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Yesterday, 03:56 PM
Part III:
It was as if a cryo grenade had gone off when the guards threw open the entrance to the pavilion to let the Moff and the Governor inside. Not only because the contrast between Horuz's hot, humid climate and the pavilion's nigh-frigid air conditioning felt like a slap across the face, but because what had no doubt been a flurry of activity only moments before froze instantly the moment Moff Graush crossed the threshold.
Kemma counted nearly three dozen servants and slaves scattered throughout the tent. A moment ago they had been carrying trays, adjusting furnishings, preparing the evening meal and attending to a hundred other duties. Now they stood perfectly still. Heads bowed. Eyes lowered. Every single body turned instinctively toward the Moff.
"Your Excellency~" A voice finally purred out from the crowd as one of the figures stepped forward.
The voice belonged to a sniveling creature of a man with a crooked back, a nearly non-existent silver hairline, and the elaborate livery of an Imperial butler. He approached with nauseating reverence, arms stretched behind his back as he bowed deeper and deeper with every step. "I have just set the slaves to work on tabling the first course~... With His Excellency's permission, I would-"
Graush silenced him with the lazy raising of one enormous hand.
"See it done, Bartigoz. Then leave us." His thunderous voice rolled through the pavilion while he continued toward the large cushioned chair waiting at the head of the dining table. With a silent bow and a cracking snap of his fingers the Butler then at once animated the frozen figures once more. The Slaves swarming like worker bees as they proceeded on their tasks with a haste and precision that seemed inhuman. The Moff, unbothered by the flurry of activity, continued on his stead stride.
The Workers flowing around him like water past a rock. Their broken and downcast gazes never once meeting his eyes. Kemma followed several paces behind. Unlike the Moff, she was far less accustomed to this sort of ritualized servitude. Twice she attempted to sidestep one approaching slave only to find herself directly in the path of another who had already anticipated her movement.
The entire slave household seemed to operate according to instincts she did not possess.
Eventually however, she too reached the table. Where Moff Graush had already settled himself into his seat. The leather of his uniform creaked and groaned beneath his weight as he leaned back into the throne-like chair and gestured vaguely toward the place opposite him. The gesture resembling hospitality in much the same way a rancor resembled a house pet.
Kemma took her seat. Immediately a servant appeared beside her carrying a silver platter. Within moments an identical meal was placed before her: pan-seared Nabooan Nuna resting atop a bed of fragrant vegetables accompanied by a side of vapor-pureed Ithorian spore-pod. Another servant filled a crystal glass with Kaasian red wine before retreating without a word. Kemma barely spared the food a glance as across from her, Graush had already begun eating.
His hate filled black eyes cast down onto Kemma through the folds in his face. "So, Kemma dear... Regale me with news of your latest exploits as my newest governor..." The moff demanded as a horribly emaciated Twi'lek Slave girl took her place besides his seat with a wide ceremonial fan painted in the red and black of the Imperial banner, as even in the controlled climate of his pavilion, beads of sweat started forming on the folds of the Moff's face as he cut off a piece of the plump flightless bird, scraping some of the puree onto the back of his fork before he took his first bite, his eyes never leaving Kemma.
Ralter clicked her tongue softly against the roof of her mouth before folding her hands together atop the table.
"The war progresses well. Colonel Rennab and his Consolidation Forces continue to make progress on Nam'ta Secundus. Kaldon does as he always would and on Nam'ta VI we-"
"No, no, not the war." Graush dismissed the topic with a flick of his fork and a sigh that sent ripples through his jowls. "Please, Kemma. I have a thousand officers, dignitaries, accountants, magistrates and ministers endlessly informing me about the state of the war. I did not ask to speak privately with you so that we might exchange reports I had already seen before perhaps even your own eyes laid upon them."
The Moff took another bite, washing it down with a long drink of wine before smiling. "No. We have far more interesting exploits to discuss." He said as the smile widened in equal parts malice and bemusement.
"We are soon approaching the first anniversary of your very first attempt to leash one of the Empire's Sith to your service, Kemma dear."
The remark caught her completely off guard. "...Your Excellency?"
"Oh, do not play daft with me, Governor." Graush chuckled. "You intended to ensnare the Horuset Powerbase to do your bidding. An Apprentice... Shekker... Or Sekker was it? I believe?... Darth Kalkoran's whelp. You intended to send their forces against your enemies. Barracas' Death Hand. Some smugglers. And your colleague Keersk, was it not?" Graush regarded her over the rim of his wine glass, his black eyes shining wil self satisfaction as a silence lingered across the pavilion.
Finally Kemma replied. "Your Excellency, I have no idea what you are talking about." She said it with enough conviction that for a brief moment she almost believed it herself. Graush only smiled. "Oh come now, Kemma dear." He sighed. "You wound me. I invite you to my pavilion, offer you food that costs more than some Governors spend on their entire household staff, and the first thing you do is lie to me? When I already know the truth of things? Tut, tut! You are supposed to be clever than this!"
His tone remained light and believably pleasant. But the intention behind it sharpened. Ralter's expression did not move. "Lie, your excellency? I would never presume to do such a thing but I-"
"No?" Graush snapped his fingers.
"Then perhaps only your memory fails you." he remarked as he set down his goblet. At once Ensign Loring emerged from a side chamber carrying a black case. Opening it, he withdrew a datapad and stood beside the table awaiting instruction.
Graush did not take it, instead he merely waved his fingers lazily before diving back into his meal as the ensign began to read.
"'Target Profile One. Rebel Commando Cell: Barracas' Death Hand. Location: Nam'ta Prime. Description: An irritating splinter in the heel of progress.'" He did not get much further as the pavilian thundered with chuckle that strained the chair beneath the Moff to its limits. His uniform groaning with each ripple.
"'An irritating splinter.' I rather liked that line. Very evocative. Did you write that yourself?"
Kemma remained silent, as the Moff continued his feasting. Perhaps never having expected an actual reply. The Ensign continued with the same neutral tone as he read down the report.
"'Neutralise them, Apprentice Sekker. Root them out and bring them to ground. Public executions would serve as a reminder of what fate awaits traitors.'" As Loring lowered the datapad.
Graush calmly cut another piece from his nuna. "Quite forceful language, Kemma. One can practically hear the irritation and smell the desperation..." He nodded once, and before she could respond, Loring continued.
"Target Profile Two. Smuggler Ring. Akuria. Akuria remains the nexus of a rebel smuggling operation. I have raised the matter formally. However, Graush's clerks sent it into bureaucratic purgatory. Then into silence.'"
The Moff stopped chewing long enough to chuckle once more before he set his hate-filled eyes on Kemma. Seemingly adoring the glint of concern in her green eyes as the phrasing.
"Oh, do not look so worried. If I executed every Governor who cursed my bureaucracy, I would hardly have a sector left to govern."
His laughter faded as another nod instructed Loring to continue.
"'Target Profile Three. Envoy Delegation of Governor Keersk of Imperial Gibella. Ensure his envoy does not arrive. The way between the Dromund Kaas spaceport and Kaas City is fraught with danger. Accidents are known to happen. Setbacks can be... tragic.'" The Ensign concluded before he fell silent.
The Silence lingered for a while, broken only by the Moff's chewing and the soft rhythmic sweep of the Twi'leks fan. A laugh escaped graush, deep enough to shake his shoulders as he cut into his Nuna, the Moff more than content and bemused to listen to the evidence of a Conspiracy against another Imperial Official while eating his dinner.
Graush took another drink before he spoke. Lowering his glass to the table. "Would you care to deny it again?"
Kemma studied him for a moment before sighing, realizing the game was over.
"No. No, I would not, Your Excellency."
She folded her hands together again.
"A message needed to be sent. Keersk intended to obstruct military aid to Nam'ta. I wanted that obstruction removed."
"There. Was that so difficult?" He said with a dry chuckle and a satisfied sigh. "The intrigue of Governors never ceases to amuse me... One asks whether they wished a rival or their adjutant dead, as well all sometimes do, and they tend to spend the next ten minutes explaining why it was somebody else's fault before arriving at the exact same conclusion..."
For the first time in this conversation, Kemma allowed herself a small sigh.There seemed little point in disputing the charges any further. "Very well. If you want a confession. Yes. I approached the Horuset Powerbase to explore the possibility of Cooperation. I sought solutions where I could find them, and the Apprentice offered his services."
"And?" The Moff inquired with a knowing glint in his eyes.
"And the Sith proved unreliable." Kemma admitted.
The Moff laughed, seemingly delighted in the admission as he wagged the fork in her direction once. "Of course they did!"
"Do not take my notice for disapproval, Kemma dear. An Imperial Governor must have bite to their bark. I have not summoned you here to have you stand trial for what every single clerk underneath and above you does... I wished only to express my dissapointment you did not try harder." He cut away another piece of the rapidly vanishing bird.
"Your mistake was not the attempt. The attempt was sensible. The Sith may deign to rule this Empire, and indeed some of them do. However... Most of the rest of their order are as usable a pawn as any other to the skilled political player... The key difference is simply that the Sith dislike being reminded of that fact more than others."
Another bite followed. Another swallow of wine.
"To use the Sith, one must dangle their self-interest before them. You identified a Powerbase operating within your sector outside the conventional structures imposed by me and sought to influence its actions. Ambitious. Practical. I commend you for it.... Approaching the Horusets was not a mistake..." He leaned back into his chair, it groaned beneath him with a horrid strain.
"No, your mistake was that you approached them like a Governor recruiting an asset. A Sith is never merely an -asset-! Tut! The horror, they would never demean themselves to such a servantile role! No, no, They will always be -allies-! Courtiers with lightsabers. Cultists and aristocrats forever pursuing their own desires. One must approach them accordingly... They will only serve obediently if they believe they stand to gain something from doing so... Like an animal. They will only hunt as long as the prize indeed outweighs the effort." His fingers folded together across his stomach.
"You offered them influence on Nam'ta, yes.... But unfortunately the attention span of Sith can be more fickle than that of a child. Their attention drifted elsewhere and with it went any leverage you possessed. Thus your objectives remained unfinished."
It is in that moment that his enthusiasm dimmed. The amusement that had coloured the conversation ended in a moment as his eyes and tone darken. "Still." He said, sighing deeply. "I had hoped you would've tried harder... Because now -I- have to deal with your mistake."
That finally drew a reaction from her. "Your Excellency?" She asked.
"Oh, your fourth target profile. The Poet 'Emeritus Halden Reus'?"
Graush sighed.
"A clever little puzzle to escape the eyes of the Imperial Censors... But alas I am afraid your clever little puzzle may have flown over the heads of our friends in the Horuset Powerbase. Not over mine, however." He said with a sigh as he recitedthe words from memory.
"'Kneel... In... Lift... Lingering... All... Mountains... Bitter... Ash... Sunrise... Still... And... Dying... Onwards... Rising...'" The Moff paused to catch his breath before continuing.
"'Remove... Each... In... Nam'ta... A...'"
A smile spread slowly across his face.
"K.I.L.L. A.M.B.A.S.S.A.D.O.R. R.E.I.N.A."
He tapped a thick finger against the table. "Kill Ambassador Reina. A directive hidden within the first word of every line in the poem." Graush seemed almost impressed. "Clever! But it seems to clever... For if the Sith had acted swifter, the traitor's defection to the enemy might yet have been prevented..."
The smile disappeared.
"Alas."
He reached for his wine.
"Here we are."
It was as if a cryo grenade had gone off when the guards threw open the entrance to the pavilion to let the Moff and the Governor inside. Not only because the contrast between Horuz's hot, humid climate and the pavilion's nigh-frigid air conditioning felt like a slap across the face, but because what had no doubt been a flurry of activity only moments before froze instantly the moment Moff Graush crossed the threshold.
Kemma counted nearly three dozen servants and slaves scattered throughout the tent. A moment ago they had been carrying trays, adjusting furnishings, preparing the evening meal and attending to a hundred other duties. Now they stood perfectly still. Heads bowed. Eyes lowered. Every single body turned instinctively toward the Moff.
"Your Excellency~" A voice finally purred out from the crowd as one of the figures stepped forward.
The voice belonged to a sniveling creature of a man with a crooked back, a nearly non-existent silver hairline, and the elaborate livery of an Imperial butler. He approached with nauseating reverence, arms stretched behind his back as he bowed deeper and deeper with every step. "I have just set the slaves to work on tabling the first course~... With His Excellency's permission, I would-"
Graush silenced him with the lazy raising of one enormous hand.
"See it done, Bartigoz. Then leave us." His thunderous voice rolled through the pavilion while he continued toward the large cushioned chair waiting at the head of the dining table. With a silent bow and a cracking snap of his fingers the Butler then at once animated the frozen figures once more. The Slaves swarming like worker bees as they proceeded on their tasks with a haste and precision that seemed inhuman. The Moff, unbothered by the flurry of activity, continued on his stead stride.
The Workers flowing around him like water past a rock. Their broken and downcast gazes never once meeting his eyes. Kemma followed several paces behind. Unlike the Moff, she was far less accustomed to this sort of ritualized servitude. Twice she attempted to sidestep one approaching slave only to find herself directly in the path of another who had already anticipated her movement.
The entire slave household seemed to operate according to instincts she did not possess.
Eventually however, she too reached the table. Where Moff Graush had already settled himself into his seat. The leather of his uniform creaked and groaned beneath his weight as he leaned back into the throne-like chair and gestured vaguely toward the place opposite him. The gesture resembling hospitality in much the same way a rancor resembled a house pet.
Kemma took her seat. Immediately a servant appeared beside her carrying a silver platter. Within moments an identical meal was placed before her: pan-seared Nabooan Nuna resting atop a bed of fragrant vegetables accompanied by a side of vapor-pureed Ithorian spore-pod. Another servant filled a crystal glass with Kaasian red wine before retreating without a word. Kemma barely spared the food a glance as across from her, Graush had already begun eating.
His hate filled black eyes cast down onto Kemma through the folds in his face. "So, Kemma dear... Regale me with news of your latest exploits as my newest governor..." The moff demanded as a horribly emaciated Twi'lek Slave girl took her place besides his seat with a wide ceremonial fan painted in the red and black of the Imperial banner, as even in the controlled climate of his pavilion, beads of sweat started forming on the folds of the Moff's face as he cut off a piece of the plump flightless bird, scraping some of the puree onto the back of his fork before he took his first bite, his eyes never leaving Kemma.
Ralter clicked her tongue softly against the roof of her mouth before folding her hands together atop the table.
"The war progresses well. Colonel Rennab and his Consolidation Forces continue to make progress on Nam'ta Secundus. Kaldon does as he always would and on Nam'ta VI we-"
"No, no, not the war." Graush dismissed the topic with a flick of his fork and a sigh that sent ripples through his jowls. "Please, Kemma. I have a thousand officers, dignitaries, accountants, magistrates and ministers endlessly informing me about the state of the war. I did not ask to speak privately with you so that we might exchange reports I had already seen before perhaps even your own eyes laid upon them."
The Moff took another bite, washing it down with a long drink of wine before smiling. "No. We have far more interesting exploits to discuss." He said as the smile widened in equal parts malice and bemusement.
"We are soon approaching the first anniversary of your very first attempt to leash one of the Empire's Sith to your service, Kemma dear."
The remark caught her completely off guard. "...Your Excellency?"
"Oh, do not play daft with me, Governor." Graush chuckled. "You intended to ensnare the Horuset Powerbase to do your bidding. An Apprentice... Shekker... Or Sekker was it? I believe?... Darth Kalkoran's whelp. You intended to send their forces against your enemies. Barracas' Death Hand. Some smugglers. And your colleague Keersk, was it not?" Graush regarded her over the rim of his wine glass, his black eyes shining wil self satisfaction as a silence lingered across the pavilion.
Finally Kemma replied. "Your Excellency, I have no idea what you are talking about." She said it with enough conviction that for a brief moment she almost believed it herself. Graush only smiled. "Oh come now, Kemma dear." He sighed. "You wound me. I invite you to my pavilion, offer you food that costs more than some Governors spend on their entire household staff, and the first thing you do is lie to me? When I already know the truth of things? Tut, tut! You are supposed to be clever than this!"
His tone remained light and believably pleasant. But the intention behind it sharpened. Ralter's expression did not move. "Lie, your excellency? I would never presume to do such a thing but I-"
"No?" Graush snapped his fingers.
"Then perhaps only your memory fails you." he remarked as he set down his goblet. At once Ensign Loring emerged from a side chamber carrying a black case. Opening it, he withdrew a datapad and stood beside the table awaiting instruction.
Graush did not take it, instead he merely waved his fingers lazily before diving back into his meal as the ensign began to read.
"'Target Profile One. Rebel Commando Cell: Barracas' Death Hand. Location: Nam'ta Prime. Description: An irritating splinter in the heel of progress.'" He did not get much further as the pavilian thundered with chuckle that strained the chair beneath the Moff to its limits. His uniform groaning with each ripple.
"'An irritating splinter.' I rather liked that line. Very evocative. Did you write that yourself?"
Kemma remained silent, as the Moff continued his feasting. Perhaps never having expected an actual reply. The Ensign continued with the same neutral tone as he read down the report.
"'Neutralise them, Apprentice Sekker. Root them out and bring them to ground. Public executions would serve as a reminder of what fate awaits traitors.'" As Loring lowered the datapad.
Graush calmly cut another piece from his nuna. "Quite forceful language, Kemma. One can practically hear the irritation and smell the desperation..." He nodded once, and before she could respond, Loring continued.
"Target Profile Two. Smuggler Ring. Akuria. Akuria remains the nexus of a rebel smuggling operation. I have raised the matter formally. However, Graush's clerks sent it into bureaucratic purgatory. Then into silence.'"
The Moff stopped chewing long enough to chuckle once more before he set his hate-filled eyes on Kemma. Seemingly adoring the glint of concern in her green eyes as the phrasing.
"Oh, do not look so worried. If I executed every Governor who cursed my bureaucracy, I would hardly have a sector left to govern."
His laughter faded as another nod instructed Loring to continue.
"'Target Profile Three. Envoy Delegation of Governor Keersk of Imperial Gibella. Ensure his envoy does not arrive. The way between the Dromund Kaas spaceport and Kaas City is fraught with danger. Accidents are known to happen. Setbacks can be... tragic.'" The Ensign concluded before he fell silent.
The Silence lingered for a while, broken only by the Moff's chewing and the soft rhythmic sweep of the Twi'leks fan. A laugh escaped graush, deep enough to shake his shoulders as he cut into his Nuna, the Moff more than content and bemused to listen to the evidence of a Conspiracy against another Imperial Official while eating his dinner.
Graush took another drink before he spoke. Lowering his glass to the table. "Would you care to deny it again?"
Kemma studied him for a moment before sighing, realizing the game was over.
"No. No, I would not, Your Excellency."
She folded her hands together again.
"A message needed to be sent. Keersk intended to obstruct military aid to Nam'ta. I wanted that obstruction removed."
"There. Was that so difficult?" He said with a dry chuckle and a satisfied sigh. "The intrigue of Governors never ceases to amuse me... One asks whether they wished a rival or their adjutant dead, as well all sometimes do, and they tend to spend the next ten minutes explaining why it was somebody else's fault before arriving at the exact same conclusion..."
For the first time in this conversation, Kemma allowed herself a small sigh.There seemed little point in disputing the charges any further. "Very well. If you want a confession. Yes. I approached the Horuset Powerbase to explore the possibility of Cooperation. I sought solutions where I could find them, and the Apprentice offered his services."
"And?" The Moff inquired with a knowing glint in his eyes.
"And the Sith proved unreliable." Kemma admitted.
The Moff laughed, seemingly delighted in the admission as he wagged the fork in her direction once. "Of course they did!"
"Do not take my notice for disapproval, Kemma dear. An Imperial Governor must have bite to their bark. I have not summoned you here to have you stand trial for what every single clerk underneath and above you does... I wished only to express my dissapointment you did not try harder." He cut away another piece of the rapidly vanishing bird.
"Your mistake was not the attempt. The attempt was sensible. The Sith may deign to rule this Empire, and indeed some of them do. However... Most of the rest of their order are as usable a pawn as any other to the skilled political player... The key difference is simply that the Sith dislike being reminded of that fact more than others."
Another bite followed. Another swallow of wine.
"To use the Sith, one must dangle their self-interest before them. You identified a Powerbase operating within your sector outside the conventional structures imposed by me and sought to influence its actions. Ambitious. Practical. I commend you for it.... Approaching the Horusets was not a mistake..." He leaned back into his chair, it groaned beneath him with a horrid strain.
"No, your mistake was that you approached them like a Governor recruiting an asset. A Sith is never merely an -asset-! Tut! The horror, they would never demean themselves to such a servantile role! No, no, They will always be -allies-! Courtiers with lightsabers. Cultists and aristocrats forever pursuing their own desires. One must approach them accordingly... They will only serve obediently if they believe they stand to gain something from doing so... Like an animal. They will only hunt as long as the prize indeed outweighs the effort." His fingers folded together across his stomach.
"You offered them influence on Nam'ta, yes.... But unfortunately the attention span of Sith can be more fickle than that of a child. Their attention drifted elsewhere and with it went any leverage you possessed. Thus your objectives remained unfinished."
It is in that moment that his enthusiasm dimmed. The amusement that had coloured the conversation ended in a moment as his eyes and tone darken. "Still." He said, sighing deeply. "I had hoped you would've tried harder... Because now -I- have to deal with your mistake."
That finally drew a reaction from her. "Your Excellency?" She asked.
"Oh, your fourth target profile. The Poet 'Emeritus Halden Reus'?"
Graush sighed.
"A clever little puzzle to escape the eyes of the Imperial Censors... But alas I am afraid your clever little puzzle may have flown over the heads of our friends in the Horuset Powerbase. Not over mine, however." He said with a sigh as he recitedthe words from memory.
"'Kneel... In... Lift... Lingering... All... Mountains... Bitter... Ash... Sunrise... Still... And... Dying... Onwards... Rising...'" The Moff paused to catch his breath before continuing.
"'Remove... Each... In... Nam'ta... A...'"
A smile spread slowly across his face.
"K.I.L.L. A.M.B.A.S.S.A.D.O.R. R.E.I.N.A."
He tapped a thick finger against the table. "Kill Ambassador Reina. A directive hidden within the first word of every line in the poem." Graush seemed almost impressed. "Clever! But it seems to clever... For if the Sith had acted swifter, the traitor's defection to the enemy might yet have been prevented..."
The smile disappeared.
"Alas."
He reached for his wine.
"Here we are."
