Taken at the Flood/Part 2

Bregin Bymar found his master in the war room, reviewing a hastily-broadcast disposition of forces from Lord Afarizzo. When Darshkére looked up, he beckoned. "Come in, Bregin."

Once the door had sealed behind him, Bregin knelt. "Master."

"Get up. I appreciate the added courtesy, but we have work to do."

Rising, Bregin hesitated on the verge of speech, and Darshkére raised an eyebrow. "Yes…?"

Bregin shook his head. "I can't believe it worked."

For a moment Darshkére did not react, but then he grinned. "Candidly, my apprentice, neither can I."

"I hope I didn't overplay my part, Master?"

Darshkére shrugged. "Eh, you wore your emotions a bit more openly than an Acolyte usually would, but they'll write that off as some failure of ours because we came from Zirist. Work on it, though; make sure you show only what you want to, never more or less.  I brought Zirist breakfast and played a game of dejarik with him about an hour before I killed him, and he never had a clue what was coming."

Bregin smiled. "Yes, Master."

"I don't suppose any of them reached out yet?"

"Not yet, Master. But Lord Besnasc and Lord Deech both talked to me for a second on their way out."

"Huh. Besnasc I would've guessed, but Deech…?  Well, be patient and see what comes of it.  Besides, the more of them think they're in control of the situation, the better."

The door opened before Bregin could reply, and one of the dark side warriors—dark side adepts now, remember the lingo—poked his head in. "Master, Lady Teyjean wants to see you."

What could possibly have come up in the half hour since Darshkére had dismissed his council? Bregin stepped to one side of the room, watching his master weigh the request before shrugging. "All right, send her in."

The strange, birdlike Sith Lord flitted into the room and knelt. Her Sith robes looked like they were made of silk rather than cloth, and her vibrant green plumage would have looked out of place against her dark attire had Darshkére not been wearing a loincloth with a lightsaber belt; one learned to discard fashion expectations aboard the Triumphant Successor.

"My lord," Teyjean said in her sharp, high voice.

"Rise, Lady Teyjean. Bregin, leave us." Darshkére's voice dropped into a dismissive command, and, mindful of the recent lesson, Bregin made only a little tic at the corner of his mouth before bowing and turning to the door.

Lady Teyjean set a clawed hand on Bregin's shoulder, and he was too surprised to fight it off. The sharp talons at the ends of her fingers hurt, and her grip was stronger than he had expected of such a thin creature. "If it please you, Lord Darshkére, he can stay. I think he'll be relevant to this."

Darshkére raised an eyebrow, but waved his hand, and Bregin slipped out of Teyjean's grip to return to his spot by the wall. Sparing him only a glance, Darshkére asked, "Time's a factor, my lady, so let me come straight to it: what do you need?"

She nodded. "I won't waste your time, Master. I wonder if you would grant me a favor."

Darshkére chuckled. "And which world do you want to lead the attack on?"

Teyjean did not laugh as she shook her head. "Just a question, Master."

"That's it?"

"And the favor of an honest answer."

Darshkére's brow furrowed; Bregin was sure they both sensed a trap. But after a moment, curiosity or some type of indulgence won out, and Darshkére gestured. "Go ahead."

"When did you start planning this?"

A whisper of unease passed through Bregin, but Darshkére showed nothing but curiosity. "Planning…?"

"To become Overlord."

Bregin tensed, but Teyjean shot him a look that froze him in place before he could begin to reach for his lightsaber. Resting the tips of her talons together, she said, "You got Nyewlk'ek's asinine plan on the table first, so yours looked even better by comparison. You offered Besnasc the crown—intuiting that he'd refuse to save his neck, I imagine.  You included Casalea and Afarizzo, which was probably enough to win their loyalty as it is, forgotten and forgettable as they are.  And you assuaged every vanity and concern that arose at that table, but only when I demanded something real did you give me what I sought as well—and, I think, only in that moment did any of us see even a glimpse of your true self, Lord Darshkére.  You're an intelligent man and a quick thinker, but no one thinks up all of that on the spot.  And however much you might have playacted chiding him, it was your Acolyte—your former apprentice—who set before us the idea of raising a new Overlord ourselves.  So when did you start planning to become Overlord?"

Bregin waited, wondering if his master would vault the table to begin a lightsaber duel. He had never seen a warrior as skillful as Darshkére, but he sensed Lady Teyjean could be a lethal enemy if she wished to be. He had no thought of intervening now; he hoped only that he could throw himself behind cover before lightsabered metal and amputated body parts started flying.

Darshkére studied Teyjean with no expression, and she gazed back, waiting. Then Darshkére smiled. It was not the casual, charming smile he had given some of the other Lords, nor the laid-back, lighthearted grin he adopted when he wished to appear at ease—and put others at ease around him. It was small and genuine, but something in his eyes darkened instead of brightening with the expression. It was the first time Bregin had see Darshkére show an outsider—one of those who had not come to the Empire from the ruins of Zirist Lakalt's delusions of grandeur—even a glimpse of the truth of himself.

"The day Vedya anointed me."

Bregin blinked in astonishment, Teyjean clicked her beak, and Darshkére gestured broadly with his hands. "Don't misunderstand—when I pledged my loyalty to Vedya, I meant it. Killing one master was enough for one lifetime, and besides…"

He grinned at Bregin. "Being on the master side of the equation, I could appreciate the value in a system calculated to keep me alive."

Turning back to Teyjean, he said, "I would never have betrayed Vedya, but I know what all your peers think of me. Outsider, upstart…hell, it's lucky Vaszas is dead, or we'd probably have fought; I killed one of his Acolytes on Milagro before all of you forced us out.  But I knew Vedya was my one real security; if she said I was safe, then I was, and nobody was going to defy her.  But everyone dies, and somebody who put a target on her head like Vedya did was always going to die sooner rather than later, so I needed to prepare for the possibility that I might lose that protection without warning."

"Thus your campaign of making friends after Eriadu?" Teyjean asked.

Darshkére nodded. "I made friends, made contacts, learned about people—what they wanted, what they lusted after, what they feared, what made them tick. How many were jealous because Vedya gave me power, or favor, or her body.  Bregin did the same among their senior Acolytes."

"And did that succeed?"

"For the most part. Not with you, though.  You were a hard read, and Vedya was tight-lipped about you." Darshkére smiled faintly, but as if to prove his point, Teyjean said nothing, and after a moment he continued. "But once Vedya died, I had to move more quickly."

"The battle holos?"

"I really did want to understand what had happened, and it wasn't an artifice when I said the Crusader will be trouble someday. But it helped to have the more militant and the…detail-oriented know that I did understand what had happened.  And if anyone was going to claim to be the hero of the battle, I wanted to be prepared for that too."

"And you maneuvered them all today until your ascension became the only logical choice."

"Everyone got what they wanted. Those who want war will get plenty; those who want to be safe from the Republic will be as safe as any of us can be in twenty-one days.  The ones who want somebody other than them to face the Council of Five—Besnasc, I think, and maybe Aldelkeugh?—well, they've got that too."

"And you have the throne."

"Like I said—everyone got what they wanted." Darshkére crossed his powerful arms; Bregin was sure he could snap Teyjean's scrawny bird neck in one hand if he wanted to. "Does that trouble you, Lady Teyjean?"

Teyjean snapped her beak, then shook her head. "On the contrary, Master—I feel now more than ever that I made the right choice."

Darshkére's eyes tightened, and Bregin saw genuine surprise on a man not often caught off guard. "I can't deny I'm relieved to hear it, but…"

"Lord Faro conducted intelligence for Lady Gasald; this you know, yes?" When Darshkére nodded, Teyjean said, "Foreign intelligence, yes, and decently enough. But internal intelligence—supervision of our territory, to eradicate threats and police treachery—that was not Faro's.  He thought it was, but only because Lady Gasald wished it to be so, and I allowed it to be so.  I sat on Lady Gasald's council, but none knew why, assuming I had no portfolio of responsibilities and was given my council seat only for my words—because that is what she and I wished them to believe."

"Skills I can make use of," said Darshkére.

"And I will put them all at your disposal, but that is not the point. We are Sith; loyalty to the Council's law is beyond debate, but ambition is not a sin, and mindless functionaries like most of the spineless nerfs on your council are nothing more than stepping stones for greater beings.  Beasts like Nyewlk'ek and Afarizzo are no better; they lust for slaughter and glory without purpose or higher thought, and sow the seeds of their own ruin.  The best of the council lords died at Milagro, and we have wallowed in the dregs since.  I want an Overlord who thinks ahead, who strategizes, who sees threats and negates them before they become threats.  Any of us might have been chosen, but you are the only being who should have been."

Darshkére tilted his head. "What about you? It seems to me we share an appreciation for…the long view."

Teyjean snapped her beak again and rasped, flexing her claws. "I can strategize, yes. I see the whole holo when others look at pixels at a time.  And Lady Gasald tested me against many foes—Jedi and Sith alike.  With a lightsaber or the Force, I suspect I am equal to any being in your territory, including you, my lord."

Bregin tensed, but Darshkére didn't bat an eye, and Teyjean said, "But I do not enjoy your knowledge of tactics—the spur-of-the-moment thinking you exhibit for both battles and wars of words. And more to the point, mine is not a presence others endure except at need, nor do I have the charisma you have—or even what Lady Gasald had.  Even when my peers find no fault in my counsel, they wish they had heard my words from another's beak.  I will never be an Overlord.  But I can ensure that the being who is my Overlord deserves the mantle, and I can put my powers at his disposal to give him the greatest chance of victory."

Darshkére nodded and walked around the holodisplay at last. "I welcome your help, Lady Teyjean."

She knelt. "I am your servant, Master. Command me and I obey."

He stooped to take her by the shoulders and raised her up; even standing, she barely came to his sternum. "Then keep an eye on any threats I haven't seen; four eyes see more than two, and I suspect you have more than just your own two at hand."

She nodded. "And I'll give some thought, too, to how your ascension might be best framed and its story spread, to earn you the best chance of the Council of Five's…indulgence."

Darshkére smiled. "I appreciate it. Oh, and one other favor."

"Yes, Master?"

Darshkére's low voice softened in a way that made Bregin's skin crawl with fear. "Scavenge whatever you can of Faro's intelligence networks, contact anyone he confided in, and find out the names of the Jedi responsible for Allanteen."

"It will be done, Lord Darshkére."

"The Force serve you, Lady Teyjean."

"And the Five guide you, Master."

When she was gone, Bregin exhaled and shook his head. "Was that as close as I think it was?"

Darshkére shrugged. "Probably."

He seemed so at ease that Bregin stared. "And you don't think that's dangerous, Master?"

This time Darshkére took a moment to reply. "Do you know why I killed Zirist like I did, Bregin?"

"I…" Bregin groped for the right answer. "Well, he was incompetent, Master. He would've gotten us all killed."

"Oh, kark yes, but that's not what I meant. Not why I killed him, but why I did it like I did—in person, blade to blade."

When Bregin shook his head, Darshkére loomed over him. "I could've Malaked him from a distance; we'd have lost the Lance of Hyrathian, but I could've sold it to the fleet. But that isn't the dark side, Bregin, not the heart of it.  The dark side is competition, struggling and striving for what you want—to be acknowledged as the best because you are the best—and sometimes that's dangerous.  If you flinch from the danger of it, you have no claim to the dark side, and you're wasting its power.  You heard Tejyean: half these so-called Sith Lords are nothing better than administrators—nerfs with lightsabers.  I can't un-anoint them, but I know how much most of them are worth, and it isn't much."

"But Teyjean? There's a real Sith Lord for you.  I didn't appreciate it until just now, but that just goes to prove my point.  And yes, whenever you deal with a real Sith Lord, there's danger involved.  I don't believe that bit about her never being an Overlord for a second; it's not usually a popularity contest, and nobody bucks the Council of Five and these Furies of theirs.  But right now, she's the support I need to clinch this thing.  She's dangerous, but so am I, and if we put our danger together, we can fix this mess and take the war back to the Republic."

It still struck Bregin as terribly risky, but every time he had known Darshkére to take a risk—beginning Bregin's own training in secret; challenging Zirist for supremacy; submitting to Gasald; and today, playing his hand to become Overlord—he had never failed to triumph. Bowing his head, he said, "Yes, Master."

"Now go get those figures from Darth Nyewlk'ek, but try to avoid talking about which ships he can take to Vondarc. And get your gear ready; I'm sending Admiral Kysus to wipe out the garrison at Malastare, and you're going with."

Bregin grinned. "As deputy commander?"

Darshkére snorted, but one side of his mouth turned up. "Let's call it 'senior dark side advisor'. We're not colonizing the planet, but the Republic garrison has to go, and if there are any Jedi onworld, they need to die."

Punching one fist into the other palm, Bregin said, "It'd be my pleasure, Master."

"As it should be. The dark side is always hungry, Bregin; you keep up that hunger, and I'll make sure it's well fed."

Bregin took care to wipe away his grin before he left the room, in case any more of his master's new servants were waiting for audiences. Whatever came, it was going to be an interesting twenty-one days.