Nar Shaddaa, Darth Vader's Residence, Corellian Sector, 31 BBY

Darth Vader felt the almost every single muscle of his body screaming for him to make the current brief pause in his training into a more permenant one. I cannot. I will not, he thought while kneeling into the center of his personal Dojo. He could feel the cold, hard floor against the scrapped skin on his knees. Other parts of his body had felt it too for he had fallen down more times than he could care to remember. He still rose up each time, having earned another lesson that would come to save his life in the future. A retractable, Echani staff meant to replicate a saberstaff was in his right hand. It had been the weapon that he chose to focus on today, seeking to diversify his specialities. Four training droids were taking their positions around him. He paid them no mind, not yet, as he remained immersed in the echoes of the Force around him.

I couldn't have chosen a better world, he thought. Nar Shaddaa was steeped in violence, greed, passion, anger and pain, a maelstrom of the Dark Side. It fueled him, nurtured his potential in ways that he never imagined were possible. For one, it had reduced his desire and as he suspected, his need for sleep. Vader was feeling energized, eager to keep training deep into the night and woke up the next morning as early as possible for his more academic studies. His grueling regimen had 11-4D worried. The droid was drawing from its medical programming, trying to comprehend his condition with the cold statistical data that he was programmed to digest and compute. The results had it even more worried but since its Master was in good health and fully functioning for a child his age, it stopped its pestering, only increasing Vader's caloric intake to compensate for the increased physical training.

While his thoughts continued to drift into the dark ocean that was Nar Shaddaa, Vader's ears caught the whirring of servos and machinery coming towards him alongside the unmistakable buzz of the electroblade that the droids arrayed around him carried. Vader could see them, even if his eyes were closed. The attacking droid came from his left while the others approached slowly from his front, back and right side, closing the avenues of escape that were available to him.

Vader snapped into action, pushing through the Force against the trajectory of the electroblade, momentarily slowing it down. He threw himself out of the way, rolling forward and the left. Founding his footing quickly, Vader activated the first component of his staff. Wielding like a single-bladed weapon, he tapped the droid with just enough force to ease it into the one that was coming from the front. They crashed into each with loud bang, the electroblades flying from their grips onto the ground. While they tried to stand up again, Vader activated the second component of his staff and assumed the standard guard of the Fast style of combat. The hilt was kept close to his body, at the height of his waist on his right side in a two-handed grip. His right foot was placed back, springed like a coil, ready to propel him to onwards while his left was extended forwards and to the side in a brace position. The droids that still stood up approached him carefully, one from each side in an attempt to divide his attention. Vader moved forwards to meet them carefully, surprising the droid on his right with a fake, underpowered hit. The droid deflected it easily but it had served its intended purpose, goading the other droid to attack him. Pushing the staff backwards, Vader deflected the electro-staff just enough so it wouldn't hit but retain as much momentum as possible. The droid followed its blade forwards, opening itself to a hit on its back by the Dark Lord, who had managed to twirl around it, delivering a blow on its lower back.

Perfection, Vader thought, supremely happy with himself. He had made strides in close quarters combat after reading into the texts preserved in the Book of Sith. Darth Bane had done away with the copiously dogmatic approach of the Jedi that Sidious had burdened him with. The Sith Lord had managed to distill lightsaber combat into three distinctive styles, Fast, Strong and Juyo. Vader's aggressive nature was drawn towards the Strong style but he simply lacked the strength and stature for it. For now, he was restricted by the constraints that biology placed on him, focusing his training on the mastery of the Fast Style of Darth Zannah. The small height and lithe figure of Bane's apprentice wasn't geared towards the overpowering strength of the aforementioned style, placing emphasis instead on redirecting an opponent's attacks rather than directly blocking in order to maintain one's own energy. The choice of style had influenced his choice of training with the double-bladed staff instead of a single-bladed weapon. They were excellent defensive tools, as the doubled length of the staff provided more surface area for deflecting and parrying, perfectly suiting the nature of the Fast style.

The droids were now back at full strength and on their feet, arraying themselves on a curved line in front of him, approaching menacingly. Back in his guard position, Vader studied them as they approached, his mind racing with possibilities. He was looking for a way to decrease the number of attacks that he would have to deal with. A second later, he sprang into action. He began moving towards the left, forcing the droids to break the formation for a few precious seconds. With a touch of the Force behind him, Vader dashed to the right, lifting his sta…

The bite of an electroblade pierced his ribs, sending waves of crackling electricity to his body. Vader wanted to scream but he grunted instead biting hard as he fell to the ground. A second electro-staff bit into his skin, causing more pain. Frothing like a trapped animal, Vader tasted blood in his mouth, his tongue bleeding. The metallic taste was overbearing and sickly but sweet.

"AGAIN!", he shouted to the droids and a third electro-staff made contact on his left arm. His grunt was closer to a scream now, pain reverberating throughout his body. It was only fair. If the droids were real combatants, he would been slain without mercy or further consideration. It was a reality that he had to contend with honesty. He had been in fights before, yes but he's earlier victims hadn't been expecting him to possess the abilities that he did. The Black Suns gangsters on Coruscant, the Sun Guards trapped in their speeder, Danil. The Force and their unpreparedness had given him an edge but as his "duel" with Sidious had proved, when met with a competent rival he could only survive for a few minutes.

Pain now, Victory later, he thought. "AGAIN!", he shouted at his droids and received his just returns.

Peace is a lie, there is only Passion…, he began reciting the Sith Code inside his head. Through Passion, I gain Stre…Strength! The bite of the electro-staffs came again but he didn't stop. Through Strength, I gain Power! Through Power, Victory and through Victory, my chains are broken.

He kept repeating the mantra until 11-4D interceded.

"Master, your dinner is ready", the droid reminded him.

"I'll eat here, 11-4D", Vader said absentmindedly before he returned to his studies. The Book of Sith was opened in front of him, its paper pages belying its age. Vader read from a datapad, reviewing a paper from some professor that he had managed to retrieve from the HoloNet. It was filled with words that he couldn't understand and he wasn't really trying to. What had interested him was that the planet's location was known, that it could be reached. From there, he could try to extrapolate the location of the other major planets of the old Sith, worlds with vaunted names such as Ziost, Malachor and Ashas Ree. The comments of his Master next to the pages told him that it was useless, that these places carried only whispers now. It wouldn't be the first time that his Master lied. Vader wanted to reach his own conclusions, learn more about the first Sith, understand more about the burden that rested on his back, both a great power but also tainted with danger.

"Here you are Master", 11-4D said as it carried his food, a roasted Nuna. Vader inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the well-cooked meat and the spices that gave it extra flavor. He closed the Book and safely placed in the drawer of his desk, locking it for extra security. Diving in, he started slicing the succulent meat, eating as if he had been starving for days. Have I been starving for days? No, he waved his head. It was impossible. 11-4D was worse than any mother when it came to his personal schedule but that fact that he needed someone to remind him was a testament to the all-encompassing nature of his studies. Once his mind was occupied with either training or reading, it was laser focused on those tasks, his need to rectify the gaps in his knowledge as quickly as possible bordering on the monomaniacal.

"Any news on that little piece of fabric we sent for appraisement?", Vader asked between gulps of Nuna meat. He was referring to the little piece of velvet that had been stored with the Book of Sith back on Coruscant. He hadn't found any mention of it in its pages but he suspected that it was important.

"I am afraid not, Sir. The so-called expert proved to merely what you humans call a snake-oil doctor."

Vader chuckled at the droid's phrase. "A pity but this is Nar Shaddaa after all."

"Quite, sir. I think that we should be more careful in the future. If our line of questioning somehow attracted the notice of the Jedi, we would be in mortal danger"

Vader nodded again and rested his chin on his right arm. The droid made sense as it usually did. He worked the problem in his head, trying to find a workable solution. Maybe I should pursue something else, something easier. It was an attractive thought but as always, the path of least resistance provided no challenge. No improvement. No, I want to visit these worlds and that is what I'll do. "You are quite right, droid. Perhaps we should look into some people that are... partial to the Sith's point of view. The Book mentions other groups that follow the Dark Side"

"Other than the Sith?", asked the droid.

"Yes. The Book refers to them as the Nightsisters, the Mecrosa Order and the...", Vader paused, cleaning his hands before he leaned over to the drawer, searching the pages of the Book for the answer that he was seeking. "The Sorcerers of Tund and the Prophets of the Dark Side"

11-4D shifted its head as it digest the information. "I will make inquiries through the HoloNet and prepare the necessary information, Master"

Thunder and lightning illuminated the spires and arches of the Imperial Summer Palace on Serreno, the spiritual heart of the Galactic Empire, the Galaxy's premier power, the enforcer of law and order, an Empire led by the worthy for those that were too primitive to understand how sick the Galaxy was. On the mustering grounds below, legions of troops clad in the Black and Armor of the Imperial Legions marched to their positions in preparations of the annual Trooping of the Color. Their banners were laden with battle honors, the names of hundreds of worlds that were brought to Imperial Compliance through their might. Proud names like Chandrila, home of the Rebellion that troubled the early days of the Empire, Daq, the Ocean World whose endless seas were now boiled away by turbolasers after they rebelled for one last time and Tatooine, the stronghold of Jabba the Hutt, the Galaxy's largest criminal whose head adorned the Throne Room of the Emperor.

He was watching through a green-tinted window. It wasn't his time to appear on the balcony just yet but he enjoyed the parade ground perfection of his troops. Behind him, his most ruthless Generals, his Acolytes, counted their successes, each one trying to surpass the other. He observed them over his back but their faces were still hidden, only being able to discern peripheral characteristics. One of them was a bald, tattooed woman while other was blue-skinned with luscious long hair and a pair of twin humans.

At the sound of a horn, they made their way to a balcony overlooking the mustering fields. The troops arrayed below him snapped at attention at the orders of their officers, a single, unified tap filling the air. Then just as uniformly as before the soldiers began shouting the name of their leader, the man whose vision they enforced.

Dooku!

Dooku!

DOOKU!

Castle Dooku, Serenno, 31 BBY

Count Dooku sharply inhaled as his eyes shot open. The painting on the roof above his bed, one of his ancestors slaying a feared beast, looked back down on him. It was still deep into the night as the moonlight creeping in from his bedroom window would suggest.

The dreams are coming more often, he thought while sighing before lifting himself from the bed. They began right after he assumed the rulership of Serreno, coming night after night with increasing intensity. The Force had showed him visions before but he had dealt with them the proper way, through meditation and introspection. Even so, those vision were rarely so vivid or precise, a whisper when they were compared to those that he experienced now.

He retrieved his robe from the nightstand next to his bed and threw it over him in order to fight the chill of a Serennian night before he moved to his desk, unlocking a drawer and retrieving a notebook from within it. He had started cataloguing the visions that he had been receiving the last few months. He scribbled quickly, feeling an urge to commit the images to paper before they were forgotten in the mists of time.

When that was done, Dooku shifted back through the pages, trying to find a pattern, a blueprint for what he was supposed to do with this information. The Force was trying to say something to him, that was clear as day. Could it be approval?, he thought. It wasn't as if he didn't enjoy those thoughts or that he didn't entertain them before. Even as a youngling, Dooku knew that he was meant for greater thing, some glorious purpose. For some time, the Order gave him that purpose but after 50 years of service, he had come to realize that it was a lie. The events of Naboo and the subsequent assasination of Chancellor Palpatine had only cemented his belief that change was needed. That the light was perhaps not the answer after all.

The Galaxy needs order. It needs to be set straight, at any cost. The Light can only do so much though.

Yes, perhaps it was time to face the fact that the Force was pushing him in its chosen, correct direction. The Count returned to his notebook. He turned to an empty page. His hand flew forward as it began sketching a palace with tall spires and arches.

Author's notes:

-As Vader continues his hard training, in comes the Count. Their paths to the Dark may be seperate for the moment. For the Moment.

-BleakFreak16, without wishing to reveal too much, there will be a war but methinks it will be slightly different. And now, like a wizard, I will keep my secrets :)

-Till we meet again