|
A Meeting of Old Enemies
| |
| Sir_Reuke | Date: Wednesday, 16 Mar 2016, 0:37 AM | Message # 1 |
 Trainee
Group: Users
Messages: 4
Status: Offline
| The sun rose over the seas of Hosnian as it had countless times before, bearing silent witness to the rise and fall of republics and empires and the fortunes of men. Sir Reuke ur'Tsyne Cambrist had admired the view as his yacht descended through the clouds, his first of many visits to this planet. It was a beautiful sight, he noted, but he felt nothing. In his youth, he'd been a busy man who'd traveled so frequently as to think himself a citizen of the stars, but after years of self-imposed exile, his youthful features withering in Brentaal's arid climate, he'd come to prefer his homeworld and the familiarity of his routines there. Then again, Cambrist reminded himself, if all went to plan he would need once more to habituate himself to space travel. If all went to plan.
The complex of Senate offices on Hosnian was a bustle of activity, as delegations from more than a thousand worlds moved themselves in. Coruscant had been the galactic capital since time immemorial, and remained so under the Empire. The "rotating capital" was one of many innovations of the New Republic of which Cambrist did not approve, but he resisted uttering that dreaded phrase "Back in my day..." and said nothing of it.
The morning had been eventful; Cambrist had been properly accredited as a guest of Senator Emerest, and had a meeting with Gustav and other senators he'd developed relationships with in recent years. This new generation of Republic senators had a poor understanding of galactic economics, about which only the latest PZ-model droids were said to be more knowledgeable than Sir Reuke. These young senators also tended to be more forgiving of Cambrist's years of Imperial service, and welcomed his counsel. There was one, however, who would be considerably less welcoming; the Senator of Tallaan and former Chancellor, Mical Crion.
Cambrist found Crion in his office, reviewing his notes in advance of the afternoon's Senate session. Cambrist invited himself in, no one thinking to stop the grandfatherly-looking, properly-accredited man with a bronzium cane, and regarded Crion from the door way. The man was twenty years older than Cambrist but somehow he'd aged better. In fact, he looked very much as Cambrist remembered him from their last meeting, so many years ago—an occasion that neither man could forget. "Hello Chancellor," Cambrist said matter-of-factly, leaning on his cane. Gone from his countenance was the perpetual scowl of his youth, replaced by a look of weariness. But his eyes were as cool and probing as they'd ever been, and regarded the Senator from a reasonably safe distance. (Crion was 80 years of age, but the possibility of violence had occurred to Cambrist regardless).
Sir Reuke ur'Tsyne Cambrist
Seneschal of House Cambrist
Former Imperial Senator of Brentaal
|
| |
|
|
| Mical_Crion | Date: Wednesday, 30 Mar 2016, 1:18 AM | Message # 2 |
 Trainee
Group: Users
Messages: 4
Status: Offline
| When he heard Cambrist's voice, a flash of anger came over him. It was an emotion he had not felt in decades... not like this anyways. It was a pure, overwhelming, and primal anger that he felt come to him. His face and neck felt hot, and his fist uncontrollably clenched.
"Cambrist...," he whispered to himself.
He had a vivid memory of Far Qasqi. It was the closest he ever came to being captured by the Empire, it was all due to the trust he placed into former member of the Senate who seemed to be desperate, in need of help, and tired of the Empire's oppression. Cambrist was always supportive of the Empire, but for many like him even the disbanding of the Senate was too far. It was all a ploy it seemed to prove his loyalty however. What reward was posed to Cambrist for his capture, or what happened to him afterwards, he did not know. He had more important business to conduct in his role as Secretary of the Cabinet. In the back of his mind however, he thought he would never see Cambrist again.
They had an intense rivalry during their mutual time spent in the Imperial Senate until his descent into hiding under the alias of The Man in the Brown Robe. Now they were two old men, standing in a room on Hosnian Prime, clearly having seen far more of the galaxy than either of them expected to in life.
"Senator Cambrist. For some reason I never thought you would age...," was all he could manage to say directly to him. He did not rise from his seat however, as he mentally calmed himself down.
Senator Mical Crion
Tallaan
Former Chancellor of the New Republic
|
| |
|
|
| Sir_Reuke | Date: Thursday, 12 May 2016, 10:15 PM | Message # 3 |
|
Trainee
Group: Users
Messages: 4
Status: Offline
| Cambrist's face was impossible to read--one of the advantages of old age. But behind his discerning eyes he, too, recalled the last time they'd met face-to-face on Far Qasqi. A planetoid with no atmosphere of its own, the air between them had been thin but, in a manner of speaking, had been thick with betrayal. Cambrist had done Crion the courtesy of explaining, at length, why he'd double-crossed the man and consigned him to near-certain death. It hadn't then been much consolation, of course, nor would it be now. History had proven Cambrist wrong, but he'd never been a man of many regrets, and couldn't say for sure that what he'd done to Crion had been wrong. But he did know he'd been relieved to hear that Crion had survived the encounter.
"May I sit?" he asked, breaking a moment of tense silence. He sat opposite Crion's desk without waiting for a reply, resting his cane in his lap.
Whether or not Cambrist regretted his betrayal of Crion, he'd certainly not be alive to regret it otherwise. For years, Cambrist had comforted himself with the knowledge that he'd done to the man what he'd needed to do to survive. The Empire's attempt on Cambrist's life wasn't a ruse; his fealty to the Empire had become suspect, and he needed to do something to prove himself to the Emperor. He felt a shiver, even now, as he recalled the sickly smile on Palpatine's face as Cambrist had recounted to him the events at Far Qasqi. "Goooood..." the old man had said, clapping his hands together with fiendish delight.
Cambrist had been handsomely rewarded: appointed the chairman of the Imperial Trade and Commerce Authority, he was, for a time, the master of the Imperial economy, more powerful than he'd ever been as a mere Senator. The power had been intoxicating, but he'd worn it like a suit too large for him; Cambrist had always been a public servant, and the Empire's—and his own—lack of accountability to the people made him uncomfortable. He knew better than to say so, however; he was intimately aware of what would happen if he did.
It was only after he was absolutely certain of Palpatine's death that he'd found the courage of his convictions and defected to the New Republic with as much data as he could salvage from the Imperial archives. It didn't spare him from prison (indeed, Cambrist had accepted guilt, and was convicted for, the events at Far Qasqi), but his sentence was much-reduced, serving only 3 months for engineering the deaths of Crion's friends—and Crion himself, if the man hadn't been so resourceful. Cambrist certainly couldn't blame him for being upset, even all these years later.
But he'd come here to change that.
He decided to forego the usual formalities—as if one could be any less than intimately familiar with one's nemesis of many years—and arrive at the point. "Chancellor," he said, "I've come to bury the hatchet."
Sir Reuke ur'Tsyne Cambrist
Seneschal of House Cambrist
Former Imperial Senator of Brentaal
|
| |
|
|
|
