Imperial Will

[Rugs]

From afar, the Regent was a titan. Up close, the starship — the personification of the Sith Empire’s might — seemed impossibly huge, stretching for miles and miles from stem to stern, and miles more from one side to the other.

Now, as Aurelius’ transport ship screamed through the upper atmosphere into orbit, the dreadnought stood at the head of the Sith fleet, rather than its heart — a protective mother sheltering her children from those who wished them harm. A knot of Dominus-class battleships flanked the Regent, including Charybdis, the vessel Aurelius commanded. But he was not heading there now — not after the summons that left no room for delay.

Off in the distance, the Republic fleet stood and faint pinpricks, visible against the Nal Hutta’s faint rings. Between them lay a graveyard of tangled ship remains, of Republic and Imperial design, littered with remnants of Hutt ships and the crystalline ruins of the Archeri forces. The Joint Military Operations Command forces — the coalition that had united Sith and Republic against the Chorus, that had seen them fighting as brothers and sisters hours earlier, now stood with knives to each others’ throats.

And all for the Republic’s betrayal.

Too bad, Aurelius thought as his transport flew into one of the Regent’s mammoth landing bays, I was having a good time with that Jedi.

---

The Regent’s Sanctum chambers were rarely seen by those who were not Renata’s chosen. It lay in the heart of the ship, near the back, in a section devoted to the workings of the order. The chamber wasn’t so grand as the one on Dromund Kaas, but its polished, reflective metal floors and grand, arching ceiling that peaked in the center above Renata’s throne left quite the impression.

Aurelius was the first to arrive, with Scyllos on his heels. He still wore his armor from the ground battle, scuffed from hard combat against the Archeri and their thrawls. His helmet, he carried under his arm until he reached a stand, accented with gold, that rose from the floor to meet him. There he set the helmet down. Scyllos sat beside him, expectant.

As he waited, Aurelius looked to the other places were his fellow Dark Lords would stand. Solis, he knew, was coming. But the Praetor Magnus and Grand Prophet... Well, Keres was lost to battle, it seemed. As if the Republic’s betrayal wasn’t enough.

He didn’t need the Force to know Renata would be displeased. He didn’t need his senses to feel the tension straining the space between the two fleets like a cord pulled near to the breaking point.

In his heart, he both yearned for and shuddered at the thought of Renata letting loose her wrath upon the Galaxy once more.

[Dutch]

The tension throughout the Regent was as palpable as any presence in the Force to Darth Solis as his long strides moved him swiftly through her corridors. Many aboard her were emanating electric desire to start swinging at the Republic fleet again, while many more could do little to hide their anxieties from those sensitive enough to sniff them out. The Lord Inquisitor paid none of them any particular mind, his own going over the recent search for Keres he had headed, and weighing the consequences of suggesting the Republic could now have had something to do with her absence. It would make sense, from an assassin's point of view; what easier way to take out a high profile enemy, than when temporarily aligned with them, and against a monstrous invasion? The Sith could not contain the small laugh that escaped his lips, the sound tinny through the obsidian of his mask as he chortled. There was no question as to how badly the Republic had just screwed up, only what was about to happen next.

Moments later the Zelosian found himself within the Empress’ command center at the heart of the Regent, the steady pace of his combat boots the loudest sound among a myriad of beeping and blipping consoles, manned by respectfully silent Imperials doing their jobs. So steady were these servants of the Empire, that one had barely even flinched when Darth Solis suddenly remembered the Kali Ri’ Biro Spaceport security badge still pinned to his leathers, and proceeded to flick it from his chest dismissively into said servant’s face. Soon though there were no more monitors, no more Imperials, and little sound but the thrumming of titanic starship engines. Then, the door to Her chambers. Something began to churn inside him, not as anxiety, but like a knot of live eels suddenly flailed to life in his chest cavity. Solis stopped his step, the motion sudden enough to cause the duracrete dust still clinging to his charred leathers to spill onto the floor. An all too familiar presence pulled at the back of his consciousness, as if something tried to guide him away from his own body. His searing red eyes began to water at the pinpricks of pain poking at the backs of them; but the Darth wasn’t about to let this thing within him near Renata. Not until he could prove it was fully under his control, not the other way around.

His presence would suddenly condense deep within his chest, charged as if he was prepared to cast a barrier outside himself, and instead pushed the darkness into the furthest recesses of his being. He could still feel it there, a dark, displeased turbulence trapped beneath Darth Solis’ metaphysical boot. It would remain there, for a time, but much as with his Empress, he would later pay for his transgressions. Whether he was about to experience both in the same day for the first time, was what remained to be seen. With a steadying breath Solis placed his right hand to rest upon his lightsaber quartet at his hip, and a rare fifth in the form of a collapsed lightsaber pike- the only one found from dispatching Diarmid. He waited another moment, exhaled slowly, then pushed the door open with a wave of his left hand.

He smiled from behind the mask at the sight of Darth Aurelius and his faithful brute, his disheveled and painfully Firrerreon hair a funny contrast to the beast at his side. With a slow, confident step Darth Solis entered his Empress’ chambers, and the door hushed shut behind him.

“Here we are again, brother. Us, and two empty Pillars.” Solis said knowingly, his tone unabashedly complimentary to the other standing Pillar. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think the positions were… cursed…” He added, letting the sentence linger.

[Rugs]

One silent moment stretched on into another with Aurelius alone in the chamber. Scyllos sat a pace behind him, ears twitching as his heavy head scanned the chamber from one side to the other. Aurelius, for his part, remained unmoving, still as a statue as his mind replayed the day’s events.

Darmid turned up out of nowhere and dispatched. Keres missing, presumed lost in the battle. And the Praetor Magnus? Another loss? he wondered looking to the empty stand.

Maybe it was so then, that these Archeri had been more of a challenge than expected, despite their bizarre ways. Maybe it was so that this alliance with the Republic, for all it seemed a sign of weakness, was a necessary thing.

Losses in battle, he could expect, from the Order and the Empire’s legions. But what might it say to the Galaxy, to the Empire’s subject to see two pillars broken in a single round of conflict?

The door swung open. Aurelius looked from the corner of a honey-yellow eye to see Solis advancing into the chamber. The door closed quietly behind him.

“Brother,” he said, offering a subtle half-smile, “long time no see.” They, at least, had stood tall against the tide. They had broken the Archeri hold on Kalai Ri’Biro and done more besides.

“Here we are again, brother. Us, and two empty Pillars,” Solis said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think the positions were… cursed…”

“Maybe,” Aurelius said, turning his gaze again to the two empty places among them. Truth and Ascension had stood tall, unyielding among the Order’s cults. And why shouldn’t we, with Solis and me leading them?

“I’ve never put much stock in curses,” he said, sounding thoughtful. “I think you have the strength to last or you don’t. That’s all that ever really matters.”

---

Memory flashed, and Nieraan, a boy in his middle teenage years lay on the ground, clutching at bruises on his side with one hand and reaching desperately for his lightsaber with the other. His fingers, trembling from the effort, brushed against the smooth metal casing as he willed his battered body to stretch just a little further...

Kamirille kicked it away, clattering into a corner. His mother towered over him, as insurmountable a wall as ever, years after the day she’d stolen him away from his father.

Nieraan slumped to the ground, defeated. He yelped as she kicked him in the ribs.

“So you’re giving up then?” Kamirille sounded disgusted. “Shall I just kill you now and be done with it?”

Another blow fell. He clenched his teeth, trying to keep the scream in. “I hate you,” he muttered.

Next he knew, he was airborne, heels-over-head as he crashed into the wall with a thud and a groan. When he opened his eyes, he was sideways, laying against the wall. His lightsaber was within easy reach. Kamirille, still where she was, reignited her lightsaber. “Good,” she said. “Hate me as much as you have to, boy, but I will make you strong, or I’ll kill you trying — and better that than that loosing a weakling into the world.”

“Now get your lightsaber and come at me again.”

---

Aurelius looked at Solis, considering for a silent moment. “Look at us,” he said. “We’ve been through the fires and are stronger for it. Those others?” He shrugged and shook his head. “Better to weed the weak out now before we turn back to the Jedi and the Republic. There will be no room for weakness then.”

He snorted. “Though it seems those idiots on the other side would rather have that fight now than wait.”

[Meira]

The shuttle landed quickly, gracelessly in the private bay. It's engines were not yet completely silenced as the ramp lowered. Renata stepped from the end of it just before it touched the deck. A number of attendance had rushed to meet this ship and still tripped over themselves with clumsy greetings as the Dark Empress swept past them. As she moved from the bay toward the Sanctum chambers, a wave of staff preceded her in a mad, panicked dash to ensure all doors were opened to her... that all was prepared. In her wake, they rushed to make other arrangements. Meals would need to be prepared, surely. Accommodations aired out and waiting. Would she be staying aboard the Regent? Had she said? Her yacht was still nearby. Why had she come?

Their worry, their confusion swam around Renata as she moved through the ship. But she ignored it all. It was the buzzing of so many bees. Essential, but background. What mattered was the precarious state of the hive itself, of her sovereign domain. A previously unknown extragalactic force had only hours ago posed the greatest existential threat the empire -all of sentient life in the galaxy- had ever encountered. Only hours ago, the continuation of life itself had been at stake. And though the wreckage of those great and terrible flagships of the Archeri horde had not yet cooled, the Republic had already managed to begin the next crisis. The two galactic superpowers were now balanced on the razors edge, only a breath away from tumbling into the full chaos of all out war once again. And she was less two Pillars.

As she neared the Sanctum chamber, the number of attendants before her dwindled until there were none. The cloud of their thoughts and emotions thinned to blessed silence and she was able to slow her pace, breathing deeply and focusing her mind to the task ahead. Within the Sanctum chamber, they waited. In many ways, Aurelius and Solis were two of her greatest achievements. Renata had invested such effort, time, and energy into molding and positioning them both just so and they had proven to be invaluable assets in her ascension to power. They had both been rewarded lavishly in turn. But it was a fool who thought herself safe among the hounds, no matter how well trained. It was the nature of the Dark Side to endeavor toward greatness, to never settle. She had designed her Empire and the Sith Order itself to use this universal truth to her own advantage. But the machine could not function as intended when certain essential pieces were not in place. And she would be that damned fool if she did not at least suspect foul play. The question, as always, was who? And how well prepared were they?

The answer, as of yet, was not clear, and so Renata would have to move with caution as the events continued to unfold. And beyond the machinations of lesser beings, Renata still had her own ends to meet. There was yet so much to learn from what could be salvaged from these strange Archeri. The allure of their control over their population still called out to her. Their secrets still haunted her meditations. Accord be damned, she would have it all.

The chamber doors opened and Renata's stride brought her swiftly past the two men that awaited her within. She moved to the throne, turned, and seated herself before deigning to alight her gaze onto either of them. The features of her face, sharp and polished, betrayed nothing. Her electric blue gaze swept from Aurelius to Solis and then back.

"Your assessments."

[Dutch]

Aurelius had barely snorted when her presence swept the area, and barely had his sentence ended when the Dark Empress entered her chambers. In an almost shamefully automatic motion Solis stooped to kneel, his head bowed and still shrouded by his helm. It would hide the shift of his expression from delight at seeing his brother to still impassivity, but could do little to conceal the way his presence rippled involuntarily. He saw it every time Renata was near, their history together tearing through his psyche like an arrow through paper; every way her mind broke his ignorance each time he attempted a power move. Ways he still employed in his political arsenal to this day, to impressive effect. Now, as she turned to take her seat, the Darth was once again reminded why she had been the one to seize the throne, and why they had helped her take it. His searing gaze did not turn to meet his Empress’ as her attention turned to the two Pillars, it remained fixed at her feet through the glass of his mask.

”Your assessments.”

Her voice cut the silence and into Solis’ throat, the Sith swallowing at the icy, serene sovereignty she commanded when speaking. It rippled through the Force, and pushed his thoughts to an earlier time of the Sith Order, when Iniquitous still lead from his shadowy hovels. The Zelosian could still hear the sound of a younger Darth Renata, all amused lilting as she schooled him in the ways of the Sith. Her radiance as she commanded him to end his previous mistress… the smell of singed meat as the lightsaber he'd crafted as a Padawan singed her child’s skin.  For the briefest moment, Darth Solis even saw the first time she graced him with a smile. The same moment he had first bent the knee. He wondered if she had smiled again since taking the Empire, for he hadn’t witnessed one for years. A tug of urgency through the Force brought him back to the present with dizzying vertigo, the Lord Inquisitor nauseated and unsure of how much time had passed since he had slipped into time immaterial. In the dark distance of thought, he could hear a low, mocking chuckle that wasn't his own. Yet the Empress' chambers were still silent, so he risked an answer on the chance it had been seconds, and not moments, lost to him.

“This may seem a dire situation on the surface, Your Radiance, but the invasion was a resounding success. Even with the Republic’s foolish betrayal.” Solis said with a snort, the sound filtered sharply through his mask’s vocabulator. “They just learned your Empire stands strong against such a petty blow; even after slaying horrors from beyond the rims. Right now, the entire galaxy waits to see if you’ll send your Pillars to crush what remains of this Republic fleet. Present company included.”

[Rugs]

As interested as Aurelius was in hearing Solis’ further thoughts in their little conversation, the Empress’ arrival demanded an end to the conversation. Even before great doors into the Sanctum chamber swung wide to admit her in a whirl of red and power, he felt her presence. It was quite unlike any he’d ever known. She was quite unlike any person he’d ever known.

He lowered himself, pose matching Solis’ bow, eyes on the floor as Renata entered. Even Scyllos seemed to lower himself, broad head flat on the floor with ears pressed back. It still rankled a part of him to bow — some remnants of the part of Nieraan Onin that desired the freedom to chart his own course, above all else. Nieraan Onin bent the knee to no one; not after years of suffering at Kamirille’s hand.

But he was, in some ways, no longer Nieraan Onin. Darth Aurelius was a creation of the Sith; a creation, in more ways than one, of the Empress. If there was one person in the Galaxy, he’d bend to, let it be her. She asked little of them that he would not do of his own devices, and in serving her, he’d elevated himself to a position of power few in the Galaxy could match.

In serving her, he’d found his sanctuary that he longed for so dearly.

“Your assessments.”

Renata’s words were curt, her presence tight. Aurelius might have wondered at the tension, but even that blathering fool Wroth could have figured out the source today.

He remained silent as Solis spoke, nodding slightly as his brother finished. “Yes, we’ve succeeded in our main cause for being here. Our losses are regrettable, but, if I may be so bold,” he lifted his head to look at her with his golden eyes — even knowing the protocols of position, he’d never been one to simply accept meek submission in totality for long, “we have entered crucible and left weak links behind. If they could not survive this threat, what hope would they have in serving you fully in a war against the Republic?”

Aurelius walked a fine line and he knew it; he did not mean to suggest that Renata erred in her selection of the pillars of Strife and Mysteries. However, once raised, the Empress could hardly babysit her Sanctum through every tribulation. No, they had failed her, and the whole Empire, in falling to the Archeri.

“We will come from this stronger than we arrived,” he continued. “We must.” With the Republic so apparently eager to turn to war, they had no other options.

“As for the Republic,” he said, “I stand ready to face them, as soon as you give the command. Whether now, or in the future. However... I suspect that had they intended to make a war of this, we’d still be fighting. We mourn our losses, but a few ships will not break our strength. If this happening has taken them aback, well... that may give us the initiative.”

[Meira]

Renata extended her senses toward both men as they formulated their responses. The chaos of the conflict still clung to them, adding an intoxicating blend to their usually wary -around her at least- signatures within the Force. Skimming at the surface of their thoughts, she could sense the echoes of the battle, the whispers of the emotions that fueled them and saw them through the fight. Pain, rage, pride... and so much more. Renata breathed it in, tempted to push deeper. But this was not the time to indulge in such things. Action was needed. Sensing a strange hesitation, Renata turned her gaze fully on Solis. But just as she focused on him, whatever had entered his mind had been dismissed and he began to speak. Renata's brow moved, ever so slightly to furrow as she resolved to revisit the thought at a later time.

"Right now, the entire galaxy waits to see if you’ll send your Pillars to crush what remains of this Republic fleet. Present company included.”

How quickly the fires grow. Renata thought, a frown forming at the corners of her lips. The details of the Republic's cowardly actions were already spreading. Soon, word of the call of arbitration would follow. But would the demand for retaliation outpace it? How fervent would the bloodlust be this time around? And what would it all cost her?

Aurelius' voice pulled Renata's gaze in his direction. His mind was on the Sanctum members they'd lost against the Archeri threat. Under different circumstances, Renata might have praised Aurelius for how far he'd come. Nieraan Onin would not care at all if he was being too bold. But boldness aside, there was indeed a truth to his words. Those they had lost had not been molded and forged as Solis and Aurelius had. They had not struggled in the same ways, nor clawed their way into their positions. Was it any wonder that they failed? Perhaps Renata had become too comfortable and lax in cultivating them. Greater care would need to be taken with their replacements.

"There will be no such command at this time." Renata said as Aurelius concluded his statements. "Much as it pains Our heart to have lost so many, We will not be baited. The return of war to this galaxy will not now be met with the same sentiments as before. The Empire must be beyond reproach if it is to rally more systems to the cause. But this cowardly betrayal will be answered." Renata's right hand curled into a fist. "We have demanded arbitration, and so a court will be convened on Prazhi. A strong presence there will be essential as these events unfold." Renata relaxed the hand, folding it delicately over her other hand on her lap.

"But the needs of the Empire march ever on. The new Hutt regime must be made sympathetic to Imperial diplomacy. Our border systems most affected by the Archeri must be cared for. And crucial intelligence regarding these creatures and their methods and technology must be kept out of the Republic's hands wherever and however possible." Renata's thoughts lingered on the crystals and their effect on sentient minds. She needed to study one more closely.

"Most of all, the Sanctum must stand and the pillars restored. To that end," Renata lifted herself from the throne, having felt the man's presence as he approached the chamber, "rise." With a wave of her hand, the doors to the Sanctum Chamber opened. "Come forth, Lord Viren." she called out, her voice resonating through the chamber and into the corridor.

[Ysmir]

"Everything shall come in time. It will all fall into place, as it is meant to. You are strong, Haven -- strong, but unfocused. We shall take that wandering mind of yours... and mould it into the galaxy's most cunning weapon."

Had that time come? Viren had to think it was close at hand, at the very least.

If he had not successfully slain that wretched self of his that existed in a time long past, then it was done now. He had earned his merit in the eyes of the Empire in the skies above Nar Shaddaa and on the surface next to other warriors like him; the Archeri lay destroyed, their budding threat fading away like a flame deprived of oxygen. They had been suffocated, and the victory belonged to the Empire... and the Republic, though not for long, Viren suspected. Their betrayal was an affront that certainly would not go unpunished, this he was sure of. The only question that lay in the matter, is how severe said punishment would be. His sword was sharp, his saber ready.

Though the specifics of his servitude were about to change for the better.

---

The Regent was a magnificent display of the Empire's crushing might, their will made manifest in a physical form that seemed impossibly large and domineering. Viren steeled himself as the transport approached the massive ship; he had only ever seen the Dark Empress once in person upon his appointment to the Cult of Strife during a time that he yearned to return to, where his mettle could truly be tested on the field of battle. He was unsure what the nature of this visit entailed, but the clues were there. His Master, the Praetor Magnus, had perished in the battle and so, too, had the Grand Prophet. Two Pillars that stood resolute in the Order, mighty and tall. Gone. How pitiful. Viren struggled to find any form of sympathy for their loss. In his eyes, a death in glorious battle was the best a Sith could hope for. Their sacrifice would not be in vain, but neither would he grieve for them. As he marched toward an uncertain fate, Viren felt no anxiety or insecurity. In fact, his chest swelled with a barely-contained pride for the path that lay ahead.

The weight of his steps were accented by the weight of his armor, thudding along the polished metal flooring as he approached the Sanctum doors. Behind him, his onyx cloak flowed in an elegant yet brutal way. He held the helm of his armor beneath his arm, face exposed; he wouldn't deign to conceal it before her Radiance. Viren showed no surprise when the doors opened before he even reached them -- and all eyes were on him.

From the shadows of the corridor, the Praetor emerged. Burning yellow eyes scanned across the Sanctum Chambers as he entered. To one side, a Firrerreo stood accompanied by a Tuk'ata whose ruby gaze seemed to look through Viren. His eyes took in the stand, golden and regal, that he lingered behind. The High Archon.

To the other side, a masked individual that stood behind a Jade stand. The Lord Inquisitor.

Viren had never seen the two in person, but he knew of them. Any self-respecting Sith should. Darth Aurelius and Darth Solis, heroes of the Order, the longest serving Pillars. They were ideals that Viren strived toward, both to match and, one day, surpass. Their strengths were undeniable, and their mere presence in the Chamber was enough to stir the Force within Viren, causing those prior feelings of confidence and pride to subdue somewhat. Were he a simpler man, Viren may have even laughed. It took a significant power to cause this level of uncertainty in the Praetor, but focus on such trivial matters was not the reason for his attendance today. Something, someone, far greater had called him.

His attention turned fully to the Dark Empress atop her throne, the icon of his idealizations, the individual who had given him purpose in a time where he felt lost. Without shame nor hesitation as he reached the middle of the room, the towering Sith Lord dipped his head and fell to a knee in respect. "Your Radiance. My Lady."

He remained this way for a few beats before lifting his head to gaze upon her feet at first, though slowly -- daringly -- his eyes drifted upward to meet her own. It was like staring into the beating heart of the Empire.

"I am yours to command."

[Dutch]

The Dark Empress stood, and a heartbeat behind both her pillars rose in unison to greet the newcomer, the familiar formalites natural to the pair as breathing by now. Solis’ glowing eyes would visibly narrow from behind his mask as the chamber opened to Lord Viren, Sith Praetor. He entered, in all his armored Panathan glory, and the warrior’s presence hung about him as a mantle of dark, nebulous clouds- down to the promise of thunder within the undercurrents of his aura. It was every bit of imposing as the immaculate titan himself, the steady sound of his boots thudding upon the chamber’s floor a non-subtle metaphor for his reputation. The arriving Lord’s yellow eyes flashed with electric intent as he knelt before them, and in that moment before he regarded Renata, the Lord Inquisitor pushed his presence in the Force forth in a flood which encircled the Praetor. It skirted and splashed against Viren’s boundaries, tasting and sampling whatever surface thoughts and memories it could- not in a menacing manner, but perhaps something more akin to one predator curiously examining another. A Sith handshake, as it were.

The twin searing red rings of Darth Solis’ eyes would bore into Viren’s as he maintained their fixation, his stoicism impressive as he gave nothing away, the warrior’s mind as steely as the visage turned towards the Empress. This would be no surprise, for Viren’s reputation often preceded him as one of the Empire’s most loyal and efficient leaders. One needed the level of self mastery he contained to command as many soldiers as he did- let alone the other Sith working with him. They were a tricky breed, after all. Yet none had ever come close to touching the man who knelt before the trio now, his steady march upward through the ranks leading him to this very moment. The smirk which shrugged the corner of Solis’ lips would remain unseen as even he couldn’t come up with any reason to deny Viren the inevitable; for of all the Lord’s and Ladies of the Sith in the Empire, this particular Lord had so little dirt on him that it kept him on the Lord Inquisitor’s radar. The Zelosian didn’t trust anyone who was cleaner than a Republic Senator, but the Panathan was simply a paragon of his species, and one he was grateful to have working for them.

The obsidian mask hiding Solis’ face would turn to regard Aurelius a moment, his head gesturing as if to say check out this guy before his presence finally relented. It lifted from Viren in billowy threads to rejoin the bond bridged by their Mistress, and his gaze followed as it moved from Aurlius up towards the Empress. He joined the other men by turning his eyes towards Her, radiant even through the shadowy glass, and a single thought projected from him to her through their bond; Worthy...

[Rugs]

Arbitration?

Aurelius studied Renata silently for a long moment, his face respectfully neutral. Inwardly, he wasn’t sure what to think, that the Sith Empire — forged in a storm of blood and fury — would turn to a court to tell it to act. Or is there more to it than that? he wondered, golden eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Taking power over the Empire was no small feat. Uniting the Sith Order alone — with its members’ countless contradicting ambitions — was a tall task. Wrapping the aristocracy around her finger while pulling the Order along, as Renata had done after the Battle of Taris, was remarkable.

And for years since, she’d ruled, without any major challengers or attempted coups. Aurelius had realized, shortly after first rising to Lord and again in full when Renata lifted him to the Sanctum that taking power was easy.

Ruling, though — that was the hard part. Yet for all the times where Renata could have stepped into the vipers’ pit, she’d remained as the Empire steadfast, beating heart. Her will was the Empire’s will, and so he’d follow her. She’d not led him astray; no she’d given him power he could never have imagined when first he set foot on Korriban’s dusty surface all those years ago.

But still I wonder the game you play at, he thought as the great doors opened to admit another. Is this itself the end goal, or a lull to slip a knife between the Republic’s ribs?

Lord Viren’s entrance drew Aurelius’ attention from Renata and his silent wondering. His golden eyes, reflecting the chamber’s light, followed the Praetor as he entered the chamber. Personally, he knew little of the man — only whispers of him during the war and the years since. From what Aurelius did know, Viren was as much a titan in commanding battlefields as he was physically.

Even more, while he lacked details intot he man’s past, he knew he’d been molded, tested, hardened by conflict’s fires. He recognized the presence of a man who’d been through much, just as he himself had been.

As Viren’s eyes met his, Aurelius stared back levelly. He betrayed nothing by expression; simply watched, waiting.

When the Praetor knelt before Renata, Aurelius looked to Solis from the corner of his eye. He nodded in agreement, acknowledging the same thought he knew his brother shared.

You’ll do well, he thought silently. He put his hands behind his back, posture straight and steady, and would remain as such as Renata raised Viren.

All the while, he would say nothing, offer nothing. It was not his moment; it was Viren’s. It was the Empire’s.

When it was done, when the former lord rose instead as Darth Viren, Aurelius finally spoke. “Welcome, brother, to the Sanctum,” he said. After speaking, he offered a slight inclination of his head. It was not a bow, but a motion of acknowledgment.

In another time, Aurelius would take the chance to speak more to Viren, to learn more of the new Bronze pillar. Yet events surged onward, heedless of ceremony. That suited him; Nieraan Onin had never been one for ceremony, and Darth Aurelius was no different.

There could be no rest. Not now. To Ascend was to move ever onwards, ever upwards, and Aurelius had no intention of letting the very kinetic situation in which they found themselves stagger on without the Sanctum’s control.

“Your Radiance,” he said, turning his eyes again to Renata, “should you will it, I will, of course, assist however I might in preparing for this arbitration.” Fat chance of that, he was sure; Renata surely knew his distaste and lack of grace for Galactic politics as well as he did, after all these years. Still, some protocols had to be followed, even if the doing of it was as enjoyable as nails on chalk.

“However, present circumstances with the Republic notwithstanding, our situation remains fluid. As you know, some shattered remnants of the Archeri force escaped after the spires’ destructions and I doubt the unrest they’ve stirred will dull without a guiding hand in the coming weeks and months.” Aurelius leaned forward slightly on his podium, hands bracing either side. For the first time since Renata entered the chambers, he allowed a small smile, baring the tips of his pointed canines. A subtle hunger shined in his eyes.

“How would you have your Sanctum lead in these turbulent times, Your Radiance?”

[Meira]

The doors to the Sanctum room closed silently behind Viren as he approached. As they sealed, that silence became like a living thing, snaked around them all and deepened, made only more powerful by the man's heavy armored footfalls. As he knelt, and spoke, that silence reached its zenith and Renata breathed it in, slow and steady. Anticipation was such a powerful feeling, yet not often recognized as such. It required a patient, guiding hand, one with a sense of timing and a knack for reading the room. These were not talents Renata often ascribed to her fellow Sith, at least not all together. No, that collection of gifts she ascribed only to herself. It was why she, the least intimidating and arguably the least powerful being in the room, sat upon the throne. It was why these men knelt, and only occasionally dared to meet her gaze. Renata held that silence until she felt it might break her own heart.

"The Inner Sanctum," she said, that all consuming silence transforming into her soft voice, "is the most sacred and honored place within the Order. Most, will never enter. And any Lord who does, shall only enter once." Renata stepped down, moving toward Lord Viren as she continued. "The Empire is risen above the calamity of lesser states by the might of the Pillars. They are the foundation upon which Our Great Legacy is built." She stopped, just a step away from where Viren knelt. Her right hand lifted, reaching out so that her palm touched lightly to his forehead and her fingers lowered to rest gently on his hair.

Through that touch, Renata pressed her consciousness, and her will, into the man. As with others before him, Renata intended to leave her mark, in a sense. She could feel the devotion Viren held toward the ideals that she, as his Empress, represented. These she pulled forth; duty, honor, the constant and noble struggle toward power and the idea of perfection. Nowhere else will you find these. Only here, only through Our service. All this, We give to you. Continue to prove yourself worthy of it. She looked down, her eyes connecting with Viren's.

"Rise Darth Viren, Dark Lord of the Sith, Bronze Pillar of the Empire, and Breaker of Our Enemies."

Renata lowered her hand, watching as the man brought himself to his full height, towering over her. A pillar indeed, she thought to herself as she turned and stepped back up to her throne. There, she seated herself and gestured for Darth Viren to take his place.

Somewhat surprisingly, it was Aurelius who spoke. Volunteering of all things. Renata did not prevent the smile this brought to her lips, but she did lift her hand in a gentle dismissal of Aurelius' bid to assist with the events on Prazhi.

"The needs of the Empire are indeed many, but We are confident in the talents and strengths of Our Pillars to see Our people through. To that end..." Renata turned first to Solis.

"Lord Inquisitor, We dispatch you to Prazhi. The Empire is a beacon of order and justice in the galaxy, and it shall continue to present these ideals through Our adherence to the agreed process of Arbitration. Even so, the Republic cannot be trusted to control even a few ship captains, and so they are no doubt planning treachery even as we speak. Until We can attend, you will be Our eyes, Our ears, and Our voice." Renata nodded to Solis, before turning her eyes to Viren.

"Praetor Magnus, word of treasonous insurrection on Dantooine disturbs Us. Our planetary Governor has proven unfit to the task of bringing the Empire's Peace to the planet. You are dispatched to put an end to these traitors, once and for all. Our Minister of Security, Grand Moff Torrik will accompany you. His counsel is held on Our highest regard, heed it well." Viren received a nod as well before Renata turned her gaze toward Aurelius.

"High Archon, you shall accompany Us to Ossus. It appears that the Prophets there have been led astray amidst their valuable research. It is Our sacred duty to tend to Our flock and to protect Our subjects from all threats."

Renata stood. With the assignments distributed, she lifted both hands in a gesture of dismissal. "Go, and protect Our Empire."

[Ysmir]

It passed like a cool breeze on an open plain, but he held onto the feeling for as long as his perception of time would allow.

When Her Radiance's hand touched upon his head, he dared not turn away. He dared not fight her presence within his mind, but instead welcomed it like one would an old friend into the warmth of their home. But the Empress was no old friend; she was his saviour. She was the one who had given the lost gladiator a purpose to serve, a sense of pride to hold dear to his embittered heart. Where in all his other dealings he felt the pain of solitude and the rage directed toward a Galaxy that rejected salvation and embraced mediocrity, he now only felt at peace with his place in all of this.

Nowhere else will you find these. Only here, only through Our service. All this, We give to you. Continue to prove yourself worthy of it.

Her voice bounced within the walls of his skull like a melody, and with each one spoken, it elicited the ever-present feelings that he held true toward the Sith; honor, conviction, devotion to strength and servitude. These feelings swelled within his chest alongside a blossoming flower of pride as his mind anticipated where ther words were leading him. This is it, he thought, and due to their brief connection, Renata could hear it as well. He made no effort to mask his elation toward his own ascension; this is what he felt he deserved, and where he felt he could perform his duties to his own exacting standards.

This is where he belonged.

When their eyes met, all of these feelings retreated away out of the spotlight in favour of her. He stared now into the heart of the Force, the center of Darkness, the Galaxy's last hope. At her direction, Viren pushed himself to his full height with renewed sense of vigor. The man seemed taller than even before; strength of one's convictions had a powerful effect on presentation, it seemed. As she turned toward her throne, Viren lifted his helmet and placed it upon his head. The hiss of servos preceded the sound of interconnecting locks that sealed the mask onto the collar of his armor. Without another wasted moment, Viren thudded across the distance between where he stood and the bronze podium that marked his new office; he was Lord no longer. He regarded his cohorts with a silent gaze and a nod.

Viren remained silent as Aurelius addressed the Empress, absorbing their interactions through passive observation. He merely stood and listened as the Empress made her will known, until her words were directed to him specifically. He turned his gaze to her through the visor of his helmet.

*Dantooine... insurrection... traitors...*

Viren's hands clenched so tightly, the composite plates of his armor creaked slightly. To her words, the Praetor Magnus nodded, and his voice boomed out from behind his helmet, a mechanized baritone.

"They will be destroyed at once, Your Radiance."

His mission made clear, the Darth wasted no time; he turned from the pillar at Renata's direction and was the first to the door as his thudding footsteps grew fainter with each passing moment, eager to prove himself worthy of his new post.