It was a week after the Blood Battalion's fall that Ahor and the brave defenders of Nordic finally moved on to the Blood Battalion's remaining base.
It had been a long time since he had seen the old Mon Calamari Cruiser, now wrapped in red crystal. He still recognized a few of the scorch marks and dents. The poorly maintained ventilation system still made the air inside taste vaguely of copper.
What he hadn't seen was the Huntress's quarters. It had formerly been the bridge, until that was torn out and fitted to be her personal training ground and lounge.
"You always had a taste for the gaudy," he whispered, running his hand along one of the dozens of animal hides hanging on the wall.
"Sir, we've found a few dozen survivors, but they surrendered immediately."
Ahor's eyes went wide. "Immediately? That's a hell of a lot better than I had hoped. Send word back home to Mavis."
"Already done, sir."
"Ok, then take a lunch break. You may as well."
The Rabble messenger smiled and headed back out the door, leaving Ahor once again alone in the opulent chamber.
He stared out the window, seeing blue cloaks move between the upturned ships and ramshackled buildings. Prisoners were held at gunpoint. Weapons and usable gear were being recovered and catalogued. The bodies that laid everywhere, including the ten surrounding the barren center of the square, were haphazardly tossed into piles to be disposed of.
Luckily, the mines were plenty deep enough to hold all of them.
To finally cement the hero's victory, he nudged loose a plate on the wall of the chamber, which had formerly been the floor of the bridge before the ship was landlocked vertically. Underneath the panel was a very old bottle of Rison Umplagia, a fine Ukian wine hidden away and earmarked for an unspecified special day.
Ahor picked up the bottle and tore the cork out with his teeth, before picking up the item next to it.
It was a white helmet, Clone Wars era, caked with a lifetime's worth of grime. Ahor hadn't seen it in a very long time.
"I hope I did right," he whispered, taking a few sips of the wine. He thought about pouring some out for the fallen, but knew his father would never forgive him for that.