Chapter 10
Two Days Later - Council Chamber, Siphon's Citadel
Lethe's council was remarkably demure this day. Astraad looked somehow timid giving his report, while Cyriak made an unusual effort to keep his obsequiousness in check. Sierra sat at her side, quiet and doing her best not to attract attention. General Ravain seemed more confident, though it was hard to tell through the holocom. Lethe wondered if he was having better luck organizing the Sith that remained at Twinspire Keep.
Only Hadrax retained his sourpussed expression. "What is she doing here?" he asked, looking like he could not contain himself any longer, interrupting Astraad's report while pointing an accusatory finger at Sierra.
"She is here at my invitation, Hadrax," said Lethe. "I trust you have no objection."
"You made it clear last time that my objections would be soundly disregarded, my lord."
Lethe struggled to contain her desire to summon the Holocron's power then and there to quash Hadrax' audacious attitude.
"Ah … Darth Siphon," interjected Cyriak. "If apprentices are to be allowed in these Council meetings, I believe there are a few of mine who would appreciate the opportunity ... to … to learn from …"
Cyriak's voice trailed off as Lethe's masked face sent him a piercing glare.
An awkward silence permeated the chamber until Ravain coughed through the holocom. "My lord Astraad, perhaps you should continue."
Astraad defered to Lethe, who nodded her ascent. She had to admit, this new, meek Astraad was an amusing diversion from Hadrax's insolence.
"As I was saying, we will be stepping up security after the latest -"
"Don't bother," said an exasperated Lethe. "How many times have we stepped up security in the last few weeks? Pretty soon the kitchen staff will be on call for patrol duty."
"My lord, your safety -" started Cyriak.
That was a laugh. As if anyone present other than Sierra actually cared. Cyriak wasn't one to let an opportunity to fawn over his master go by, though, however disingenuous it was; Lethe had expected it. "Just find out who paid that assassin. We need to cut the head off a snake."
Astraad bowed his head. "Thresh is already scouring the shadow networks for clues. He has agents examining the cyborg's memory banks as well. We'll find the perpetrator."
"Have we determined how that thing managed to infiltrate my stronghold?"
"Thresh suspects it was smuggled in as part of a shipment of protocol droids. Once it breached security, anyone could have activated it remotely."
Anyone indeed. "I want names," said Lethe, deathly quiet. "Get them to me."
"Of course, my lord."
"Good. What's next?" asked Lethe.
"Darth Nox has sent word that she is dispatching her apprentice to Ziost, one Ashara Zavros. Her communication seems to suggest that Lady Zavros will be making contact with Minister Beniko of Sith Intelligence, and that she will also be paying visits to the most prominent Sith in New Adasta."
"I didn't know Minister Beniko had come here," said Ravain. "Any reason why the head of Sith Intelligence is on Ziost?"
"There were those rumors of activity by the Ziost Liberation Front," suggested Cyriak.
Hadrax snorted. "That's overkill, don't you think? The Ziost Liberation Front is a joke. Even impure filth like Lana Beniko would be completely wasted dealing with those fools."
"Darth Marr keeps his new intelligence organization quite under wraps - we hear only what they tell us," said Astraad.
"Back to Nox and her apprentice then," commanded Lethe. "I assume this Lady Zavros will be gracing the Citadel with her presence?"
"Yes," replied Astraad. "We were among the last stops she was making, but I negotiated a more prominent position on her schedule."
"Mm. Well done," conceded Lethe. The man still had his uses. "What do we know about this 'Lady Zavros?' Is she not a Sith? Why is she not styled a Lord?"
Cyriak grinned, revealing his impeccably clean teeth. "It seems Darth Nox's apprentice is a fallen jedi who has yet to truly embrace Sith teachings."
Hadrax spat, leaving a visible globule of saliva square on the face of the circular council table they all sat around. "Not Sith, not pure of blood, not even human. She is togruta scum. We need not curry her favor, we should turn her away at the gates!"
Lethe felt an urge to smack Hadrax in the face. "Not this again. The old order of things is done, Hadrax, your antiquated prejudice has no place in my powerbase! Accept reality!"
The pureblood lept to his feet, hand racing to his lightsaber, face twisted into a snarl. Lethe watched it happen in slow motion; she could read every single one of his movements. Did Hadrax actually think he could challenge her? How Lethe wanted him to do it, how it would be welcome to her now. The Holocron of Ancient Sorcery had freed from her constraints. She desired to put him in his place here, in front of all of his peers, to prove to her powerbase and to all the galaxy that she needed no one's aid to put her house in order.
But no … Lethe could afford to wait just a bit longer. What Lethe intended to reveal at this council, she was sure would provoke Hadrax beyond the limit. But it was not yet time, not yet needed for her to reveal the true extent of her power magnified by the Holocron. Her apprentice would be enough to pacify the pureblood for now.
The rest of her councillors had fallen silent and still again. Pathetic, all of them. Only Sierra had mimicked Hadrax's call to action - she was a step faster, a heartbeat quicker. Before the pureblood could leap across the council table to attack, Sierra - no, Lord Eris - had already placed the edge of her activated lightsaber at his throat.
The rest of the room looked stunned, but Lethe beamed with pride. Under her tutelage, Eris had grown so much in the last few weeks, her power undeniable. This, from a girl who had failed her trials and abandoned the Academy. Hadrax could not quite believe what had happened, his eyes widening in speechless shock. Lethe almost couldn't believe it herself; she wouldn't have believed such progress could be possible, if she had not personally provided guidance gleaned from the Holocron …
Regardless of the origins of her power, Eris was the perfect proof that the old ways that Hadrax clung to had lost all relevance, that the old teachings and traditions were but relics, obsolete and without merit.
"You're going to sit down now," said the girl to Hadrax. "And be thankful that our master still affords you the opportunity."
The pureblood grit his teeth and did as commanded, releasing his hold on his still-deactivated lightsaber. Reluctantly, he sat back down, but not before sending Cyriak a piercing glare. The burn-scarred pureblood had been unable to hold back an inordinately amused giggle.
Feigning a cough to hide his delight, Cyriak feigned innocence. "Apologies … something stuck in my throat."
Sierra returned to her seat as well. Satisfied that Hadrax had been suitably admonished, Lethe returned her attention to Astraad. "I trust you will make the appropriate arrangements for our guest's arrival?"
"Of course, my lord." He bowed his head low, careful not to meet her eyes.
"Good. Then it's on to the final business of this council and the true purpose to why I summoned you all here today."
Her four advisors looked upon her with expectant curiosity.
"I have come to a decision about who should fill the last vacant seat on this council," said Lethe. "I make this determination, not lightly, but after much deliberation."
Hadrax scoffed, disgusted. It was no wonder, considering his only nomination had been thoroughly disgraced and then slain. Astraad and Ravain seemed nonplussed. They never had stakes in this game to begin with. Only Cyriak's nominees remained. The sycophant's smile expanded across his whole face like a slug at a feast; Lethe wondered briefly if she could stuff a banana sideways into his mouth like that.
"Which of my discip -" the pureblood caught himself before he could further misstep. "Apologies, I of course meant to say which of your faithful followers have you selected to join our ranks, Darth Siphon?"
Lethe smiled from behind her master's mask. Everything was about to change.
"Lord Eris. Rise."
The whole room looked confused - except for one. Cyriak asked, disbelieving, "Eris? That was not one of my nominees. I don't even think there is a Lord Eris within our -"
Cyriak's words withered on his tongue as Lethe's apprentice stood once more, proud, regal ... a true lord of the Sith.
The room exploded in a flurry of activity. Cyriak's jaw dropped clear to the floor. Astraad looked utterly amused, stroking his chin with his cybernetic arm as he pondered the decision. Hadrax leaped to his feet again, slamming both his hands onto the council table so hard that Ravain's holocom disconnected. "You have to be joking! You would name a slave to this council?!"
"A slave, is she?" spat Lethe. "You were so insistent that she was anything but a slave in our last discussion."
Cyriak followed up immediately; Lethe could almost see his mind spin in an attempt to salvage what he could from his lost political play. "While Hadrax's insolence is indeed unworthy, I must agree with his sentiment. As your advisors, we are meant to be your eyes and ears; we are meant to provide you with the most reasoned, most experienced counsel. What can such a young woman offer in that regard? You only accepted her as your apprentice a few days ago!"
"She offers what none of you or your nominations could," countered Lethe. "A fresh mind, one unburdened by orthodoxy and unsullied by Orthas' brainwashing. I expect her perspective to be quite refreshing."
"Lord Ixass is only a few years older than she," Cyriak insisted. "He was on my list; he would be the wiser choice, one that -"
Seeing Cyriak's distress, however, Hadrax seemed to have a change of heart. "One whose nose stinks of your bowels. Ixis has all the wisdom of an empty book and all the efficacy of a dry mop."
Astraad snorted, as did Lethe. She suspected her calculus had paid off; by naming Eris to her council, she had hit two birds with one stone. Cyriak's bootlickers would be kept as far away from her as possible and Hadrax would be mollified; the latter seemed more than delighted that Cyriak's nominations had all been rejected. There was something to be said about competition between Sith - a rival's misery could often prove just as sweet as one's own victory.
The holocom flashed a small light, indicating Ravain was attempting to reconnect, but none made any move to answer. Cyriak looked like someone had thrown a glass of Corellian Red in his face. For once his servile smile had vanished, hidden beneath a vicious snarl directed at Hadrax. "You insolent little -"
Lethe held a hand up to silence them both. "The decision has been made. Lord Eris will join us on this council."
"My lord, I must protest!" exclaimed Cyriak. Lethe turned to the once-fawning councilor one more time, genuinely surprised. She had expected him to resist, but she had not thought he would take it this far. Where was the sycophantic and overly-accommodating demeanor that had so grated on Lethe's nerves for the last dozen meetings?
"Even assuming the young Sierra has valuable insight to offer," insisted Cyriak. "... she cannot be made Lord. And therefore she is ineligible to be named to this council!"
"You are treading dangerous ground, Cyriak," said Lethe, her tone filled with a quiet but building fury. "Perhaps you wish to rethink dictating to me what I can or cannot do."
"Darth Siphon, this girl is a failed apprentice! The whole Citadel knows her past; she abandoned her trials at the Academy! That alone disqualifies her!"
"Cyriak has a point," said Astraad. "My lord, if you raise the girl up to the rank of Lord now, imagine what that says to the rest of the apprentices in the powerbase? That their accomplishments back on Korriban were for nothing? Imagine what the rest of the Sith across the galaxy will say? This is a double standard that could sow chaos in the powerbase and beyond."
The poor fools. So trapped by their outdated thinking, they couldn't see beyond their vaunted traditions. Lethe almost pitied them. Almost.
They would all understand in time. She would make them.
"The matter is closed, I will hear no more squabbling about it. If any of you have further objections to this appointment, you can make them with your lightsaber. And be assured … I will enlighten you your folly."
She wanted to laugh, to display her glorious victory through unbridled mirth for all the galaxy to see. Finally, she could make this declaration. Finally, that challenge that Astraad had dared her to make all those weeks ago, she could make now in front of all who could threaten her reign. Finally, she no longer feared being exposed for her true self. Lethe was a Darth in all things, all but name … and she had Siphon's name for that. None of her upstart disciples would dare challenge her and if they did, she would crush them beneath her heel.
Hadrax offered a contemptuous sigh. "So shall it be. Orthas' legacy suffers another stain. This Citadel sinks another rung on the Sith hierarchy and our ranks swell with impurity and -"
Lethe had enough of Hadrax's pontificating. She would not suffer this impudence any longer. She raised her arm and closed her fingers into a fist, grasping through the Force, channeling the Holocron of Ancient Sorcery. Crushing, choking. Hadrax's words died mid-sentence, severed by Lethe's power. He clawed at his neck, wheezing, desperate for release, his braided hair flailing as his body parted from the floor, lifted up by the strength of Lethe's will alone.
It was so easy. The Holocron granted her power unlimited. What had she been afraid of? Why had she spent so much time accommodating this man's ego? Any of their egos, their vanity? What was their pride before her power? What were their lives before her ambition?
Hadrax's lips moved in anguished attempt to profess apology, but only the sound of air escaping his lungs could be heard.
She couldn't hold herself back now, couldn't stop herself even had she wanted to. Mocking laughter poured from her mouth, a tidal wave of delirious jubilation. A voice whispered in her mind, persistent, but muted, pleading for her not to lose sight of her better way.
… but what was her way before her glory?
Know only submission.
Hadrax's eyes bulged in terror, as the man finally realized what was about to happen. Lethe watched as pain sparked understanding in those narrow-sighted eyes. These moments were to be his last. She would erase this thorn from her side permanently.
"Master, you're going to kill him!"
An insect buzzed in her ear. How annoying.
"Master, stop!"
Someone was tugging at her arm, was trying to interfere, dared to insert herself into matters that did not concern her! What did this fool girl think she was doing?! She would pay. They would all pay!
A piercing scream fled her lips, sending four figures flying backwards, slamming them into the walls of the council chamber. They convulsed in place, held in mid-air by the infinite well of Lethe's newfound power. They screamed, in agony, in terror. Astraad's cybernetic arm shattered into a thousand pieces, burying shrapnel in his sides; blood poured in ribbons, compelled not to the floor by gravity, but by the maelstrom Lethe had summoned. Cyriak shrieked until there was no breath left. Hadrax's body slumped over, unmoving, dead. Retra's body spasmed like a thousand jolts of electricity poured into her skull, her eyes covered in white, her hair singed off, her -
… no!
What have I done?!
"Master, stop! You're going to kill him! Remember, remember what you told me!"
Finally, she recognized the voice. Sierra. Eris. She didn't understand … nothing made sense. Her vision splintered into countless fragments, and then restored itself: the sight before her, completely different than the hallucination she had just witnessed. Astraad, Cyriak, Sierra … they were all fine. Even Hadrax still breathed, hovering in the air, clinging to life by a thread.
Lethe fell back, unable to hide her surprise, unable to hide her shock. She recoiled, withdrawing her power, feeling the Holocron resist, taunt, defy. The vision of a long-dead friend haunted her, tormented her mind and her heart.
Not again. Why did this keep happening?!
Hadrax sank to the ground, defeated. His breath returned to him slowly but surely; he would survive.
"Master, are you alright?" asked Sierra.
" … get out. Get out, all of you!"
"Darth Siphon," said Astraad. "You're not well, you need -"
"GET OUT! LEAVE. DO YOU FOOLS NOT UNDERSTAND? I WANT ALL OF YOU OUT!"
Sierra fell back,frightened. Astraad didn't offer any more objections; he helped Hadrax to his feet, and then threw the weakened pureblood's arm over his shoulder, supporting his fellow pureblood as they limped out of the council chamber. Cyriak followed closely, visibly shaken by what he had seen.
"Master, talk to me, please, I … I want to help!"
"I'm fine, Sierra. Go."
The girl knew better than to try defiance again. She headed towards the exit, pausing only briefly to look upon her master before departing as well. What was that look that she saw? Was it pity? What gave her the idea that she could be pitied? That she could feel sorry for her? She was the apprentice, not her!
Who did she think she was?
By the time the sound of Sierra's footsteps disappeared, Lethe no longer knew who she was thinking about, who she was so angry at: Sierra … or herself.