AN: Hey everybody! Hope you're all enjoying the story so far! Please, leave reviews, suggestions, and critiques. Sometimes when I'm stuck, the right idea from you guys is just what I need to organically connect A and B!

On another note, I can't believe it's been a month since I published the last chapter of Second Revanfall and almost a month since publishing chapter 1 of this one. Wow, time flies!

Vallen was silent as she considered her peer's argument. "Well?" the man finally asked, growing impatient with the woman's silent, bored stare. He could almost swear that she only did it to anger him; though to be fair he had angered her plenty with his stunt during the final trial of their two students. It had taken all the charisma and appeasement that Var could come up with to merely keep the Sith Lady from killing him on the speeder ride back to the Academy, then even more just to get her to listen to him. So, maybe, just maybe, he deserved the minor annoyance of waiting on the woman's answer.

"You would put much on this boy," Vallen finally responded, her words coming ponderously, heavy with thought even still. She lowered her hand from her chin and began to chew the inside of her cheek, thinking out her next words carefully. "Doron, I am afraid my faith in his dreams. Or visions -" she said, cutting off Var's protests before they began. "Or visions. My faith in their veracity is not the same as yours."

"Why?" the man asked, rubbing his temple with his index and middle fingers. What was it that she could not understand? "I have already told you that he knows things. Things that no one but one seeing through the Force could know."

"Does it?" the woman retorted, frowning. "Var, you are trying to create another Revan. We both know what attention doing so will draw."

Var sneered as his thoughts followed hers. "Yes, well, the so-called 'Emperor' and his desires do not concern me," he growled darkly. He narrowed his eyes and turned from Darth Vallen. "Revan had power, true power. You've heard the rumors, haven't you? There is a reason that almost none of the higher up Sith from the earliest days of Revan's takeover are still alive. What could it be?"

Vallen laughed derisively. "The Foundry? You're still chasing that rumor, hm?" she asked, sneering at the man. She stopped as she saw he was deathly serious. "Oh... you are."

"It's real," the Gray Lord insisted simply. His voice was full of such determination, such conviction, that Vallen almost believed it as well.

The Sith lady sighed and placed her hand on her old friend's shoulder. "Doron, it can't be real. Revan was incredibly powerful, I'll admit that, but he was also very smart. He came into his own as a General very quickly, and as a figurehead even more quickly. Spreading those rumors did just as much to solidify his position as the Dark Lord of the Sith as killing Nihl did. There is no way he could have created a machine that... that could craft entire fleets in days without the entire Empire knowing – hell, without even the Triumvirates, slow as they are, knowing."

Doron Var was silent at that. "I have to believe that we can find a way to wrest control from him," he finally mumbled.

Vallen nodded, understanding where he was coming from. "Nernyn is dangerous. Unbalanced, I agree. Stauen's ever burning desire to kiss his ass is more than enough evidence for that. But that's just it – he's imbalanced. He couldn't control a weapon like that," Vallen said, comforting her friend for just a moment. "Besides, he's a fool. He will give us the opportunity we have been waiting for, and it will be very soon. Don't doubt that."

"Even so, do think that this boy is the right path towards that revenge?" Vallen continued, the wall of cold, Dark logic built up once again. She clenched her fists at her side. "If we assume his visions are real, that he has seen Revan, could that not be a warning?"

Var snorted in incredulity. "What!?" he asked, barely containing his derisive laughter. "Revan was the most powerful Force user in the galaxy. Leon's power alone should tell us he is the one, and that he sees Revan shows we should not doubt him."

"I think it means that doubting your apprentice is exactly what we should do," Vallen replied darkly. She shook her head at Var and growled, "Revan was killed by his apprentice – I know you believe it as well, despite your attempts to fool yourself into thinking that no one would betray the Emperor. Nernyn killed Darth Revan... does that not mean the Force chose his way over Revan's?"

"Then why even bother?" Var snapped. The two stood silently, glaring at each other. Var sighed and ran a hand through his long, unkempt hair. "If the Force chose Nernyn over Revan, what hope would we have at all?"

"The Force is tipping ever further into the darkness," Vallen said with a grim smile. "You can feel it – the shadows growing across the galaxy. Chaotic. Things are awakening – you've seen the reports of Leviathans, Terentateks... The Dark Side's power embraces change, and even Nernyn cannot evolve quickly enough for the Darkness."

Var opened his mouth to respond, then froze. He and Vallen glanced at each other as a shudder ran through the air. It was cold, powerful. The very roots of Ruusan, of the galaxy, shook. "He's seen something," Var whispered triumphantly, and even Vallen had to admit she believed it as well.

SWSWSWSWSW

Revan's hand traced across the command surface of the massive station slowly, carefully considering what he was about to do. Gears and electronics whirred in the air around him, the entirely droid-based crew working hard to complete the installation of the Foundry's systems into the station. Energy crackled from Revan's fingers, arcing through the air and into the interface. It was beckoning to him, begging him to use it.

It was dangerous. Revan could easily see that. He had found files buried deep within the Mask's memory referencing events that had surrounded the Foundry and its similar systems. A cataclysm that wiped the Force away from an entire species and nearly brought them to the edge of extinction. The Foundry fed on Darkness, and the more Darkness one fed it the more it would wish to gorge. Already it desired more than Revan would give; he had taken a long break from using it, letting it settle back into sleep. For now, it again desired little of his pain and rage, though given what he was going to create, Revan might take another few months to let it settle once again.

He took his hands away from the computer. It was hard to believe that this had all started on Kashyyyk so long ago, almost an eternity and definitely a life time ago. He returned his hands to the interface and began to channel white lightning from his outstretched palms, the energy flowing into the Foundry's systems, awakening the creaking, hissing cyclops that would soon forge new, masterful weapons of war.

Revan had long ago ordered his research divisions to find the specifications for the machine that he wished to build. All of them, dedicated to a single part of the problem so that none could see what the actual machine was, though he had little doubt that one or two of his scientists were clever enough to figure it out for themselves. As long as they didn't make any trouble, he wouldn't have to do anything about that; killing them would be too expensive to the cause of his Empire, though not killing them would reveal the terrible secret of what he was trying to create. He closed his hands, causing the Foundry to whine as its machinery began to draw in pure Force energy and transform it into matter. The Darkness he had given it was nothing, merely something designed to whet the monstrosity's appetite.

Revan sighed and turned away from the machine's systems. He had told his apprentice of the machine, though had so far kept the location a secret from the fool. Revan could not trust his foolish apprentice to control his darker impulses; the Foundry would be fed until it unleashed, once again, a plague that would destroy the Empire and the entire galaxy would be thrown into chaos. Easy pickings for the Rakata upon their return, and Revan would not have that.

Revan looked over at the machine as it was printed into being from the nothingness of everything. He would take any road to ensure he survived to face the Rakata, no matter what Darkness it unleashed.

SWSWSWSWSW

Leon couldn't help but smile, despite the less than ideal circumstances. Despite everything – specifically personally cutting off Mari's arm and nearly killing her as part of some vague, weird test to make sure he wouldn't – he could not help but just... smile. He was with his crew for the first time in months, albeit in a medbay waiting for Mari's new prosthetic to be installed. "I was beginning to worry you'd abandoned us to a life of sitting around and waiting," Deranis grunted from the wall. He was wearing thin combat robes, the type that Echani used for their insane live-fire training purproses. "Battle strengthens warriors, peace degrades them."

"Sorry, we were too busy being told to kill each other," Mari retorted. Her red eyes were crinkled with annoyance.

"Eh, you were never in trouble," Deranis grunted. Leon glanced over, questioning. Deranis sighed and responded with "I've seen Leon fight – he trusts those that he surrounds himself with. Implicitly. He wasn't going to kill anyone if they were just ordered to kill him."

"Oh, you didn't see him cut off my arm!" Mari snapped.

Leon began to laugh, entirely entertained by her response. "Hey, they threatened the you I thought existed. The girl in the hospital!"

"You couldn't tell it was her?" Erea asked. She snorted derisively. "I saw her walk by once and I knew immediately."

"Eh, it's fine. He's not always the smartest guy, as we've seen," Mari jabbed, drawing a "wounded" look from her fellow Knight.

"Again, can we blame Vallen and Var for being such Schuttas?" Leon suggested.

"Well, I'm game," Var's voice came.

Leon nodded to himself, not even surprised. "Of. Course," he muttered to himself. He turned around and bowed slightly. "Master." He glanced at Darth Vallen. "Lady Vallen."

"Master," Mari bowed from the hospital bed. "What is it you need?"

Var glanced between the people in the room, then turned around and locked the entrance to the room. "There are no listening devices in this room," the Gray Lord explained as the door hissed shut and its magnetic locks engaged. "Until your new arm gets here, we are all alone here."

Vallen turned to the young man, who was glaring at her with one hand on his saber. "We're not here to hurt anyone," she said. She waved her arm and Leon's saber was suddenly in her hand. She tossed it to the side, bored. "If I was one to unleash my anger on a whim, you would already be dead."

Var held his hand up and Vallen quieted down, though not before flashing a dirty look at him for how he took the room. "So... how are you both enjoying your newfound position?"

"As what? Hospital patient and another guy in gray robes?" Leon asked. He smirked at the unamused expression on his master's face. "No, It's been great. I've already made friends, such as the – oh, what'd he call himself? – the 'most powerful, handsome, intimidating' Darth Stauen? That guy is... confident."

"And a fool," Vallen snarled, not even bothering to try and disguise the utter contempt in her voice. She and Stauen rarely agreed, to the extent that every meeting between the two was a lightsaber duel waiting to happen. "You would do well to avoid company with that man, as stupid tends to infect who spend too much time with it. He is a man utterly without vision."

"What do you mean?" Leon asked. He leaned off of the wall. "He obviously wants power."

Var laughed jovially. "Yes, and he'd do nothing with it," he replied. He sighed. "That's not the point, though."

"What is then?" Erea asked. She was glaring at the two Force users, not entirely sure whom to trust. "What does this incredibly fragile Council, who all seem to want to betray each other, want with us?"

Var narrowed his eyes at Erea for a moment, studying her. She fidgeted uncomfortably under his gaze and one of his eyebrows drifted up. He smiled. "My dear, we're here for nothing more than to find out exactly what it is Leon saw."

The Knight tensed up as he heard this, his hands were open, but stiff at his sides. "What do you mean?" Mari asked. She glanced between the Councilors and Leon. "During the Trial, because I was there, too."

Vallen shook her head. "No, my... apprentice," the Sith replied, excising a demeaning adjective for the sake of Var. "Your friend is party to a great many secrets of power, young Apprentice. Secrets that we need."

"Secrets of power?" Deranis asked. He laughed incredulously. "You already have the greatest military force in the galaxy – kriff, you're about to rule the galaxy!"

Vallen frowned and Var glanced at the ground uncomfortably. "Or... we don't," Leon whispered. He laughed. "Oh, Force... we're losing, aren't we?"

Var sighed and shook his head. "N-no," he replied. The man raised his arms impotently, groaning, then just dropped them to his side. "We are at an impasse. Without Revan, we have slipped away little by little. He was the core of our moral argument and one of few who could match Admiral Taas' military strategy in mass organization. His death gutted the Empire by making us less intimidating and less... 'good.'"

"So you're looking for this Foundry, then?" Leon asked hollowly. He was breathing heavily, trying to come to grips with the reality that what his parents had helped to build, what they had believed in with everything they had, was dying. "He didn't trust Nernyn with it, so... I think maybe we should respect that."

Vallen stared into the eyes of the young man before her. "Then the Empire dies, the Triumvirate is the one that kills it, and everything Revan built ever so carefully dies alongside whatever memory of the Fels remains," she said, voice cold. "And the stagnation, the empty, hollow peace that results... it will destroy the galaxy. And every moment that results, the loss of any kind of order that this galaxy needs to evolve, to grow, is on you. So, either grow up and realize that this is a different scenario. The Empire is not Revan's Empire. Not anymore. Nor is it Nernyn's. At this moment, the Force told you about the Foundry."

Vallen stepped towards the newly minted Knight, steely, angry eyes burning into his own. "At this moment, on this day, in this galaxy, this Empire is not Revan's Empire that was crafted from the burning ashes of his dead mother's corpse. This is your Empire and what you do, here and now, shows me what kind of Emperor you are."

Leon stared with wide eyes at the woman. "Well, you're awfully terrifying and... convincing," Leon said hoarsely. He glanced at Var and smiled triumphantly. "We're gonna need a ship, and I think we all know just the one." He glanced between Mari, Erea, Deranis, and the Councilors with a wide, goofy grin.

SWSWSWSWSW

"I wouldn't have pegged you as the kind of guy to wear 'imitation Jedi,'" Mari mocked when Leon walked in. He was wearing a long, gray coat held closed by double-breasted buttons in military fashion. One corner hung down, buttoned to the right side of his chest to form a folded triangle. A pair of black belts crisscrossed his waist so that four pouches hung at his waist with his lightsaber resting from a silver carabiner on his right hip. The coat ran down the length of his legs, stopping at the top edge of his black boots that were hidden beneath washed-black pants. Beneath the jacket was a simple, silvery-gray shirt. Underneath all of that, though, he was still encased in the comfort of his second skin; the mag-locking under armor was just too useful to get rid of. All of it together gave him a powerful, but messy kind of air. A wildcard.

"Hm... and you're supposed to be... what, a dominatrix?" he asked. The Sith apprentice shot him a sidelong look. She was wearing lot of black. Tight, yet flexible stuff. Her clothes were mostly a rubberized material that gave off a slight sheen in the light. Her boots were a deep blue, almost black. Her jacket was leather and hung over her robotic prosthetic, though her rubberized, black-blue shirt was cut off just before the prosthetic connected. On the right, the shirt hung down to her wrist. Every layer was coated in a thin, nano-fiber material that could dispel some energy from blaster weapons and gave the clothes their rubberized sheen. "Oh, no, just an obvious undercover Sith."

Deranis shook his head as he walked up the ramp into the Crimson Eagle, carrying a huge crate of weapons. He had refused to disguise himself; he was still wearing the white, intricate armor he had been wearing on Coruscant. "You'll want the galaxy knowing you have me on your side if we're going to sell this whole 'mercenary thing,'" he had told them as he had tossed away the disguises he had been offered. "Besides – this armor and I have promises to fulfill..."

Erea walked down the ramp, past Deranis. "Hey, Nerf Herders! Time to get going!" she shouted down at them. She was wearing mismatched and assorted armor, making her look like the merc or bodyguard that their cover warranted. She wore a brown jacket over the armor, hiding its specs enough to convince anyone she was a disgruntled mercenary who wanted to hide her strengths. Her two blasters were strapped under either arm in a shoulder holster. "Kashyyyk can wait forever, but I sure as kark won't!"