Carida

[Piotr Malczewski]

"This is outrageous. It's unfair."

 

Piotr scowled at his father, an aging man who sat before him at a desk. He had called Piotr to his office, a rare occurrence. It should have been the first sign that something was about to go very poorly for him. Despite his age, nigh, perhaps due to it, he still held considerable power on Carida, and a not insignificant amount in the core worlds. At first glance he was a shrewish man, his bearing that more akin to a banker than an intimidating political powerhouse, something that had caused his opponents to misjudge him more than once. Piotr was not an exception to this.

 

"What's outrageous is your treatment of our name. Time and time again you've dragged it through the mud. I've tried to tolerate you- the bonds of family are strong, and you have a good mind for politics, even if you so rarely use it. But you need to grow up. You aren't a teen anymore, and I'm getting older. This behavior will cease one way or another, but I'm tired of waiting for you to make the right choice, so I'm making it for you."

 

It had been an accident- a silly joke that had gone to far. He'd whispered something obscene about a count's wife, well intending to be long gone by the time it reached the count. Alas, that did not happen. The count had, in his infinite wisdom, lost his composure, loudly and publicly accusing Piotr of slander. Another scandal in a long line- and enough to apparently convince his parents to take drastic action.

 

"It was a silly comment, not one worth sending me away like some reprobate. The Count over-reacted."

"You suggested his wife was not only leaking our defenses to the Sith, but that she was sleeping with a Sith Lord. He had a perfectly reasonable reaction, and I've had to pull considerable strings to stop you from being imprisoned. The condition, which came at my recommendation, was that you would either join the Imperial Knights, and rebuild your name, or I would strip you of your titles and your wealth. The consequence of spending your time dancing about instead of building your own wealth or connections is that you are entirely at my whim."

 

"So much for being your son."

His father stood slowly, looking into Piotr's eyes.

 

"You are still my son. I still love you. But I have to protect the rest of the family, and right now that means protecting them from your antics. This is not up for debate- the Knights are here and already on there way in. You'll either leave with them, or alone, but you will leave until I deem that you've fixed your behavioral issues."

[Piotr Malczewski]

Both Piotr and his father glanced at the new arrival, and a rare moment of synchronicity was shared between them as they sized up the Knight together. His father was the first to react- He was already standing, but he moved out from behind his desk and gave her a respectful nod as she introduced herself.

 

"I hope that we live up to the reputation in your brief visit, Knight Montjoy, and that you enjoy your visit to Carida. We've worked hard with the rest of the Empire to rebuild our home. I am Count Ludomir Malczewski, head of the House and the acting governor of Carida until the Empire can assign a new Moff. This is my son, Piotr, and the reason for your visit. I trust you've been briefed by those who have sent you?"

 

Piotr stepped forward stiffly, examining the woman as he held out his hand politely. He knew better than to act out in the presence of his father. Regardless on what else he had to say on the matter of his conscription into the Knights, he knew he wasn't in a position to reject them. Perhaps in a year or two, his father would see the error in his ways and ask him to return, and he could renounce his commission to return home. Regardless, he doubted that she had the ability to truly interfere in his activities. She was young, likely younger than he was, though it was hard to tell. Her robes hid her stature and her status, though her boots and her getup indicated that she was more than likely from a lower class.

 

"A pleasure to meet you, Knight Montjoy."
 

[Piotr Malczewski]

Piotr glanced back to his father. It was a last attempt at a way out. A vain hope that his father would back down now in the face of sending his son to war like this. No such surrender was found- Ludomir Malczewski had fought in the brutal campaigns of the Sith's resurgence, his accomplishments in those conflicts what had given him reign over Carida, even if only temporarily. He remembered what the man had suffered after his fight was over, and feared the same coming to his own psyche. Regardless, in this moment at least, he would rather risk that as the Sith Empire collapsed than be fully and truly alone.

 

He looked back to Montjoy, taking the letter gently. While he was certainly unhappy with the current situation to say the least, rejecting such a letter would only hasten his fall from grace. He was quiet for another moment as he looked at the letter, before lifting his eyes to meet hers, the fire of defiance making no effort at hiding itself.

 

"It seems you have, Knight Montjoy. I presume my father wants me out of his holdings, so I will let you lead the way to wherever our next destination may lie."

[Piotr Malczewski]

Piotr's eyes darted around as he was led out of the servant's passage like some chastised dog, and he pulled his wrist away, rubbing it absentmindedly with his other hand. She hadn't hurt him, but he'd just happened to discover that he didn't like being led around by the wrist, especially by someone who's been essentially hired on to straighten out his behavior. He followed her through the streets, his head low as he tried to avoid recognition.

 

"You don't have to lead me everywhere, you know. I came willingly- Or rather, as willingly as I could, given the circumstances."

 

Luckily, it was early enough in the morning that not many were out.  Still, that didn't save him from hushed whispers and stolen glances from the people that walked the streets at this hour. While they had no context to what he was doing out, it seemed that his mere presence elicited gossip now. He slowed, only sparing a brief look around before catching back up. Had he really gotten that out of hand? That the common folk gossiped just at the sight of him? A traitorous part of him understood why, if that were the case, his father had taken the actions that he had.

 

Eager for a distraction from this realization, he looked at the young Imperial Knight.

 

"You mentioned aiding the Jedi and their rebellion- I was under the impression we had already won." His voice dropped in pitch, a mocking narrative tone taking over. "That we had shattered the Sith armada over Nar Shaddaa, and sent their ruling class fleeing into deep space for fear of their own comeuppance."

 

 

[Piotr Malczewski]

Piotr walked briskly through the crowd, flanked by two of House Malczewski's house guard, clad in the deep blue and vibrant gold of their house, their faces concealed behind their visors. When they'd received word that one of the missing refugee shuttles from Falleen had resurfaced and landed in one of their spaceports, his father had sent him to investigate. Indeed, while he was still only an apprentice with the Knights, even that much meant he was supposedly the most prepared individual on hand to deal with the potential corruption that had fled Falleen. He had long since returned Lord Contispex's armaments, receiving replacements more befitting of his own house upon his arrival. Their appearance was the epitome of a calm, prepared response.

 

His mind, however, raced. Was this a Sith, come to track down those who had fought at Falleen? Was it some element of their corruption, meant to destroy his home and family? They approached the access to the berth where the refugee ship was moored, and he hesitated. Was he ready for this? He'd only been home for a few weeks, and he still struggled with nightmares. The young girl he had slain filled his dreams, terrorizing his thoughts as some sort of twisted reminder of what he'd done. Of what he'd witnessed. A necessary kill, he was told, but one that left it's mark on him still.

 

The door opened, and he saw her. A wraith, covered in blood, carrying a malignant blade who's very being sucked in the Force around it, tried to corrupt it. The Sith had come, and the killing had already began. The people of his home, his family, would meet the same fate as those on Falleen. His hand wnet to the hilt at his side, and the troopers that flanked him raised their weapons.

 

But something wasn't right- He took a moment, looking closer.

 

Her eyes.

 

He recognized them.

 

They weren't familiar in the usual sense; He didn't know the refugee before him. He'd never seen her before that very moment. No, he recognized something else. He saw her eyes, the sorrow, the dull horror at an event recently witnessed. Grief. Pain. He knew them, because they looked back at him every morning and every night in the mirror, the joy and mirth stolen from their souls. Piotr released his blade, stepping forward, motioning for the troopers to lower their weapons.

 

He knelt, meeting her level.

 

"What happened here, child?"

[Piotr Malczewski]

At the mention of the Sith, the two troopers he had come with raised their weapons to the craft, watching for any sign of foul play. Piotr glanced up as well, past the young woman's shoulder, trying his best to hide his concern as he spoke, his voice slowing to a deliberate pace, as though speaking too quickly may summon the creature of which she spoke. He had done well to hide the mark the Sith had left on him even secondhand after Falleen, but he worried that should he have to face one here, he may not have the courage to do so alone.

 

He motioned to one of the troopers behind him, letting protocol take over for a moment.

 

"Notify the Inquisitor that her services are required. We'll hold the location until she arrives."

He turned back to the young woman, his attention half on her, half on the ship behind her as he watched for signs of the Sith.

 

"And what became of the Sith who has committed such atrocities? Did you slay him? Or has he enthralled the survivors?"

He couldn't hide the suspicion in his voice as he realized that the girl holding a blade that pulsed with the Dark Side may be enthralled, herself. It was only for a moment, dispelled when he realized that it was only the blade he could feel, and she had remained untouched, at least as far the Dark Side's hold went. He could only hope that she hadn't noticed.

Edited August 31, 2023 by Mavanger