| Karth·DeQora | Date: Saturday, 08 Aug 2015, 2:20 AM | Message # 1 |
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SILAS
"-and we haven't heard from them since."
"They just vanished? How is that possible, it's not been more than a week."
"Why we fear for them, it is. Long have I tried to reach them, to no avail. This is why send you and your Padawan, we must."
"Karth isn't ready, Masters. Not for this."
"We've no choice in this matter, old friend, we can't leave two of our own behind, you know this."
Jedi Master Silas Cairne furrowed a brow, contemplative; his steps were heavy as he paced across the cold steel floor of the chamber. He was a stately man; taciturn yet carrying a great wisdom behind soft gray eyes, the result of near-forty years service as a Jedi Knight. When Silas Cairne entered a room he commanded the attention of all within, though it is not out of fear or distaste that this was so. Rather, it was out of respect, respect for a man who had been a hard-nosed mentor to many a burgeoning Knight. He was one of few men who had dared to cross tongues with even the most skilled orators; who had prevented war with naught but a few words, and whose blade had seen more use than he ever wished it had.
He spoke again, taking care so as to maintain an even; though there was little doubt in his mind his fellow Masters could sense the ripple of concern that had crossed his features but for a fraction of a second. "Is there no-one else? Understand, I fear for Master Kyza'an and young Daneira as well, but surely you can't expect me to involve my Padawan in this? Not after his latest display."
The 'display' in question referred to the incident on Bakura, from which Silas and his apprentice had returned not two days earlier. While Karth had managed to accomplish what they had set out to do, there'd been a fair amount of bloodshed that could have been avoided had he'd listened to his mind over his heart. Good people, innocent people, had died needlessly all over a careless mistake. Silas couldn't begin to describe how utterly disappointed he was in the boy.
"Why we chose you two, this occurrence is," Yoda interrupted, slender ears tilting slightly downward; almost indicative of his souring mood. The disappearance of Master Kyza'an and her apprentice was troubling news indeed; they were a promising pair and to lose them would be a tremendous loss. "Control, he must learn; to stay his blade until all other options are spent. Agree, you must; for even now you betray what little faith left in the boy, you still have."
With a slight tapping of his cane, Yoda turned the floor back over to Master Windu, who eyed his old friend with an empathetic stare. "Master Yoda is right, Silas, you know as well as the Council does that his progress has... stalled... somewhat. He'll never graduate from your tutelage until he proves otherwise."
With a frown, Cairne nodded. "Know Masters that, while his actions of late are troubling to us all, I've faith he'll emerge a better Jedi from this."
He eyed the Council tentatively, waiting for some sort of rebuttal, though none came. It was no secret how they felt about De'Qora; the boy was oftentimes more trouble than he was worth, not to say he wasn't talented. Quite the contrary, it was merely because of his potential that they tolerated him at all; were it not for Cairne's gamble Karth would have been reassigned to the AgriCorps, Master-less. Such a fate for such a powerful initiate was one Silas simply could not tolerate. To say it was arrogance on his part to put such a burden upon himself would not be an untruth; Silas felt, no, he knew, that there was no-one else capable of training the boy. Even if it killed him; Silas Cairne would shape one of the greatest Jedi the Order had ever seen, that he could say with a great degree of confidence.
.....
The quarters were modest, for a diplomatic shuttle; though modesty was to be expected when dealing with Jedi. Even after being assigned the quarters assigned for the most important of ambassadors, Silas had requested near-every accommodation be removed. All that remained was but a simple cot, desk, and exercise mat. Such impoverished living was expected of a Jedi; to separate oneself from all but the simplest of living conditions was to be free of selfishness, a trait all-too-common among the younger members of the Order.
At current, the Jedi sat perfectly still on a small gray pad, eyes closed and legs crossed in undisturbed meditation. Well, not entirely undisturbed, on more than one occasion he'd been forced to remind Captain Thal he was to be left to his own devices; save for when they'd finally reached their destination. It had been a long flight to Bellassa, and he had hoped to spend the trip with naught but the Force and the occasional meal.
As for his apprentice, young De'Qora, last he had felt him the boy had been on a different deck. Exactly what he was doing was a mystery, even to a Master as perceptive as Silas. No doubt Karth had found some outlet for his frayed nerves; they had hardly spoken since the Bakura debacle and it didn't take much to discern how angry Cairne had been with him. In the deeper recesses of his mind he had felt obligated to apologize to Karth, to coddle him, and he had banished those thoughts as quickly as they had come. How was the boy to learn unless it was through dealing with his mistakes?
His comm blinked, a message from the ship's bridge. With a wave of his hand, the Jedi Master answered the hail and spoke aloud. "Do you have something for me, Captain?"
A cold, feminine voice answered him. "We've entered into Bellassa's orbit, Master Jedi."
His meditation had reached its end, and Silas stood in one fluid motion, reaching out to call his lightsaber into his hand. "Very well, Captain. I'll be there momentarily."
The bridge was cold when he arrived; come to think of it, every room on that ship was freezing cold, and for the life of him Silas could not understand why. He supposed it would have been simple enough to note that, when in the deep vacuum of space ships were always cold, but he had assumed that a diplomatic shuttle of such make would have heaters somewhere on board. As it stood, however, he had simply wrapped himself tighter in his cloak and banished the thought from his mind. He had received several salutes from the various deck officers on his way up to meet the Captain; and while he had bowed in response, mainly out of his respect for Republic soldiers, being treated the way he'd been up to this point had always made Silas just a bit uncomfortable.
Captain Ranira Thal was an intimidating women, to say the least, even now as Silas approached her he felt a slight chill settle down his spine. The woman was cold; career-military with a tongue as sharp as her trigger finger. Every crewman on the ship respected her; for while she was a lot of things, she was always fair, and she cared deeply for those under her. With an uncomfortable smile, Silas offered Thal a polite bow as she turned to meet him; hand snapping up to return the gesture in a crisp salute.
"Hello Captain," he began, waiting for her hand to drop before continuing. "Have you called my apprentice as well?"
Thal nodded, her steel-blue eyes never leaving his own; her gaze was magnetic, Silas felt entrapped by it. "Yes, Master Jedi, I hailed him over an hour ago. Seems to me like he operates on his own time."
The Jedi offered an apologetic smirk; running a weathered hand through hair that had gone gray long before its time. "No, punctuality's never been his strong suit-" his gaze locked for a moment with the ship's tech officer, a beautiful young lady whose gaze said to him 'I've been there, she's not as scary as she looks.'
"-But if I know him, and I'm quite sure I do, he'll never apologize for it. So allow me to apologize for him." It wasn't the first time he'd had to play damage control for the boy, sometimes Cairne's patience amazed even him.
KARTH
The room was dark; save for a soft azure glow flickering against the shadows, as if it were struggling to stay lit. Darkness attacked it; tried to envelop it, and yet the light stayed true. A young man stood in the room's center, the glow from his lightsaber casting garish shadows across his handsome features. His breath was ragged, were it not for the gentle thrum of the blade the room would have been quiet enough to hear the cold sweat drip down his brow. Body tense, knuckles white as they gripped the elaborate silver hilt, Jedi Padawan Karth De'Qora stood waiting for it to come again.
Not a moment later, a second blade burst through the veil of shadows, a brilliant golden hue clashing against the blue already painting the walls. From behind the blade, a pair of haunting red eyes made themselves known. The training droid circled, its steps measured and deliberate; thousands of different algorithms, different steps, strikes, parries and tricks being processed at speeds equivalent to the sharpest sentient mind. Servos clicked in the same repetitive fashion, every cog, every circuit working in tandem with the processor at the droid's core.
In contrast, the Jedi it had almost bested the round before struggled to stay upright, his lithe muscles tensed as he awaited yet another onslaught. To set the droid to such a high level would have been suicide for most; but as Karth's skills increased, so did his training regimen. This particular unit was set to a level of blade mastery to rival Agen Kolar, one of the finer swordsmen of the Order and one of Karth's unofficial teachers in his younger years.
There was a pause, mere seconds, but in that instance De'Qora knew the droid had found its opening. His right foot slid back, skidding to a halt as he brought his blade up, parallel to his bent elbow in the classical Form V stance. It was a ploy on his part, up until this point Karth had fought defensively, now the droid would be forced to react to a dramatic change in tactics. It was time for this to end, and it had to end now. The Jedi gritted his teeth and pushed off his back foot, eyes wide and determined as his first blow came down; an overhead strike which the droid easily parried. With a grin, Karth reached out with the Force, sensing the slightest movements of his opponents blade and bringing his own around to bear against the brunt of the counterattack.
Soon it all became a blur to him; strike, parry, thrust, parry, strike; and with a mighty roar Karth found his opening, plunging his sky-blue blade deep within the droids chest and slashing upwards. The resulting shower of sparks left his opponent split in twain, mechanical limbs still twitching on the floor. Finally, he could breathe a sigh of relief, cutting short his saber and returning it to his belt as the lights of the training room flickered back on.
Silas had commented several times already on the intensity with which Karth had trained since their trip began; it was all he could do to keep from punching a hole in his wall. He had made a mistake on Bakura, a terrible mistake, and people had paid with their lives. Silas' greatest gift to him was witholding the full truth of the incident from his fellow Council members. Had they learned what transpired in its entirety, they might have cast him out of the Order altogether. He spared one last look back at the droid, chuckling in spite of his aching bones, and left the mess behind for the servants to take care of. The hail for him to return to the crew deck had reached him shortly before he began the practice duel; and if Karth knew his Master at all, Silas wouldn't leave his room until Karth came to rouse him.
He had prepared himself for a reprimand; what he had not prepared for was the chillingly cold gaze of the ship's captain that peered over his Master's shoulder. It was haunting, almost; and for a moment the normally-fearless De'Qora found himself rooted to the doorway in fear. Nevertheless, Thal returned her attention to the tech officers and Karth was able to free himself, taking a few lazy strides towards his master before settling up against a wall.
"You do me credit as always, Master." His tone was lighthearted, a wry smile forming at the edges of his mouth as he gauged Silas' reaction. "I stopped by your chambers along the way, figuring you might have 'nod off, so whose fault is it really that I'm late?"
When the only response he received was a slight shaking of Cairne's head, Karth considered the matter settled. "At any rate, I assume I wasn't called up simply for my pleasurable company?" Another grin, and the Padawan pushed off the wall and came to stand next to Captain Thal, peering down at the datapad the much shorter woman held in her hands. She cast a look up at him, and once again Karth found himself subtly shifting away from her, looking back at the door as if seeking an escape route. The Captain noticed and hid a triumphant smile as she turned back to her two Jedi companions, datapad in hand.
Preferring instead to drop the matter, rather than reprimand his apprentice in front of a command crew that was already well-aware of his grating attitude, Silas simply remained silent. A gloved hand grasped tightly on Karth's robe and pulled the boy back, bringing the shorter lad up next to him; weathered eyes focusing intently on Captain Thal as she briefed them.
From the datapad, an image of the missing Jedi sprang forth; and Silas was surprised as how young Master Kyza'an appeared. Judging from her reputation, he had expected her to be more... experienced, so the sight of a rather attractive Miralukan woman in her early thirties had caught him off guard. Daneira, however, was what surprised him the most. She was quite pretty, even though Karth had described her as looking rather awkward in their youth.
"Right then," she started, waiting for the two passengers to form up so she could brief them. "Now I know the Jedi Council briefed you once already, Master Cairne, but they've instructed that I re-brief you and your Apprentice before we land. Several weeks ago, two of your own: Jedi Master Atrya Kyza'an and Padawan Daneira Farris were sent to Bellassa in response to an attempted assassination of Crasus Gratus; an influential member of the Ussan court. Their initial reports suggested political tension in regards to the upcoming election for planetary governor, yet they found no factual evidence supporting any sort of foul play. As of 23:45, thirteen days ago, all contact was lost with the Jedi team, and despite their best efforts the Bellassan government has been unable to locate them. Thus, they've requested a Jedi investigation into the disappearance." She finished with a frown, setting the datapad down on her chair and regarding Silas curiously. "What do you make of it, Master Jedi?"
The brief ended almost as quickly as it began, and in response to the Captain's inquiry Silas stroked the light beard forming at his chin in silent thought.
"It's possible their disappearance is entirely accidental, after all, from the reports I've received they did endeavor to travel to Arno spaceport during their investigation. Bellassa's a lovely planet, and a civilized one at that, but its wilderness is still rather dangerous to just about anyone."
A pause, and the Jedi Master began pacing, something he had always felt aided in achieving mental clarity. "However, it's no mere coincidence that their disappearance occurred after they unearthed signs of political tension, and during such an important month for the Bellassan elections, it's quite possible they stumbled upon something they shouldn't have. At any rate, our mission's simply to find them, not to get involved in the election, leave the bureaucracy to the bureaucrats. We'll be landing on Ussa in a matter of moments, yes?"
Thal nodded; "Yes, Master Jedi, we've already sent word to ground control and we've been cleared to land. I was instructed to tell you that Lord Gratus will be greeting you at the ship dock; he's offered whatever assistance he can lend in finding your missing Jedi."
Karth had remained silent; preferring instead to close his eyes and reach out with the Force. His physical body seemed to melt away, all that remained was the pulse of his heart, the subtle machinations of his mind working tirelessly as he extended his reach. He felt everything then, every crewman on the ship, every bulkhead that suffered under the stress of atmospheric entry. With the life force of the bustling city growing steadily in the viewport; the sheer amount of thoughts, of emotions, almost seemed to overwhelm him. To his credit he absorbed the "blow", as it were, his own consciousness joining the millions of others on the surface below; the planet laid bare to him now.
Unfortunately; he could not sense any other Force signatures on the planet, none of significant size anyway. For now, the Force would be of little use in locating the missing Jedi Knights.
GRATUS
It was springtime on Bellassa; the trees were blooming a resplendent collage of pink and white, the seven lakes of Ussa glinting brightly in the rising sun. To many, there was no more beautiful a sight in the universe, and Chancellor Crasus Gratus was no exception. Theirs was a world that had endured, for as long as their own records could recall, peace and prosperity had been the definition of life here.
He was dressed in the regalia one would expect from a Chancellor, serving as the de facto head of Bellassan senate meant that he had to dress the part. His slender, weathered frame was draped in heavy robes, white trimmed with royal blue and gold brocade. Beneath his thick, gray-dusted beard his lips were set into a grim smile.
From the air, he had no doubt the arriving Jedi would find the city magnificent to behold; testament to the longstanding heritage and nobility of the Bellassan people. The Ring District bustled with activity in anticipation of the Republic delegation, merchants hurried across the white-washed cobblestone streets, hoping to catch the eye of a Republic soldier looking for a trinket to take back home. The welcoming committee, consisting of eight of the planet's most prestigious delegates, watched with feigned happiness as the Consular-class cruiser began its descent. In truth, the events that had unfolded in recent weeks weighed heavily on them all; and Gratus was more relieved than anything else when the Republic had announced a second Jedi team. The toll the investigation had taken on the planet's security forces had more than exceeded the budget at this point.
"Diplomatic vessel, very austere," a wispy, feminine voice picked up from behind him. Gratus half-turned, tossing his assistant a look. Sevira was a young thing, barely over twenty and yet possessing a composure and wit to rival that of delegates twice her age. She had come to his office only recently, an inexperienced Zeltron graduate from a reputable college on Andara. Pretty, unassuming, but eager to learn; in many ways she was the perfect assistant to an older man such as himself, chock full of wisdom to pass on.
“You would prefer they fly one of their Jedi craft?” Another of the delegates asked, and Sevira rebuked him with a scoff. Before them, the vessel touched down, the exit ramp lowering as the Jedi revealed themselves, flanked by Republic troopers.
"I'd prefer they not be here at all," she answered back, keeping her smile the entire time. "This is our world. If we can't find a missing pair of Jedi, why would they be able to?"
As the Jedi disembarked, Gratus and his fellow courtiers offered a respectful bow, to which he was pleased to see the elder Jedi returned. Surprisingly, the younger Jedi, walking several steps behind his Master, seemed either unaware or indifferent to the greeting as his head swiveled around as if to gauge his surroundings. Fighting back a slight frown at the Jedi's rudeness, he decided instead to confer with the Jedi Master. Thankfully, the elder Jedi was more the statesman, and he greeted the Chancellor with a respectful bow. Out of the corner of his eye, Gratus spotted the younger of the pair following hurriedly in his Master's stead, bowing low. A smile spread across his cracked lips.
"Greetings, Master Cairne; I must say it is truly a pleasure to have you in our lovely city. How was your voyage? Not too taxing, I hope?" His voice was surprisingly light for a man as tall and as intimidating as he appeared; often he'd found himself catching an opponent off guard. Never judge a book by its cover, after all, the same held true for politicians.
When the Jedi Master spoke, it was with an air of authority that caught the entire delegation off guard. The last pair of Jedi that he had met with were far more soft spoken in their addresses. "Chancellor. There was no need to greet us with such a..." Cairne's eyes scanned the busy plaza, and he put on a diplomatic smile. "... Warm reception. We would have just as readily met you at the starport."
The Chancellor laughed, setting everyone at ease. He had that effect even on the emotionless Jedi Knights. "Nonsense, Master Cairne. We're grateful for your presence, and the people will show their support for the Republic's ambassadors with or without our prompting. I trust your journey was well?"
"Well enough," Silas said with a smile, content to keep up the pleasantries as the Chancellor motioned for the Jedi to walk with him, and they fell into a relaxed pace, the delegation behind them. Before them loomed the capitol building, a glittering white tower ringed by marble struts and smaller towers encircling it. Republic banners, crimson and white, fluttered in a morning breeze.
Undeterred, the Chancellor continued on. "We've prepared dinner for the both of you, we can discuss the specifics of your missing comrades there, if that will suit you."
"It will just fine," the Master answered. "My Padawan and I will need several hours to prepare and meditate, I trust you understand."
"Most definitely, Master Jedi. By all means, take all the time you need. We live to serve."
Their pleasantries continued for some time, discussing mundane topics such as the weather or the talk of secession along the Outer Rim. Dire news from worlds far beyond their reach of a war that was brewing. Behind them, Sevira walked in-step with the other Jedi, a handsome young man no older than seventeen, his features sharp and angular. No words were exchanged between them, and yet there was a tension there that refused to abate. It was going to be an interesting dinner.
Added (06 Aug 2015, 1:31 AM)
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SILAS
He loathed these sorts of accommodations.
The capitol building, known to the natives colloquially as the Ring, served as both the seat of government for the planet as well as where they housed all off-world dignitaries. The northwestern quarter contained hundreds of staterooms, each one decorated as though the Supreme Chancellor himself was intended to reside there. Silas had hoped for a modest room, the trappings of luxury were lost on Jedi, after all. What he had instead been bequeathed, as Gratus’ red-skinned assistant had been so kind to lead him to, was a chamber fit for a senator and not a Jedi at all.
He sat, legs crossed, in the center of the room. His forearms rested on his thighs, palms facing upward to the ceiling. The Jedi’s eyes were gently shut, having lost himself in the Force as the light of millions of souls danced around him. Each one he could feel, if only just on the edge of his vision, a starfield of souls contained within a city-wide net. He could not sense anything out of the ordinary, no souls attuned to the Force beyond Karth’s and his own. Wherever Master Kyzaan and her Padawan were, it was beyond his sight. The Force granted insight into a great many things, opening a universe up to those willing to listen, but it had its limits.
With a heavy sigh, he let the Force recede, drawing his mind back into the present. His vision felt… clouded, and that unnerved him. It had become far too common an occurrence that the Force was obscure, to him, veil thrown across it to shut out the Light.
He was himself again, after a moment of reflection. The ache in his bones returned, the itch of his tunic against his skin. Distractions that a Jedi could not afford, but his age was something that even his great power could not fully conceal. He allowed himself to hope for both his old friend and her Padawan, wherever they were. Jedi were more than capable of surviving, but to not sense their presence at all...
“I can’t feel them either,” a familiar voice echoed from the doorway. Lost in his meditation, Silas hadn’t even sensed the approach of his Padawan, much less the sound of the door sliding open. When had he gotten so blind?
“You’re a greater telepath than I,” the older man answered, rising to his feet in a swift and graceful motion. He reached out with the Force and called his lightsaber to him from the nightstand beside his bed, clipping it to his belt. “Do you sense anything strange, here?”
Karth, resting against the doorway with folded arms, took a moment to think before he shook his head. “Nothing you wouldn’t expect to find,” the boy started, running a hand through his raven-black hair, kept knotted in a tight ponytail. As he so often did when he was perplexed, he gripped his Padawan braid and gave it a gentle tug. “I can sense an echo of them, at best. Thoughts on the wind, I can almost taste the unease they both felt.”
"There's an unsettling air, to be certain. We'll keep an eye out. For now, we have diplomatic duties to attend to."
There was a sudden surge of annoyance from his young pupil, and Silas turned to face him, brow furrowed. "The notion of dinner and conversation doesn't sit well with you, Padawan?"
"We should be out there," Karth protested, though he took care to keep his tone respectful. "Not dining with sycophants."
"These sycophants command a great deal of respect, and we'll need their resources if we're to find our missing friends. It's a necessity, Karth." There was no asking in his tone, no chance for debate left to hang in the space between them. His apprentice was going, and that was the end of it. To his credit, the boy knew better than to argue that fact, and he chewed on his lower lip. Silas could sense the emotions that roiled beneath the veneer of calm Karth projected, and his Master reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, comforting. Karth slackened in his grip, nodding in agreement.
"I know Padawan Farris is a close friend of yours," Silas continued. "But do not allow your attachments to cloud your judgement. You cannot help her if your mind is at odds."
The applicable wisdom dispensed, Silas pushed past his troubled Padawan and started down the hall, the boy forming up to his right. The tumult streaming off young Karth did concern him, and he did his best to push the worries from his mind. Karth was only so recently removed from his screw up on Bakura, and Silas allowed himself to chalk it up to a desire to not fail again.
From the far end of the hall, outside of the Jedi's sight, a shadowed figure slipped into their room just as the door slid shut.
Added (08 Aug 2015, 2:20 AM)
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KARTH Everything about that dinner was a foreign affair, etiquette and pleasantries far removed from anything he learned at the Temple. As Karth had discovered, the Bellassans had a far more extravagant way of doing things than he was used to. Their first course--of which there were seven, if it could be believed--was a cold soup that tasted of some sort of leek mixed with a leather shoe. Gratus had insisted that it was a delicacy, the first of the 'spring harvest'; the Padawan had toiled over the idea of using his powers to make them believe he had eaten and enjoyed every bite. His Master must have sensed his intentions, however, for he'd received a swift kick under the table as soon as the idea had crossed his mind.
Silas and the Chancellor talked about all manner of things, from the fishing game of the river hamlets to the growing talk of a schism with the Outer Rim. The day-to-day of Bellassa's planetary operations mattered little to Karth, so he had tuned out at the start of the conversation, only to find himself drawn in when talk of war was bandied about.
"Dooku's growing bolder," Gratus said with a labored sigh, smiling warmly as the servants brought out the next course. Karth's eyes widened at the prospect of something that actually filled his stomach, but his consternation only grew when he discovered it was a salad. He speared some vegetable on his fork and resolved himself to eat, expecting little of the other five courses, now.
"That's one word for it, my choice would have been foolish. How he expects to rally any sort of meaningful support when the only worlds that are seceding are along the Rim is beyond me." Silas answered coolly, sipping politely at his drink. His eyes flashed to his Padawan every so often, gauging the boy's reaction to the increasing fastidiousness with which the dignitaries at the table judged him. A Jedi on Bellassa was not an uncommon sight, but while Silas seemed so practiced and slipped into the role of ambassador like a glove, Karth felt like a bantha on stilts. Hold this fork with this hand, stick this finger out for this specific drink, it was all infuriating. But he grinned and bore the weight with a forced smile, eyes down at his food as the older men spoke.
Gratus didn't appear convinced, he mused to himself as he ate. "Count Dooku was a Jedi once, was he not? You can't glean some measure of his intentions from your former association?"
Karth's attention perked up at the mention of the good Count, and he let his gaze drift across the table until they settled on Gratus' assistant, the Zeltron woman that sat directly across from him. She had arrived late to the dinner, silent, and had slipped into her chair and kept her head low. Strange that someone so close to the Chancellor would be late to a dinner hosted by him. Stranger still that her thoughts were far too clouded for Karth to infer.
"Dooku was a respected Master, but I saw little of him. Contrary to popular believe, we are not so cloistered as the galaxy believes us to be," Silas answered with a chuckle, noting with a nod that his apprentice seemed to finally be paying attention. "Jedi are often out on various affairs, the only consistent contact we have is with the High Council, and Dooku left the Order some time ago."
"His claims are serious ones, if nothing else. How deep the corruption in the Republic has spread, the senators and planetary leaders he has named." Gratus said quietly, motioning for them to bring in the next course. "Many of them are names I cannot believe when I read them. I wonder if my own name will be on one of those lists, soon."
"I'm certain you have nothing to worry about, Chancellor. Unless you have your fingers in some unsavory pots."
Silence reigned at the table for a moment, eyes flicking down the table to the Padawan who had, until now, remained silent. Karth slowly looked up from his plate, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips, and Silas shot him a glare.
"I'm fairly certain I don't," Gratus answered with a disarming laugh, and the rest of his entourage followed suit. All except the Zeltron, whose gaze was still averted. Karth's brow furrowed as he watched her eat. Every movement, down to her spearing meat with a fork, was rehearsed and delicate to an unnatural degree. The boy was certain he would pay for the comment later that night, but for now he wore a triumphant grin across his handsome features.
"I suppose we should get to business," Silas eventually broke the tension. "Our missing Jedi, they were last en route to Arno, correct?"
"Yes," Gratus answered, seemingly grateful to be done with the silence. "Reports after the initial bombing on my quarters pointed to a Separatist sympathizer cell located there. Masters Kyzaan and her apprentice were to head there several days ago to follow up. They dropped out of contact shortly after leaving the city."
"Has their speeder been recovered?" Karth asked, suddenly interested in the conversation. Daneira weighed heavily on his mind.
"In a manner of speaking. It was found abandoned at the outskirts of the city, I can put you in touch with my man in charge of the investigation on our end." Gratus said with another sigh, rubbing fruitlessly at his temples.
Silas ruminated on their new knowledge for a moment, then nodded. 'That would be appreciated. Karth and I can meet with him tomorrow morning."
The dinner continued without further discussion of the matter, the Chancellor insisting on talking about 'happier things', and after a fashion Karth had excused himself and retired to his quarters for the night. He sat himself down on the small mat he had brought along with them, letting himself open up to the Force and drift into a centered meditation.
He saw the room, the hallway beyond, the guards making their rounds. Karth reached out further, pushing forward with his senses as he opened himself up to the entire building, letting the shared minds of a hundred or more souls wash against his own. Nothing out of the ordinary, no ill will that he could sense, and from what he could tell, Dani and her Master weren't here.
Without warning, a searing blade of pain stabbed into his mind, knocking Karth out of his meditation as stars sparked in his eyes. You have to go, he felt a voice command, no presence he could sense or locate, merely a compulsion beyond his strength to repel. Things are not what they seem. Be on guard.
Karth lurched forward, eyes rolling back in his head as the world around him faded to white, and he collapsed backward onto his meditation mat.
Karth De'Qora, Fugitive Jedi
"It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end." ~Ernest Hemingway
Message edited by Karth·DeQora - Sunday, 16 Aug 2015, 3:07 AM |
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