Dooku was having a good day.
Then again, scarecely anything otherwise had transpired all that much ever since the second demise of Maul years ago. Oh a few ocassional hiccups had arisen here and there, one couldn't simply build an entire new galaxy-sized faction without encountering a few minor obstacles, but all in all, barely anything truly despairing got in the Count's way ever since his return to the living, especially so since upon the official foundation of the Confederate Alliance.
Why, just a prime example over how the Will of the Force was on his side stems upon the recent recruitment of several more star systems. Just early this morning, Falleen and Christophsis announced their willingness to join the Alliance, and this afternoon diplomats were already in discussion with the noble houses ruling Eriadu. Dooku himself had just discussed possible open negotiations with the Senator of Zeltros; a meeting which had ended on a high, promising note. All the while, the Count had a quick mental deduction of how exactly these various worlds and systems could benefit the Alliance and himself for the foreseeable future.
Falleen, for its many construction and manufacturing facilities. Droids could be built there for a reasonable price. The species were prideful and often victims of greed, but they knew a good bargain when they see one. His actions agaionst Black Sun proved more than a simple incentive.
Christophsis, with billions worth of rare minerals, including those of rare kyber crystals, operated under a central mining corporation. With a trade system between the Alliance's many worlds underway, the ecomony could receieve an instant boost and, perhaps, persuade more poor Republic systems under their sway.
Eriadu... Well what more was needed to be said? Though his meeting with Governer Tarkin didn't end his preferred way, the Count was confident the Eriadun could be persuaded given proper time and precision.
Zeltros, for its species could serve as spies and assassins for his and the Alliance's needs. Deadly and skilled, their charm was also their greatest weapon.
All in all, the ex-Jedi and Count of Serenno was having a very pleasant day. Not a single turn south with the exception of Sidious invading his office previously. Security has tripled since then, but that would hardly be enough to handle a Sith Lord, even one past his prime. Still, it always paid to be cautious. Sidious will be forced to act through other means now with so many advantages being used against him. War was inevitable, and Dooku was going to keep poking the hornet's nest until Sidious was completely backed to a corner.
A Sith Lord was never more dangerous than when he was vulnerable.
Now, what planets to offer a hand of friendship and trust to next... Well, Mon Cala was in the middle of civil unrest, perfect for taking advantage of then. In addition, the shipyard of Fondor would be placed to better use under the Alliance's rule than wasting away beneath the Republic's thumb-
The Count's head snapped upwards, a disturbance from the Force enamating from the skies, the recognizable signature eventually bringing a twitch of a faint smirk on the corner of the aged Dooku's lips.
Ahh...
Well, that certainly didn't take too long.
The beeping behind him on his desk was predictable. Dooku swerved in his chair and accepted the call. "Yes?"
"My Lord, an unidentified and unscheduled craft is preparing to land on Bay Four. Should we intercept?"
"No." Dooku responded, reaching for his brown noble cape resting beside him. "I shall handle this myself. Inform all guards to grant our new guest entry... And direct him to the main training hall."
It was time to greet Qui-Gon's new wayward Padawan.
Okay, so far, so good...
As of this point, Anakin had yet to make any encounters with security or staff of any kind in the palace. One could suspect he was being lured into a trap, but Anakin knew better. He was aware of Dooku's type; greedy, arrogant noblemen who thought they were contently safe from danger, having no need to hire guards because thy're never in any danger.
Or maybe Dooku felts protected enough because he was a former Jedi, but so what if he was? For starters, Dooku had no lightsaber, because everyone knows that people weren't allowed to have a Jedi's weapon unless you're part of the Order; being an ex-Jedi was no exception to the rule. And, most importantly, Dooku was an old man, even if he carried himself with authority and power. And even old Jedi were fallible. Anakin learned that the hard way since Master Yaddle's sacrifice years back.
A memory burned in the young Padawan leaner's mind, an haunting image he won't be forgetting for a very long time...
He could feel Dooku's presence most of all within this large, over-compensating palace, slimy and dark. Was this generally what happened to Jedi who stray away from the Order? They slowly become dark without following the Code and what all Jedi stood for? If you ask him, Anakin thought all who run away from the Order were complete cowards, despite what Master Qui-Gon would argue.
Even if such a coward had trained Qui-Gon himself. Anakin wouldn't be surprised if Obi- If Knight Kenobi would eventually leave too.
It didn't matter, in the end. All that truly mattered now was finding his mother, and saving her from that old manipulative Huttlover's grip. Anakin didn't want to know what had happened to her under Dooku's 'employment,' but he'll make sure she'll never have to suffer again because of some old man being jealous of Anakin's talents.
His hand on his hilt by the belt, Anakin marched forward to the black presence clouding all else. To his destiny.
I'll be there soon Mom. Just wait for me.
Asajj's head perked up, seemingly looking up at the air. "Do you feel that?"
"What, you losing the bet?" Komari snorted, rolling her deep blue eyes from her laidabout posture on the long elognated couch. "Sit back down Asajj, you're not fooling anyone by directing our focus other than your inevitable embarrassment."
"Komari." Shmi chatisized, but faint mirth regardless dancing across wrinkled features, the gracefully aging woman sat comfortably between the two younger adults. And she turned to Asajj curiously. "Is something amiss dear?"
Asajj frowned, directing her inquisitve pale gaze towards the closed door. "I thought I sensed... Never mind." And looked back to the two, holding a sheepish smile. "A Jedi presence, someone new. Must've been my senses deceiving me."
"You're losing your touch Asajj." The other female apprentcie commented slyly, grinning in wicked teasing. "Perhaps after you've lost our little wager, you should consider another meditation session with Master Sifo-Dyas."
The Dathomirian smirked. "In your dreams, sister." And both went back to eagerly watching the live podrace, Shmi between them smiling in faint affection by their sibling banter. "Come on Quadinaros!"
"Kick his krffin' butt Sebulba!"
Shim shook her head with a wear fond sigh. She knew introducing them to Anakin's favourite sport was a terrible decision. But then again, seeing these two indulge their more 'fun' sides from time to time, especially when she spent time with them, wasn't altogether troubling to endure...
If only her little Ani were here. He would love these girls as much as Shmi did.
Dark. Pitch blackness.
But Anakin knew he was there, unclipping the lightsaber hilt from his hip and gripping the weapon tightly, trying and failing to center himself through the Force. It would've been easier, in places like the Temple or Naboo. But this darkness, it was... Overwhelming. Too much to perhaps suffocate the young Padawan.
But he wouldn't give in. Not so easily.
Not ever.
As if on cue, candles lit in brilliant light around the large room, illuminating the shadows of a ragel man in a brown cape and black noble attire, half of his body and elder features obscured by the darkness he drowned himself in. It wasn't the appearance or posture of the elderly former Jedi which unnerved him.
No, what admittedly made Anakin apprehensive was the darkness through the Force, seeping off the Count likes waves of a black ocean. Could the Council have been right in their suspicions all along? The inky aura of the Dark Side added more pressure onto the boy, threatening to crush him beneath the weight of its raw unchecked power. Anakin shuddered, but held his ground in spit of quivering legs.
Was Dooku the Sith Lord all this time? It would make a lot of sense. Why else would he have captured the Chosen One's mother, or killed his former apprentice on Naboo in fear of being found out? Everything was beginning to add up, and the Force provided nothing to debunk these newfound suspicions.
Dooku WAS the Sith Lord the Jedi have been searching for, Anakin was sure of it. And now he was going to bring him in, as was the duty of a Jedi... And the Chosen One.
"The Force is with you, young Skywalker." A deep, cultured voice sliced through the thick air, breaking the silence. Anakin frowned, finally igniting his blade and letting the blue hue illiminate his body and prepared posture brilliantly, steadily approaching the patient Count. Waves of disapporval hit the teen's shields. "But you are not a Jedi yet."
The simply finality in that tone gave Anakin a brief moment of indignity. At least he didn't run away from the Jedi like some cowardly snake! The Padawan's teeth grit determinedly, raising his blade before the Count in a two-handed grip, sensing the old fool wasn't going to submit to his Jedi authority so easily.
"You may learn about the Jedi. You may have trained like a Jedi. But these can be imitated." A red glow intervening between the blue blade and Dooku's body, pointing upwards and illuminating the Count's face in blood hue. There was simple further disapproval and sternness dripping from the viper's poisonous tone. "You lack a vital quality in all Jedi... Jedi control their fear."
And Anakin's trained insincts honed in, managing to stop the swift attack which happened in the blink of an eye. His blade managing to block off the red tip which nearly jabbed his right cheek, the Padawan gasping in shock and apprhension. That brought the faintest of smirks on the Count's face.
"And I sense much fear in you, child."
There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
Anakin glared determinedly, pushing back Dooku's blade and swinging his own to the old man's exposed right with a heavy Form V swing... Which became easily blocked with a one-handed grip. Already that became apparent, one hand behind the Count's back with the clear practices and defenses of Makashi.
Ha! Anakin had this in the back, internally grinning as Dooku remained sticking to blocking the next following onslaught. Master or no, everyone knew that Makashi was the weakest against Djem So, Anakin's preferred method of lightsaber combat. He had this in the bag!
One upwards heavy swing took Dooku back by one step, the Count frowning disdainfully and brushing off invisible dust from his shoulder. The red saber lowered to one side with preparation. "At least you seem to have basic grasp over the starting point of combat."
Anakin just smirked, refusing to let this Sith's words get to him. He was better than that! All of his training under the Jedi and Master Qui-Gon's own teachings will put this past-this-prime Count in his place! He could already feel it; victory was the Jedi's!
Perhaps Corellia next.
Yes, Corellia would be a worthwhile target to persuade joining the Alliance's cause. The Core World held a long and standing history aided from its part in founding the Republic eons ago, but over time, interest and equality between Corellia and Coruscant had waned throughout history consistently. Naboo's secession from the Republic had sparked many followers to their government, leading from the Mid Rim to the many Core Worlds. Bothawui, Ithor and Haidoral Prime to Plexis and Hosnian Prime. Malastare and Kuat were soon to follow.
While one half of Dooku's working mind pondered with precision over politics, his other half worked on indulging the young boy swinging and pushing away like an untamed Youngling, his own blade harmlessly batting away the azure colour without any difficulty whatsoever. To say the young Skywalker was even making a passable attempt would be giving the emotional child far too much credit.
By the Force, how was Qui-Gon really teaching the boy any better than Kenobi? So far Dooku was receiving nothing but flashbacks to the nineteen year old impertient youth whom recklessly defied his previous Master and charged at the Count without strategy or cunning. So far Skywalker only relied on the brutish and inelegant swings of Form V. Where was the grace? Where was the precision and arobactic result of Qui-Gon's own style?
Where was any trace of Qui-Gon's training instilled to the boy?
Once deflecting another attack, Dooku's sparking red blade made one light push, forcing the stumbling unfit Padawan back a few paces before his opponent regained composure. "You are undisciplined and lack the graceful training necessary."
It scarcely occurred to the former Jedi how much a stern teacher he sounded back to the days of Qui-Gon being his pupil.
"You'll find I'm full of surprises."
Overzealous brat. Dooku only needed to make one flick of the wrist before the boy was sent rolling from his immediate deflection, the lightsaber hilt flung from Skywalker's grasp. Immediately the boy had recalled his blade, igniting it yet again and allowing himself to believe he had any experience against a seventy years his elder and superior.
Where was he? Ah yes, Naboo.
It was without difficulty securing the monarch's loyalty to their cause, utilizing a tactic even Sidious could not have accounted for. Why, how would one expect a former apprentice from the future to secure access from private holocalls from the Republic's esteemed Chancellor to the cowardly Viceroy? All Dooku had to do was send the Queen the evidence, and matching voice prints between the robed Sith Lord and Chancellor from Naboo, to win her trust through relative ease. The rest was simple history.
For if the Chancellor of the Republic, never mind just being from their own homeworld, could orchstrate a blockade for a power play, how could anything he say or do for the greater good of the Galaxy be trusted? Dooku has already been hearing over the controversy and doubt spreading across Coruscant's senate and over the Core Worlds. Sidious had better step up his game, or the Count of Serenno would find this chess match to be disappointingly won without any real challenge.
And speaking of stepping up their game.
"Where is my mother, Dooku?" Skywalker demanded, not once even moving the Count from his spot since the duel initiated. Well perhaps 'duel' was being far too generous. Dooku had gained more sweat from tending the palace gardens this morning.
Frustration. Impudent. Unwise and without any sense of appreciation for elegance or precision. What did Qui-Gon see in this boy again?
"Your prone to anger astounds me boy." Dooku commented firmly with another swift block to the left side of his neck, his free hand never moving from behind his back. "Has your Master neglected to teach you that such rage will only drown you into the dark tides?"
Was it simply destiny that Skywalker remains reckless and uncontrolled? Dooku never truly understood the fascination for the so-called 'Chosen One' Qui-Gon and Sidious had equally remarked highly upon. Even their own previous, at least for the Count, duel aboard the Invisible Hand was fixed; a strategy of Dooku's former Master to give Skywalker the falsehood of victory and increase the boy's fury further to the cause of the Dark Side. The young boy was unfit to be either Jedi or Sith.
He lacked control, discipline and peace. Unlike a Jedi.
There was no direction for his anger, his rage and hatred unkempt and never truly utilized. Unlike a Sith.
Skywalker's face snarled. "Where is Mom!" Dooku's goading was working without charm. Shame, truly. He had hoped that Qui-Gon's own turn on the boy's education would provide at least a more suitable legacy for the Count to have left behind. For Master Yoda to have left behind.
Left. Right. Down. Right. The patterns of Djem So's basic primitive swings were recognizable even to a Youngling, and Dooku replied with the applied footwork of Makashi. Not one movement from the leg; Skywalker's lack of training from birth only hindering than encouraging. So why had Dooku yet to truly strike back?
Out of respect for both his son and Shmi, naturally. That was, of course, Skywalker didn't attempt anything that would really convince the Count he was in anyway deemed a threat-
This time Dooku visibly reacted with a flinch, his upper body leaning sideways with an upwards defense, knocking back the rather unorthodox move. That was better. Yet the Count merely perked a brow at the identifiable Form IV maneuver.
"So, Qui-Gon has taught you something after all."
Anakin merely grinned confidently at that slow remark, holding his blue lightsaber up readily. Now he had the Count on the ropes. "I am a slow learner."
A flicker of annoyance passed over the aged features, yet Dooku snapped in a prepared retort. "If your skils with a lightsaber were as quick as your wit, boy, you will have saved your mother from my devilish clutches by now."
Teeth grit, Anakin would not stand for this open mockery behind the smooth, snake-like tone. He was better than this old man. He was better than this Sith! Deploying what Qui-Gon had taught him the best, the Padawan leapt to the boy and begun his next flurry of onslaughts, intent on besting the old man who failed the Jedi and Qui-Gon so.
But Dooku seemed far more prepared this time, switching his red lightsaber from one hand to the next and leaning his posture, accepting the attacks and either batting or swerving around everyone. An uppercut met with a lean backwards. An overhead swing confronted by a duck and deflection. An attempted Force Push met with a Force slap to the face.
Anakin reeled back, blinking away tears and growling heatedly against the old Count. Dooku was just mocking him, again and again. But he couldn't be deterred. He had to save Mom! He just had to!
Gathering himself, Anakin allowed that drive and conviction to move him, relying on the full power the Force could grant him. The Count merely raised a brow, but seemed rather intrigued by what Anakin had up his sleeve next.
Big mistake.
His azure blade a sudden blade, Anakin moved with all the grace and heavy assaults Ataru granted, leaping and rolling around over and around the aged Count who couldn't possibly keep up. Anakin swung and struck, rolled and kicked, deploying all tactics and cunning Qui-Gon had instilled for him since his beginning years as a Padawan.
"Ataru is more than simply jumps and kicks, Anakin." The Master had lectured one time during a training session, about three years ago once Anakin had asked a question about the Form's capabilities. "But an instrument of the Force itself. Form IV relies on the physical aspect of skills the Force may grant, tuning one's reflexes and sense and allowing the use to become a living sword and shield of the lightsaber. One day, you will learn why many Jedi struggle to gain complete mastery over this style's taxing yet worthwhile advantages."
And now, Anakin was putting those practices and words to the test, becoming the eye of the storm. His azure blade whizzed and sliced through the air repeatedly, aiming to move the COunt's own weapon from an exposed weak point and take immediant advantage.
And a snarl of pain alerted the Padawan of his success, Anakin then leaping backwards on one hand, then to his feet, grinning with small triumph at the Count's hissing and smoke rising from the elderly Sith's shoulder. Score one for the Skywalker!
But that moment of triumph, however, soon died down for a compensating feeling of apprehensive dread once Dooku's eyes lingered from the cauterizing wound to Anakin's own face, disapproving brown eyes consumed by raw yellow contempt.
Uh oh.
Before Anakin could prepared himself, Dooku struck, like a viper. Jabs and low cuts were aimed Anakin's body in various directions, moreso specifically, Anakin noted with panic as he desperately worked to bat away the precise wings, his arms or legs. This time the Count wasn't toying around, and he was making the ill-prepared Padawan know this with every swing, every attempt to cut the teen from his own defenses.
And eventually, or perhaps inevitably, succeeding.
"AGH...!"
"An eye for an eye..." Anakin barely heard Dooku murmur with the hissing deactivation of a lightsaber, the Padawan too focused on his own pain from the sudden sensation of intense, searing agony and the lost feeling of a precious limb. Anakin keeled over then, eyes tightly shut with tears threatening to fall from his face, teeth clenched harshly with his newfound stump clutched between his chest and the only hand the Padawan had left.
Hurt... It hurt too much...!
Only then did Anakin's ringing ears pick up on another lighsaber activating, with a familiar baritone calling out in geniune concern, "Anakin!"
Followed with another voice, feminine and kind, that Anakin had longed to hear again and rescue from the evil Count's clutches, "Anakin!"
"Mom!"