Tattered Forces/Prologue

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Prologue
I stand beside the high-backed chair, standing as a silent sentinel as the Thief King held court. The lightsaber handle hangs heavy on my hilt, my hand hovering over the thin grey tube, ready to draw it if need be. The words of the peasantry drone like a Tanith bee, every word mingling with the next in an incomprehensible buzz. I stare out over the crowd, watching for any sign of suspicious activity.

I close my eyes, casting out with my mind. I can feel everyone’s energy, radiating faintly like a light from a bulb.

Something brushes against my mind and I recoil, throwing up my defenses, should someone try to seize my mind. But, there are no more contacts. I open my eyes, and see three men in the middle of the aisle. The leader, clad in flowing navy robes that proclaim him as a member of King Baran’s diplomatic service. Two men stand behind him, in similar robes in grey. I can just make out the bulge on their hips, showing they either have blasters or lightsabers.

I cast out with my mind again, brushing against the energy that one of their minds lets off. I recoil quickly, even as the mental wall bricks up. The muscle closes his eyes in concentration, but I don’t press him.

“His Grace, King Baran VII of His Realms Tanith and Concorda, sends me to deliver you a message,” the diplomat says, his voice carefully controlled. “He requests the presence of his subject, Moran Finc, in the capital as soon as possible.” The king looks at him, his dark eyes evaluating the messenger coolly. “What is this pertaining to?” Moran asks finally.

“The false proclamations that you are a ‘thief king,’” the diplomat says evenly. “King Baran is the rightful liege of the entirety of Tanith, and the colony of Concorda as well. He wishes to see you, to discuss this claim that you are a so-called ‘thief king.’”

I clear my throat, making my appearance known. On Tanith, and in most courts, a bodyguard is an unspeaking sentinel, almost an anvilstone statue. But, in many ways, things are done a little differently in the Thief King’s court. “Sir, I humbly ask that you refrain from insulting His Grace while you are in his presence,” I say calmly, even as I brush back my cloak. The diplomat’s eyes fall to the lightsaber handle at my waist.

Moran chuckles quietly, holding up his hand.

“It’s alright, Deryk,” he says, before turning back to the diplomat. “I ask you forgive him. Like most of my guard, he feels that he must protect my honor as well as my person. As for your request, I’m afraid that I must deny you. You see, I am quite busy here.”

The diplomat’s eyes narrow and I see his guards step closer behind him. That’s when I notice the butt of the blaster sticking out of his belt.

“I’m afraid that refusal wasn’t an option, Finc,” he says. “You ‘’will’’ come with us, one way or another.”

I pull the lightsaber at my hilt and ignite the blade, lighting the room a faint green-color. The blade hums softly.

“Leave this place, diplomat, and never return,” I growl, readying myself for a possible attack. His guards draw their own sabers. The tension hangs heavily over the room, even as the watchers press themselves against the stone walls, giving us as much room as they can.

“Deryk –” I ignore Moran and step in front of him, waiting for the diplomat to go for his blaster, and for all hell to break loose.

“Step aside, peasant,” the diplomat orders, pulling back his cloak to show the blaster tucked into his belt. When I don’t, he grabs for it suddenly, and I throw out my hand. The Force slams into him hard, sending him flying through the air with a shout, and then his guards are on me.

The first saber carves through the air, striking for my head. I duck under the swinging blade, clenching my fist hard around the handle of my lightsaber and slamming it into the guard’s breadbasket, forcing all the air out of him at once. The first guard falls to the ground, just in time for me to spin and bring my blade up to cover myself as an orange-colored saber swings down at me. Our sabers lock together, and we struggle, each trying to get the advantage over the other. Suddenly I let myself fall onto my back, keeping his saber away from my body even as I come up, using my feet to send the bodyguard flying over my head in a mid-air somersault. His lightsaber clatters to the ground and dis-ignites.