Empire can resolve.”


There is buzzy wickedness in Princess Dahlia’s smile.


“I had my doubts about the truce but grateful to be proven wrong. One spark, and everything they worked so hard for…all burns to the ground.”










-TBC
« Last Edit: October 22, 2021, 10:59:44 AM by Syren »
Syren

Offline Syren

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Re: CC: Imperial March
« Reply #61 on: February 04, 2022, 07:02:06 PM »
“Save me, save me from the unknown
While I daydream, I leave this world to follow
My footsteps are sinking to the hollows
I can retrace the memories in my shadows.”


-Bonobo


Byss: Imperial Capital
 
Surface: Emperor’s Citadel
 
It is as if they exist beneath the rippling magic of an eternal aurora. Say what one will about the spooky vibes and virtual inaccessibility in the Deep Core, the views from atop the Citadel simply cannot be beaten.

 
The perks of power reveal new perspectives but Princess Dahlia knows there is more to uncover. She resumes training with Darth Erinbol, starting slowly at first but quickly finds the distraction both welcome and calming. Drawing on the darkness that permeates this place helps her heal and soon returns to form. The escalating simulated scenarios, at times involving Inquisitor Involis, give her focus and means to work through a type of grief so foreign to her she barely knew where to begin. Hitting stuff generally helps but she is self-aware enough to know that would not be the end of it. The loss of an unanticipated pregnancy, especially one that may have factored so heavily into their scripted prophecy plot threads, is not so easily cast aside.

 
So, she goes harder and challenges herself to find her own way through it. Dahlia processed the loss of her adoptive parents and would now do the same for what would have been she and Barrett’s child. Easier said than done, of course, which is why the structure of the training is just the thing. She has honed her fighting ability and mastered the tri-bladed saber but now the focus turns to the telekinetic and mystical aspects of her power. Not only as a complement to Barrett’s Darkshear, but to try and better understand how her power interacts with that in another prophetic ancestor. They teleported from within the Bolerathon Tower to the surface of Coruscant, she and Seif’s powers intertwined by the essence of the Etheralis placed in the center of his armor. It was effective and saved both of their lives but still sufficiently gave them pause. It is nothing that had been tested before, at least nothing the Voss-Ra or their co-conspirators have let on.

 
It takes considerable effort to call or move something through the Force while on the defensive from direct attacks and she struggles and fails against some of Erinbol’s more devious gamemastering. Thankfully, she has the time and pent-up emotions to steadily gain confidence in her abilities. She recalls the night that almost was with Quentin and the purely unabated power that radiated through her. The night she truly turned. Could she really tap into that without being completely consumed by it? She is understandably hesitant to go there given that Alexia was driven completely mad. And not even in a cool way. Dahlia wonders how much of that was the Voss-Ra and how much was jealousy over Karen’s place in the prophecy? She would be pissed too. Maybe do something rash. Alexia may very well make a compelling case for justified insanity and any destruction she left in her wake. Dahlia wants to harness that same potency in the Force without all the psychodrama. Well, no more than is absolutely necessary. Inside, there is an underlying fear she would soon be tested to find out.

 
The third Winton’s the charm.

 
Back in her chamber, after a long and glorious soak to ease the aches of her training, Princess Dahlia pulls on a silver robe and heads to bed. A soft but distinct chirp draws her attention to the nightstand. It is the Imperial holocomm Barrett gave her for emergencies. Designed to be a fashionably mundane accessory that would not draw attention if discovered, it could only be activated with her biometrics. She palms and activates it with a thumb, smiling as a small hologram of Barrett appears above the pad.

 
“She lives! I am most pleased.”


“Pretty sure there is too much riding on me so let us cross that worry off the list for now.”

 
“Damn, it is so good to see your face. I had a strange feeling you needed me.”


“You do have a flair for understatement. It’s me, the walking cliché. A princess in her tower. How are things in the Republic? Crumbling, I hope.”


Barrett’s sculpted features still make her weak in the knees, even through the ghostly glow of the holocomm, “Productive. They took the bait. There has, however, been an interesting…development.”


“In whose favor?”


“It would appear ours. There was an attack on the Republic President, one that likely took his life. This was not us and, although not confirmed, Kain may be a victim or involved. I know you knew her. I am surprised you had not caught it on the Holo.”


She eases down onto the bed, “Been kind of busy training. Erinbol is relentless.”


“He only makes you more formidable.”


“That should scare him more than it seems to. It would be terrible if Janessa was caught up in all this so I hope there is no truth to it.”


“Thus, the reason for my call, aside from missing you, of course. There is something I hope you will do for me.”


“Name it.”


“Question Involis. There is someone else working angles here and I do not like the idea of unaccounted for contingents running ops on our behalf. Schrag only briefed me on the missions the Inquisitors were sent on but now I question what I thought I knew. It would make me feel far more comfortable with our position if you could dispel these lingering questions for me. I take it you have brokered some trust with Seif?”


“Mutually so but I get it. The Voss-Ra and company have been running covert on this all along so best to know now rather than later.”


A company that may or may not include her not-so-dead master, Adubel? It had been a long time since she had shown her scary face and she absently touches the bridge of her nose remembering it. What has this version of herself been up to? She shudders to think and mentally marks her as another loose end to explore, however seemingly unkillable she may claim to be in this form.


“I appreciate it. You sure everything is good?”


Dahlia does not want to do it this way but needs him to know.


“Actually, no. There is something I need to tell you.”


And she tells him in what feels like a confession. The discovery and mission were accomplished with devastating consequences. Any progress Schrag had made in experimenting with the legacy gene was destroyed but, in doing so, she lost their child in the fight to that victory. He grows very quiet at first, features tightening and softening until she finishes speaking.


“You do not know how badly I want to be there with you right now. You should not have to suffer alone.”


“We will be together again soon but I was not alone. Seif actually stepped up. No one else knows. He covered for me, for some reason, when it counted. You understand what the prophecy says about the one with a child. The child is not a blessed savior, it is the vessel through which the fate of the prophecy is decided. And it was gone before I could even come to terms with that. Before we could even…discuss, decide. Anything. It was awful but probably for the best, for now.”


“But Seif, he could have-”


Her tone grows sharper at the insinuation, “I was in bad shape, Bar. I lost a lot of blood. If he wanted me dead, I would be dead. That is the simple fact of the matter.”


“Just because he was there for you - and I am grateful he was - does not mean he is on our side.”


“Nor does it mean he is against us. Something has changed. I can feel it.”


“Fair,” Barrett says, pulling back a bit. They are both upset. It is an upsetting thing. But he does not want her to be complacent with the kindness she was shown, regardless of the situation. “There are other forces at work here and I want to make sure we are not playing into anyone’s hands but our own.”


“Understood. I am not keen on being manipulated either.”


“Then question him. For me. For us. We need to know if there are overlapping agendas to ensure a singular focus. You may be protected by their hopes of fulfilling the prophecy but not everyone may feel the same. You may be fabulous but you are also divisive. We must remain vigilant. Always.”


They say their goodbyes, something bittersweet given the course of their conversation but when she sets down the device, she is relieved. Relieved that he knows and they can share in this strange grief. It is not only her burden to carry and they would sort out the complex emotional details together later. Knowing that gives her something to look forward to.


Her mind spins back to Seif: the cousin in question. What does he know? She scans through the headlines of the bombing on Chandaar. Lots of speculation but nothing solid yet. The investigation is still underway and it appears grim. If the President was indeed lost, it does bode well for pushing the Speaker over the edge into a complete tyranny. She expects Leeds, saturated with dark energy and what are, by now, his own grand delusions, to react accordingly. Point blame and let it rip. No one would be safe in their democracy again and the Empire will be forced to speak out to uphold their part of the truce. For, like, security and stability and stuff. However, if this forward motion was not an Imperially sanctioned op, who would go to such lengths to help them? The Voss-Ra, yes, but that, to Barrett’s point, is quite the gesture in furthering their goals. Taking out a head of state is not something you simply fail to mention. And Kain’s potential involvement, in whatever capacity, rouses even more suspicion. 


She knows Garron disappeared, followed by Janessa shortly thereafter. Both have since returned. Explainable, perhaps, at least on record, but nothing has ever been so simple when it comes to the prophecy or those working in and around it. If Janessa was involved in something so destructive, she wonders if Garron is destined for the same. Even if these actions work in their favor, there is always the risk they could backfire or counteract something they have in the works. Dane could be harmed before he has a chance to acquire what will become their holdings in the Corporate Sector, not to say that what he has amassed so far would not suit them well. They need control of their destinies and have fought for every piece of it they have now. Are Seif or others orchestrating operations under their noses? Is Abudell still lurking about, tinkering with things from the shadows with judgment and scorn? If they all want the same thing, why not be on the same page? She would find out but with the respect Seif has earned.


Barrett is not wrong to ask but she is not certain she wants him to be right.










-TBC
Syren

Offline Syren

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Re: CC: Imperial March
« Reply #62 on: April 12, 2022, 10:48:13 PM »
“And you know and I know
I don’t know me very well
And I know and you know
If they found me out”


-Tori Amos


Byss: Imperial Capital
 
Surface: Emperor’s Citadel
 
Princess Dahlia Winton joins Seif Greyson-Guldon for dinner.

 
Since she cannot be seen outside their sanctuary within the Citadel, at least not without her mask and costume, these affairs trended toward the upscale yet sparsely attended. Darth Erinbol and the faux-Schrag would join them on occasion but generally left Dahlia and Seif to dine together. She had been infrequently seen outside of training lately, guised as part of her recovery from their mission, but she is beginning to venture back out. She has made peace with what happened although she would likely not stop blaming herself any time soon. Part of the process, she imagines. Sharing with Barrett had certainly helped but she does long to be with him again. This lack of engagement with anyone beyond their inner circle is literally killing her.


She appears at the edge of the room in a black, V-neck gown with embellished shoulder fringe. Seif has already arrived and stands dutifully by his chair as she approaches. There are many things she questions but their manners are not among them. He takes his seat after she does but seems uncertain as to where to begin.


“It is good to see you out and looking well.”


“A solid opening,” she quips lightly. “I am feeling much better, thank you. My social life, however, is on the critical list. Hopefully, I shall make my grand return soon enough.”


He raises a glass to that, “And here I was beginning to think I would end the last of my days on the tawdry gossip of a twentysomething.”


“Admit it, you live for the hot takes. This place could use a fresh bit of perspective. It’s so oppressive!”


“The Imperial aesthetic is simply that, but I suppose your perspective is not entirely unwarranted or unappreciated.”


She smirks and waits until their food is served and they are alone before continuing.


“That was almost a compliment which looked painful so do not strain yourself. Also, you do not have to remain cooped up here with me if you do not wish to. I am certain you have Inquisitorial duties to perform elsewhere.”


He reflects on his conversation with Erinbol, considering his words carefully.


“Those duties have changed in light of recent events. Our roles in previous cycles now take a different shape in the present one.”


The fare is delicious and they eat in silence for a few moments. At least they were not hurting in the fine dining department. The spread laid out for them has always been impressive.


“I actually do not know much of the Inquisitor's role, aside from legend and the little you have shared. Who sends you on your little missions?”


He smiles wanly, “You make them sound insignificant when they were anything but and you know we serve our Emperor well.”


“Yet this one did not know who you really are. Did the last?”


“Neither Dementat nor Schrag knew of my identity.”


“Interesting and duplicitous. I dig but since both are gone, who guides you now?”


“I feel an accusation lingering beneath your snide banter.”


Princess Dahlia curls a finger around the stem of her glass, “You were there for me when I needed it most and I will always be grateful. Barrett is less convinced. Given the complicated and rather bloody history, can you blame him?”


“I know what he thinks. What do you think?”


“I think that if our roles have shifted in this cycle then we ought to act accordingly. There is much at stake here, many plans in the works to nudge us ever closer to what we all want – a prophecy fulfilled and the Sith to rise again. Conflicting actions may have unintended consequences.”


“Such as?”

“The demise of a prominent political figure casting suspicion upon carefully laid foundational plans.”


He eases into the chair and laughs, “You think I took out Inganarre?”


“That is not a no.”


“It is, actually. Such a bold and dramatic action may serve our shared purpose but is far too dangerous to risk, not when many are now viewing the Empire in a new light. If you believe I did this to expedite the plan, you would be incorrect.”


“Then I ask again, without an Emperor, who do you serve?”


Seif holds her eye, “You.”


“I am not here to be flattered, cousin. We need to take great care in our next steps whereas not to derail what has already been set into motion. You expect me to believe this about-face plainly? After what we experienced together, I want to but I will not fall prey to the trappings that swallowed both my sisters.”


“I saw something,” he starts, gripping the edge of the table. “Something that convinced me you were the one they spoke of, believed in so desperately despite all their machinations and setbacks. You are the Winton to win the Prophecy Persephonea. You are the truth always known. I would not jeopardize all of that on some petty grievance or personal agenda. Of that, you can be certain.”


Dahlia, breathless, asks, “What did you see?”


“Your face. In the flames of Erinbol’s fire. It was then I knew. However, I understand the optics from your superficial point of view. No Master, others working in the shadows all along. You wish to know where my orders come from. They last came from Schrag but I was the only one with the context and guidance of the Voss-Ra, and they concealed who I am and the role I play in the prophecy. Dementat had greater value with his active participation. Schrag was more complicated but they managed to make it work.”


He takes a swig from his glass, relief flooding him at long last. The weight of his existence lifted from his shoulders.


“You want to know the Inquisitors role? We hunt Jedi, Dahlia. It is who we are. The last few years have proved the most ferocious campaign yet. There were five of us originally, working in secret for Dementat but his untimely death and Schrag’s rise left us little time to question anything except for where to go next. The plans were already in motion. Two Inquisitors are feared lost and have not made contact in some time. The third was confirmed to have been killed on Berzite at the edges of Wild Space in an ambush. Allom, Feraas, and I are all that remain. The Jedi have been slaughtered or driven out of the known galaxy with exceptions like Masterton, tucked away, as we plot out how best to strike at them.”


“You tried to kill me. We would have both perished if the Etheralis had not activated our powers.”


Seif sighs, “An unfortunate situation turned in our favor. I was not made aware of these changes until recently. Schrag wanted you dead, that is true, and the Voss-Ra did not dispute that. They had other ideas.”


“Do tell.”


“As you wish but I can only share what I know. I knew who I was and what that could mean for me but there is much I still have yet to learn. Initially, I was instructed to slay Masterton and abduct her protector, a man called Prescott. The curious Ambassador Kain came looking for him and, given her discovery of Ambassador Sienna’s…situation, was considered a loose end despite keeping the previous attempts on her life by the Empire quiet. So, I took her as well and you took care of Sienna. I do not know what happened to either of them until they resurfaced in their respective locations. I have seen the Holo, rumors of Kain’s presence or involvement in the bombing depending on your tolerance for conspiracy, but I did not send her after the Republic President if that is what you suspect.”


The thing is, Dahlia believes him, mostly because the Inquisitors were assigned missions and seldom asked questions. That much she does know. If the Voss-Ra gave those orders, they had their motives. Yet, while the two other Inquisitors are skulking around the Inquisitorius or off hunting any remaining Jedi, Involis remains here with her. Is this conversion to their side of things a result of new context or true belief? He reads differently to her now, less of a guarded mystery to wonder and worry about, but the purpose of taking those specific people still troubles her.


“Did they take anyone else?”


“A doctor from Corellia, someone close to the CorSec Director.”


She had heard about it; the Director attacked, badly injured. The doctor was killed with insinuations of a Jedi conspiracy. Splashy headlines that further drew the Republic’s ire, violations of their increasingly ruthless laws seemingly flaunted so brazenly in their faces. Bold moves for a sect that has bided its time. The acts feel impatient as if they are rushing so near the end.


“The Voss-Ra have nudged things along, all this time, but this grand gesture is reckless and unexpected. If our shared goal is to fulfill the prophecy then any move we make should work together in achieving it. I may not enjoy not being in the know but Barrett should at least understand any operations as they relate to the goal. I do not feel that is an unreasonable ask of them.”


“I do not disagree.”


“Then we must align on any further proposed actions that would further the prophecy.”


“Yes, it is reckless, which means you have failed to consider one thing.”


“And what is that?”


“It may not have been the Voss-Ra at all.”










-TBC
Syren

Offline Syren

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Re: CC: Imperial March
« Reply #63 on: August 09, 2022, 09:52:22 PM »
“I don’t want another dead end
Get the shovel, I can dig in
You don’t wanna admit it
Let me be the one who did it.”


-Banks
 
Byss: Imperial Capital
 
Surface: Emperor’s Citadel
 
Seif has a point. There is a distinct sense of escalation.


As Princess Dahlia continues her training, she mulls over the myriad of events in her life over the past few years. So enlightened, finally. Finally. Yet even all the context they think they have could just be an illusion. Enough to keep them satiated but pliable. Treading the same tracks in another cycle. How would they really know? That is all prophecy is anyway – smoke and mirrors that can be directed in the way that best suits the one clever and/or foolish enough to try and harness its potential and power. She is more than happy to bring about the darkness if she can help herself...and others. Barrett broke it down; there must be merit in any meddling. The Voss-Ra may have a singular focus but never explicitly stated they would not deal and trade with those who could help them, even if there were setbacks. Sacrifices they are willing to make in the name of fulfillment. The proof is in the pools of blood left in its wake. Her father had taken considerable liberties. Leveraging the prophecy to achieve immortality is hardly subtle.


Those Winton’s. Always too much.


Still, there is something bugging her about the whole thing. The Voss-Ra took a hell of a risk with neither she nor Seif killing each other. Schrag had motive and the Inquisitor had no way to refuse those orders. Their faith stopped them from intervening and the Winton fam has thus far proved that it has not been misplaced. The same cannot be said for the big boom on Chandaar. They have been claws deep in Republic drama for years. They would sense a scheme like that from a galaxy away.


Yet they seemingly did nothing to acknowledge or stop it.


If they did not give the order or stand idly by then they must have provided some kind of assistance or assurance…and there happen to be two assets currently in place on the Republic capital to do just that. How handy. Then there is Quentin; the handler. She has to laugh at the handful they must be but there are some roles people are just meant to play. The cynical, smoldering dummy is def Q’s destined doom. In another life, perhaps…


So, if not them, who? Her mind continually loops back to the same face. Only one person she knows is bold enough to go that big. The same kind of person who would blatantly kidnap school children in the middle of the day and blow up a rally disguised as one of the more recognizable Jedi. Someone who would casually pop up to snag a disillusioned Alia while the others were caught up in their own drama and grief.


Ever the opportunist.


Adubell.


Princess Dahlia decides to trust Seif with these conclusions but he seems dismayed.


More so than usual.

“What is it?”


“We have lost contact with our insider. She missed a check-in but we now know key members of Corellian leadership are either directly involved or complicit in defiance of Republic law. Elected representatives, the People’s Council, CorSec, maker knows who else – all conspiring against them. The story writes itself.”


She shrugs, flipping her hair, “It is certainly meant to look that way.”


To his credit, he hears her out. She knows how it sounds and he cautions her about overplaying her hand.


He also confirms her suspicions.

“The Voss-Ra is an ancient order and I have come to recognize that some things are not beyond them.”


“How far beyond are we talking?”


“Further than you would think.”


She searches his face, “You had no reaction when I mentioned my old master. You know her?”


“I know of her,” he corrects. “We serve different functions.”


“That response feels more evasive than it should but if she continues what my father started, we are not safe. Taking out Schrag’s little experiment means nothing if she has a network to resurrect herself and reappear at any given moment and wreak havoc whenever something does not go her way. She is kind of prone to doing that.”


“Some risks are more calculated than others but we are not operating blind.”


“Says you.”


His jaw tightens with the flaming truth, “I now see what is possible on the other side of everything I had come to believe. The victory and the reward. We can be free of it all.”


“The other side. How lovely a thought that is. Have you considered what they will do when they finally get what they want?”


He does not like what she is implying so there is a hint of warning in his tone even if he has come to question it.


“The Sith will rise but they want the Winton to rule.”


Her smirk is accompanied by a slow nod. Yeah, right. Okay. They seem like the sharing type. Perhaps their facilitation of her rise gives them hope they will find her favor, to be justly included and revered. A place in history.


Not a bad plan but probably not the only plan.

“Then I need them to cede some jurisdiction on a few things. We do not know what we think we do, especially if Adubell is involved.”


“No,” he says coolly. “They will not defer creative control to either of us. Different functions, remember? Everyone needs this to go smoothly.”


“Oh, do they? Seriously, darling. Focus on function is a distraction unto itself. And here I thought we were building trust.”


“It is your compulsive nature, not your capabilities that raise concerns.”


“I have to try, if for no other reason than their outsourcing puts Barrett at risk. We need everything for him to go smoothly too. Transfers of power at this scale are not often executed with grace. He cannot be a victim of the Republic’s unraveling.”


"Then I wish you luck."


*

In the vast yet vacuous throne room, she goes before the faux-Schrag Emperor and demands they turn control of whatever project Kinsa and Quinn belong to over to her. No small talk, just business. A bit brazen but she knows they are up to something hinky. It considers her carefully and quietly, almost unnervingly so, but finally decides and brings down the hammer.


“No.”


“I know their world better than they do. I can help you.”


“It is unnecessary. Despite the growing adaptability of your adopted father’s tech enhancing their abilities each day, these assets still require particular guidance to see them through to our ends. While you possess many abilities and skills, these are not among them.”


“Different functions?”


“Correct,” it says. “But we do understand. You want all traces of Schrag’s influence wiped clean and we can assure you that it has been done. The only thing that remains is achieving our collective goals. Now, we need you to focus on your return and how you will once again capture the public attention and adoration – first as a victim of the Jedi and again of the Republic trying to fuel the flames of fire they started.”


“That may prove challenging if your associates go rogue.”


“Our associates are not your concern.”


“Except they are,” she counters evenly. “Past or present, getting everyone on board has never been a guarantee. There are some that do not want this to succeed, and others who have tried to capitalize on your vision for themselves. I do not want that to happen again.”


Faux-Schrag apprises her with a mixture of surprise and wonder. In the beginning, this cycle held the ability to unite the galaxy in peace, to give back what those that came before them had taken away. What they saw in their rituals shook them deeply. But peace is no longer even a fleeting option. They have made sure of that but are pleased to see she is aligned with their ways of thinking.


“Nor do we, princess.”


Erinbol emerges from the shadows, impressed by her initiative, “There are much grander plans for you. No sense in getting tripped up in the details.”


“Tripping is the least of my worries with you,” she sighs in mock-weariness, not even remotely thrown by his mysterious appearance. They tell her things she wants to hear. Everyone believes they are doing this for the right reasons through different functions that become illusions of their own. Seif is right again; they are not operating blind. “And what of these grander plans?”


His scarred face seems to crinkle inward with a garish smile.


“You are the woman who is going to start the next galactic civil war.”










-TBC
« Last Edit: August 12, 2022, 10:57:54 AM by Syren »
Syren

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Re: CC: Imperial March
« Reply #64 on: November 14, 2022, 06:41:41 PM »
“And are you honest?
And are you free?
And do you trust?
You trust in me.”


-Boy Harsher


Byss: Imperial Capital

Surface: Emperor’s Citadel

Princess Dahlia casts a pensive stare out over the ominous cityscape, framed perfectly against a bruise-hued aurora in the night sky. Same view, different day. What she lacks in meaningful social interaction is balanced by the stunning scenery and reflection time. Wink-wink, nod-nod. Super helpful though for dissociating after the reveal of their true plans for her. Soon she would be sent back to the Republic capital to publicly reemerge with information designed to formally divide a fractured government from its remaining allies. “Chaos incarnate” was a phrase thrown around, perhaps a little too casually. It is nothing if not dramatic. The peril of the pretty makes for such a spectacular show. That much the last batch got and nailed it. Although stunned, she is not exactly surprised. Should anything surprise her by now? Probably not but the scope of the ask is still…impressive. Even for them. The price of ascension. For all her self-absorption, she always knew this would never be a free ride and considers how to best approach it.


Conceptually and literally.


She momentarily muses how Karen would have handled this development. Shopping, probably, as Dahlia has a similar compulsion to blow off some steam. Not that she can with the nearest D’jour or Viu Viu boutique a gazillion lightyears away. Well, spiraling and self-loathing it is then. Her attention is drawn back to her own faint reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window. As it so often is. The Winton vanity is well-documented and totally warranted, in her not-so-humble opinion. Too bad it is being wasted languishing within this heavily fortified citadel.


Not for long…


The door chimes radiate across her gloomy thoughts, signaling the arrival of her escort. Typically, she would meet him downstairs but they must have figured she needed a bit of encouragement this evening. He enters and crosses the massive suite.


“Princess?”


Dahlia turns in an asymmetrical, sleeveless, floor-length gown - a glittering smokey gray - with her crimson hair falling freely over her shoulders.


“Here I am, ready for our little charade. Shall we?”




Seif extends a hand as she descends the steps, “I would ask why you bother with such formalities if I thought you did not thoroughly enjoy the inane pageantry of it all. Have you been crying?”


“Only a little,” she says evenly. “I did not want my eyeliner to run. Besides, you clean up on command as well because we are both playing the same game.”


She takes his arm as they begin the journey to their usual spot, a converted conference hall in this wing serving as formal dining. They spared no expense in styling it to simulate something she would be comfortable in and the effort is appreciated although beginning to wear a bit thin.


“What game would that be?”


“The one we have been playing for what seems like ages. We train daily to hone our power and skills then get dressed up for dinner. Over and over again. No one outside these walls ever sees our faces or knows our names. Like, sure, it is mysterious or whatever but feels so calculated.”


“Now I thought that would be the part you liked best.”


Dahlia smiles tightly, “Gilded as this all may be, you and I are very 
much in cages.”

They arrive at the lifts and step inside. He stares only at their warped reflection in the polished black doors.

“It is about time you reconciled that fact. We serve different functions for a shared purpose. I told you as much and warned you that you would fail if you went before them. But you insisted and now you seem rattled by the bare truth of what you must do to survive. It is them or us and I know you well enough now to understand that self-preservation will eclipse any misgivings you may have about the methods. We can overlook things together if that helps.”


She keeps her head tilted high, fighting back tears that have threatened to erupt all afternoon. He is not wrong and she knows it. He knows that she knows it too, which stings even worse. Darth Erinbol pushes their limits daily but stops short of further exploring their powers with the Etheralis. If she were them, unexplained teleportation would give her pause too. Who knows what else they can do if they tried? There is an unpredictability there, something she believes frightens them. A point of exploitation, if necessary. Something to have up their sleeve. She would require Seif’s cooperation which, at the moment, feels tentative at best despite the inroads they have made.


At the doors of the conference hall, Seif nods to the royal guards as they pass through. He pulls out her chair and waits until she is seated before taking his own. A small quartet plays for them in the corner tonight, the notes providing musical cover as she delicately snatches up the flute of champagne parked to the right of her dinner spread. Sighing, she leans against the table.


“Sweet but no, it does not help. Failure only further solidified my suspicions. I fear they are working with individuals who may or may not share that purpose which significantly compromises the outcome everyone so desperately wants. They may not make the moves themselves but those moves are dangerous nonetheless. Tell me you see that too.”


He takes a slow sip of whiskey, head sliding back to consider it, “Deluded as you can be, I never said your assessment was off-base. Your efforts will only serve to anger them. Tell me why you continue to push this.”


“Everything the prophecy represents - where it came from, how it can and has been used – is alluring, difficult to resist. You watched all the players in the last cycle go down in flames because our fathers used it to serve their own interests so I marvel at how you can be so bloody flip. By your own admission, you considered taking it for yourself. It can mean so many things to so many people. Even Scrhag gambled with the potential perks but the truth is our victory and ultimate freedom rests on its fulfillment sans supporting cast side quests. Clearly, the Voss-Ra cannot control every aspect of how this all unfolds. If Abudell or others hijack this situation we are, like, totally screwed. They will have no use for us anymore.”


“That is not true.”


“I know you believe that,” she quips venomously. “But you cannot sit there and tell me you know that for certain.”


Well, this is awkward.


He is bound to her. He also swore an oath to the Voss-Ra.


For her. For the Covenant. For her. For the Covenant. Through the flames, drenched in blood; it makes this a rather precarious situation. She reshaped his perspective with her presence and influence, something he did not expect or welcome.


Yet here they are.


Seif finds himself horrifically torn, seeds of doubt taking root within him while raising red flags left and right. He wonders if the Voss-Ra leveraged the family angle to internationally cloud his judgment about anything else they may do. Or who they may use to do it. Provide the connection he always wanted in exchange for continued trust in their plans. They have done much worse, allowing atrocities to be committed for even minuscule steps in the right direction. Dahlia compromises his faith with her theories that happen to make a little too much sense. And it crushes something in him. The cracks in their foundation are now visible but he supposes they always were. He chose to believe. There is a part of him that still does. She may be flawed but so is the Covenant and the distorted logic behind it.


Faith is, after all, its own form of gaslighting.


The either/or aspect of their unfolding situation does not sit well with him yet he chooses to explore it. To allow for an alternative to the vision the masters he served for so many years drilled into him practically from birth. The face he saw in the fire. Her face. Seif sets the glass down on the table and studies her carefully. Something he has done frequently since they have been on Byss. Dahlia has come a long way in their time together here with every challenge sharpening her outlook and resolve. Yet, she continues to struggle with her fate resting on a seemingly nebulous framework.


He understands why yet ponders its possible futility. Once upon a time, Emperor Dementat and Darth Kyja believed they held the power to control their own fates and futures. Masterton crossed a line no one thought she would and brought the Voss-Ra’s hopes down around her. Those before the last Four, all the way back to Persephone’s original four offspring, all fell due to the shifting variables around them. The nature of prophecy, as Dahlia so bluntly illustrated. There are equal parts faith and scheming in these plans but how far in either direction would they go? He is curious about her next move. 


“What would you like me to do about that?”


She finishes the flute and dabs a droplet from her lips, leveling a determined gaze upon him. She may be a lot of things but, right now, Princess Dahlia is not fucking around.


“You said it yourself; it is them or us.”


“That is not what I-”


“I know what you meant. And you know what I mean now. Them or us, darling. You decide.”










-TBC
Syren

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Re: CC: Imperial March
« Reply #65 on: April 17, 2023, 06:22:50 PM »
“Move slow, head home
Follow

I’ll lead you
True gold, stay low
Sorrow
Cuz I need you.”


-Float Fall


Byss: Imperial Capital

Surface: Emperor’s Citadel


Intrusive thoughts ascend into the pulsating borealis as a trio of Tie Fighters streaks across the sky.


Princess Dahlia wonders what would happen if they were all suddenly sucked into the nearby black hole at the center of their galaxy. Torn apart in slow motion, stretched and strangled across space-time. So, so close to destruction. She playfully muses that the only thing keeping them from doing so is the pure spite born from the dark side energies permeating the planet. Even with a bit of macabre amusement, it does not completely disconnect her from her loss or the fact that they are using her once again.

 
Twisted means. True belief. A dangerous combo.


She knew there would be casualties. A handful here or there, perhaps, but legions lost for them to rule? It feels excessive, even for them. All that blood on her hands - it is a good thing crimson is her color. Still, annoyance lingers. The Voss-Ra and their little plots. Their dedication to the cause is commendable but she questions their loyalty to her specifically. She is a Winton, yes, but one in a long line of Winton’s set up to take it all or take the fall – depending on how shrewdly they hedge their bets. She must know the extent of their plans yet they are rather adept at not showing their full hand.

 
The variable here is Seif. Will he or won’t he choose her?

 
He knows them better than anyone – or does he?

 
Her words infected him – just as she intended - an ultimatum to spur action. Sorry not sorry. His entire life and purpose have been called into question. It is only natural to want to explore that even if it was a bitch move to pull. She needs allies, not questionable groupies. This was the quickest way to ensure that – one way or the other. Barrett would be proud. Besides, the least she can do is cut some of Seif’s strings while they prep for her spectacular return. Mercifully, Seif is skeptical of the plan as well and left in a bit of a huff.

 
She sighs, turning back to her reflection in the mirror, “Drama queen.”


*


Several stories below, Seif Guldon-Greyson storms into the Sith’s inner sanctum. Drab, dark, perfect for their incessant brooding. Too much thinking, not enough action. It is why their paths have so seldom crossed. Only now that he serves an elevated function do they make the time. The source of light comes from a fire at the center of the circular chamber, a pit that seems to be lit by hell itself. He can sense it the moment he enters – a concept that slows his stride.


“Something on your mind?”


Darth Erinbol was waiting for him.


“Your insistence on playing games with me has grown tiresome.”


“Oh, I think we are well beyond that now. You are in this. Full stop.”


He turns from the fire. The glow creates chasms along the scars on his face.

 
“Would you agree?”


He evades the bait, “You have grand plans for the princess. A bold play to instigate a mechanism of death through her resurrection. There is something of poetry in it.”


“Life, death, rebirth – we are part of many cycles. She will be fabulous as always…with you there to escort her, of course.”


He scoffs, “The armor may prove a bit dramatic for a political setting. Too distracting. We want her face, not my glowing suit, splashed across the Holo along with all those accusations.”


Erinbol crosses in front of him, “Not as Inquisitor Involis. As Seif.”


“As…myself?”


He has never been just Seif. All he remembers is Involis. The Inquisitor; a trained killer, reluctant understudy, The Beast. Serving a different function, just as he has told her over and over again about the roles they play. The Beast never makes it very far which removes any historical data to compare and analyze. It would be easy to believe in their distraction as the Voss-Ra, through their Sith emissary, dangle his identity in front of him.


He leaves it there. 


For now.

“I will accompany her for security - so long as you provide all the details. We do not want any surprises.”


It hits the nerve he hoped it would.


“You dare question the Voss-Ra? They have never steered you astray. They raised you, entrusted you with one of the Sith’s most precious resources in the Etheralis.”


“Yes, yes, as old as the Force itself, imbued with its very essence. I know the tale.”


“Too powerful to be kept whole so, like the four offspring of Persephone, it was separated. One piece on its own brought the power to channel the Force in ways no ordinary practitioner ever could. You have seen its many mystical properties, aiding you in your quest to seek out and destroy the Jedi.”


Yes, he has seen what it can do.


Its power transported him and Dahlia from within the Bolerathon Tower to the surface of Coruscant, a planet that should not, for all intents and purposes, exist anymore. They survived because of that power – and theirs. He continues the story, recalling it from his youth.


“And if all four are joined together the wielder of the pure Etheralis would be granted untold power.”


“Throughout history, the pieces have been gained and lost, used to amplify power or become a vessel through which Force energy can be channeled and directed. It does not destroy as much as it transmutes although one can so easily be mistaken for the other. You saw what can happen when influenced by players in The Prophecy Persephonea. Coruscant reformed as a result of The Four’s intersection. They rejoined the pieces but Dahlia and Barrett gave it life.”


“Each piece does more than that. More than you have been willing to share.”


“That it does. So much more. It is that power that will bring a new beginning for our Empire where the Sith will rise and rule as was foretold!”


“Rule in place of or alongside?”


Erinbol brings his grotesque hands together beneath the oversized fabric of a deep viridescent robe, his face becoming very solemn and still as the flames seem to bend around his form.


“Your candor betrays your true feelings about the outcome. You want this as much as we do. As you should. However, you are not wrong to ask. They asked the same of you. Will you acknowledge and accept that it belongs to another or will you try to take it for yourself? A tempting question. A test in the form of a trap. Rest assured, Seif. The Master and Daughter of Darkness will rule with the risen Sith at their sides. Together, we will vanquish the Jedi and purge the ways of the light. The galaxy will once again be ours.”


“I am grateful to hear it,” he replies sincerely, steering him toward a huge caveat. “If you do not first sabotage it with your misplaced faith.”


Erinbol visibly recoils, “What do you mean by that?”


“Not all may be so comfortable with this ending. Outsourcing has cost you dearly in the past. Barrett knows you would not dirty your hands with such a nasty task like taking down the Republic President. Tactfully placed assets feed flaming fears fanned through the Voss-Ra’s narrative consistency. Everyone jumps to exactly the right conclusions. Clever, as always, but still so blind to see how sideways it can go at any moment in the wrong hands.”


“You know what the elders saw. It spurred our actions in this new cycle. Alliances must be forged so that The Four can never bring peace. United through chaos, they will see us into the deepest of nights.”


“So you admit it. Another is working for you in the shadows of your shadows."


“To further this cause? Our cause? Always.”

“Convenient that it is also Dahlia’s former master.”


A tense silence falls over them with only the occasional snap of the flames to score their standoff. The gamble pays off and Erinbol blinks first.


“The Lady Adubell has been a patron of the prophecy for some time now. Someone with her own ends who possesses a talent we need right now. You of all people know how important it is to utilize all tools at your disposal.”


Seif presses him, “And if those ends interfere with ours?”


“We will eliminate her.”


“You presume she would give you such an opening. From what I hear, she has a talent for reappearing at the least opportune moments.”


Erinbol’s cackle is eerily crisp, “Her association with Alexander Winton may have given us pause but this was restored when she promised and delivered on turning Dahlia. It positioned her as the Daughter of Darkness perfectly and our partnership has been extremely beneficial for all involved.”


He follows the unanswered threads, “It was she who took the others - the Corellian medical director and Republic Ambassador? To use against them.”


“She is.”


Dahlia was right. Her old Master has been up to no good, allegedly on their behalf. She should be skeptical given how they both came to be yet he coaches her into his same compliance. Play the game to win. The Adubell threat jeopardizes that despite anything that Erinbol says. They are foolish to believe otherwise. He will not continue to be a passive participant and it is long past time he made clear an agency stripped from him by these alliances.


“What makes Adubell so different from Schrag or Winton or my father?”


“It is not the same.”


“Except it is. She, like the others before her, will come to want more. She will not accept her place in this as we have and that will be our undoing.”


Erinbol begins to speak but is cut off by a wave of Seif’s hand that closes into a fist and lifts the Sith into the air. The shock of the action causes him to gasp which is silenced by pressing into his windpipe. As Erinbol begins to choke, he rounds the pit and draws him closer to the flames.


“You are correct about one thing. I am in this and will do my part but I need you to do the same. For her. For the Covenant. We have come too far for this to unravel because you overestimate how much control you have over anything. What was lost before must be found through seeing things for what they are – and the dangers that lurk within your own schemes, threatening to again derail everything we have worked so hard to build. The Lady Adubell is a problem and you need to check your hubris.”


Seif eases the pressure off his throat and Erinbol sputters.


“W-w-we will do…what must be d-d-done-”


The Sith is close enough to the flames that his skin begins to sear and blister but he does not hold him there for long. Collapsing to the ground, Erinbol coughs violently as he scrambles away with wide black eyes that behold Seif framed by the fire between them.

 
The Beast in its truest form.

 
“Good,” he says with a profound rage churning inside him. “As will we.”

 
*


Back inside the princess’s chamber, Seif returns. She is not sure what she expected but the look of stoic determination seems at odds with the energy radiating off of him. Something has shifted, that much is clear, but in whose favor is anyone's guess. Dahlia must be ready for anything.


“So,” she says, rising slowly with a finger grazing the hilt of her saber. “What will it be then?”


“Us.”

She smiles, “Right answer.”


“We will see. Now, pull yourself together and stop gloating. We will be debriefed in an hour.”


“Then what?”


He pauses at the door, “Then we depart for Chandaar.”









-TBC
Syren

Offline Syren

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Re: CC: Imperial March
« Reply #66 on: July 18, 2023, 05:24:03 PM »
“If looks could kill they probably will
In games without frontiers
War without tears
Games without frontiers
War without tears.”


-Peter Gabriel


Hyperspace

Hurling through the pale swirl of doom it dawns on her.

Princess Dahlia could use a gloss touch-up. Space travel always leaves this pucker parched! They took the Royal Cruiser, a bold choice in her opinion, with Seif seething silently as they prepared for departure. He brushed off her concerns about the ship being identified with a stern sneer and muttered something about handling everything. 
The debrief he mentioned was little more than a high level rundown of what was to happen on Chandaar. They would discuss details on the way. Something told her he desperately wanted out from behind those citadel walls and would use this opportunity as a way to escape. He would even shelve Inquisitor Involis in order to gain distance and take action – keeping the suit handy yet hidden for the mission at hand.

The urge to pry about what went down with Erinbol was threatening to overwhelm her so she dutifully packed it up to distract herself. She was positively dying for him to drop the hot goss but Seif was in no mood for spilling. Whatever it was has got to be juicy to put him in such a mood. She would get it out of him eventually unless he decided to take her out instead. Maybe the Voss Ra made him an offer he couldn’t refuse…except he likely would not have tolerated her forcing him into an exasperating game of "bring it or leave it" with specific pieces she procured while within the innermost galactic core. A miraculous feat unto itself. Trying to find classic couture on Byss was as useless as trying to teach a Stormtrooper to shoot straight.


Soon after, they are in her polished and fully charged up cruiser – off, off, and away! 


Sighing dramatically, Dahlia glances over the coordinates, surmising they are not headed where she thinks they are, “Pit stop?”

“A brief but relevant detour.”


“Still being vague I see. Cool, cool.”


He smirks at the controls. She is rightfully tense. There is a lot riding on what she must do – is being forced to do. The Voss-Ra once again pinned their prospective triumphs on a perfectly executed performance. Flaws, obstacles, and variables be damned. The Four need to commit to their characters fully. The Covenant demands nothing less.


Seif draws out the silence before speaking again, “You were both right and wrong.”


“Do tell,” she breathes, fighting the urge to scream.


“The Voss-Ra wants you to rule. Sith cannot have power unless you have power. Your success is tied to their ability to rise and rule alongside you. That much they made clear. As you have proven yourself a worthy - if not irritating and spoiled – contender for the crown and throne, their allegiance has shifted from the Winton abstract to the Dahlia specific. You are the one they back with Barrett their chosen suitor.”


“How fabulous,” she deadpans. “They are so cringe.”


“You can be petty if you choose but this is a good thing. Such a structure works for them and for us. I do not believe you have anything to fear from them directly. That is where you were wrong.”


“Grateful to hear it in this case, even if it is a bit…convenient.”


“So it is. However, you were right about Adubell. They have been working with her for years.”


Her eyes flare with rage, “I fucking knew it! What a bunch of assholes.”


“Assholes who needed something done that only she managed to do.”


“Oh, yeah? Like what? Being a compulsively manipulative, immortal bitch who cannot stick to a script to save her life – or lives - for that matter? All she does is trample everyone’s lines to serve herself.”


“Turn you to the dark side. She brought you over. Whatever she is, your engagement with Adubell led you to accept your role as Daughter of Darkness. It is where you needed to be in order to take the next step, to become who you are, and be the one who fulfills the Prophesy Persephonea.”


Dahlia scoffs, stalking back and forth behind him, “So it is written, blah, blah blah. She kidnapped, traumatized, and very nearly killed me! If that is not a villain origin story, I do not know what is. Well, congrats, she gets points for following through but I am going to stop short of applauding my psychological dismantling so that she could successfully cast me in this role. They manipulated both of us! We were forced onto this stage but they still retain all the agency.”


“Wrong again,” he says gravely, finally turning to look at her. “I took that back. For us.”


Surprised and thrilled, she stops and asks, “Really? How?”


“A show of force, of solidarity. To remind them.”


“Of what exactly?”


“That I too have power. To decide for myself. To protect you. To punish them for using riddles and half-truths to push and pull us across the board to test out their visions and theories. They fear as much as they believe, which does not appear to align until you remember why they do anything. They fear the unpredictable nature of the Etheralis combined with multiple descendants as it could be turned against them but believe it plays a pivotal role. They fear Adubell, as they did Alexander and Medivh, yet also believe that her own selfish whims will prevent her from threatening your ascension.”


She gasps, “How is that possible? She is barely human anymore."


“She will enter the fray but never leave it. I do not know how.”


Dahlia rolls her eyes, “Until she respawns and turns up somewhere unexpected. You do not know what she is capable of.”


He stands and closes the distance between them, “I know that she, like our fathers, has fallen under the sway of what the prophecy represents. The test they and Schrag failed. They were not entirely specific about the means but, while she may have her machinations, her motives are not true. Not like us, like you. That is why they believe she will fail. The elders have seen it.”


“Erinbol told you all this? Voluntarily?”


He smirks, “With some…motivation.”


“I knew it had to be good. Holy shit, what did you do?”


“Made damn sure they know we are serious and have the agency to execute on it.”


She exhales deeply, pulling the dark robes around her. He had risked much to challenge them and someone in another position may have been struck down for it but they need him like they need her. It crystallizes something between them. All the selfish pretense, the vapid façade, falls away.


“Thank you.”


Seif bows and lifts his eyes to hers, “As I said before, your assessment of them was not wrong. I suppose I needed someone to voice my doubt and frustration for me to truly confront it. I watched from afar as everything fell apart for Alexia and Karen, never intervening because it was not my place to do so. That was not my role to play, not my function, and now I know why. This is where I am meant to be, who am meant to be. I will do so in service to you if you will have me.”


She embraces him tightly and he does not pull away.


“I will.”


They find comfort and closure in the ripples that follow. He never had a family nor was the one she belonged to really hers.


So many angles in so many vicious cycles. Barrett needs to get an Inquisitor back onto Chandaar which is why this opportunity was presented in such a way – so clever are the Voss-Ra to serve their future leader while leveraging a directive as further means of control over Seif. Stopping Schrag from trying to control Dahlia with their nanotechnology only so that they could do so with her fate and future.


Everything with them is transactional, an exchange of blood for progress.


The Voss-Ra has operated for centuries undetected, using their considerable magic to infiltrate elite groups and governments, arranging matches so that these lines would live on, presenting a new Four for each cycle with the fervent belief that Winton would one day prevail. A long list of family names all traced back to Persephone…and the Etheralis. The intersection of genetic superiority and mystic power beyond comprehension. Even though he did not want to believe it, he knew from the moment he saw Dahlia’s face in the flames that he would go to the ends of the worlds to ensure her safety. She will be the one who frees them from this shared madness.


“Come,” he says. “There is something I must show you.”


Seif returns to the controls as the proximity alarm begins to sound. He eases them out of hyperspace with Coruscant looming in the viewport.


“So pretty.”


His face grows more serious still.


“The power of The Four reformed it but your union with Barrett gave it life once more. Even with The Wheel, a piece of the Etheralis, and the remains of Alexia Winton at its center, Coruscant’s rebirth signifies a new era but therein lies a warning. In order to free us, you must be committed to ending all others. No second thoughts or hesitations.”


That is what got Karen killed. Dahlia reflects back on what Adubell revealed to her – Karen lowering her saber in an attempt to reason with Melanie and being slain for it. Karen knew they were playing someone else’s game but not for how long or who the game masters really were. That is the context the previous Four died never having. But not her. Not now. Dahlia would not lower her guard or be swayed by their past connections. Allies or enemies; the sting of Adubell’s words inflict new pain upon her. 


Her old master was right about that too.

No one said she has to kill the others herself. That would be a bad look. Optics play a large part in winning hearts and minds. After all, Karen did not kill Valerie, Melanie, or Kimber. But she also did not survive. As far as she can tell, and Seif has confirmed, plans are already in motion that will orchestrate their demise. The real mystery is if these plans align with a Winton victory or one that a continuously resurrected and no doubt detached Adubell has up her dreadfully dated-looking sleeve.


“Got it. How is Adubell helping them-slash-us? That part I am not clear on and we should be.”


“Erinbol shared that she has introduced instruments of terror into the environment in order to reshape things to come.”


“That is bullshit evasion and only sounds promising until they realize she has an ulterior motive. Are they that bloody stupid?"


“They are not blind to it but allow certain interference in service to the final outcome.”


“Like blowing up the Republic President, perhaps?”


“For starters.”


“My,” Dahlia murmurs, considering how Barrett would react to the news. “This is getting messsssssy."


“Only for the others, if you can deliver on their expectations.”


“Yeah, okay,” she sighs, focusing on a black square marring the lush world north of the equator, fanning out with a golden grid of lights. “What is that? A city?”


“The beginnings of one with a palace at its center.”


She turns, a twinkle in her emerald eyes, “I love palaces.”


“Of course you do but look beyond that for a moment. It is a symbol of their trust in you. A sign of faith. A shrine to your greatness and glory. Believe me when I tell you this is not something they take lightly. They trust in you as I trust in you.”


She steps back, humbled and stunned all at once. It is slightly reassuring that they have placed their faith in her. They have witnessed what she can do and helped to harness her power through extensive and exhaustive training. Dahlia is, for all intents and purposes, ready for this. She has the knowledge, capabilities, and skills required to see it through. That does not erase the lingering doubt about what Adubell is up to. The fact that the Voss-Ra, through Erinbol, left much to the imagination means they either do not know the full scope of her plan or were led to believe otherwise.


“I am honored by that trust even if I do not entirely trust the trust - if that makes sense."


“It does, and I am not asking you to, but you must be prepared to do what must be done."


“I am!”


“Are you really?"


She locks eyes with him, “Yes.”


Convinced, he guides them down through the atmosphere to a landing pad beside the partially assembled tower which is when Seif finally reveals their plan. They would take a shuttle prepared by Imperial allies to gain access to Republic space and their capital world. From there, she would make a surprise appearance before a bitterly divided Senate that would further fracture the very foundation of their principles.


She listens closely and remains quiet for some time after he has finished, ruminating on it as they load up the shuttle. It is not an insignificant task and one that would inevitably incite war from within which is exactly what the Voss-Ra want. Erinbol was not lying about that. Livid as she may be at all the liberties they continue to take, the only way out is through. There is no disputing that. It is a game of "them" or "us" that grows increasingly smaller with each round and they are quickly closing in on the main cast. Seif nods at her and pulls back on the controls, blurring the stars back into that familiar pale swirl of doom. Dahlia dabs gloss on her lips and smacks them together.


True freedom comes at a price and Princess Dahlia is finally ready to make them pay it.










-TBC
Syren