Empire's Return

Posted on Mon Aug 7th, 2023 @ 5:55pm by Bomoor Thort & Thane & Amare & Valavai Tarses

6,164 words; about a 31 minute read

Chapter: Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Disra Palace, Palatial District, Ravelin, Bastion
Timeline: Daytime (Day Five, Week Four)

OLD

Bomoor listened intently to Thane's words, before sighing heavily and rubbing his neck, “Yes, history has shown us that Empires do not tend to last. So little in this galaxy does and even the Force seems to ebb and flow with it.”

His voice, though still weak, began to gain a little strength as he added, “But I have seen here today that we are not mere bystanders to history. If the old must give way to the new, then we must be the ones to shape what comes next.”

Thane kept his gaze on Bomoor's reflection, the Ithorian's words resonating. Darkness often allows us to understand others, to see what they value when they believe no one else is looking, Master Sotah had once told him. It allows us to be honest with ourselves, to express those values that we would disavow in the light.

The words had not been an endorsement but a warning, but as he now looked upon his friend, the meaning of his words echoing within them both, he knew, Thane considered that they were no longer stood within the darkness. They stood upon the precipice of true exposure, of revelation to the universe in the gleaming brightness of the supernova they had caused. And, in that moment, he knew that their empire would blaze brightly, dwarfing GalactaWerks, the Jedi and the Republic.

NEW

The tall window of the Disra Palace allowed a pillar of light to carve its way across the wide meeting table in the conference room, where the remaining heads of Bastion space were gathered in the presence of their newly-vindicated leader, Grand Moff Tarses. With the formal council chambers still undergoing significant repair work as a result of the attempted GalactaWerks assassination of Commissar Serus, the Moffs that had not been executed or imprisoned following the attempted coup by Anthark were forced to gather in this, more ornate meeting space, designed more for entertaining political delegations than holding state business. It was, in fact, where the Grand Moff first formally hosted Executive Morthart and entertained her notion of a partnership with GalactaWerks.

While not a regional Moff, Grand Admiral Willem Stert was also in attendance, briefing the council on the final details of the conflict across Imperial space, all while attempting to sit as straight as he could in the elegant seat, woven from a golden-hued Bastion reed and adorned with a plush red velvet pillow. He eventually opted to lean forwards placing one elbow firmly upon the table before him as he finished his report.

“And, finally, Moff Hemley was successfully arrested following the quick work of loyal agents already within his stronghold,” Stert eyed the remaining Moffs as he spoke, casting a stern but fair warning against disloyalty as he did so, “He did, however, refuse to order the immediate surrender of his own troops, leading to a more drawn-out conflict than we would have liked. But, with all other traitors now incarcerated or killed in combat, all sectors are now back under our control.”

A silence followed the Grand Admiral's pronouncements, the gathered councillors offered a mixed and unspoken initial response. The air was tense as a few of the remaining leaders of the Bastion Moff Empire either shared awkward or challenging glances, or made an absolute point of staring straight forwards, not even seemingly comfortable in the steely gaze of Admiral Stert.

Of note, Moff Ahm Xox peered with unseen interest at his counterpart for the planet of Dubrillion, the striking middle-aged Human female that, from what he understood, had faced an especially climactic battle to maintain her position on her world. It had seemingly taken little encouragement for her garrisons to turn to Anthark's side in the short-lived civil war. Xox was under no illusion that Moff Azrafalla Quatervass' world was of paramount strategic importance to any faction seeking control of the Empire, but he also knew that Quatervass had long indulged in the bountiful pleasures offered by Dubrillion, its golden-peaked skyscrapers holding many a luxury for the discerning Imperial dignitary - and that she had been poor in her concealing her excesses from the public she erroneously believed adored her so. Had Xox been one of Dubrillion's lesser governors, he would have also found himself torn between loyalty to his Empire and loyalty to leadership with integrity.

Of course, he did not voice this, and remained thankful for the obscuring lens of his tailor-made antiox breath mask, which continued to provide his Kel Dor physiology with the necessary gases and chemical cocktails to preserve his life in the hostile, Human-suited environment of Bastion. Blazing a bright and unnatural blue, he turned his obscured eyes away from Quatervass and back to the broader party, whom he knew, on the large, harboured reservations about his very presence, and by and large, were wary of his physical appearance alone. His status as Moff of Dolis only afforded him some mandatory respect from his peers who were, mostly, 'pure' Humans, which was an adequate reflection of their country's genetic makeup. Xox's own family, present on Bastion has shipwrights and naval officers since the days of the Second Empire, had precisely and with great prejudice ensured the survival of their race in the nation, carefully arranging marriages and couplings with the few Kel Dor available over the centuries so that the best traits, without risk of inbreeding, were brought to the fore.

Amusingly to Xox, this actually meant that he had a purer 'pedigree' than many of his Humanocentric colleagues, able to trace his lineage, without fail, to the earliest years of the Fel Dynasty. It had not meant he had managed to secure a more venerable position than the Moff of Dolis, a backwater world held in perpetual frozen winter that had boasted little more than a few research posts when he had assumed the title some twenty years before. In the ensuing years of cautious and considered stewardship under Moff Xox, an indiscriminate number of advanced listening posts, advanced weaponry facilities, rehabilitation centres and propaganda stations had been established and developed across and beneath the frozen wastes, with the true extent of the framework only really known to Xox. It had, however, established Moff Xox as one of the more patient, thoughtful and, perhaps, misunderstood figures on the Council, and he generally accepted this depiction of himself, preferring to remain silent in most meetings unless necessary, and only revealing his intentions or capacity when absolutely necessary or beneficial.

This same caution, Xox now feared, had left him in the periphery of the loyalists' targets, as he had not declared for Grand Moff Tarses until late into the recent conflict, preferring instead to remain in his frozen fortress, spying at the battles, communiqués and data streams that he could observe far from the political machinations of either side. The victory of Tarses at the Masserix Belt had been unexpected, even when he had considered the concerning presence of the three Republic Force users that had been cavorting with Tarses. Clearly, their talents had merited the Grand Moff's interest - but their true involvement in this stunning victory still eluded them all.

"Grand Admiral," Xox decided to speak, the synthetic baritone of his synthesised voice projecting from his mask as he addressed Stert, a man whose professionalism and grace actually held Xox's respect. "I welcome the news of stability, as I know all of my fellow moffs do, and I offer anew my continued loyalty to His Excellency Grand Moff Tarses, and to the Empire. Please forgive my candour, but I must ask; what of the Jedi? Commissars or otherwise - they are not Imperial, and the legions have already become conscious of rumours, spreading through the fleets and ranks. Rumours that have already reached our dignified ears."

Stert followed the Kel Dor’s gaze back to his dark, inquisitive eyes, having likely expected the question of the Jedi’s role in the conflict to arise and perhaps somewhat pleased it came from Xox and not one of the more Human-centric Moffs at the table.

“As you rightly say, Commissars Serus and Thort are relative newcomers to our Empire and were met with every scrutiny one might expect as outsiders to our great Empire. While I was not present at the Masserix Belt conflict, I have read through all the reports from the bridge of the Absolution and can confirm that almost all officers agreed that their Force powers were a key component of the destruction of the opposing Star Destroyers. Any other rumours you have heard, I cannot speak to.”

For his part, the Grand Moff had feigned a measure of aloofness during the exchange between the two senior officers, but he was, in fact, intently listening with one ear whilst keeping the other open to whispers nearby. The other statesmen were muttering about the conspicuously empty chair in the room where Moff Vissel was assigned to be seated. By this point, the allegations of bribery and collusion with Anthark's forces were out in the open, but Tarses knew more than most, and was aware that Vissel may have been a sycophant, but he was no traitor.

Following the Battle of Masserix, Symon Tarses, going by his codename "Keeper", had intercepted confidential communique between Vissel and his legal defense representatives. This, of course, was passed in secret to the Grand Moff, and as the arbiter of the anticipated tribunal following the likelihood of an indictment, he now had possession of details of all of the lesser Moff's dirty little secrets, and as such, held Vissel's future in his hands.

With Xox and Stert discussing the commissars that were nothing less than the heroes of Bastion, he began to consider the unthinkable: have the Sith hear the evidence and serve as Vissel's secret tribunal. The idea he had was that the actual tribunal present during the trial would be the figureheads, but the Sith under Lord Serus would make the final decision that Tarses would execute. A kind of...Shadow Council of sorts.

Had he not been so stonefaced from age and political weariness, his pride would have slipped a brief grin for such a thought. It strangely felt so good deep inside knowing the Sith were real beyond any reasonable doubt, and that there was a real possibility he could live long enough to see a resurrection of the true Galactic Empire.

He was brought back to the moment when Vissel's name was uttered aloud at the table, leading to another firm response from the Grand Admiral.

"Speaking to Moff Vissel's absence," he wearily explained, "His governance over Bescane has been suspended pending further investigation. He is alive and well and, for now, he retains his titles and premises until matters are concluded. In order to prevent unnecessary spread of information, that is all that can be revealed at this time."

The sound of a throat being cleared drew the attention of the group towards Moff Quatervass, who had maintained relative silence during the course of the meeting. Across from her, Moff Xox made little effort to conceal his interest at her sudden decision to speak up, and he very obviously angled his body towards her and leaned forwards.

"Grand Admiral," she opened, nodding to Stert before turning to Grand Moff Tarses, "and Your Excellency... I..." Quatervass paused, a behaviour quite uncommon to her. Typically outspoken, it was rare for the female Human to be coy in her dealings with colleagues, subordinates or others - but there was no doubting that events on Dubrillion may have had a notable impact on her once sanguine and self-assured character. She brushed a lock of deep red hair behind her ear. "Was it not discreet liaisons with foreign factors and the habit of our esteemed ruling class to be coy in our handling of information that led to our recent internal... infractions. The power of these Jedi is undeniable - but so was the might of this GalactaWerks and their own galactic infrastructure. The Empire has been prey to both corporations and Force wielders in years long past - and it was keeping the throne empty, and the Empire void of external interlopers, that has allowed us to flourish untainted for so many glorious centuries!" Confidence had returned to Quatevervass as she spoke, but her pale cheeks had begun to flush, being an affliction that also betrayed her fondness for alcoholic imbibement. "I believe we should thank the commissars for their service, reward them grandly, but see them on their way. My loyalty is to the Bastion Moff Empire and you, Your Excellency."

Were Xox a Human, he might have smiled beneath his antiox mask. Whils the thin note of support for his position had surprised him, that surprise paled against the bold claims that erupted from Quatervass in the moments immediately after. Bold, he mused, even though he did not entirely disagree with her sentiments. Whilst preferred an iota of finesse in the execution of ideas or broadcasting positions, he shared the concerns of his fellows around the ongoing role of outside agencies in their nation's future. He turned his head deliberately back towards Valavai Tarses. He tapped a claw on the table, an intentional gesture that could pass for mindless behaviour.

Whilst Quatervass was waxing declarative, Tarses' female yeoman from the Absolution had quietly wound her way behind the circumference of Moff seats around the table, her approach partially masked by her slight frame indistinct height. She quietly leaned in and coverer the side of her mouth to whisper several words to him whilst Tarses kept brows stern and his gaze locked on Quatervass. The old man very subtly nodded which granted his permission for what had been requested. The yeoman slipped away as soundlessly as she had arrived and tapped a comlink device on her left wrist to relay the edict to the security team in the entrance hall.

"You are correct in that they must be rewarded," Tarses said. "Perhaps you would indulge the opportunity to thank them in person?" He gestured toward the large foyer door that were parting open.

Quatervass did not truly manage to conceal the expression of confusion that slipped across her face. She mouthed the words Tarses had said and offered a questioning look to her fellow moffs for the briefest of moments before the doors parted and three figures of different species, garbed in striking Imperial uniforms with rarely-seen rank bars denoting the commissar ranks, stepped in. She looked with the most interest to Xox, perhaps hoping the Kel Dor would offer some silent insight at this development, but his glowing eyes simply regarding the three off-worlders with rapt interest, plain even to his Human peers.

The Human in their group, known already to the moffs as Serus, had affixed a colour-matched cape to the Imperial tunic, which flicked lightly as he strode to stand beside Grand Moff Tarses. Although the clinical lighting of the chamber, coupled with the natural light bleeding from Bastion's primary beyond the reinforced glass ensured the room was well-lit barring a few long shadows, a darkness seemed to follow the beings, and there was a cold intensity behind the expressions of each of them - even the more genteel-appearing Ithorian that stood beside Serus. Although they should each be in the prime of their youths, being young adults by each of their species' standards, they wore visages of beings many years their elder, and carried themselves, albeit purposefully, with the precision of wearied warriors. In particular, there was also a dangerous hunger about the Nautolan Amare, whose aquatic eyes had a void-like quality, skipping between plain menace and an eternal gaze. Despite their young ages, there were many unsettling qualities about them each, and their effect on the council was undeniable.

Of the three, Moff Xox had already determined that only the Ithorian had retained his given name during their activities within Bastion, even if he was also considered a rogue agent by the Republic's Jedi he and Serus once apparently served, and he was fascinated by whatever gambit this young trio of talented Force users were playing - and deeply concerned. He shifted in his chair towards the newcomers and very visibly offered them his undivided attention, which was quite accurate.

Quatervass' pale eyes shifted rapidly from the foreigners to her colleagues, who held a mixture of expressions and behaviours, with some examining them with veiled fear and concern, whilst others, like Xox, gave the appearance of focused dedication and respect, silently acknowledging Serus, Thort and Amare and offering no challenge to their arrival, appearance or the subject that preceded their arrival.

After a few glances to her peers, the Moff of Dubrillion finally rediscovered her voice, clearing her throat awkwardly before making her address, her eyes shifting between the so-called commissars. "My, ahem, my lords and... and lady," Quatervass said, injecting as much confidence into her words as she could manage. Particularly, her gaze rest on the piercing gaze of Serus, whose blue eyes seemed marred by a splash of molten golden by the irises, mirthless as they locked onto the moff addressing them. "On behalf of the Council of Moffs, we thank you for your leal service."

Xox was amused, but he did not change his position or gaze. He assumed that the timely arrival of these three warriors was orchestrated in some capacity by Tarses, whether as a show of power, or as a test for the Council or for his allies, or because he truly believed in whatever symbolism and authority these Force-wielding beings supposedly held or represented. Even after all of this time, and in all of his experience of the grand moff, the Empire and his work within his chosen field, the ageing Kel Dor could not quite determine the inspiration being Tarses' strategies and desires - only that there was always more than the glamour, desire or charm that typified Edwoff Anthark's would-be premiership.

He decided to say nothing. The awkwardness of Moff Quatervass and the silence of the others, for now, was appropriate enough. Serus, at least, seemed to share this view, as he coldly regarded Quatervass above the others, his face half in shadow as the light from the tall window caught the left side of his face, as she finally continued speaking.

"You have saved the Bastion Moff Empire from a terrible civil war, averted the loss of millions of lives, and secured a future of stability and prosperity for our people," she said, once again looking around the other moffs as if she may draw support from them. "Such actions from outsiders have never been known, and you must surely take a privileged place in the annals of Imperial history."

Amare slowly turned her gaze towards Quatervass, her oily black eyes narrowed slightly at the Human female with a scorn she reserved for few. Amare began to feel the same level of disgust she felt for Miriam Yaxley right before turning the GalactaWerks sycophant into ashes. The Moff's ingratiating words stunk heavily of insincerity, as if it were just another disingenuous political sound bite that was being stored in the Moff's back pocket for such an occasion.

Give the word, master, Amare thought with grim anticipation, and I'll gladly rend open her esophagus by day's end.

These thoughts came easily to her as she held within her hands under a concealing black cloth the prized jewel of the Sith legacy: the Telos Holocron.

It was the Ithorian that was first to speak amongst the three of them, placing his hands upon his hips, his long bark-like fingers flowing down the tailor-made imperial garments fitted to his slightly more divergent form.

“Thank you, but we did not come into your space with the intention of interfering in your politics,” his orb-like eyes hovered on Quartervass, but he addressed everyone at the table, “We came here because of rumours of the supposedly Republic-aligned GalactaWerks trading in Mandalorian Iron. We did not know about any alliances at the time and it was unfortunate that our arrival was the catalyst for the internal division to erupt into conflict.”

He gave a glance towards the Human commissar, “Serus” he lingered on the name for a brief moment, “And I have past experience with GalactaWerks, seeing how the company abuses trust to exploit people and resources. This Mandalorian Iron, this ‘beskar’, seems to be of great interest to them. In our short time here, we uncovered evidence suggesting the scale of their refining operations far exceeds the ship building they revealed to you all. Even with this victory, we suspect they have already acquired a tremendous quantity of the rare metal for their own purposes.”

With those words, Tarses eyes moved from Bomoor to glance upon at the concealed Sith artifact, then turned his steely pazaak-faced gaze not upon Quatervass, but upon Moff Xox. As if guided by instinct, or that strange unknowable thing called the Force, Xox turned his blue lit orbs just in time to reckon the Grand Moff's attention being squarely upon him before it shifted to back to the dark trio. For many officers in sworn service to Bastion, to have the direct attention of the Grand Moff was everything they could have possibly hoped for. Valavai Tarses was the supreme authority and could open doors for career advancement like none other. Those like Xox, however, knew better, for they understood that Tarses' eyes often steered lives towards political ruin...or worse, sometimes for no other reason than simply being a nuisance.

Amare noted this exchange of body language betwixt the two men beneath the twin voids of her endarkened eyes, the Kel Dor Moff entering her own attention for the first time. It fascinated her to see a fellow non-human in such a position of authority. She felt deeply curious of the relations between the old man and Xox and wondered what was at play that could be of interest to her and Serus. The more she was in the presence of the power players of Bastion, the more she wanted to immerse herself into their politics, even if it had absolutely nothing to do with her. She felt a growing need to control not only the Force and her own body's use of it, but everything and everyone around her. It was a starkly queer desire, something that had never been an aspect of her ego before.

With Bomoor mentioning beskar, Amare was reminded of her personal objective: acquiring some for her future songsteel lightsaber. She had grown fed up with being stuck with a mere shoto that wasn't of her own making. The diminutive weapon by itself, while having saved her life a number of times, made her feel too much like a cutpurse playing with a sharp bright knife she stole when, in fact, she was a dark lord--a Lady--who was entitled to the dignity of a proper exalted blade of suitable length and esoteric craftsmanship. She desperately longed to be properly armed again with a fine, unique energy sword of her own design. Only then, she knew, that she could finally show Bomoor just how wrong he was about her for what seemed like a lifetime ago; that fateful day before they left her on Lorrd. No matter what she had accomplished from then on, she knew, without a doubt, that the construction of a new lightsaber would prove the completion of her skills and training from then till now. Only then could she truly call herself a Sith.

With a hesitant cough, eyes were drawn to a thus far silent Moff; a blonde haired middle-aged Human with icy blue eyes and matching pale skin. He stood up from his seat and nodded in the direction of Bomoor, and another little bob towards the other Force users before speaking.

"I know my words may not mean much to those at this table, given my friendship with Anthark and initial support of his wider plans, but I feel it only right to point out that things may have played out very differently were it not for the suspicious way in which your party arrived in our space. You may not have intended to interfere, but interfere you did, turning a conflict that could have been resolved in the now destroyed council chambers into a bloody conflict that resulted in not only casualties among our brave servicemen and women, but civilian lives on many of our worlds."

He seemed to hold his tongue a moment before furrowing his brow and continuing, "Even your efforts to make amends have come at the cost of many lives. Your actions out in the Masserix belt were incredible, yes, but also, quite frankly, horrific. I feel this whole affair is a keen reminder of why Bastion has remained isolationist these many years and should continue to do so. I will admit to being lured in by the temptations of GalactaWerks but I have seen the error of those ways, so I would strongly recommend that this council thanks you for you for your efforts but regretfully asks that you have no further connection to any of our Bastion worlds."

"Insolence..." Amare softly muttered to Serus in hopes of stirring him towards a focused rage. Her tone made clear that her contempt for Quatervass had shifted with the ease of hydraulic fluidity towards the upstart Moff.

"Hear, hear!" Rumbled yet another new voice, the trombone-like heft of Moff Vsulya Ulyv's tone echoing around the cold room. Older than most of the others, with a wide, bristly silver-grey moustache framing his thick lips, the governor of the Jaemus system thumped his meaty fist on the table twice in exuberant support for his blonde-haired colleague. Eyebrows, almost as thick as the unruly moustache that dominated his face, arched around his piercing, bloodshot gaze, which found its way around each of the other moffs sat in the room.

It did not avoid Xox's attention that Moff Quatervass straightened in her chair a little, perhaps buoyed by the more vocal support from her two braver companions, and a small smile tightened her lips. Xox, of course, said nothing initially, but allowed himself a more obvious glance to both Grand Moff Tarses and his foreign allies.

"Moff Graiwyk speaks the right of it!" Ulyv continued, his thick accent, quite atypical for a native Imperial, and brusque manner a distinct contrast to the more sophisticated and eloquent approach of Graiwyk. As he spoke, the fasteners on his tunic seemed to struggle with his bulk, which seemed a considerable combination of both muscle and muscle that had wasted to fat.

"The morals of this council and the choices made by present and former members is of no consequence to Republican children - and certainly not Jedi. Your actions since your arrival speak to both your age and disregard for any tactical or political astuteness. You have gifts beyond comprehension, yes, and it has been our centuries-long policy to diminish these extraordinary - and apocalyptically dangerous - powers from ever wreaking havoc across our citizenry." Finally, he severely glared at Serus, and then especially at the alien forms of Bomoor and Amare, his small eyes sunken within the soft hollows of his sockets. "You are not needed here. You are not welcome he-"

Moff Ulyv was interrupted by Quatervass' sudden gasping, his angry, beady eyes immediately affixing on the woman. Spittle rose from her mouth and landed on the smooth table, as confusion and panic spread across her once-beautiful features. A gloved hand gripped at her throat whilst she used the other to push herself up, retching and clambering. She failed to form proper coughs whilst her face's tone began to sink into a pale-blue complexion, and her eyes grew redder than Ulyv's own intoxicant-stained ones.

Witnessing the simple, yet effective display of dark power made one corner of Amare's lips curl into a diabolical grin. She didn't expect her master to be so forward with the political elite of Bastion, but it was an aggressive lesson she was taking to heart with glee and, perhaps, a little envy. Sometimes, the powerful needed to be humbled by their betters, and there was no one better than a Sith.

The other moffs were also looking at the display with alarm, but only a couple of them, including Moff Xox, spotted the outstretched hand of Lord Serus, his fingers appearing to be gripping some invisible object, and clearly pointed towards Quatervass, who was now starting to slump onto the desk. Whilst many of the others were aghast, none yet moved to support her.

"Grand Moff!" Ulyv sputtered, dragging his bulk up from his chair with surprising alacrity, pointing at Serus with a shaking hand. "St-stop this monster! Assault! Murder! You-you have no-"

"Contain yourself, Moff Ulyv," Tarses sternly, yet calmly urged, much to the stunned surprise of virtually the entire gathering of Moffs and the Grand Admiral. The Grand Moff they all knew would have never tolerated such savagery before, yet at the same time they could see he was still very much himself at the same time. Tarses turned to Serus, "That is enough," he said to the dark lord with a brief glance towards Qatervass. "Release her and present your statement."

Bomoor looked over at Thane's outstretched hand as he could likely feel the woman's life force close to failing. His body shifted as though to intervene but he reconsidered and settled his posture.

And then Serus' hand relaxed, falling back once more to the Human's side. Almost immediately, Moff Quatervass collapsed back into her chair, heaving in great gasps of breath, chest expanding rapidly as her lungs desperately sought to resume normal functions. One hand smoothed her throat whilst the other held her chest, whilst colour was quickly returning to her skin.

"It is not my way to harm others without purpose, or to utilise violence when sense and good judgment can be more efficient," Serus spoke calmly, as if addressing a class of peaceable students. "But it is the way of this universe that power must never be underestimated or unappreciated, and it is a sad truth that it is necessary to see a thing to believe it, or to fear it to truly appreciate it." With his other hand, he now summoned the rank plaque straight from Ulyv's tunic into his grasp and crushed it without little obvious exertion. He let the crumpled ball of metal collapse to the floor loudly.

"Power, both mundane and esoteric, so frequently eludes most sapient beings across the cosmos, either through ineptitude, unwillingness, or inability, and many others will refute such power could even exist. What you have seen me do to your colleague," the Caanan gestured lightly towards Quatervass, and a few of the moffs watched the hand keenly, "is but a pale example of what can be achieved through mastery of the Force. Even the events at Masserix are a fraction of the potential of the universe, a glimmer of the power we can all, between us, bring to bear on our galaxy."

He stepped forward to the head of the table, slightly ahead of Grand Moff Tarses, and let his gaze wash over each of the gathered Imperial governors. His eyes seemed to glow more intensely, and even Xox, through the advanced optical devices around his own delicate eyes, perceived what looked to be a dark shadow spreading from this so-called lord towards his two alien companions. Thoughts of intelligence networks and allegiances seemed to slip away as he regarded Serus with renewed caution.

"The will of the Empire and the Sith were born as one, and so must it be again," Serus said. "A war is coming, larger than those for generations; forces more sinister and self-serving than any of us gathered here seek to exert their own will upon the galaxy, and they have already exploited the weak amongst Bastion to serve that end, the true bane that felled so many of your people. Imperials, Mandalorians, the Outer Rim Alliance, Hutts, the Republic... all have been poisoned by GalactaWerks, a minor few whose sole purpose is material wealth, to shape the galaxy into their corporate vision, stealing true opportunity and leadership from the talented and entitled to a board of sycophants. Instead, we offer you the chance to end these pretenders to galactic ascendancy and restore what once could have been; to marry the might of the Force and the Sith with the majesty and justice of an eternal imperium."

He now gestured lightly towards Amare, but did not yet stop speaking. "I do not expect immediate devotion to such a cause, or even true appreciation for these lofty goals, but only a fool would not recognise that the last time the Lords of the Sith and the Imperials of the Empire were aligned, the galaxy was at their heels, reality and power malleable in their grasps. I am not a political creature; I recognise power over pretense, authority over legislation, actions over words - but I also appreciate symbolism, history, and identity." He paused as Amare approached, and he fixed a withering, haunted look at the beings glaring back at him. "Turn your gazes from council squabbling, commercial disputes and petty despotry to the true prize."

His apprentice silently stepped forward between two seated Moffs and held before her the shrouded repository of knowledge most forbidden and foreboding. Amare closed her eyes and bowed her head in deep concentration and reverence. She commanded the Force around her to secure a firm invisible grip around the artifact and move it smoothly through the air to nestle gently at the exact flat center of the expansive meeting table. She opened her eyes, took in a deep breath with relief that she was able to do her part without fail. With a flick of her left wrist, the black cloth was drawn up summoned back to her hands leaving the Telos Holocron unveiled for all to bear witness to history.

Amare stepped back a pace and a half from the table, feeling profound anticipation at what was planned to transpire in the very next moment. Everything she had endured over a very long and painful and incredibly strange and empowering year all finally seemed worthwhile to be alive and a part of this very moment in time.

The air in the room started to somehow feel electric and even colder than before. Amare and Bomoor could feel there was a growing disturbance in the Force, and its focal point seemed to be fixed on Lord Serus and the shining spire-like red crystal of his ancient Holocron.

Even the light from the tall windows in the room grew fainter as though the object at the table's centre repelled all wavelengths but those it exuded itself. Seemingly as one entity, Serus and Bomoor raised their hands and compelled the holocron to open.

Unlike the pyramidal designs typical of the holocrons known to the more learned in the galaxy, the Telos artefact was amorphous in appearance. Characterised by an asymmetrical blood-red base with spikes jutting unappealingly at queer angles, a vertical formation clasped a clear and brilliant crystal, which seemed to sparkle even as the room grew unnaturally darker and bleaker in atmosphere. The device eschewed small sparks of every conceivable colour, which jumped from the intricate lattices within the crystalline structure to strike at the metal table, a display that even the dark trio of Force users had not before seen from the device, and a translucent image, gradually forming the shape of a cloaked Humanoid figure, coalesced slowly above the device. It was as if the shadows and sparks themselves billowed upwards, intertwining and stretching to bring final form to a towering figure that did not fail to be recognised by any of the beings gathered around and beneath him.

A withered hand extended out of the rich velveteen robes of the shadowy man. Papery skin stretched as the hand made a tight grip around a gnarled obsidian walking stick that formed beneath his digits, spreading downwards until its tip appeared to make contact with the table. A clasp took shape at the neck of the cloak, which eventually concluded its journey around the old man's fabricated head. That same wrinkled, pale flesh, obvious even against the obscuring dark crimson hue the holocron had given its gatekeeper, wrapping around an ancient, sinister and deformed visage of one of the galaxy's most infamous and influential figures. Yellowed teeth were bared, flashing dangerously whilst golden eyes, brighter and flaring more fiercely than Serus', washed maliciously over the chamber, sizing up each of the mesmerised onlookers.

Emperor Palpatine's cackles then filled the chamber, echoing and growing louder with each passing second - and the Council of Moffs said nothing.

END

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