Last time: Sasha and Viran made amends thanks to Kyr's advice.

Now: Oppie continues through the temple and Cien learns some interesting intel.

Chapter 5- Dracul's Plan

Oppie used the butt of his torch to knock on the eighth wall, trying to discern if there might be some passage behind. One of the walls had a slightly hollow sound to it, though he was pretty sure it was not the face he had come in through. He had a hard time telling, though, since he had, indeed, become disorientated in the room. Above him the depictions of the Jedi masters looked on, and Oppie gritted his teeth, imagining them looking at him across time in disappointment.

He presumed that the key to leaving the chamber might lie with the portraits, but, try as he might, he could not recognize any of them. Perhaps some untouched part of his training, since he had left off as a padawan, might have provided him the answer, but now he found himself trapped. A sense of claustrophobia was welling up in him, a fear he rarely encountered but suddenly, entombed in this room it was making its presence known.

He swallowed and pushed those thoughts aside. There had to be a way out of here. Fine, he didn't know who the Jedi were, he had failed this test of knowledge. But he had found a wall that was suspiciously hollow sounding. He bit his lip, considering his options. With an apologetic glance at the masters above him he unclipped his main hand saber and ignited it, the bright blue blade bathing the room in in a brilliant glow.

And the glow revealed something new. A riddle written on the wall, that only shone in the light of his saber. One of the riddles of Dwartii;

I am the illumination in the dark

I am the key to all doors

I am sought by the wise

I have no price, but come at great cost

Oppie puzzled over it for a few seconds before he looked up at the old, wizened masters in the portraits above him in more detail. One was posed in a fierce battle stance, their lightsaber raised. Another was meditating on a simple cushion. Another was standing between two other figures that looked to be in fierce argument. Yet another was holding out a helping hand to another figure that had fallen. Still another was holding a book, an actual book with paper pages, before the background of a library that reminded him suspiciously of the old Jedi archives on Coruscant. The sixth was a master teaching a padawan that was mirroring her master's stance. The next showed an old master turning his back on a treasure and comfortable life, and the last showed another walking into a vast star field, her arms raised as if embracing the void.

All of these were depictions of Jedi virtues of some kind or another, practiced by various depictions of various masters over the eons. Over the hollow sounding stone he had almost cut through was the depiction of the library, of the Jedi seeking knowledge.

Oppie considered the painting for a moment, and lowered his saber, leaving it ignited for the sake of light, and rose his other hand. He used the Force to gently pull at the painting, specifically the book, and with a slight grinding sound the entire painting shifted toward him a few centimeters.

With another grinding of stone the wall beneath it slipped backwards. Oppie stepped forward and gently pushed the wall. It rotated freely, as if on a hinge. A strange cyan glow emanated from the path before him as the doorway opened to reveal another tunnel. He glanced behind him once more, and then continued forward, deeper into the temple.

Cien stepped into the war room. It was dark, as were most spaces on the Bloodstorm, lit by dim white lights and harsh red lights that accented the space. The holoprojection table was activated, displaying some unknown planet that Cien did not recognize immediately. Dracul was already there, his council of the military commanders aboard, including General Varden, were in attendance. Kopesh was also there, standing away from Dracul, and Cien had to keep herself from rolling her eyes at how obvious the other acolyte's scheming eyes were while inspecting their master, shaded with equal parts fear and rage. Cien made no eye contact with the others in the room, and the rest of the officers glanced in her direction but said nothing. Kopesh glanced at her more studiously, and Dracul paid her no mind as she stepped to her place at the table.

"Continue, general." Dracul's voice echoed, apparently her slightly late arrival had interrupted a report.

General Varden nodded and continued. "My ground forces are eager for deployment, My Lord, it has been a long time since they were able to be off ship and performing their true duty. We have kept up our training regimen and, in comparison to what I have seen of Imperial ground forces I have no particular worry about their ability against our enemy. Our main concern is the scale of numbers. The Empire, plodding beast though it is, is vast, and they are well supplied." He nodded towards Moff Jiardon, who was in attendance via hologram, "Moff Jiardon has done well to keep us supplied, though we are but one ship. Against an enemy that fields thousands. With the Moff's loyal forces we may lead a successful campaign against the Empire using asymmetric tactics, though I must advise we are not equipped for open warfare."

Admiral Treyet scoffed at the General's assessment of the situation, which Cien found to be quite accurate. Treyet, the commander of the Bloodstorm and the commander of its naval contingent, including the airwing, was very much a product of the Sith Empire's navy, and he had the arrogant attitude that went along with the high-born who was able to ascend to such a rank within the empire. The Sith empire, that is. Also the current one, for that matter. "Let them come, the Bloodstorm can take on any ship in their fleet easily." He said defiantly. "And my pilots are ready to return to the battlefield. If the Army is too scared to fight their battles," the Admiral said with a sneer, "then we will be happy to do so for them."

The General raised an eyebrow, "I merely caution wasting my men in a war we cannot win considering the disproportionate disposition of ourselves versus our opponent."

"My men, General." Dracul growled, finally speaking up. "And they will be deployed to wherever I deem fit."

"Of course, My Lord." General Varden said respectfully. Having worked so closely with the man over the last year, Cien did not even need her gifts with the Force to discern the man's annoyance that he kept behind an iron facade of respect. It was rare that a General who actually cared about his forces, at the very least about deploying them without wasting them, should rise so high in the ranks.

Dracul stood, impassive and brooding before the projection of the planet. Cien could make out a label for the planet, Talokore. "I have no interest in fighting a war with this Palpatine fool." He spit the name of the other so-called Sith Lord like the name of an accursed, wayward child. "We will prepare our forces and ready them to take this planet. Once there I will deal with the fool and his crippled acolyte, and I will assume the throne and the forces of the Empire will fall in line or perish by my hand."

The faces around the table remained impassive. There was little doubt in the room that Dracul had every intention of his plan unfolding as simply as he described, and that he may have some kind of power to do so, though the means by which he would accomplish this alluded all at the table. Cien looked curiously at the planet, trying to remember if she had ever heard of it, or had any reason to think it might hold the key to this plan coming to fruition. Ignoring the reflex to swallow and collect herself, she spoke up.

"What is the significance of this planet to the plan?"

Dracul's attention focused on his Acolyte. "You will know when it is necessary."

Cien nodded, "Of course, My Lord." She replied as she should, and bowed her head respectfully.

"General Varden, prepare your troops. Admiral, ensure that the Bloodstorm is prepared for battle. I have preparations to make, and once ready we will leave immediately."

"Yes, My Lord." Was the general chorus that echoed through the room as those in attendance acknowledged the dismissal.

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