Palatial Redux

Posted on Thu Nov 7th, 2024 @ 3:01am by Amare & Thane & Mentis

5,167 words; about a 26 minute read

Chapter: Chapter VII: Uprooted
Location: Training Room, Red Raptor, Alba Dock
Timeline: Daytime, Week Five (After "Concerning Imperial", Concurrent with Amare shopping)

Thane stepped carefully through the metallic corridors of the Red Raptor. A light rain had begun to pepper him and the streets of the ornate Alban capital city as he made his way back from the library meeting with Theon. His outerwear, a simple black traveller's cloak, clasped with a small metallic broach at the neck, had born the brunt, and he placed it over one of the benches in the galley.

Despite the grand ramifications of the action he, Bomoor and Amare had taken in the past hour, of providing an agent of an antagonistic faction within the Third Republic of intelligence of galactic proportions, Thane had found himself indulging in the relative peace and welcome archaic surroundings of the Outer Rim Alliance's 'first city'. A hotbed of political unrest and the supposed centrepoint of any possible rebellion against the galaxy's foremost superpower and authority, Alba was a stark contrast to the civil strife on Bastion and the clinical coldness of that Imperial throneworld. There was a peace here that even he could not dismiss or dislike, even as he recognised that ran contrary to the philosophy he had committed himself to. Darth Bane would not approve.

Preferring to find some solitude, at least initially and nominally, Thane had elected to leave Amare and Bomoor, now being joined by Rex, to their own devices in the capitol. He had no specific goal to fulfill on the planet or its environs; he was content to indulge his introversion and dwell in solitude, at least until the time came to make a similar transaction with Damask Hul.

Stepping closer to his cabin, he had placed no restrictions on his senses or the flow from the Force, having no mind for any risk that may pose from his fellows or anyone in proximity. Whatever their faults, and despite their honest militaristic style, the Rift Jedi did not share the zealotry and inquisitorial manner of their progenitors, even though he was certain they would find no moralistic quarrel in themselves to fell a would-be Dark Lord of the Sith. As he reached his hand to the panel beside his cabin's door, the now-familiar presence of Bomoor's Rattataki charge ebbed in its own fractious, troubled way from the nearby training room they had built into a former cargo hold. Pausing, the Caanan made an adjustment in his focus, and turned his head towards the source. Within a few seconds, he was standing by the open port to the makeshift dojo and was regarding Mentis.

The lighting in the room was set to a dim glow from the small diodes that encircled the room's ceiling, which were all but consumed by the violent red of Mentis' crimson blade. The Rattataki moved slowly, eyes closed, holding the blade with two hands, practicing the slower, defensive Shien form Bomoor had been tutoring. As the plasma blade cut the air, the shadows in the room slid slowly about the wide training room, which was formally a storage bay with space to contain a couple of landspeeders or whatever other cargo the smuggler vessel used to haul. Now devoid of clutter, the room was populated with very little apart from the specially purchased training mat, target dummy and a counter, atop which was one whole training remote and one that was in several pieces.

Mentis brought the blade across his body and, as he reached his hip, he released his left hand and continued the motion of the blade behind him, blending the fifth form into Djem So as he bent his legs and minimised his body form. The practicing man became aware of Thane and took in a deep breath, eyes still clenched shut. He then released his breath and shot forwards bringing his blade forwards, before spinning it back practicing invisible parry blows at all angles, while beginning to push forwards across the mat. Thane watched as, at several moments, the movement of the blade in full swing seemed to halt unnaturally, as though time itself paused, before resuming along its path with the same inertia as before. Mentis continued this dance of blows until he reached the corner of the training floor, at which point he launched himself back to the centre, now grasping the blade in two hands again and landing in a defensive posture back where he had begun.

The red blade retracted and Mentis brought himself up straight, breathing deeply, before turning towards Thane.

"I am beginning to adapt to training in this room," the pale Humanoid addressed Thane, "With Bomoor's assistance, I am incorporating more personal defence into my routine. Not exactly something Axion ever placed much priority in."

Mentis nodded in the Human's direction, "He was however, much like yourself, an accomplished duellist. One of the few times I ever saw any true humanity in him was when we sparred with each other. He took quite an interest in myself and, of course, Nala, when we were young and learning the ways of the blade. I felt less disposable to him then."

Thane had stepped over the threshold to the dojo as Mentis had been speaking, pausing just past the doorway. The brighter light of the Red Raptor's corridor projected against Thane, silhouetting him against the relative darkness of Mentis' training arrangements. "And how do you feel now?" He asked simply. The hilt of his lightsaber, Mentis noticed, had found its way into Thane's grasp, electrum glinting dully from the dim lighting.

"Truly, I am still looking over my shoulder" Mentis replied as he cast his eyes away for a moment, his fingers finding the red leather strand around his own hilt, "Every moment since I betrayed him still feels like I am living because he allows it and not because of any victory I have over him."

He looked back at the Human, watching as he slowly rounded the edge of the training room, positioning himself across from the Rattataki on the mat. Mentis continued, "That being said, while I am still running from that life, being here has allowed me to begin imagining a day where I might turn back and face him. Bomoor has already shared a great deal and, while I know you were never in favour of my presence here, I feel you have served as a reminder to maintain my guard and never let fear overcome me as it once did."

"That shows wisdom," Thane admitted, now unmoving and the hand gripping his hilt pointed to the side and downwards, in a plain opening Makashi pose. "But you still define yourself by Axion - by your weakness." The violet plasma blade of his lightsaber thrummed to life, casting an ethereal glow across the darkened dojo. The weapon's low, metallic hum resonated in the brief silence between the two men, before Thane raised its point towards Mentis' scarred face. "Tell me: aside from your one panicked moment of self-awareness where you betrayed your fellow slaves, have you any independent thought or drive, or are we all just a means to an end... to slay Axion?"

"I've been wondering the same thing," Amare said as she abruptly entered the room. She had come to inform Thane that she was ready to begin assembling her new lightsaber, but found a more interesting situation instead. Both men could see that there was some bruising around her left eye and near her nose which had the slight stain of some dry blood just above her upper lip that Amare did not completely wipe clean.

"Uh, if this is a bad time, I can just leave," Amare said as she started to back off from what was clearly a very tense moment between the two men. She began to grimly wonder if she would have the dubious "honor" of cleaning up Mentis' charred remains after it was over.

Eyes flicking briefly to the doorway, where the Nautolan's silhouette cast a fluidic shadow into the corridor light that breached into the dim training room, Mentis returned his gaze towards Thane while responding to both their queries.

"No, it is reasonable to ask what I hope to achieve beyond breaking Axion's hold," the former cultist spoke as his fingers found a firm grasp of his weapon once again and brought it down at his side, mirroring Thane's stance, although not yet igniting the blade, "My power has always been based on instinct, not looking beyond my next burst of adrenaline to channel fear and rage into Axion's will. I was a good weapon, in that regard. Even that moment of self-awareness you mention was another one of those flurries of instinct but it was finally directed towards something I wanted, rather than an order given to a slave. The more time has passed, the more I have been able to explore more about my other desires and what I truly want. I have not pieced it all together yet but I think what I want is to be strong, to be seen as honourable and respected for what I contribute, rather than a cog in someone else's machine."

Mentis allowed himself a slight shrug before triggering his crimson blade on with a thrumming ignition of plasma, "I suppose I cannot tell you how I want to achieve that as I do not know myself yet. But, I am slowly feeling the pieces coming together, the more I am around people. Real people, not the husks I used to interact with."

"You have a queer choice, perhaps, in new allies, therefore, if those are your goals," Thane finally responded, having taken a considered moment to mull Mentis' reply. "Still, I am curious to see how Bomoor's teachings are paying off, if they are transforming you from a broken child with whimsical dreams into something more. Yet, despite the supposed sense you have just espoused, you are still unwise..." His voice dipped and eyes narrowed. "...To have lowered defences!"

As the Sith made his final comment, he dropped low and launched forward with unnatural speed. Thane's violet lightsaber had shifted from the downwards Makashi pose to be horizontal to the floor, flying forwards with its wielder to perfectly bisect Mentis at the waist.

Mentis' eyes widened, taking in the full sight of a charging Sith. A surge of fear shot through him, faster than his body could release adrenaline and he compelled the Force to speed his arms to bring his own blade to meet Thane's own. He had no time to deflect the energy precisely or turn his defence into a feint that would put his opponent on the backfoot. All he could do was brace against the blow and he felt the heat as the plasma came close enough to feel its molten heat at his waist.

Continuing to push the attack, Mentis had to inelegantly sidestep away. At which point, Thane released his pressure and, in that moment of temporary imbalance for the Rattataki, thrust his hand forward, sending Mentis shooting back across the training room and into some of the assorted training equipment behind.

The Human approached his downed sparring partner slowly, observing that the pale-skinned man initially did not move and lay still upon the ground. However, as he brought his weapon forward, Mentis blade ignited again and met it in the air. His eyes alert and locked on Thane again as Amare still watched from the entrance.

Thane grinned, impressed with the feint from Mentis. Whilst his foe had shown himself to be a canny warrior when counted amongst Axion's cabal, Thane's exposure to his talents and cunning had been more infrequent than he had expected, with the initial conflict on Korriban leaving him little opportunity to observe his unexpected ally's performance against his former colleagues.

With the thought sliding aside as Thane had to restore his focus to the conflict at hand, he parried a sharp one-handed strike his opponent slipped towards his left leg, forcing him to adjust his stance and pull backwards two steps. Mentis, a predominant practitioner, like Thane, of the Second Form of lightsaber combat, used the opportunity he had created to now harry the Human, inserting several small, fast and precise strikes towards his limbs. Whilst Mentis' speed forced the nascent Sith to adjust his expectations and approach to the conflict, the blows carried less weight than needed to truly gain an advantage over Thane - something that was clearly recognised too late.

Thane intercepted an upward slice that was intended for the joint between his shoulder and left arm and forced Mentis to lock the blades of their weapons together, both energy blades pointed towards the floor, Thane pressing down hotly with a vast amount of Force-imbued strength that he began to summon to himself, using the momentum to smash Mentis' back into the bulkhead. He felt the energy bind its way through the sinew and bones of his limbs, the sensation a relief and stark contrast to the awe-inspiring and cataclysmic display of power he and the others had exuded upon the Imperial Star Destroyer. Bearing himself in close to the Rattataki, Thane's exposed teeth came in near to Bomoor's supposed apprentice, their faces stained an unearthly magenta by the proximity of their weapons.

"Your strength to take action," Thane seethed, exertion staining his voice, "has been sapped by your newfound love of your fellow man. You limit yourself... in your search for honour." Before Mentis had an opportunity to retort, Thane thrust harder against his enemy, who only marginally salvaged enough of his own strength to keep the locked blades from entering his scarred visage. "A fool's prize!" Thane added, goading Axion's former slave as he continued to force the blades narrowly closer towards Mentis. "Of no use to the dead... or the ones you leave behind!"

Strongly considering a snarky remark, Amare held her tongue, allowing the adrenaline and male hormones to flow freely with the Force, knowing well the importance of men of many species and their deep desire to compete and violently express and release their boiling tensions.

She instead entered quietly and subtly released a tiny spy droid shaped like a miniature thermal detonator, about the size of a walnut, that floated up in the air and moved about staying close to her. She stalked around the perimeter of the room, finding a quiet corner opposite the men where she could observe the fascinating movements of their impromptu training duel.

One thing was certainly becoming clearer to her as her knowledge of lightsabers slowly grew through her experiences: She was never going to match their degree of physicality or raw brute strength. The Force was a tremendous boon to athletic acumen, of this she found herself falling deep enamoured with, but it could not change fundamental biology, at least not that she was aware. She, being female, shared similar limitations as humans of that sex, though being Nautolan made her hardier and a far better swimmer. There were frustrating realities she would have to accept with what she was, but she was more than happy to meet the challenge. With each victory earned, another link of her personal chains was broken, and thus one step closer to self-mastery, and perhaps more.

Where Thane and Mentis and Bomoor could chop and lunge like falling avalanches, she would match with dexterity and wisdom to use such power back against them. Where they could overwhelm and intimidate, she would distract, feign weakness, and kill or disable quickly with a clever ploy or a treacherous unseen strike. If all else failed...there was the Force, and the hidden powers it held that she so deeply wished to learn more than anything. The trick was learning things that would be her secrets alone, kept them hidden from all, most especially Darth Serus. After all, a true Banite Sith Lord would expect no less from his pupil.

It was then that Amare wondered as she watched them fight...

It's...almost like he's preparing Mentis for something...could he...? she thought, her paranoia starting to rise with her nascent insecurities. ...No, he wouldn't. But...what if Serus is planning to replace me...after everything I've done? After what I've endured for him? Impossible...not so soon...I'm not ready...

As Amare's mind wandered, she was brought back to the fray as her little drone was nearly caught by the sudden reignition of Mentis' weapon, being brought across his body and resting down at his side once again. Mentis was breathing heavily now and sweat beaded down him, looking as though it might strip away his chalky exterior. He eyed Thane again as he answered the challenge.

"The dead need nothing of honour but, to the living, honour gives meaning to the darkness and chaos of life itself."

He began moving back slowly towards the training mat as he continued.

"The ancient Sith you revere knew the value of honour among their ranks. That is how they recruited entire armies to their cause and, when that honour fell away and infighting set in, they quickly were felled by their opponents. You are now an order of two. Does your apprentice there have trust that you will not cast her aside? Do you trust her not to claim your power for herself?"

He then brought his blade forwards, seemingly gesturing at Thane with the scarlet edge.

"If you doubt even the slightest," he raised an eyebrow, "Then your enemies will exploit that too."

"Of course I desire his power," Amare interjected calmly to Mentis before Thane could reply, "and much more. And I am no fool to expect myself to be anything more than expendable. I could die today, and he could replace me. Perhaps even with you. Does that interest you? Do you wish to become Sith?"

By the time she finished her words, the Jedi shoto was in her left hand in a reverse grip, but she maintained a causal posture, making no sudden or aggressive moves.

The Rattataki did not let his gaze drift from the human Sith master as he processed Amare's questioning in response to his own. He slowly shook his head.

"I do not believe your order is my future. To be amongst your ranks would be like living on a knife's edge," he paused before adding, "...again."

His blade still pointed forwards, he concluded, "But if you two can shape the galaxy as you claim: destroy the cult, remove the rot of GalactaWerks from the ORA and the Republic. Then, I will stand by your side as you do so. I think then I may be able to find a place in this Galaxy."

"By 'place'," Amare began to speak with seething contempt, the pain of her bruises still fresh on her face and body, "do you mean something obscure like running your own cantina somewhere, or..." She activated her shoto and pointed its plasma blade's business end at Mentis in an almost Makashi-like fencing stance, "...standing in our way?"

"You judge too rashly, apprentice," Thane answered ahead of Mentis. In the moment that Mentis' eyes had shifted to meet Amare's newly-erupted plasma blade, the elder Sith had sidestepped, placing himself closer to Mentis but with his violet weapon now angled towards Amare. His posture had significantly shifted, his shoulders square and both hands gripped tightly around his narrow lightsaber hilt. An opening gambit of the moderate Niman style of saber combat, it was a form that the other two had less frequently seen Thane rely on as the months had progressed.

"So keen are you with your barbed words and to confront every perceived slight with venom and steel, I worry you fail to see opportunity." Whilst his shadowed, gold-tinted eyes pierced the dim light to examine Amare, challenging her, he allowed a brief glance back to his other opponent. "Mentis knows what he was, and, I believe, what he aspires to be. He has wisdom enough to prostrate himself before former enemies to grow, to achieve his goals." He smiled, a menacing expression between the chartreuse, violet and crimson energy blades humming at different pitches between them, his goading sight flicking between both Mentis and Amare. "Perhaps his adaptability outshines yours, Amare? Another lesson, then?"

The smile was dropped quickly, his final word immediately followed by a sidestep and sweeping strike aimed directly at the Nautolan's midriff, a slice that sought to bisect the young warrior.

Amare arched her lower back, pulled back her abdomen with a bit of a lean forward of her upper torso, and do so with a short evasive hop away from Thane's brutal slash. The amethyst plasma was dangerously close to making contact and was only a few centimeters from nearly slicing off the tip of one of her head tresses. Her dodge, however, literally put her back against a wall with two armed Force users standing between her and the door. A duel with Thane was already extreme enough, but if Mentis pressed the attack, she had zero chance to emerge unscathed.

Her instincts told her to form up defensively as she held her shoto in front of her at an angle, the other hand free to direct and wield the Force, and bent her knees slightly to prepare to counter and riposte and evade if possible.

"It's about time, master!" she retorted with a wicked grin that masked her inner tension and adrenaline flow that converted her fear into exhilaration. "Teach me how to fight two at once!" Her mind flashed back to the vile Nautolan cultist, Nala, back on Korriban and how she single-handedly fought off both her and Mentis at the same time with relative ease. Amare wanted that incredible degree of skill and so much more. If she could learn to fight two powerful dark siders, she could then figure out how to battle four, and perhaps entire armies someday.

Mentis was as surprised as Amare about the shift in circumstances, but allowed himself a faint, weary smile as the sweat still lingered on his brow. It was good that Thane kept him on his toes, but it was good to know that his demeanour was not purely antagonistic towards him. He had fought at the Human's side before, but it was perhaps more telling to see him choose to do so outside of a life or death scenario. He could see it was primarily a lesson for Amare but it pleased him nonetheless. In spite of the more dog-eat-dog wisdom the self-appointed Sith Lord preached, his actions and character showed a man with his own code of honour.

The Rattataki crept around the mat, his blade in a wide stance at his side, enclosing Amare further.

"Enemies all around," he jested, for a brief moment, allowing a fond memory of dueling a teenage Nala to slip into his mind, "Now are you satisfied?"

"Better to die here on my own feet than on my knees as someone's slave!" snapped back at Mentis with a quick defensive swipe of her energy blade at him, careful not to overextend in case Thane took the advantage. Her cocky smile was almost instantly replaced with a scowl of revulsion as she tensed up further with no chance of escape.

"My thoughts exactly," Mentis span his blade around and angled it towards Amare slightly, while still maintaining a wide guard. He did not press the attack yet, waiting to see if it was master or apprentice that took the first swipe.

Thane stepped forward first. His posture had shifted once again, to a form Amare was less familiar seeing her master utilise. His strides were long as he took a double-handed Fifth Form grip of his slender lightsaber hilt, both hands almost masking its glinting form from view entirely. He took a heavy-handed swipe downwards at his apprentice's smaller frame, great strength thrown into the blow. His face was once again lit up by the myriad plasma blades in the dojo, his expression now devoid of emotion, his unnatural gaze unwavering as his blade swung down at Amare.

His arrogant apprentice sidestepped one chop only to be forced further along the wall closer to Mentis who didn't appear to be interested in interfering with Thane's furious kata sequence. The sudden ferocity caught Amare completely off-guard, not like the orthodox series of strikes he rained upon her on Mustafar. This was all business, direct, and to the point.

It was so direct that when she clumsily attempted a stab at his abdomen in an attempt to cleverly display her improved understanding of a reposte, Amare's hand was easily intercepted with an almost inhumanly powerful grip of his hand on her arm, disarming her and nearly fracturing her wrist in the process. Thane had her up against the wall, his weapon's tip perilously close to her throat and entirely at his mercy. He did all of this while not once allowing his eyes and senses to lose track of Mentis, and was positioned such that he could have easily controlled Amare and countered Mentis at the same time. It was a brief masterclass of hand-to-hand crowd-control exhibited in mere seconds, and performed with minimal effort and casual footwork.

A few moments lingered, only the steady hum of the still-active lightsabers filling the silence that had fallen between them. A small portion of molten slag slipped down, near to Amare's left side, a testament to the more intrusive assault her master had levied against her. The incision into the wall, which fortunately did not expose any circuitry or greater damage, joined the small collection of others that had yet to be repaired by the crew.

When seemingly satisfied that Mentis was not going to make any resultant opportunistic move against him, Thane disengaged his lightsaber and flung Amare across the dojo towards him. With her own reflexes and experiences in her former lives, his apprentice recovered from the thrust perfectly, swinging back to her feet without colliding with the Rattataki, who had also prepared himself to avoid the strike.

"Intelligence or sheer numbers will still fell the greatest Force wielder," Thane paraphrased his own ersatz Sith Master, the logic largely infallible. "I do not know what lessons Axion forced upon his disciples during their years of enslavement, but cunning and allies, even unknowing ones, could be the difference between life and death - or discovery." Although the comments seemed loosely aimed at Mentis, Thane's eyes were on his own apprentice. "I feel you already know this lesson, Amare. Like Mentis, you must move past your first instincts. Dominate yourself, and you may yet dominate others."

He did not look to Mentis at all, but seemed to be considering something elsewhere, eyes narrowed in thought. "Your lightsaber training can rest a while," the Human said, seemingly settled. "I have another lesson planned for you. Rest now and keep to your cabin tonight." Thane looked around the dojo a final time, inspecting the effects of their recent conflict, before taking himself wordlessly out of the room.

Both the Nautolan and Rattataki's eyes followed Thane as he left the room until the door slid closed behind him and they were left with naught but the distant thrum of the engines and the dim light of the room.

"He's quite brutal, your master," Mentis straightened up, bringing his hilt down but not affixing it back to his belt just yet, "But I can see how he pushes you to be better. I got a taste of that myself just now, even if you are his primary focus. I think he may be starting to warm to me."

He padded forwards, collecting the thin black outer robe he had set aside before training, "It seems the next session is for you alone, however."

Amare heard him, but she did not look to Mentis, only gave the slightest of nods, struck by Thane's...no...Serus' lesson. She had not expected such a degree of wisdom to follow her embarrassing failure. She held so much bravado leading up to the moment, and yet was defeated so swiftly, and still did not earn her master's wrath as she had in times afore.

Thane was indeed changing from her point-of-view. The Prince of Caanus was more in control of himself, growing fiercer by the day whilst honing the potential of his apprentice to become a formidable weapon in his service. Amare had only known him for the better part of a year, but he was undergoing an eerie kind of transformation that was virtually impossible to see, but certainly felt.

As Mentis departed the room, Amare turned to her shoto on the floor. She casually held her hand out towards it to summon it to her grasp with the Force, but it barely budged. This sparked a sudden surge of rage in her, and it dialed up her focus tenfold.

"Still trying to kill me, Equivus? Not this time! Not ever!" she said in a low harsh tone as the shoto instantly leaped up into her hand and reactivated the green blade. "I've always felt a part of you still hiding in this wretched crystal, still seeking justice for your master, even beyond death. There must be a way to purge you once and for all...but how?"

She powered off the diminutive Jedi sword and went to her quarters, shoulders a bit slumped, nearly kicking the ship's passing G2 astromech as she walked the central corridor. It stopped to look at and bleeped a bit at her, but Amare paid it no mind and ignored whatever it said in Binary, for the droid was fresh from a memory wipe, and her personal attachment to it had diminished since their ordeal together on Korriban. What did it matter for a Sith to care for an unliving automaton that can lose its entire memory and sense of self at the press of a button?

Upon entering her quarters, Amare's hearts nearly catapulted out of her body when she beheld the image of the golden eyes that gazed grimly upon her.

"It is time, apprentice," spoke the holographic image of the founder of the Rule of Two in his commanding voice, "for you to learn how to take what it is that makes you weak and turn it into something that makes you strong."

Amare was at long last alone with an ancient Sith holocron, and the recorded image of its legendary creator...

"Darth Bane...?" she said more than queried, stunned that someone would leave the holocron to her like this. She could see his simulated gaze look upon the shoto she held in her hand. She held it before her, glanced at it, then met eyes with Bane. "Show me, my lord. Make me the instrument of your legacy. I will not rest until it is so!"

The door slid shut behind her, and, just as he had with his own apprentice many centuries ago, Bane began his lesson.

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