Bolt from the Black

[Aeternus]

Even when it was justified by the call of duty, Damocles hated having his sleep disturbed.

The fact that the holo was ringing merely half an hour before he would normally rouse from his slumber was immaterial. His Kaas City quarters were comfortable, and he had intended on very little except taking his ease this morning, having worked long into the previous night. The only reason this call was not wholly unwelcome was because the distinctive tone told him that it was coming through the secure MIS channel. Damocles had worked closely with the Ministry of Imperial Security for a great many years in his domestic duties as a Knight of Truth. These late-night and early-morning summons were not unusual, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Drawing back his hair, Damocles ambled to his holoterminal and answered the call.

"Lord Damocles." Appearing in the flickering blue projection was the familiar face of Zev Mardin, who bowed his head curtly in greeting. Mardin was a tall, dark-skinned human of middling years and stern aspect, with black hair kept so short that it gave the appearance that he was balding. The black overcoat he was wearing was particularly devoid of features in the shifting holograph; he almost looked to be just a head looming out of shadows.

"Special Agent Mardin," answered the Inquisitor, wearing an equally stern expression. "If this isn't worth me getting out of bed, I'm going to be quite upset." There was an inflection there that Mardin was among a few souls with the familiarity to recognise - sarcasm. Both men allowed themselves a thin smile, little more than a sign of recognition. Mardin had never wasted Damocles' time yet, and they both knew it.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed, but I have a homicide scene right here in the city that I can immediately tell could use your expertise."

"Homicide?" Damocles questioned. "Go on."

"The victim was of interest to the Order," Mardin answered firmly. "Won't say more than that over holo. Address will follow."

Sometimes, Damocles wondered if it would become a problem that Mardin always seemed to know just what to say to pique his interest. It was perhaps only Mardin's talents and proven dedication to his work that kept such idle observations from ever being more than just that, but to think of it in those terms did Mardin a disservice. He was the best operative the Bureau of Special Investigations had to offer, in Damocles' learned opinion, having served as a senior field agent since the body's founding twenty years ago.

"I'll be on-site directly," Damocles declared. Mardin bowed his head again, and terminated the call without another word. Sure enough, mere seconds later, the terminal lit up again.

---

Damocles emerged from a landspeeder onto a crime scene abuzz with activity, and immediately had an inkling as to why Mardin had called upon him. This was an upper district of Kaas City, great stretches of immaculately-kept manors for governmental and aristocratic figures of all kinds. The people who lived here wielded an enormous breadth of power in most all aspects of the Sith Empire.

For one among them to end up dead in their own home raised questions right from the get go.

He paced across the cordoned street, his nearly floor-length coat drawn tightly about him, casting about with amber eyes for sight of Mardin. He found him standing by the entrance to the stricken manor, poring over a datapad with one of his agents. Feeling eyes upon him, Mardin lifted his head, and finding Damocles approaching, ushered his man inside and turned to meet the Inquisitor halfway.

"Thank you for coming, my lord," Mardin greeted him, turning smoothly to fall in on Damocles' right. "This one's a real treat."

"I take it you've identified the victim," Damocles began, a plain allusion to the snippet of information with which Mardin had tempted him here.

"General Marneg Durandal, fifty-seven," Mardin began.

Whatever colour was left in Damocles' face paled for an instant. He knew that name.

"Advisor to the Minister of War."

Now it was clear to Damocles that he needed to be here. He pulled ahead of Mardin as he crossed the manor threshold, then stepped aside to allow the agent inside and came to a stop a few paces into the foyer. Clear transparisteel windows admitted the morning light, and the minimalist decor with its clean silver and white palette gave the already spacious room a welcoming yet utilitarian feel. A central staircase forked upwards along both walls to lead to the upper rooms, and two open doorways to the right and left led away into the rest of the ground floor. A gonk droid with the MIS insignia stenciled on its body stood immobile in the corner to his right with power cables trailing out of it that led away into the building, but he saw that most of the foot traffic was coming up and down the stairs.

"We found Durandal alone in his bedroom," Mardin explained. "Looks like his family have been away on a pleasure cruise for the past three days." At that invitation, Damocles started upstairs, with Mardin at his heels. It went without saying that the killer must have been aware of this window of opportunity. He followed the comings and goings of Mardin's agents through to the master bedroom, a spacious, comfortable room at the far end of the building. He noted immediately the balcony opposite, out on the exterior wall - the obvious most likely point of entry.

He turned then to regard the subject of the investigation. Marneg Durandal lay in state where he had been discovered, hunched over almost in the foetal position, his clothes and the grey carpet darkened with heavy bloodstains. At a glance, Damocles thought he could see cuts across Durandal's body, and longer streaks of blood spatter in a few different directions.

"Cause of death has been determined to be exsanguination from multiple lacerations," Mardin explained. "Not a vibroblade, or at least not an active one - the cuts are too clean for that. No sign of blaster wounds either. Curiously, we think some of the cuts may have been inflicted post-mortem. Credcoin for your thoughts?"

"No signs of a struggle," Damocles remarked at once. "Passing strange in light of such a violent cause of death... Balcony seems the obvious point of entry. Any signs of a breach elsewhere?"

"No, and the balcony door was open when he was discovered. We're in agreement."

"In-house security system?"

"Inactive when we arrived. Techs are attempting to pull logs as we speak."

"Curious." That was pure verbal filler - they could both already be quite certain that that meant the killer had known to remove any trace of the attack from the security system's records. Still, it paid to be thorough, for they may have overlooked something the slicers could use. He started slowly forward to approach the body. "Who called it in?"

"Neighbour reported strange noises early this morning, a little less than an hour before I called you."

"'Strange noises?' Death by a thousand cuts, and that's all the description they gave you?" He displayed his incredulity in his tone. "This must have been so drawn-out - so painful. You can still see it in his face. That screams that this was personal somehow..."

He trailed off, as he came to a stop standing directly over the body and a sickening sensation came upon him. He winced, shook his head, took a deep breath to take refuge in the Force, and allowed the nauseous feeling to pass over him. Such fury. The longer he stood on that spot, the more he could feel it creeping back up, as though threatening to assault his senses again for encroaching upon it. There was a presence in the Force here. One consumed by anger, by violent intent. Sensing an epiphany around the corner, Damocles stooped over the body for a better look at Durandal's face. At first it had looked completely twisted by the agony in which the man had perished, but now that he was looking more closely, he could see hints of a defiant smile curling the corners of the mouth.

Durandal not only died in pain - he died laughing.

"...Lord Damocles?" There was an urgency in Mardin's voice. Damocles straightened back up, turned to the senior agent, became aware that he had been tuning out voices in his sudden shift in attention.

"A Force-sensitive did this," Damocles declared. He continued in ignorance of the confused look that crossed Mardin's face. "One who was deep in the Dark Side, gripped by anger. Such an intense feeling, yet I couldn't sense anything until I was standing on this spot, right over the body... They were concealing themselves, but something caused their concentration to break, right here." He turned back to regard the body. "Durandal must have said something to infuriate his attacker. That would explain the post-mortem wounds - they took their frustrations out on him after the kill. Probably accounts for the noises noticed by the neighbour as well. They must've kept things quiet right up until that moment..."

He could feel excitement creeping into his manner, and an admiring smile creeping onto his face, even as the new gravity of the situation set its weight upon his shoulders. "Well played, General Durandal. Your last act was to give us a scent to follow." He stepped back from the body, turned sharply on the spot, and swept from the room. Mardin hurried to follow. "Special Agent Mardin, I am hereby assuming lead on this case. Complete your processing of the crime scene - leave no stone unturned. I'll expect copies of all related reports and official communications, and I'll relay further instructions to you directly, pending my own investigation."

"Understood, my lord." Mardin offered no argument; he understood that this case fell out of his hands the moment Damocles confirmed a suspicion of Force-sensitive involvement. This was Sith Order business now. "Good hunting," Mardin offered, then bowed his head and peeled away to resume the task of overseeing the scene. Damocles hurried outside to the speeder still waiting for him, and sped away the moment he was seated.

---

With the same urgent impetus in his step, Damocles practically glided through the cold, angular hallways of the Sith Temple. It was similar enough to others he had trained and learned in that he could navigate almost by muscle memory, and he strode past throngs of unblooded acolytes and scurrying Knights to the turbolifts, to be borne to the upper floors. One set of rooms in particular, near the summit of the vast temple, was his destination.

A few more twists and turns later, he came upon a wider hallway, lit and shadowed seemingly at the same time by high, recessed sconces. At the far end, flanking a tall pair of duracrete-panelled doors, stood a pair of guards. Each wore a lightsaber openly on their belt, and their uniform armour bore the proud golden trappings of the Cult of Ascension.

"Inquisitor Damocles," he introduced himself. "I must speak with Darth Aurelius immediately."

[Rugs]

Aurelius stood within his office, illuminated by the pale blue light of a flickering hologram projected onto the polished floor. His arms crossed his chest as he shifted weight from one leg to the other. Lady Attuor — his most trusted lieutenant among the Cult of Ascension’s Archons — stood opposite him, her face blued and blurred through the translucent image hanging between them. The pale tattoos scrawled across the Kiffar Archon’s dark skin contorted as she frowned.

“That’s the latest in our investigation, my Lord,” she said. “We had eyes on Ereptor and his schemes before the Ossus coven’s attempted breakaway and the latest revolt on Dantooine. It seems he took advantage of the...” Attuor’s lips pursed as she considered her next words carefully, “momentary trials facing the Empire to slip away.”

Aurelius nodded. The hologram between Attuor and himself was of Lord Ereptor, an Arkaninan Inquisitor whose ambition had ever outstripped his station. Solis had managed, for years, to keep Ereptor’s initiative in check and direct it to suit the Empire’s goals. But, with the former now gone, with whereabouts unknown, the latter saw an opportunity to make his moves.

Ascension, and Aurelius himself, had begun quietly investigating the case, until Morbus’ wayward coterie of Prophets on Ossus decided the time was right to cut themselves off from the rest of the Sith presence on the research world. Their attempt to make off with a recovered shard of Archeri crystal had drawn Renata’s eye, and when the Empress beckoned, all other matters became secondary.

“And his underlings?” Aurelius’ golden eyes focused on the hologram, then Attuor. She pressed her lips together, thinking — always thinking, always careful with her words.

“We know that at least two of them yet remain on Dromund Kaas, my Lord,” she said. “Which brings me to my next point: we have... early reports of a murder here in Kaas City.” Aurelius lifted a brow. Murders weren’t unheard of, even in the seat of Imperial power. It was rare that they rose to the level of needing a lord’s attention, let alone one of the Sanctum. Attuor knew this. He nodded for her to continue.

“The deceased is the Minister of War’s advisor, General Marneg Durandal.” That got both of Aurelius’ brows up. “An investigation is ongoing, my Lord, and only a select few have yet been informed of this matter. However, given the target, I find it incredibly difficult to believe this was a random murder and not a targeted killing.”

“An assassination,” Aurelius said, putting the word plain. Attuor nodded.

“Yes, my Lord. We are awaiting further details from the scene, but, if you will it, we may need to make preparations to act-”

A series of three short knocks preceded the entrance of one of the hallway guards. “Apologies, my Lord,” he stammered at the hard look Aurelius shot him, golden eyes cutting through the office’s dim lighting. “Inquisitor Damocles is outside and requests and audience. He is insistent that it is an urgent matter, though he’d not say more than that.”

Aurelius glanced at Attuor, who was glancing at him. An Inquisitor, arriving at his office shortly after the murder of a high-ranking Imperial official. Coincidence, perhaps. Likely not. He rolled his neck and motioned lazily at the wall to raise a dimmer switch near the entrance. Warm light, like that from fire, rose from the lights placed evenly along the ceiling.

Yes, he could feel the Inquisitor beyond the wall. Waiting. Hurried. Some sort of trouble nipped at him, and Aurelius would know what. “Send him in,” he said, “and pray for his sake he’s not wasting my time.”

“Yes, my Lord.” The guard bowed deeply, lightsaber swinging at his waist, and turned to step outside.

“My Lord,” Attuor said in parting, beginning a bow until a motion from Aurelius stopped her. “No,” he said. “Stay here. Let’s hear what this Inquisitor has to say.”

She nodded and faced the door, as Aurelius stood, hands behind his back as he waited for the new arrival to enter.

[Aeternus]

The instant the tall doors parted to let one of the guards slip through, Damocles became very acutely aware of the potent presences on the other side. He had taken no notice until now; perhaps he was distracted from his usual outward mindfulness by the morning's events, or perhaps there was simply a presence about these doors themselves that declared that one would not be allowed even an inkling of what was happening inside unless admitted by the master of these chambers. Either way, the next twenty seconds were longer than they had any business being.

At last, the doors were swung fully open by the guard who had passed through. The blue lights of a holoprojector silhouetted the unmistakeable figure of the High Archon, standing in wait for his visitor. With long, ponderous steps, Damocles approached, and lifted a gloved hand to doff his hat as he crossed the threshold.

"Darth Aurelius," he greeted, and bowed his head with the respect accorded to one of the great Pillars of the Order. He heard the doors close behind him, lifted his head, and turned his attention to the other figure in the room; one he recognised as equally deserving of respect. "Archon Attuor." To her, too, he offered a bow of his head, though noticeably shallower than that shown to Aurelius, to whom he turned his eyes again. "My apologies for interrupting your current business, but I took on a mission this morning that I believe should be brought to your immediate attention. Early this morning, General Marneg Durandal was found dead."

"We are aware, Inquisitor Damocles," interjected Attuor. He glanced to her direction, a silent request for her to continue. "We have received early notification from the MIS."

"I see," Damocles continued. "BSI Special Agent Zev Mardin is in charge of the field investigation, and requested my assistance two hours ago. General Durandal was found in his bedroom, home alone, having bled to death from multiple lacerations of a bladed weapon. The lack of clear signs of intrusion, coupled with the deactivation and probable compromise of the General's home security, led me to suspect a targeted and professional assassination. Far more disturbingly... I felt a strong presence in the Force in that bedroom, and I know for a fact that the General wasn't Force-sensitive."

Attuor noticeably furrowed her brow. "Are you certain? You're aware of what you allege."

"Absolutely." Damocles reached his free hand into his coat, and produced a slim datapad. "I have a rough preliminary report here, but in short, I believe General Durandal was murdered by a member of our Body. This Force presence was contained to a single spot in the bedroom, as though the source had stood over the General where he fell. I suspect the assassin had concealed their presence while carrying out the attack, but their concentration broke on that spot when the General somehow provoked them at the last."

"How could you know that?" asked Attuor in naked bemusement.

"Because he died with a smile on his face," Damocles answered as matter-of-factly as he could manage. "Looked downright pleased with himself, all things considered. I don't know if the attacker was perhaps known to him, or if he simply had the presence of mind to make his killer slip up and create a chance for us to get on the trail. Either way, I believe this is now a matter for Ascension as much as Truth."

He bowed his head again to Aurelius. "High Archon, in light of my suspicions and the victim's identity, I come to you directly to bring the matter to your attention and ask your assistance."

[Rugs]

Lord Ereptor’s hologram faded at an idle gesture from Aurelius’ hand. When the doors parted to admit Damocles, Attuor stood next to and slightly in front of Aurelius. The room itself was an antechamber of sorts — a meeting space for business that didn’t warrant passing deeper into the suite of Aurelius’ office proper beyond the polished metal double doors opposite the entrance. The dark walls were adorned with various incidentals and imagery, both of the Empire and the Order. Ascension’s gold chevron, forged of aurodium, displayed prominently on the far wall, set over the doors leading deeper into Aurelius’ suite.

“Inquisitor Damocles,” Aurelius said simply, acknowledging the man with a nod. He was aware of this man and of his reputation, but this was the first they’d met in person. The Inquisitor was a massive man, of a height and build that invoked visions of Strife more than Truth and reminded Aurelius of Darth Viren. Despite the difference stature, despite Aurelius’ outwardly-young face, the Firrerreo seemed as at ease as if he were a head taller than the Inquisitor.

He listened in contemplative silence as Attuor and Damoclese began their discussion, nodding when merited as the Inquisitor told what he knew of the murder. But at the last, at the revelation of a lingering Force presence at the crime scene, his brow furrowed ever so slightly as a frown passed over his face.

“A clean entry and a concealed presence,” Aurelius thought aloud. The ability to conceal oneself within the Force wasn’t exactly rare within the Order, but neither was it a common trick any curious acolyte might learn.

More alarming was the precision, the skill with which the supposed assassin broke into Durandal’s home. Were it not for this slip-up Damoclese spoke of, they very likely would have escaped with their secret intact.

Aurelius looked at Attuor, whose expression said she was deep in thought. It would be reckless to assume Ereptor and his lackeys were behind this, but the links — superficial as they might be now — were worth exploring.

“Good thinking to bring this to our attention,” Aurelius said. He gestured again and the lights dimmed. The hologram sprang to life, filling the air between himself, Attuor, and the Inquisitor.

“We’ve been keeping eyes on Lord Ereptor — one of your fellows — for some time now. He’s always had the potential to be a troublemaker, but Solis managed to keep him in check.” Aurelius’ golden eyes shined with reflected light as he looked at Damocles, watching the man for reaction. “He’s used the latest discord to slip away into the shadows. Before leaving the Body, he oversaw a handful of highly-trained assassins that quietly dealt with matters that couldn’t be resolved through words.”

Aurelius snorted through his nostrils. “They’ve disappeared as well. We know some, at least, remain on Dromund Kaas.” He tilted his head slightly, considering.

“It’s too early to lay this at Ereptor’s feet, but it’d be foolish to ignore what links we know exist. But even if we assume he’s behind this, that brings forward the question of why. Why an assassination in the Imperial capital? Why Durandal?”

Aurelius’ gaze had drifted again to the hologram, rotating slowly in the air. His attention refocused on Damocles. “Tell me, Inquisitor, what do you know of Ereptor?”

[Aeternus]

The bodily reaction that Damocles gave when the hologram flickered to life and Aurelius began an explanation that he had been watching Inquisitor Ereptor was perhaps all the answer the High Archon would need for the question he then put to Damocles. The towering Lord's shoulders sagged slightly, perceptible only in the way the hem of his coat skirted closer to the floor, and a frown that was part disdainful and part unsurprised pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh. Ereptor." He moved only his eyes to show that his attention was on Aurelius. "I can tell you I never thought much of him. Obnoxious individual, arrogant even by Arkanian standards. Your assessment is correct in the broad strokes - Darth Solis kept him on a leash, made good use of how driven he was. Naturally, this led some to whisper that Ereptor was being held back for fear that he might outshine Solis. Just as naturally, no one would say that to Solis' face." The Inquisitor's expression soured the longer he spoke on this unsavoury subject. "His little cadre of assassins have always been his chief bargaining chip, because no one has ever known enough about them to be able to motivate them to answer to anyone but Ereptor himself. I daresay the only reason Solis ever tolerated that was because he was so well able to make proper use of them through his manoeuvring of their master. For them all to have disappeared, now of all times..."

He paused for a breath, allowing that thought to hang in the air for a moment, then turned his head then to look levelly at Aurelius. "The question of why an assassin would target General Durandal does remain. To that, I can only suggest at the moment that his history of support for Her Radiance may have finally made him a target for more than disdain. To speak plainly, however, I've learned not to believe in coincidence. If Ereptor is in any way connected to Durandal's murder, I'll find out how. He would've had the means and the opportunity, if not yet a clear motive - two out of three makes him a lead worth examining, this early in the game. On that note, may I ask exactly why it is that you've been investigating him?"

[Rugs]

Sagging shoulders, the ghost of a smile. Damocles was composed, and the reaction quite subtle, but Aurelius caught it. Life among the Order and its murderers had a way of ingraining the importance of watching body language, if growing up on Metellos’ hard streets hadn’t already done the same. Neither of the big Inquisitor’s reactions, such as they were, said he was particularly fond of Ereptor. Not surprising, but curious nonetheless.

Much of what Damocles said of the wayward Sith Lord aligned with what Aurelius expected. Ereptor’s fiery ambition burned brightly, and with Solis out of the picture, was more a spark in a dry forest than flaming coal made to serve the will of the Empire.

“Why?” Aurelius snorted a laugh. “Any Sith stupid enough to speak so loudly of their own greatness is either too prideful or too dumb to stay in place for long.”

Attuor nodded. “We suspected it was only a matter of time until he attempted something,” she said. “It wasn’t only that he took pride in himself, but we became aware, early on, of his active disagreements with Her Radiance’s will. But Ereptor is clever. Yes, he made any who’d listen well aware of his desire for higher station, but publicly — among the Order, at least — he maintained a position of quiet acceptance, at worst, of Her Radiance’s wishes.”

“Talking privately to his friends is a different matter,” Aurelius picked up, folding his arms across his chest. “Our mutual friend has a big mouth, and likes to run it to aristocrats who aren’t as friendly to the Empress as they should be and to his little assassin underlings. We haven’t been able to pin down anything concrete yet — seems he saves any promises for his closest circle, and they usually keep their lips shut — but we’ve got an idea of what he’s after.”

Influence. Power. It wasn’t hard to guess. Power, in its many forms, drew just about every Sith onward in one way or another. To seek strength, to struggle against the chains that bind, was to be Sith. And yet, to turn against the very Order that shook the Galaxy’s foundations weakened them all, tore the whole of the Body further from its collective goal to destroy the Republic and eradicate the Jedi.

“I am sure,” Aurelius said, motioning idly toward Damocles, “that you’re aware of the strain some of the aristocrats feels in bending the knee to Her Radiance. Ereptor plans to placate them, and build a coalition of his own among them.”

“With Solis absent,” Attuor added, “we cannot help but think he’s seizing the moment to act.”

[Aeternus]

Still wearing his disdain for Ereptor on his face, Damocles fell silent, listened to and studied Aurelius and Attuor's elaboration on the reasons for their investigation of the firebrand Lord. They made it sound so obvious, and in truth it was. Damocles sometimes forgot, in the course of his specific duties, that many of these Sith kept their enemies closer than their friends purely as a matter of course. A cultural symptom of the disease of ego that kept the Body weaker than it ought to be; Damocles sneered at the mere thought.

"I think I see now," he mused out loud. "Assuming Ereptor did indeed have a hand in General Durandal's death, the most sensible motive would be that he could then install one of his aristocratic friends in the General's place, one who would use that position at the right hand of the Minister of War to quietly guide the policymakers in a direction that diverts from Her Radiance's will. For that matter, even if Ereptor had nothing at all to do with the General's death, he would be in a position to assist his friends in filling the unexpected vacancy in the Ministry's upper echelon."

The towering Inquisitor looked aside, briefly pursed his lips in thought. On his normally stony face, the expression almost looked as if he had just resolved to kill someone. "I'll have to pay very close attention to the General's successor," he declared. "If there's any connection to Ereptor there, I'll take hold and see where it leads."

[Rugs]

Attuor nodded. “It would be wise to keep an eye on General Durandal’s successor, yes. In theory, Ereptor shouldn’t have any pull on who is chosen to replace the late general, but if his influence has spread as far as we suspect, he may well, in practice.” Agitation rolled briefly across her features, before she stamped it out and returned her face to placidity. Ereptor’s games had the potential to make a fine mess, if not stopped, and now — with war on the horizon — was not the time for such troubles.

“If he gets the chance,” Aurelius interjected, gaze shifting between the Archon and massive Inquisitor. “Ereptor’s schemes have gone on for long enough, and I intend to put an end to them. You will join us.” His golden eyes settled on Damocles. Whatever the Inquisitor’s prior plans, it hadn’t been a request.

“You will recall,” he went on, “that we know some of Ereptor’s assassins are on Dromund Kaas. At least two of them are still here, and we have identified, with a reliable lead on her location.” He motioned at Attuor and she adjusted the holoprojector’s controls. Ereptor’s visage faded away, and in its place appeared the visage of a Nautolan woman. Her face was slender, with one large, dark eye. The other was pale and had the look of a cybernetic replacement. A thin, vertical scar split the skin on either side of the replacement eye.

“This is Quies,” Attuor said. “She travels frequently, often alone and on ships that aren’t marked for use by our Order.”

“Our intelligence reports that she arrived on Dromund Kaas yesterday afternoon,” Aurelius said. “It could be coincidence.” His tone implied that he thought otherwise. “She briefly visited the Temple after arriving, but hasn’t been seen near its grounds since. She was last seen in Kaas City’s upper district, and our investigators are watching for other hints of her across the city.”

Aurelius shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “How quickly can you be ready to begin, Inquisitor?”

[Aeternus]

There they were at last. Damocles had been counting the seconds until the marching orders were issued. He knew - he would have been an idiot not to know - that Aurelius was far shrewder than to allow able help to slip through his fingers when interests were aligned. Frankly, he had expected such a decision on the High Archon's part.

He turned his attention when bidden to the holotable, which now displayed an image of a distinctively cybernetically modified Nautolan. He stared, committed the blurry image to memory, as Aurelius gave his explanation. Quies. Far too fitting a name for an assassin not to be an alias. If she had been seen on Dromund Kaas - in this very city, no less - then she was to be his first target.

Aurelius' final question brought a smile to Damocles' face, and he dipped his head, eyes disappearing for an instant beneath the brim of his hat.

"Immediately, High Archon," he declared. "All I require to begin with is to be put in contact with your investigators so that I can coordinate with them if need be and make use of their intelligence."

[Rugs]

Aurelius nodded. It was good that Damocles was ready to move, and now. He’d expect no less from an Inquisitor who’d already taken preliminary steps to track the case. Of course, even if he wasn’t it’d be foolish to deny a request from one of Renata’s chosen in the Sanctum. To all but the empress herself, their word was as good as law within the Order. Presented as a request it might have been, but Aurelius’ question was anything but.

“Excellent. Attuor will establish contact between you.” Aurelius waved and the holoprojector whirred to silence, giving the dim room over to darkness. The room’s lights rose at another casual wave of Aurelius’ hand.

“Soon, I’ll depart for the city, to investigate our latest lead on Quies’ location,” he went on, turning away from the holoprojector. “I expect you will wish to join me in that effort. Whatever reports you have from your visit to the General’s home, share them with Attuor so we can be sure our information aligns.”

Aurelius stopped at the back of the room, before the pair of polished double doors that led deeper into his suite. He looked at Damocles from the corner of a golden eye turned back over his shoulder and spoke again in a tone that said the Inquisitor was dismissed.

“I intend to take Quies alive, Inquisitor, though whether she survives her captivity is far from decided. Do keep that in mind as we move.”

[Aeternus]

"Understood, my lord."

The hunt was well and truly on; but to think he would be working alongside the High Archon directly! Any Sith worth their salt would see this for what it was; an opportunity to prove his worth to one who might help lift him to where he wished to be. Ever would his ambition serve the purpose to which he had chosen to dedicate himself.

He dipped his head to the back of Aurelius, and when he lifted it again, he lifted himself a measure taller, as though emboldened by the prospect of the work ahead of him. He turned his eyes to Attuor, and lifted once again the small dataslate he had brought with him.

"Here is a copy of my initial brief report on the Durandal case," he explained, and approached the Archon around the holotable. "The situation as it stood at the time I left the scene to come here - written on the way here, for full disclosure. I told the story in the broadest strokes, but this report gives the full timeline of my involvement in the case so far, along with contact information for Special Agent Mardin, currently on point in the field, for corroboration purposes."

He came to a stop before the Archon, and held out the slate with a smile on his face. "This promises to be an interesting few days, no?"

[Rugs]

A few hours later...

Aurelius stood beneath an awning jutting from the side of a building. A heavy drizzle misted the air, driving Dromund Kaas’ jungle humidity to near insufferability. If this at all bothered the High Archon, it didn’t show as he stood, hands in his jacket pockets as his gaze focused on some narrow, distant place.

He stood in the heart of the upper city, where the rich and powerful gathered to make their mark on the Empire. Well, the rich and powerful in comparison to the rest of Kaas City — which was, as the seat of Imperial power and prestige, stuffed with aristocrats. This portion of the city was home to the elite — the movers and shakers who drove the Empire onward to glory.

Aurelius stood before the Ministry of Security after leaving a short emergency meeting within. Durandal’s death shot shockwaves through the Imperial military and the Ministry, of course, took no small interest in this matter. Aurelius held some familiarity with the branch, though, with his work’s nature being what it was, and the broader investigation was underway to find and catch the general’s killer.

While he and Damocles would lead the investigation’s main thrust, the Ministry would enact subtler measures. Heightened security at Kaas City’s spaceports and points of entry. Enhanced communications monitoring — wire taps, cracking into encrypted channels, the works. Aurelius gave a sidelong glance to a camera protruding from the building’s corner. He wondered who watched on the other end.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, stretching his senses out. Damocles should be arriving soon. His instruction to the Inquistor to meet him at the Ministry went out shortly ago, but he wagered the big man wasn’t the sort to waste time. None would waste a Dark Lord’s time, if they were smart.

The Imperial Palace towered into the darkening sky a short distance away, dominating his view to the west. Quies lurked here, in its shadow. The woman was bold, to hide so close to her predators, but Ereptor had ever favored those with ambition. It was a shame, really. Molded properly, Quies could have proved a valuable servant executing Her Radiance’s will.

Now? She walked as a dead woman, waiting only for the jaws to snap shut around her.

Distant thunder rumbled, signaling worse weather to come.