Chapter 23 The Epic: THE DARK PLACE
Eva lingered at the base of the ramp then tentatively stepped forward as four red robed Royal Guards were at her backside, attempting to disembark and fan out behind her. And she had assumed they were just along for the lift.
This was another world; a place bearing no resemblance with the slick Imperial shuttle now landed in its midst. A gloomy planet with a useless, pinpoint of a dying sun. Unstable tectonic plates made the ground slightly heave with nauseating frequency. Eva eyed the coarse, craggy structures at the edge of the landing platform and assured herself from their apparent age, that the nightmarish setting would hold together long enough to complete the quick errand.
A pair of guards stood silent at the far end of the platform, oversized goons with softly glowing red eyes. They were Imperial Sentinels, of a purpose and species she'd never set sights on. Like a grimmer complement to the Royal Guards, the two were motionless and armed with vibro-axes. She noticed the lettering over the darkened archway they flanked, was Sith. It wasn't something they could hide away if the wrong type came around. It was in plain sight. It was painted and permanent. No shame whatsoever.
A hooded figure emerged and walked out to meet her, standing in her path to allow no further access. But his distrust would not be apparent as Eva had no interest in pressing on. What relationship had this group to the Emperor? Not from his military realm, not from his political realm, this was a side which was never on display. This was like the books on his library shelf- ancient, filthy and imbued with arcane symbolism and meaning.
His amber eyes, partly obscured by dangling cording, fixed on her Courtier's robes. "You're not our Master's usual emissary."
An awkward pause forced an answer better than the shrug she was willing to offer. "A time crunch, I suppose." Whoever the emissary was, they probably wouldn't be appreciated aboard the Death Star. "The 'box' please, and I'll be on my way."
In fact, they were turning over several containers to taken to Palpatine. Attendees walked them to the shuttle's ramp, where the Royal Guards took them for security inspection.
Another character, much like the first, approached with an rather menacingly decorated locked chest. The two of them spoke quietly in a language she couldn't understand- like whispers that slithered. It gave her chills to realize she was almost certainly hearing Sith. The second being left and returned with the package, but now it was wrapped in a drawstring sack made of velvet. This significant piece was placed directly in her hands. "Sidious' wayfinder," he told her.
'Sidious?' She'd heard the name spoken just once, from Pestage, and it was hush-hush. He was mentioned as the mastermind behind the Separatist uprising, the opportunity which cemented Palpatine's rise to power.
She glanced at the velvet sack. "This belonged to Sidious? He's dead, is he not?" She preferred not be the one between him and his things.
Eva was met with a curious stare, which melded into a knowing smile. "Of course."
"What is this place?"
"A waystation," he took his time responding.
"A waystation to what?"
"To glory."