Means to an End

Dreadnought Autarch
Dark Council Flagship
Antei Orbit

It would not be enough.

Even as Sarin surveyed the assembled might of the Brotherhood’s finest warriors, he knew, it would not be enough.

Gathered within the austere hangar deck of the massive Autarch, a phalanx of Dark Jedi stood at attention. Their eyes were forward and on the Grand Master and his entourage. Though their backs were not quite as rigid as they once had been, under the brutal discipline of the Emperor’s Hammer, the precise formation smacked of military bearing nonetheless. Sarin smiled inwardly. It was not such an easy thing to forget. It would always be a part of them no matter how far down the dark path they ventured. There would always be the beginning, just as there would undoubtedly be the end.

It was that ‘end’ that pressed upon his thoughts now even as he approached the formation to award the prowess and tenacity of his finest Jedi. Since assuming the mantle of the Iron Throne, he had been plagued by visions of the future. The portents shown him were fragmented, disjointed. There was no sense to them he could discern. But he could not ignore them. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff; safe if he remained steadfast, or withdrew, but one more step forward and the reality of his situation would rush eagerly to greet him.

But this was a step forward, wasn’t it? He had quickly moved to shake loose the rust from his fleet, strengthen the backs of his soldiers, and instill pride and discipline where enmity and jealousy threatened. Even now he actively sought to modernize the Brotherhood’s war-machine through various dealings he had initiated out-system. Sarin perceived the threat. That much, at least, the visions had heralded. What he could not see however, was how many more steps lay between the Brotherhood and the precipice beyond.

---

Sarin came back to the now. He reviewed the mental notes he had made and addressed the body standing before him. “Adherents of the Final Way, I salute you,” he said in a voice that rose like thunder in the cavernous bay. His formal robes barely touching the obsidian hangar deck, polished to a mirror finish for the ceremony, as he began to pace. “A fortnight ago I called you to task to show me the substance of your character, the courage of your convictions, and the desire you possess for that which above all things will grant us the day of our reckoning...Victory!”

A cheer went up from the hundreds of assembled disciples that shook the very room.

The Grand Master paused in mid-stride and turned to them, “You have achieved great things during this Rite. You have brought glory to yourselves and your Clans, yes, but do not let what you accomplish in simulation jade what you believe yourselves capable of in practice.” He resumed pacing at the front of the formation. His presence was formidable. The very power that emanated from him pressed in upon the ranks of Dark Jedi like the barometric pressure of a storm front. The pressure could not be seen, but it was felt by all.

“There is no substitution for the press of your enemy’s blade against your own,” Sarin said, pausing, and activating one of his crimson blades so quickly none save a few Elders in the back even saw the movement.

The blade’s hum could be heard quite distinctly throughout the hangar, such was the quieted rapture those present were held in by the Grand Master’s words. The lightsaber’s rock-steady blade pointed to the ceiling twenty meters above. Its ethereal glow described in near perfect analog within the deep reflection of the onyx decking. Ozone crackled out of existence.

He continued, “There is no secret technique to aid you when you look into his eyes and see there your death. No artifact will save you. No power gleaned from the shelves of your Clan’s library will alter your fate a micron.” Sarin watched for their reactions.

“When the enemy comes for you, it will not be simulation. It will not be when you are ready. When he comes for you he is sure of your death. Will you be sure of his? Ask yourselves; were that which you fear most to come for you now, would you be ready?”

Silence.

“You will not be if you continue placing stock in your own greatness. You will not be when you can’t free yourselves from the internecine conflict that plagues us. You most certainly will not be ready if you are so blinded by personal gain that you don’t recognize the sword at your back,” he paused, sheathing his blade. “Look around you. We are not the Sith of a thousand years ago. We are not the lost child of the Emperor’s Hammer. What we are is that which we must be: a Brotherhood. Consider that word.”

“Deputy Grand Master, the Seals,” Sarin commanded and several Councilors proceeded down the ranks accompanied by their Acolytes. At each Jedi they stopped and presented a Seal of Darkness. Struck by the Herald’s own hand, the Seals were affixed to the robes of each competitor so that all would know of their service.

Once the Seals had been awarded, the Grand Master ordered Novae. To each member placing third or higher in a given event, a Bronze, Silver, or Gold Novae was affixed to their cloak.

“Before I announce the Champions of this Rite,” Sarin said when the Novae had been distributed, “there are two among us I must personally recognize for their long years of service, for their devotion to the Final Way, and for their impeccable leadership to their Clans: Braecen Kaeth Kunar and Duga Taldrya Arkarso!”

Cheers again rang throughout the hangar bay as the two Equites made their way from the rear of their Clan’s representative contingents and to the front to stand before the Grand Master.

Deputy Grand Master Halcyon Rokir addressed the two men, “Consuls, throughout this Rite of Supremacy you have both exhibited what it means to lead forces to victory. For your leadership and direction, we of the Dark Jedi Brotherhood are grateful.”

Sarin clasped both men on the shoulders, his armored gloves nearly as black as the polished deck. “That gratitude I now formally acknowledge by elevating both of you to the highest tier of Equite power. Congratulations, Obelisk Primarch Duga Taldrya Arkarso and Krath Pontifex Braecen Kaeth Kunar!”

Cheers rolled through the assembled ranks and Sarin lifted a hand to quiet them. “It is indeed fitting to have these two stand before us as they have ensured their Clans have stood before all others during this Rite,” Sarin said indicating Halcyon to proceed.

“For the Rite of Supremacy henceforth known as Second Darkness held in the twenty-sixth year after the Battle of Yavin, we of the Dark Council give you: First Clan, Taldryan, Second Clan, Scholae Palatinae, Third Clan, Plagueis, Fourth Clan, Arcona, Fifth Clan, Naga Sadow, and Sixth Clan, Tarentum.” A cheer followed each naming.

Halcyon continued, “And now your Champions: Arias Vorak, Clan Plagueis, Strategos Thanatos Entar Arconae, Clan Arcona,” as the Deputy Grand Master called the Champions, the named fell out of formation and joined the two Consuls at the fore. “Windos Helkin Bruth’Kothae, Clan Tarentum, Nathaniel, Clan Scholae Palatinae,” Cheers followed each naming. “And Grand Champion of the Rite of Supremacy, Grand Master Jac Ae-Sequiera Cotelin Taldrya-Cantor, Clan Taldryan!”

The ovation reached a crescendo.

The two Grand Masters clasped forearms and congratulated the other Champions. Sarin motioned for quiet as he had another announcement to make. “Brethren, it may come as no surprise to you that one such as Grand Master Cotelin could so dominate the Rite given the magnitude and breadth of his power. But where we laud power here above almost all things, I would like to remind you all of the power of loyalty, vision, and of dedication. These are all powers the Grand Master possesses in abundance.”

Heads nodded at Sarin’s words.

“Indeed, many of us owe Jac Cotelin our very lives. All of us owe him our thanks. To this end his work to bring us to the Final Way will forever be known as on this night I formally induct Grand Master Jac Ae’Sequiera Cotelin Taldrya-Cantor into the Hall of Immortals!”

The applause following the encomium washed over the decks threatening to spill out through the shield protecting the open end of the bay from the glittering vacuum beyond.

Sarin bade Halcyon to his side. “There stands one final matter to attend to this night,” the assembly was quieted at this expecting the ceremonies to be at a conclusion. “You all know the Rite was no mean feat to be organized and administered. For your recognition and ascension to be possible, many worked at my side to ensure that you would be tested to your limits. One among them stands before you,” at this Sarin indicated the Deputy Grand Master, Halcyon.

Halcyon quickly forced his obvious surprise below the surface and maintained an appearance of reserve while the Grand Master continued.

“Halcyon Rokir has performed his duties admirably and has exceeded my expectations as Deputy Grand Master. There exists scarcely an award or rank I could bestow upon him which he does not already possess. Those remaining baubles will surely come in time. Of this, there is no doubt. But what I bestow tonight is far more telling than a mere token.” Sarin watched their curiosity piqued.

At these lauding words from the Grand Master, Halcyon was moved to address his lord. “Master Sarin, I have done no more than—“

“Kneel, Shadow Hand, and be recognized as few have,” Sarin said interrupting Halcyon’s modest protest. “For when you rise, in the company of Sith Lords will you be.”

The Deputy Grand Master fell immediately to one knee before the avatar of the Dark Side.

Many hushed whispers rustled throughout the ranks of Dark Jedi. Not all were mutterings of approval. An askance look from the Grand Master froze the ranks in silence sending a chill down each spine. The baleful stare was fleeting, but effective.

“Let it be known that I, Sarin, Dark Lord of the Sith, bring Halcyon Rokir formally into the Order of Sith Lords. From this day on he shall be known as Lord Halcyon Rokir!” Rise, Lord Rokir.”

As Halcyon rose, Sarin quickly grabbed his wrist to ostensibly help him up and welcome him to the Order. What no one saw but the Grand Master and his Shadow Hand were the tiny arcs of lighting issue from Sarin’s fingertips to Halcyon’s right wrist. At first taken aback, Halcyon made no sound. There was little pain and as he stood to see what the Grand Master’s action had wrought, he noticed the small brand on the inside of his wrist. There burned into the flesh was the mark of the Old Sith held within what appeared as an all-seeing eye.

Adulation followed despite the obvious jealousy. Dark Jedi were nothing if not covetous.

Sarin watched it all outwardly pleased, but within he bore concern. It gnawed at him like a worm, slowly, inexorably. The visions flashed through the shutter of his mind’s eye.

It would not be enough.