Aphotis’s mask hissed as she inhaled the scent of varnish. Her heels click-tapped on the wroshyyyr wooden floor, interrupting the much more subtle sound of people sparring. Each hall was carefully curated to be large and high enough to accommodate for a multitude of types of fighters.
Still, the combat center had a sinister aura, as if it enticed strife. The tall woman smelled fear from the sweat that was spilled here and it was of the most bitter kind. There was also blood, of all sorts of compositions, iron was not even the most prominent. The lifeless receptionist that had given the tall Sith directions was already shivering before she had arrived.
’I should really invite myself more often.’
Aphotis could feel his power as the sound of combat intensified upon her approach. Her tail flicked back and forth by itself as she laid eyes upon his calm, yet intense demeanor. The indomitable Chiss was facing four trainees at the same time. There was no shred of anxiety or doubt to be felt from Aequitas, but his opponents radiated dread like geysers.
The witch had her electric-blue eyes set on the encounter, watching in silence.
He paid them no mind. He did not look at them, for they did not deserve his gaze. He did not acknowledge them, for they were unworthy of his presence. He did not speak, for they were unworthy of his teachings.
For now. That was their test. Prove themselves worthy.
“GAAAAAAH!” The first Acolyte charged forth, a Weequay whose crimson blade illuminated his leathery skin.
Aequitas smiled, moving his right foot to the side. A small change, but one that altered the vector of attack from certain death to a near miss.
A second joined the fray, a Togruta girl with her montrails tied behind her head. Tbe emerald glow of tbe saber followed the Weequay in his attempts to cut down the Combat Master.
It was like they moved in a miasma. No, Aequitas was simply faster. The way his feet moved across the floor made it look lime he was gliding across a ballroom. Every stride felt like it was floating in air, every swing of their blade missing him by millimetres.
A third took a swing with their crossguard cerulean blade, a Wookie, of all creatures. Only now did Aequitas draw upon his weapon to deftly deflect the attack down towards the ground.
The smile turned into a frown. “Dissapointments. All of you are unworthy of the power I can teach you.”
With expert precision, he stabbed through each of their guards one after the other like bottled lightning unleashed. Skin seared and burned under his blade.
As the lightsaber’s clamoured to the ground, they were summoned to the hands of the fourth, a Besalisk that held each weapon in their giant, sweaty palms.
They attempted to attack, yer, each swing of their blade was met with effortless parries and evasion.
“Why… can’t… I… hit… you!”
Anderson stopped all four blades with one block. “It is because you are undisciplined, untrained, and unskilled.”
He pushed back with one hand, severing each hand in as little as two swings. The Besalisk howled in horror and dropped to their knees.
Aequitas’ gaze turned to their audience, the smile returning to his face as he offered a light bow. “It appears we have an esteemed guest in our midst. Tell me, these recruits are here due to their lack of ability and progress. How would you rate their performance?”
<@188018248241905664>
Hiss
“Really, Aequitas?”
“Fine, the Weequay receives six out of ten, for having the guts to engage you head on and fighting in tandem with the team-mate.”
“The Togruta gets a four out of ten. Outnumbering your opponent with the element of surprise and still failing to gain momentum.”
Behind the visor the Sith rolled her eyes.
“The hairball gets a two out of ten, worthless. You missed the opportunity to not only eliminate the other fighters, but you also failed to make use of your supposed ‘mythical’ strength.”
“Pathetic, the Besalisk was just comical. Just end their misery already, I see nothing burning in their soul. Zero potential.”
Aphotis held her clawed hands behind her back as she paced in a calm manner in front of the audience. Her tail flicked back and forth with menace and excitement—but it was not for this bout…
“My thoughts exactly.”
Lightning cackled at the Combat Master’s fingertips, the room bursting into strobe lighting as tendrils of electrical agony surged through the corpses of all the recruits.
All of them, that is, except the Weequay, as the bodies of his companions collapsed in a burning heap.
“You pass. Barely. Escort yourself to the medical bay. Ypu will begin training again once you have recovered. Consider yourself privileged. Your training has only just begun. It will be far more intense from here.”
The Weequay scurried to his feet and gingerly left the room. Once the durasteel blast doors closed behind him, he turned his attention to Aphotis.
“To what, or whom, do I owe the pleasure of your visitation, Aphotis?”
Light from the electric barrage reflected against her suit and visor, hiding a creeping smile behind it. She tapped her boot until the Weequay had disappeared.
“Aequitas. Likely you have been aware of the recent Taldryanite expedition of which I too was part of?” Both her tail and voice were calm.
Aphotis took out an expendable datapad from her Envoy kit.
“These recordings might warrant my visit here today.” She held the datapad in front of her.
Neutrality possessed the face of Aequitas. The only sign of his curiosity was the quirk of a raised eyebrow. He glanced at the datapad suspiciously.
“I am aware of the expedition, though I am seldom kept in the Supreme Chancellor’s close circle unless he requires my aid.”
He scoffed. It was always take, take, take with that Republic.
“Pethaps we should take this somewhere more private…”
He escorted Aphotis to his private office located in the central spires of the Combat Centre. It was circular in shape, with blood-red carpets and a large, curved desk in which terminals and cameras observed the files and halls of the centre itself. Of course, this room hung above everything below it.
“Now, what is in that datapad that you felt required to make the long journey to Arx?”
There was no gasp. No shock. No surprise. The only sign that there was any intrigue from the Combat Master was the slight quirk of a brow.
“Oh? How curious.”
He tapped the screen of the datapad, and sure enough, there he was. Yes, he was taller, but the work of cybernetics was plain to see. The way the Mandalorian spoke and swaggered, it was undeniably Appius Wight.
“I see. Though, this changes nothing,” Anders leaned back in his seat. “My objective was clear; remove Appius Wight by any means necessary. I was given permission to use lethal force if required. I still succeeded. He is no longer the Supreme Chancellor of the Taldryan Republic and is merely a shell of his former self.”
Electric-blue squinted at the Chiss in an attempt to read his true meaning. Regardless of the outcome, the tooka was out of the bag now. She raised her clawed index finger.
“One, more, thing. I intend to make his re-appearance common knowledge. Either that, or he will be slain by my hand, permanently,” Aphotis’s voice seemed to have a hint of disappointment laced in it. And her tail was curled, as if expecting a reaction of some sort.
Under hushed breath, as if within the hiss of her mask, she uttered, “He seems quite popular, and intent on being,” the Sith coughed, “heroic.”
Anders could not help but chuckle and shake his head. Heroic, indeed. That Mandalorian was at one time practically the poster child of the brave and idiotic, the kind of reckless abandonment tbe typical plebeians of the galaxy would rally behind. They had done so once before. Such blind loyalty could only lead to the ruins of entire systems.
Still, since he lived…
“Aphotis, before you depart, I have a proposition for you. Do you, or do you not, currently resude in the Asog Temple on Kasiya?”
The tall Sith raised a brow at the question.
“I frequent the Temple regularly, I find it quite soothing and I make sure protocol is being followed. As you well know, competence is hard to find.”
“Indeed,” Anders did, in fact, understand that quote well. In fact, it was evident as screaming was heard from below.
“What I require of you is simply information. I desire to know the whereabouts of Appius Wight. His movements. Who he speaks with and his intentions. Should you crave his death yourself, that is acceptable to me. In return…”
With a wave of his hand, the drawer beside him opened. A small flute floated upwards and gently, like a leaf in the wind, glided towards Aphotis.
“This was once a treasure of Darth Lenora, my old Master. There are more, if you are interested. It in infused with alchemy, with the Dark Side.”
The tall Sith woman inclined her head at Anderson. It was not like she could ignore Appius’s whereabouts when their ideology differed so much. He dragged with him a populated moon with his name on their tongue, and hers.
Aphotis grasped it gently, feeling its remarkable craftsmanship and power through the black symbiotic skin.
“Impressive, I can feel that it has been touched by the dark, indeed. Nothing you require clashes with my intentions, so consider it done.”
A clasp of his fingers and a lean back into his seat was all a show, of course. At tve end of the day, they were both Sith. There was an understanding between them. They lived so long as they were useful to one another. Once they were not…
Aphotis was a spectre of darkness. She was an eclipse that drowned out the light of a shining sun. She was a black hole, sucking all hope in until nothing remained but despair.bshe was enigmatic in her own ways, a reputation rightly driven by a lust for fear, pleasure in the abyss, ecstasy in the miserable.
She was not to be underestimated.
“I look forward to hearing from you, Aphotis. The more you information you give, the more you shall be rewarded.”
Aphotis knew Aequitas as one who kept his word, but his sense of justice and vengeance often spilled over. She could draw from that font. But greed could also play too much into the Chiss’s hands.
The black-clad woman had already inclined her head at him, there was no need to show submission and give him another sign of recognition.
The Combat Master kept his cards close to his chest, paying off favors remarkably fast and was somehow everywhere at once. It was refreshing to step into his new domain, but that did make her feel vulnerable. The way he spoke with his strong Coruscanti accent made it feel as if he was domineering her.
‘He could try.’
“Of course, Aequitas. Always a pleasure,” her own voice modulated but at least as cordial and aristocratic as his.
I’d lightning could stroke, it would have between the two of them. Aequitas possessed the same internal thoughts as Aphotis. Behind the cordiality was a craving for violence, for dominance, to prove who was better.
He wanted to prove he was better. He wanted to feel her symbiote scream in agony as he tore her mind asunder. Fighting against those urges tested him. Yet. He restrained himself. For now. Their time would come.
“If that is all, Aphotis, then I believe our meeting is adjourned.”
Aphotis had already turned on her heel before Aequitas could finish his sentence—she had enough of his authority and etiquette. The tip of her tail waved at him, imitating a salute. Meanwhile, her claws were gently investigating the artifact she was given.
She was going to place it deep inside the vaults of the highly secure Asog temple, where it could not affect other items. It was as if a tune was playing in her head by just looking at it. The symbiotic skin warped from discomfort, mimicking the closest thing to what would be goosebumps. That tickle made her heart beat faster from excitement.
‘What other toys did this Darth Lenora have?’