Korriban, The Sith Academy

"So you were following me," Saizen said when a faint breeze stirred the air. Behind him, someone had opened the door to the room he was allowed to call his own, ever since Lord Varrin had named him his apprentice. "I thought I caught a shadow moving in the corner of my eye."

Seated on the edge of his bed, the apprentice had bowed his head, and his hands were busy unfastening a contraption of metal plates that locked a cybernetic ocular over his right eye. Silver-blonde hair was swept back and combed neatly behind his ears. His hair was barely long enough to reach the nape of his neck, but its refulgence formed a striking contrast with the midnight black of his shirt. "Have you come to mock my injury?" he asked, an unpleasant tone creeping into his voice. "Speak swiftly, or I'll drag you into the tombs where no one will hear you scream."

"Or find my corpse, I am sure," came the wry reply. "Mocking you was not my intent, I assure you." His visitor's voice was warm and soothing, liquid velvet in a world of steel and stone, and although his articulation might rival a holo-newsreader in perfection, it held a faint accent Saizen could not place.

Catching the loose ocular in his palm, Saizen raised his head and looked over his shoulder. Near the doorway stood a man of medium height and slender build. His blue skin was flawless, and his face had the regular, sculpted features so typical for the Chiss. From underneath smooth, black locks peeked a pair of eyes that burned as crimson as a lightsaber. Although he wore the humble grey garb of an acolyte, his posture was proud, and Saizen felt a pang of envy for the overseer who'd have the privilege of breaking this man. The stranger was studying him in turn, although Saizen couldn't tell what exactly the alien found so fascinating. "Explain yourself," he demanded. "And while you talk, fetch me a bowl.

"The shallow one, on the top shelf," he specified, gesturing to an open cabinet standing in the corner. To retrieve the bowl, the Chiss would have to turn his back to him, and Saizen nodded in satisfaction when the alien complied without hesitation. So, if the man was not here to taunt him into making a mistake and trusted him well enough to give him his back, why had he come? What did this alien want from him? That the man needed something was crystal clear to Saizen. His reputation was not the kind that invited visitors, nor was he known for tolerance when it came to the slightest suspicion of disrespect to his status as Lord Varrin's apprentice. He had worked hard to discourage everyone who was not his Master from seeking his company, and until this stranger showed up, he would have sworn he had succeeded.

"My interest is purely academical," the Chiss explained while filling the bowl with a mixture of water, chemicals, and disinfectant he'd found in the cabinet. "I happened to notice your injury when you passed me in the hall." The alien red eyes met Saizen's grey ones with far more understanding than he was willing to handle. "What of it?" he replied, his shoulder tense as he hunched forward. "It's not exactly hidden."

"Not exactly, no." The Chiss held the bowl out to him, and he took it, dropping the ocular into the mixture. "Severe trauma to the head, as far as I can tell without a proper examination. Most would spend a week submerged in a kolto tank, but you wear it as a mark of honor."

"As a reminder," Saizen corrected. His voice was quiet, but the sudden stiffness of the slender fingers scooping the liquid over the ocular came as close to a shout as Varrin's apprentice ever would. "My Master was displeased. This..." He poured a handful of water over the metallic device inside the bowl. "This reminds me of the power he wields."

"Over you?"

Saizen frowned. What had started as a diversion was quickly becoming an annoyance. There were questions Sith did not ask, and answers they took for granted. It wasn't that the Chiss had sounded impolite. On the contrary, if he had anything to gripe about, it would be that the smooth, polished voice had found the right tone at every turn. Respectful, reassuring, polite, the Chiss' demeanor had morphed into whatever stance had worked to put him at ease.

"Don't try to manipulate me!" he snarled. Pleasure dragged the corners of his mouth upwards when he read shock in the alien's crimson gaze.

"Not just over me," he replied, more calmly now their status quo had been restored. "Over the force." Saizen pulled the ocular from its bath and set the bowl aside. "Hand me a towel?" he said, holding his hand out to receive it. "My Master is one of the strongest sorcerers on Korriban. Perhaps the strongest."

"That may be so," the Chiss acknowledged, taking a towel from a pile in Saizen's cabinet and handing it to the apprentice, "but if his expertise extends to all things medical, I will hazard a guess that he has not yet shared such with you."

"He teaches me what I need to know," Saizen replied confidently. He dabbed the cloth against the ocular, patting it dry carefully before reinserting it into its metal casing.

The Chiss shrugged. "Of that, I have no doubt," he replied. "And to the envy of many, I imagine." He waited until Saizen looked up, one end of the cybernetic contraption in each hand. "I am no sorcerer," he continued. "By your Empire's rules, I am not even Sith. But I was a doctor before I became an acolyte, and as a doctor, I am telling you that using that" - he nodded towards the device in Saizen's hands - "is ill-advised. While it may temporarily sharpen your eyes and perhaps even give you an advantage over others, it will also ruin them in the long term."

"Noted," Saizen said, lifting his hands to fit the metal casing around his head. "And here's some advice for you," he continued while standing up. The ocular emitted a faint hum when it zoomed in on the alien's face. "Power isn't free, and the acolyte who haggles about its price is the one whose bones you'll find scattered throughout the tombs." He sneered, looking down at the Chiss. "Think about that next time you feel the crunch of bone beneath your feet," he advised as he waved a hand, unlocking the door.

For a moment, he thought the Chiss would argue, but the acolyte merely nodded, his expression pensive. "Thank you," the man replied, turning to leave.

"Stop!" Saizen commanded. "Tell me your name."

His visitor lingered in the doorway, hesitating. "They call me Reoul," he replied. It seemed an odd answer, but before Saizen had decided that he was interested enough to push the issue, the stranger had left.