Chandrila

[Raphanel]

It was strange in a way how little the comforts of youth now did for his soul. He had always found the great palace and the eons of history that were etched on its walls a comfort to his wandering heart. Now after a decade of war, a war that had nearly destroyed much of Chandrila’s great architecture, the house and grounds felt soulless. It had not borne the scars of war, it had not borne the devastation and starvation of the thousand worlds subjected under the Sith Lords. It had stayed aloof, its great white marble buildings standing tall while a galaxy mourned.  The grounds had lost their character. 

 

But still there was a comfort here, and he scooped his nephew up in a great hug that left the child laughing, his small hands pulling at the edges of Raphanel’s beard. He carried the young boy into the dining room, setting him on his highchair next to his mother. The young woman gave him a wane smile. Eyes looking at the military uniform which still carried its worn and charred edges from the last few weeks of combat. 

 

“Raphanel, a pleasure as always to receive you.” 

 

He inclined his head in return and sat down beside his brother and let the polite conversation wash over him. As the three dozen members of the high family began their meal together.

[Raphanel]

“I cannot marry, what life could I give a woman?” Raphanel’s voice was elevated enough to carry from one edge of the family table to the other. Answering his father’s barbed question as calmly as he was able to. “What woman would want to wait the weeks away, hoping and praying that her husband did not die in some secret mission he cannot even talk to his wife about? What life would that give my children? I cannot be an absentee father in good conscience.” Here he looked again to the family patriarch, who glowered at him through gray white eyebrows. 

 

But he knew the questions were good ones. He had brought his family much honour in ascending to the rank of Lord Commander, and as a bachelor he was likely to bring several dozen offers from the high families of the Imperial Court. It would only be a matter of time until some cute imperial girl, likely from Kuat, Carida, or Bastion showed up at the table to attempt to win his hand. All Raphanel could do is pray that she was smart, intelligent, and at least a little pretty. So that cut out much of the Kuati girls at least. 

 

But for now he would continue the pointless debate. It was fun afterall and it kept his brother’s and sisters laughing.

[Raphanel]

He took another bite of the boiled muja dish, letting the harsh Kelmar spices mix with the aftertaste of sweet wine in his mouth. Every time he visited home he was always reminded of such heights of civilian life.  A life he had pretty much not known for the last three years of warfare. Three years of constant battle against the sith, trenches, starships, bitter, broken worlds. All of them fought with little distinction from the next. the only subtle joys the five or so minutes one took to cook a field ration. That subtle warm blandness as a congealed egg that had been cooked 100 years ago finally was eaten. Some of those rations, at least in the old outposts of the war like Sannagar or Thronsis, dated to pre-imperial years. Their Aluminum covers imprinted with insignias and inspection dates that had nearly covered them. 

 

And now here he was, eating lab grown steak along side of family that had never really seen the war. Sure the old vacation home at Rexour ridge had been destroyed by the Mandalorian starships, but who at this table had even thought to go there outside of old summer years of childhood?

 

Dangerous waters. And Raphanel could harken a darkness looming over him. A silent and viscous bitterness that had crept upon him like the evening shadows. Now it stretched long across the table, covering smiling faces with a masque of twisted and unfeeling pride. A martyrs pride that looked to the crowd around the pyre to be remembered with appreciation. To be thanked and blessed for long service, to be rewarded. And when no such reward came to begin to hate those faces beyond the rising flames. 

 

How could he hold onto such a bitter grudge against a family he was glad had not been slaughtered like a trillion others? Had he not fought to preserve them from such a fate? Was that not the reason he joined the old order? That he had pledged his life, his youth, and his hope upon? So that those he cared about would not suffer as he did? And now he begrudged them such a thing? It was a strange revelation to see one’s self as this. To be bitter and angry at those that he sacrificed himself for would be to throw the entire journey on its face. Bitterness held no place here. There could only be gladness. Gladness for a life lived In service. A peace hard won. And the sweet memory of those left behind in dark trenches that stank of foul blood. 

 

He raised the glass of sweet wine to his lips again, saying the silent prayer of thanksgiving. 

 

For Kyrie Eleison of eternal memory. Who had sparked the hearts of the revanchists to action while the Jedi slept in their towers of ivory. 

 

For the holy emperors of eternal memory. For Dagon the bold, who had turned the wheels of fate. Who had begun to turn the Emprire from evil. And for Raven Nasra who had finished the quest of her predecessors. Who had bought galactic peace with tears and blood. Twice. 

 

He took another long draught of the wine when he realized that silence had fallen upon the table. His haze found the steel ward of the house who was about to speak.

 

“Lady Contispex, may I admit one Sir Piotr of the house Malczewski-”

 

A lesser house recently devoted as stewards of Carida. A lofty position and one that his mother would not mind in the least-

 

“-and one…” here the stewards voice seemed to choke. “…Brenna of the house of Montjoye.”

 

A harlequin. A non human hybrid of no stature in the imperial thrones. But an apprentice of a saint. And Raphanel could not be more glad as the two of them walked into the dining room. The party would be interesting indeed. 

[Raphanel]

His mother’s smile seemed to be plastered over her face and painted over with the garish makeup that the only most elderly of Chandrila thought fashionable. She held the smile as elegantly as she could as she curtsied to Montjoye, but when she saw the young man that followed her an actual smile broke out. Nearly cracking the makeup powder on her face as she seemed to light up like a beacon with happiness. Seemed was the word for it at least, and Raphanel had seen the masks his mother put on to deceive or to guide, and this was certainly one of them. 

 

“Oh the house of Malczewski!” 

 

A political power move it would be then. And upon seeing one of his many sisters ushered forwards up the long table, he knew exactly what would come next. Adrienne, towheaded and not yet nineteen, cutsied low before the young heir of the house of Malczewski. She was a charming girl, even if the heavy dash of freckles across her face and nose spoiled her looks. 

 

Raphanel gave her a charming grin then looked to Montjoye. He embraced her fully, giving her the kiss of peace on each cheek, before doing the same to Malczewski. 

 

“You both are very welcome at our table. Please take the seats beside me. Eat what you wish. And after dinner we can talk business.” 

 

Both places were cleared of food, and the opposite seat beside Piotr was also cleared for Adrienne, who looked to him with wide eyes and a little apprehension. 

[Raphanel]

High above the planet’s surface, at the very touches of space and atmosphere, appeared two very distinctive dagger-like warships. Nasra and Ardell, sister ships of the newest line of Imperial Class Star Destroyer. Recently acquired and off the line from Kuat Drive Yards, painted in a pearl white paint. The Shipyards itself had swiftly and without ill will laid down its Sith banners and assumed the banners of the Sovereign Alliance upon the news broadcast from Nar Shaddaa, and was now pumping out Alliance designs as fast as its yards could complete them. 

____

 

There at last came the valiant prince of the house of Edsbryder, his vampiric demeanor giving half the household a shiver down their spines. Some grew silent or turned primarily to their meals, but Raphanel did not. He stood immediately and after taking the datapad gave the man a hearty embrace and the Chandrilian kiss on each cheek. Ignoring his mothers loathsome stare and his father’s grimace of disgust. 

 

“Do not apologize, this is a feast after all, and you may come and go as you like.” He glanced at the datapads contents before hurriedly putting it into a pocket of his coat.  Though watching cultists meet their grisly end may have excited several of the guests at the gala, it was very unlikely it would brace his own appetite. He gestured for the man to take a seat and was about to take a seat himself when another figure appeared. 

 

A diminutive figure, and one he had not seen since long before Nar Shaddaa. A face that caused his own to break into a great grin. He threw his chair out of the way and embraced her fully, kissing her on each cheek and beckoning her to the table. “Knight Elieson. Most of us had feared you long dead, what a pleasure it does my heart to see you here. Your birth is of no matter.” He would have cried had he not been in the presence of so many that looked up to him. It was undoubted that the very heart of the Imperial Knights, its strongest and greatest future, lay in this room. A multitude of great houses, old veterans, and the newest members. He took a moment to say a thankful prayer for the blessing that had been hard won in blood. 

 

He smiled widely as they all took their seats again. He waved to one of the young women who stood beside the wall who approached and handed each of the many knights a small disposable datapad. This was no beyond top secret mission, and those of the Imperial houses knew that to speak of Knight business outside this room was to sign their name under ‘exiled’ in the family tree. It was safe enough to speak openly though in undertones. 

 

“My dear friends and new acquaintances, this may be no tales of valour, however...” Here he looked at Malczewski and Adrienne who was busy trying to catch his eye before continuing. “I think many of you here already know what I am going to say, but I shall go ahead.” He opened the plastine cover of one of the datapads, and the glowing crimson planet appeared, outlined in the ghostly blue of Holo. “We as a united force have cleared most of the inner core and midrim of the Sith Plague. However, one bastion is outstanding. The world of Falleen. A world that has been gripped by slavery, brainwashing, and evil. I need not explain more for the sake of our dinner guests, other than to say that a Jedi strike team has already been dispatched to this world.” He smiled and ran a hand across his bearded chin. 

 

“I do not think the Jedi are capable of such a test of their might, and have asked you all here to assist in the redemption of this world. I know that many of us have been bathed in the darkness of warfare for many years, but we are needed. Not only for the good of Falleen itself, but to show the galaxy that they are never without our Justice." 

[Raphanel]

“I agree Prince Tygo, the people of Falleen have suffered enough. And they must be brought out of the mire the Sith have sunk them into….” He trailed off as the youngest of their part spoke. Speaking doubts into existance like a conjurer in the city market did with roses. Niether of which was in any way flattering. 

 

His pure blue eyes looked from the Lord of Exorcists to the Prince of the Edsbryder to finally the young Malczewski who had interrupted them. His gaze sat there for a moment, blue staring into a pool of muddy brown. The pause lasted two heartbeats, long enough for the young man to know that his words had not been ignored, before Raphanel’s eyes swept to the matching blue beside Piotr. His words were soft, only carrying to those within the circle that he had invited. 

 

“Sister, I had not heard the family spies tell us that the Malczewski line lacked the strength of valour.” She grinned and shook her head in response, her hand finding Piotr’s and giving it a kindly squeeze. As Raphanel looked back to him. 

 

“The force will see you through the worst of it. The training your family has already shown you on weapons through the rest. And should the last minute come for you, I have no doubt you will prove yourself the man your father desires you to be.” 

[Raphanel]

Raphanel held up a hand to prevent any further outburst from any of the Knights, especially the more military minded who were quick to jump into combat, or his fellow family members who were notorious for needlessly duelling the night away at the slightest provocation. It was not fast enough to stop an additional provocation from Edsbryder. But that was the expectation when such a family was involved. They were hard fighters, and had earned a reputation for honour in the face of evil, as they dragged themselves from centuries of decline. 

 

“Enough.” 

 

His hand dropped and he looked to the two men that were now very close and very much on the brink of a fight. His voice sounded as tired as he felt. 

 

“Sir Malczewski, you will be provided with weapons and armour from my family's personal armoury. And though rudimentary, you will also receive training in the few days journey it takes to bring us to Falleen.” He looked to Adrenne who nodded her head in response. “A brightblade and shield if you may be so kind, dear sister.” She smiled warmly and strode off towards the distant doors at the end of the great hall. She would know how best to provide for the young man, as though she was not a Knight herself, she had received many years of personal combat training. As all those of the Contispex line did. 

 

“Let us all return to our meals, and share good company together. There is no need for harsh words or violence. A mission lies ahead where we will all need to stand for each other without hesitation or remorse.” 

 

He picked up a glass of deep wine and tipped it in silent salute. He took a drought and smiled. 

 

“And here she is, returning so quickly.” 

 

Adrienne came carrying a bundle under each arm. Handing each in turn to the young Heir of the Malczewski house. First, the gold etched latticework of a hand held energy shield. Originally the work of Naboo artisans, it had been carried by one of the force users of his household who had fallen during the stark hyperspace war. A Brightblade followed. One of the many mass produced lightsabers of the clone wars, whose kyber crystal was vat grown synthetic. With a crossguard of steel and cortosis filigree. Light armour in the Contispex style. Gold and well polished.

[Raphanel]

A distant note in the force, a chord of dissonance played in the back of his mind. There was no further use of this meal and meeting. And the look of the Master of Exorcists confirmed it. It was time to go. No longer could they tarry away from the call of justice. It would be a tricky thing, but with the blessing of his family, they could frame the invasion of a sovereign planet correctly. The Contispex, on another one of their damned crusades. This time for true justice. 

 

With a sweep of his gloved hand he pushed his chair back from the table and looked to the head of the table. Where his mother and Father sat, staring directly at him. Silence fell with the sound of the scraping chair and the guests and family members dropped their conversations to see what he would say. 

 

“Mother a blessing for us on our journey.” He turned his eyes to meet his fathers and made a stiff bow. It was returned with a nod of his regal head. 

 

“You have our blessing Raphanel. Falleen will come under the protection of the Contispex. We will stretch out our hand and lift them from dirt and darkness. You have the assets of our dynasty at your disposal. Do not disappoint us.”

 

Raphanel bowed again and looked from side to side at his companions. It was time to go. There was a distant rumble. A hundred engines igniting as starfighters and the Contispex Victory class star destroyer prepared themselves for departure. Some many thousands of soldiers and warriors of the Chandrilian house would partake in this outreach to Falleen. Starfighters, troop shuttles, and at the very heart a new model Victory Class Star Destroyer Oriflamme. Perhaps not enough to fight a legion of Sith, but it would be enough to topple a fading pawn of a government. It was enough to prove the might and political ambition of their house.