Chapter 9

The New Shadow

The Phantom Fist warbled through the low orbit of Coruscant on its assumed path following its prior broadside engagement. Multiple levels and decks were venting atmosphere even with ray shields sealing the holes littered across the body of the providence. The General aboard the bridge manning this ship was the only real continuous sound that rattled the room. His coughs and clanging talons sounding as thuds or rasps that made the neimoidian crew cringe and droids mutely concerned. He spoke very little. Having heard that they had captured the Jedi attempting to escape his ship along with that fool of a Chancellor. They would be arriving soon. Still, Grievous narrowed his gaze. A cough shuddered his metal frame as he loosed one, two, and three horrid rasps.

He wondered, just what had happened? Not but a few days prior prospects for himself and the Confederacy had been grand. Never had the Confederacy been in a better position to impose its will, and declare a victory. If not the final victory over the Republic itself! The Supreme Chancellor was aboard his ship, Dooku was guarding him directly and probably lording his victory over Palpatine! Their fleet was still far superior in number to that of the Republic and hounded them at every turn. Thousands, no Grievous foresaw millions to be dead in orbit and on the surface of the planet!

Grievous peered down to his robes as the coughing subsided. There lay about its folds many lightsaber hilts. On this mission alone he had claimed four new trophies. He was soon enough going to need to return to where he cached all his trophies to leave some behind. Yet, despite, and indeed, in spite of these many victories he now stood inwardly seething upon his bridge. The Republic fleet was harassing his as hard as they could regardless of the chaos both fleets had found themselves in. Two Jedi, Kenobi and Skywalker of all Jedi in fact, had boarded his ship! Those miserable scum had taken the Chancellor, his captured game, and freed him from his restraints. Restraints Dooku himself had tasked himself to man! The fact the Chancellor was freed and both Jedi stood with him spoke enough to Grievous what had befallen the Sith. Such realizations made him wonder just what was to become of the CIS. Word, of course had yet to reach anyone. Perhaps he alone now knew what had happened. According to the contingencies of the Confederacy he was now at the helm of an entire galactic government. Well, he and the Council.

"Gunray." Lowly, like a beast, he seethed the name. Oh, how he hated that toad of a sentient. The neimoidian...indeed all of those councilors did nothing more than hold the entire Confederacy back. The only addition they gave, and the only role they played was to turn the cogs of their corporate foundations and loose their limitless coffers into the machine of war.

The General coughed again and balled his hands to tight fists. So tight that the whine of internal servos audibly loosed. He growled again and lurked across the front of the bridge. His eyes returning to the battle outside. The chaos there distracting him from these thoughts. War, he knew he could handle. Pathetic as the droids were they could be used to win such a conflict as this one. Grievous knew he could. He just needed to be let off the leash by Lord Sidious. Governing was not something he had ever anticipated on doing. It made that anger that always boiled beneath the surface, that drove him and consumed him, all but unbearable. Especially as he awaited the arrival of the two 'heroes' of the Republic. Two beings Grievous had hoped might have done him a favor and had died on that useless backwater. Alas, it was not to be.

He need deal with them first and he would be sure to do so swiftly. Afterword, whatever came of the Chancellor, Grievous would speak with Lord Sidious as soon as possible. He would know what to do. Sidious always did.

Both Obi-Wan and he had remained mostly silent the entire walk through the ship towards the command bridge of Grievous' flagship. Anakin had checked both astromechs in tow. Artoo was fine, no worse for wear. Arfour also seemed okay, and both chirped and chatted. Seeming to not bother their 'captors' with their binary conversation. In fact, Anakin was a little shocked the droids had not taken the two astromechs off to a hold or shop. Though he was grateful for it. Otherwise what was to come next would've been...complicated.

The droids had already told he and his Master to shut up a few times. The once or twice Anakin had asked Obi-Wan and the Chancellor if they were alright. Both had simply nodded. He worried about Palpatine more than his Master though. Surely the man had been shaken by everything going on around him. For days now he's been cooped up in here with nothing but droids and Dooku to keep him company. Now they were being taken to another kinrath den. This one holding General Grievous. Though considering it had been Grievous who had abducted Palpatine, perhaps the Chancellor would find the reunion of little shock. Hopefully so anyways. He and Obi-Wan had work to do.

Come to think of it, Anakin felt his brow furrow, because in that moment he began to look back at the years of war. Sifting through memory and battle after battle, carnage, waste, pain, death, victory and loss. All these things flashed, and he knew the General's face, his voice and his bearing. Anakin had heard other masters speak of him, other Jedi. He had seen holos of the butcher, and the aftermath of Grievous' exploits. Yet, he had never met the warlord in person.

"Huh." Anakin uttered. Causing his Master to cock a curious glance his way. Though Obi-Wan said nothing on it. Well, it was as good a time as ever to get a look at the murderous coward. Perhaps, if all things went according to his Master's most optimistic projections, the Separatists would be down not only Dooku, but Grievous as well once this day was over. Anakin wouldn't mind having their first meeting, also be their last. All of this, as they came to the end of one hallway and let the doors open.

Within, a barrage of lights and movement hit all their eyes as the group moved forward and around what was clearly the Captain's command chair. Coming along the right of it, Anakin led in before Obi-Wan. He scanned and saw two magnaguards to the front, facing them upon entry. They'd be the biggest trouble. Well besides the central figure. Robed and facing away from them, the being twisted around and growled his next words their way.

"Ah yes, the 'negotiator!' General Kenobi. We've been waiting for you." Anakin almost felt insulted that Grievous ignored him. Even though he was the first one in. Though, he had to remind himself that Grievous and his Master had plenty of history with one another.

"Excuse me." Anakin watched one of the droids pass he and his Master by and move toward Grievous.

"That wasn't much of a rescue."

"You're welcome." Grievous snatched his and Obi-Wan's saber hilts from that same B1. Funnily enough, that droid gained a few points in Anakin's eyes.

"And," Grievous retched a cough back as he pointed his way. Seeming to have finally noticed him after glaring Obi-Wan down.

"Anakin Skywalker!" He began trudging over towards him. Anakin was sure to steel himself and hardened his eyes as he met Grievous' pointed attention.

"I was expecting someone with your reputation to be a little...older." The General whined with a sideways glare in on Anakin. His looming presence had been uncomfortable, especially the abnormal whine of the General. Anakin was sure he bore a look of disgust on his face as he turned away and back onto Grievous. He gave him a quick once over up and down before he thought of the best comeback in galactic history.

"General Grievous…you're shorter than I expected." Nailed it. Absolutely nailed it! Anakin and Grievous maintained a heavy silence for what seemed to be an hour. Anakin could barely contain himself as he watched the General take in what he had just said...and seethe. Inwardly he was grinning like mad.

A cough from the General finally broke the silence and he made to turn.

"Jedi scum." Grievous hoisted his arm out, as if ready to strike. To be honest, Anakin wasn't sure why he hadn't. Nonetheless, Grievous swept around and trudged back to the front of the bridge.

"We have a job to do Anakin, try not to upset him." Obi-Wan, coy and sarcastic as he was pleaded.

"Sorry Master. Just speaking my mind. Making an observation." Obi-Wan shook his head in mock embarrassment. Or, was it real? Didn't really matter at the moment anyways. Regardless, Anakin nodded Artoo's way, the little droid pulled up into a rigid stance and whirred.

"A shame you didn't meet your end, Kenobi." Grievous continued, pulling back around and casting a sideways glare toward Obi-Wan.

"Had you died you could have spared your precious Order and Republic the sight of your demise. At least," Grievous chuckled.

"What I will do to you, and your fellow Jedi."

"After our last meeting, General, I highly doubt it would be me who'd be worse for wear." Obi-Wan quipped coolly.

"Ah, I had almost forgotten." Grievous began. Making what almost sounded like a 'tsk.' Anakin had thought he had heard the sound come from Grievous before as well.

"Indeed our last meeting was less than flattering. Though," Grievous reached into his robes and pulled forth several lightsabers.

"These Jedi would beg to differ, Kenobi. These two I slaughtered before your Chancellor." Both Jedi felt themselves tense as Grievous gestured toward Palpatine. Anakin's nostrils flared as a renewed anger cast itself like a shadow over and through him. Obi-Wan for his part did better and loosed the anger and sadness quickly into the Force.

"Better still!" Grievous pocketed the sabers and produced two more.

"These Jedi came aboard my ship, much like you and young Skywalker have." Grievous cast a glare Anakin's way again.

"These two fought me even when damaged. As your friend, Windu would say in a, ' less than combat effective' state." Grievous' usual self congratulatory demeanor and tone was trembling with menace and lingering rage. The General hoisted one of the unknown sabers a little higher than the other in his grasp.

"This one I pierced with two sabers! I do believe it was with the ones from the two Jedi I had killed a little before." Grievous laughed through his rumination. Glowing in, and assuredly content with himself and his 'victory.' Anakin wanted to say more, but he allowed himself to restrain that anger for later. He and Obi-Wan had a playbook and they needed to follow it. If they had any hope of seeing this day through minus both Dooku and Grievous.

"Four Jedi have fallen to me in this battle, Kenobi! Many more shall I take once I pin your corpse to the front of my ship!"

"Rather uncivilized, General." Kenobi simply retorted.

"Taking me hostage and killing me without even a chance to makeup for that dismal display on Arda? That is rather unlike you. Wouldn't you agree, Anakin?" Anakin snorted.

"I don't know Master. He's run plenty of times from plenty of Jedi. I think he's afraid of us." Grievous glared between them and seemed to tremble in anger.

"Afraid of you?! I instill horror in the hearts and minds of your nascent Order, and your floundering Republic! I am the one who hunted your Chancellor down, and I am the one who slaughtered your friends! Years, and decades wasted on your Order to be made meaningless by General Grievous! I bore down upon your friends aboard my ship and cut them down! I-"

"You ran from Arda when you could have taken victory." Obi-Wan shrugged with barely a rise in his voice.

"Even better, you ran from our fight in the White City because you lost some of your multi-armed advantage. As my friend here said, I do in fact recall you running away plenty of times before." Anakin chuckled a little.

It was rare to have his Master so openly mock someone. Though with Grievous, any attack on his ego was sure to set him off balance. All the better for them.

"You will see before I kill you, Jedi!" Grievous snarled. Which led quickly thereafter into a fit of low coughing. Strained golden eyes looked back to the Jedi as he pocketed the four sabers he held. Including theirs.

"Your lightsabers will make a fine addition to my collection."

"Not this time." Obi-Wan easily countered. His face full of confidence.

"And this time you won't escape."

"Artoo, Arfour!" Anakin called and immediately the two droids went mad. As mad as little astromechs could. Both extended every tool, every cutter, every connection piece, everything. Buzzing with electricity both screamed and the surrounding droids jumped to attention as Obi-Wan pulled his saber from Grievous' cloak. In another flash Anakin turned left and he felt his Master slice through his cuffs after igniting his blue saber.

"Crush them!" Grievous commanded as Anakin turned and pulled his saber back into his waiting hands.

"Make them suffer!" Anakin swept left and began cutting down the B1s. The droids barely put up any fight. They were too concerned with possibly hitting the glass. Obi-Wan dashed ahead and immediately began dueling both of the magnaguards guarding Grievous. The hiss of their electrostaffs surging through the room.

"You're mine!" Anakin leapt ahead and caught the attention of one of the guards. It easily fell away from its comrade and began dueling Anakin as best it could.

"Stay at your stations!" Anakin barely caught Grievous demand as he loomed behind the main control desks and threw the security droids around.

Obi-Wan, Anakin knew would take care of his guard. Anakin's swept at him. Clashing blade to staff from low to high end. He pushed them back and swept them even as the droid circled itself for a harder strike, but again the Jedi blocked the hard strike. The incessant twists and turns of these droids arms and the ease in which they circled their staffs made them interesting to say the least. Nonetheless, Anakin had this one, and allowed the droid to push him back towards the door. Where he needed to be anyways. He slashed down right and pulled the guard's staff upward. Slashed out and struck around but the droid met the new strike by angling the staff up. Anakin struck around again, but the droid parried. The damnable thing was playing the long game, and he found it annoying more than anything. Anakin let it push him back, parrying the new jabs it made, and let it strike up at him. An opening formed that the droid didn't account for. Anakin ducked low and slashed at his right with as much force as he could and his lightsaber tore through the droid like butter.

He turned to the two security droids dragging Palpatine back, and he made for them. These two raised their blasters but it didn't help. He sliced one up and through and cleaved down and through the other before taking a third and equally as simply slash at Palpatine's wrists. Cleaving the restraints placed there. The Chancellor huffed thankfully.

"My thanks yet again, my friend." Anakin smiled, but motioned back to the bridge. They had business to attend to and he needed to keep Palpatine close by. As he and the Chancellor made their way back in, he saw his master cleave his own...headless guard through and move on the droids running the ship. Then Obi-Wan moved on the nearest droid and sliced it through as Anakin leapt at another.

"Don't bother with them! Keep the ship in orbit!" Grievous continued to bark his orders as he raced by the droids now bumbling around unsure of what to do.

Anakin was sure to cut one of the droids down as he passed it by and watched Grievous thereafter vault over one of the terminals. He coughed falling to his knee as he pulled one of the magnaguard's staffs up as Obi-Wan blocked his path. Following the General's example, Anakin vaulted the terminal and reactivated his saber to cut Grievous off from behind. The General growled lowly and glanced back at him. He had nowhere to-

"You lose, General Kenobi!" Oh Force...

He hauled the staff over his head and without a second thought slammed one of its ends down into the glass separating the bridge from the vacuum. Cracks formed and spread with a sudden cascade and the panel broke away. Grievous felt himself being ripped away, thrust out into the vacuum. The void did not scare him. He had nothing it could destroy him with. Grievous whirled himself around. Hoping to perhaps see the body of Kenobi or Skywalker floating out, but he didn't catch it.

He pressed a small clasp on his wrist and a magnetized hook slammed to the outer hull of his ship. His body swung out, and he let the momentum carry him. His talons slammed down with a titanic thud and the metal plates beneath bent under the pressure of his fall. Grievous clawed his way up the side of the ship until he was atop it. In fact he was right before one of many emergency entry hatches that led into the escape pod hall. The hallway right before the bridge in fact. It wasn't worth a rematch. Not yet, not today. It wasn't running away...his body shuddered as what felt like an adrenaline shot of rage coursed through him. Regardless, he snapped the hatch open and dropped by one arm inside.

The vacuum tore past him sucking the air from the ship before he dropped down onto his knees and the hatch shut after him. Wordless he found one of the escape pods and entered. Grievous had seen one of the pods lost already. Perhaps Captain Dofine escaped. Alas, it was not worth his time or added effort to ensure this to be the case. Damn them. Damn the Jedi, damn the Republic, and damn Dooku and Sidious even! He should have killed Palpatine when he had the chance! He should have glassed Coruscant from low orbit! So much should have and could have been done. Now, all that was left was his escape. To fight again...another day. All he could do was laugh then. His mind worn by this wretched day.

"Time to abandon ship." He entered in an executive control function, and jettisoned all pods at once. He wouldn't allow the Jedi dogs to take one. His ship, the second one he had taken as his flagship, was dangerously low in orbit, and suffering from the battle before. It would decay, and perhaps take the Jedi and Chancellor with them. Such a thought made him laugh some more. A little chuckle to end the events that had unfolded. As he looked out his pod's viewport and noted the nearing lucrehulk.

Before he gagged on another cough.

Well after having the air sucked from the room, and damn well near their lungs, Anakin and Obi-Wan both fell to the ground. The ship's emergency blast doors having closed after Grievous made his escape. The two Jedi had wordlessly seemed to fall into a trance. Cutting down the other droids. Not really because they necessarily had to, but more because it felt like the right thing to do. Best get the droids before they decided to cause anymore trouble. This in spite of the neimoidian crew having already made a run for it along with some control droids. After which Anakin heard a noise, and turned towards the hall leading out from the bridge. He knew what that rumbling meant. Especially as the running neimoidians seemed horrified and then took off down the next hall out.

"All the escape pods have been launched."

"Grievous." Obi-Wan intoned. A likely scenario. How that murderer did it, who cares. That didn't matter now as Anakin looked out the viewport and noted the imminent decay of the ship through the atmosphere. It made his body tense at the sight. Especially as the whine of the vessel traveled up and down its body at the sudden and quickening strain.

"Can you fly a cruiser like this?" Both moved towards some of the piloting chairs.

"You mean, can I land what's left of it?"

"Well?"

"Well under the circumstances I'd say the ability pilot this thing is irrelevant. Strap yourselves in." Both he and Obi-Wan took seats and began strapping down as he took note of the control console. Palpatine sat behind them both and strapped in as Artoo took up residence beside the lot, along with Arfour to the rear. Both droids whirring and warbling concerns in their binary. This was sure to be fun.

"Open all hatches. Extend all flaps and drag fins." The ship loosed several thuds and rumbles as massive slabs of metal pulled away from the main body of the providence. The ship continued its decay down into the atmosphere and streaks of searing heat began to form as they pierced on down. The computers showed dangerous levels of heat rising across all sectors. Anakin felt the sweat bead, and not just from the heat. He was sure to shut the engine control doors. The slabs covered them to ease their descent and stop the acceleration they found themselves falling into. Well, a good idea. Until the ship loosed another sound. This time an explosion that rippled across from the rear upwards to the bridge. Everyone lurched from the force of it.

"What?" Anakin whispered as the monitors began blaring warnings. The hull's integrity was already kriffed. Something had happened, probably having to do with that elevator incident, that had caused destabilization in its shielding and bored through several decks. They had been venting air. Now they were exerting pressure across the division line breaking the ship into the heavier stern compartment and the bow. Didn't really matter though.

That thud from before grew into warnings screaming across several monitors and the ship once more howled in metal shrieks that traveled upwards toward them. Artoo and Arfour both whined in fear and Anakin jumped to glance behind them. Just managing to peer out the viewport. His eyes catching the entire stern breaking away.

"We lost something." He did his best to ignore that had just happened.

"Not to worry. We are still flying half a ship." Calm and as cool as ever his Master. On days like today Anakin wished he had such an attitude. Especially as his mind thought about someone in the stern who may hopefully be crushed by its fall towards Coruscant. Well, hopefully not hurting anyone else. Of course.

Both astromechs were warbling and beeping their own ideas on how to keep this hunk of metal from breaking apart on reentry. The bow was absolutely orange with the heat of the passing. The battle still raging above and beyond passing out of sight as the highest clouds began to pass them by.

"Now we're really picking up speed." Anakin huffed as the ship, what was left of it, roared into the skies of the capitol world. Honestly he was impressed with how calm Palpatine was behind him. Chunks of the forward bow began to pull away and the rear section was venting what little oxygen they had left. Though they were in the oxygen zone. It was not something Anakin hoped to ever do. Could he fly this thing indeed!

"Eight plus sixty. We're in the atmosphere!"

"Grab that, keep us level!" He ordered. Well it had been nice of Obi-Wan to give him the pressure readout. Anakin could see they had passed the common man's interpretation of the atmosphere that separated space from the planet. The clouds became much more clear and condensed and the light of the day shined across the vast network of buildings below. Well, from what Anakin could see as the heat continued to obstruct his view for a little longer. The descent had his heart racing. Both invigorating and horrifying. What a day.

The ship slid across the sky like a jet of flame. Many chunks and pieces of it falling as raining debris. The ship tore through a white cloud and more clearly than some days the occupants within could make out an entire city disk of Coruscant's endless cityscape below. Though it was scary to see the massive buildings crawl nearer so fast as they were.

"Steady." Anakin heard Obi-Wan offer. As the droids continued whirring worriedly.

"Easy Artoo!" Anakin tried to calm him. Threepio must've been rubbing off on his poor smaller companion.

The trail of smoke following in their wake surely had to of been seen by now. They had passed the highest spire line and were continuing their descent. Anakin felt his heart beat its way into his throat. The Force, he called on it to ease himself. To help guide him. Consciously and unconsciously so. He numbly made out small blips passing across the viewport as he did so.

"Five thousand...fire ships on the left and the right." They were falling too fast. Anakin grit his teeth. He was fighting against something that weighed metric tons with his hands!

"We'll take you in."

"Copy that. Obi-Wan replied to the fire ship wing lead. Anakin wondered if they even knew who they were talking to. Perhaps it didn't matter. He hoped it didn't. Any ship falling this fast would need the fire retardant, the small ships now lathered them with on entry.

"Landing strip straight ahead!" By the Force! Indeed the Force did seem to offer one miracle today...well several to be fair. Still Anakin noted the monitors all losing their 'minds' with warnings. Fires, impact warning a loss of control. He squeezed his hands so tight he felt the controls buckle.

"We're coming in too hot!" He leveled as best he could with the strip. Frankly it was out of his hands now. He knew the impact was coming and he braced himself for it.

The ship finally did. The hull slammed to the metal strip below and the most wretched metal scraping metal sound echoed out for at least a mile. Everyone inside was thrown forward but the straps caught them. Anakin tensed every muscle, every ligament and tendon. The screams of the ship as it was decimated continued to echo outward and smoke was thrown out and up from the scratching pass. Not aided by the screams of two astromech droids either.

Anakin noted the control tower on the left and ground his teeth as he knew it would be sliced. Indeed it was. The providence tore through it easily and more destruction was wrought as the building was broken down eliciting more crashes and collapsing debris that echoed out. But, they were slowing. Unfortunately for the tower, that crash had made a negative reaction that, coupled with the metal grinding to metal slowed them. Further and further and further. Until at last they were all once again thrown ahead and back into their seats. Anakin didn't even believe what he was seeing. That being anything at all!

Coruscant was just beyond. A little worse for wear. Clear signs of battle, both from before and ongoing in the far distance, but for all intents and purposes, they had done it. He loosed a very heavy sigh of air. Oxygen he hadn't even been aware he had hoarded in his lungs as he turned to Obi-Wan. Artoo and Arfour clamored in victory. As if both believed in the objective from the start as Palpatine passed the droids a look Anakin couldn't quite place. For his Master's part, Anakin saw him simply flick some hair back. A wide grin on his face as he met Anakin's gaze.

"Another happy landing."

Talons, cold and dark slammed against clean and bare metal beneath. The dull whitened lights of the ship passed him by as Grievous thudded towards the bridge of this lucrehulk. Barely registering or caring to know it, its title was the Intimidation. He had been marching since his pod had been brought aboard via tractor beam. The droids awaiting him had all pulled away upon his exit from the pod, and he ordered them back to their stations promptly before he made off. Cloak whirling by his speed. His cough remaining as his lone companion. His cough and his fury, that is. Grievous soon enough came upon the central doorway guarded by two blue striped B1 battle droids. They stiffened at his coming and the door opened up before him revealing the staff inside.

"G...General?!" One of the neimoidian worms announced. The rest of the crew turned at his coming and all of them bore expressions of dismay and fear.

"Wha...why are you-"

"Quiet!" Grievous barked, and the neimoidian was quick to follow command. Grievous for his part marched past him toward the front observation platform. Much as his post had been aboard his ship now falling through Coruscant's atmosphere. His eyes glared and glinted in the dividing glass that separated he and the vacuum. He bristled. What was left of him bristled while his metal structure seemed to just shake in his rage. Silence passed and the crew did their best to ignore him. None of them surely knowing what had just happened. Why the General himself was on their bridge. Some of them began guessing, and all of them knew nothing good could come of this.

For his part Grievous noted his own reflection and shivered in that rage and wrath that never left him. This day had been a disaster if ever there was one! The loss of the Chancellor! The loss of Dooku! The loss of his ship! These losses, they played over and over on repeat across his mind. Surely they would drive him insane. They were already doing so. All he now had left were his trophies. Still tucked within the folds of his cloak. Two further should lay within, but they had slipped through his fingers. Anger was laced in shame now. Especially as he realized what needed doing. Grievous had since his pod has escaped the Phantom Fist, and it did nothing but add to his indomitable ire.

"Are the Republic's gravity wells still active?" Grievous asked no one in particular.

"Uh...yes, General." The central neimoidian manning the sensor station replied.

"The fleet is still being held by local and system wide gravity wells."

"Position of the fleet?!"

"Holding, General. Our losses are only twenty percent of task force. Republic losses are rising from forty."

"Counting the Home Fleet?"

"Yes, General." Then those numbers were inflated. The Republic's Home Fleet was all but annihilated by his initial strike. What remained and what was sure to keep growing was the relief forces. Already bolstered by the massive surge from days prior, and undoubtedly led by that new massive ship. Grievous wondered if it was permissible to command his remaining forces to decimate Coruscant. If Sidious would be content with such an act? He didn't know, but Grievous also wasn't willing to find out.

"We will be leaving soon enough." Grievous uttered loud enough for the crew to hear. Though he did not turn, he could see them in the viewport reflection. The majority of whom glanced to one another confusedly.

"The Republic will need a little convincing it seems. Good..." Grievous trailed as a coughing fit wracked his form. He loosed four hearty and heavy coughs before groaning from strain. His eyes winced from the exertion and watched a distant recusant crash down into a venator. Both ships were lined in fire and smoke plumes. Their metal hulls cracking and boring into one another. Like two predators in the wild falling without a victor proclaimed in their clash.

"How's the battle at Centax gone?!"

"Ye...uh..."Another neimoidian pressed keys along his console hurriedly. To be honest Grievous couldn't find it in him to bark at the little whelp. He was growing weary by this entire process. This fool would escape him today.

"M...major damage reported along the entire surface of the moon. Well, focused on the facilities there of course. Much of it is underground based on the sensor array sweeps."

"Losses?"

"Twenty-four ships, General." Another nameless alien officer reported."

"How many engaged?"

"Twenty more, but the bulk are engaging Republic relief forces, sir!"

"They are fully engaged. Another target then." Grievous rattled as he began to pace across the vision of the viewport. Not bothering to turn away from the sights of battle. Grievous knew his time to act needed to be as immediate as possible. Despite himself the General knew the Confederacy's current position may well be used by Gunray or any other sniveling worm on the Council to assert control. He needed to get away from this planet and as soon as possible.

"All reserve vulture droids wings are to engage at once! Half of them will join the battle at leisure. All further will spread out in wide screen and commit dive runs across Coruscant! I don't care about when or where, I want them to destroy as much as possible. All hyena class bombers are to engage and follow in kind. They will drop payloads across the surface of the planet on their descents!" Grievous began spouting off order after order and the crew was immediate in their efforts to relay them all.

"Move all forces free of the Centax engagement. Condense wolfpacks and double their numbers by two. All isolated pockets of Republic resistance are now their targets! Destroy pockets of ten and below with overwhelming firepower, and make them suffer for each round unleashed!"

"Yes, General!" The Captain, so Grievous assumed him to be replied. Grievous came to another stop and clasped his bony hands behind his back swirling his cloak as he did so.

"Breach low atmosphere pockets of the Home Fleet that remain. Any ships that breach the atmosphere below the planetary shield are to bombard all ground as capable! Leave not one building standing!" His fingers crushed one another as that same old wrath bubbled again.

"Aye, sir!" Again he was met by affirmation.

"They will let us leave, or they will die with us." Grievous growled and fell into silence. All the events of the last four days fluttering over his tiring mind. Triumphs and their failures. He would make them pay. The Republic today. The rest of them, another day.

The group had managed to pull themselves free of the bridge. Both Obi-Wan and Anakin chose not to move through what remained of the ship. Some droids may still be wandering around the halls they had taken with them. They still had to worry about the Supreme Chancellor after all. Instead, Anakin chose to break another viewport open. This time the blast doors didn't close. Be it by recognition of atmosphere and oxygen levels, or by the systems being fried, it didn't really matter, so he didn't ask. He and Obi-Wan led Palpatine out onto the top of the ship with a bit of arm work before Anakin had pulled the astromechs up using the Force. So they found themselves atop the now slanted ship's bridge.

"Well, I'd say in spite of everything it all worked out."

"Can't say I disagree, Master." Anakin replied patting himself of dust and debris. The droids beside them both beeped happily and waddled where they stood. Anakin for his part stared out across the skyline of Coruscant. The pelting of dogfighting wings were ignored as were the distant thrums and booms of battle. He had not seen Coruscant in over a year. He found himself oddly nostalgic for a place lined with metal atop metal.

"I must say," Anakin turned along with Obi-Wan as Palpatine began speaking from behind.

"I am quite impressed with the work you two have performed. You have my utmost gratitude, and that of the entire Republic I am sure."

"No need, Chancellor." Obi-Wan began with a nod.

"We were happy to return you to where you belong."

"That being said, I don't think the battle is over just yet." Anakin added after his Master. He pointed his head upwards towards the skies. They were mostly empty, a rarity for Coruscant to begin with, but for the stray plume of smoke and trailing fighters or bombers.

"I don't think the Separatist fleet will be capable of leaving so long as our gravity wells remain active."

"Then it is most prudent I give the order to release them." Palpatine offered calmly. Anakin turned to the Chancellor with a confused brow.

"Why?"

"It serves no one any purpose to keep this battle ongoing. Further conflict will only bring more death and destruction to our dear capitol and those brave men who are fighting and dying in orbit. Without Count Dooku, I do say Grievous will likely choose retreat than surrender."

"I agree, your Excellency." Obi-Wan nodded his approval. Then he turned to Anakin with a cocked head.

"How did that go exactly, by the way?"

"How did what go?"

"Don't be coy, Anakin. Dooku!" Obi-Wan prompted. For his part Anakin shrugged. The thoughts and emotions replaying in his head.

"You were thrown aside by Dooku. So he and I kept dueling across the room. Eventually I got the upper hand, and I took his hands off. Took this from him too." Anakin pulled a particular curved saber hilt from his tunic and produced it before Obi-Wan."

"Did you have that when we were in front of Grievous?"

"Yeah."

"Where?" Anakin openly laughed.

"You know what, never mind." The two shared a laugh while Palpatine watched them. A smile, Anakin would've assumed pointed towards his victory, placed across the older man's features.

"Yes, it was quite the extraordinary display, Anakin. If you don't mind my saying so, Master Kenobi." The Jedi paused and returned their attention to Palpatine. The accolades given being clearly welcome by Anakin.

"To defeat a Sith Lord at so young an age! Much as you had yourself, Master Kenobi. One so skilled and cruel as Dooku at that. It had me at the edge of my seat." The Chancellor paused.

"Of course, not that I could be anywhere but." Anakin snickered and bowed bashfully. The older Jedi noting his old padawan soaking in the praise with ease.

"If I am not mistaken, you were made a Master not too long after killing the Sith Lord of Naboo. Is that not correct, Master Kenobi?"

"Well, informally in a sense. I was still a Knight."

"Yet, you took on an apprentice. Of course because of the passing of Master Jinn. Though you must admit your position as a Jedi Master was undoubtedly assured at that point."

"I would not say assured. I would say I'd hope my place was cemented by my teaching of Anakin."

"Yet, you were made a Master sometime before the Battle of Geonosis?"

"Yes, Chancellor."

"Then I should imagine your place as a Jedi Master should be all but assured at this point, my young friend!" Palpatine beamed turning to Anakin. The Jedi Knight himself smirked at the thought and bowed his head. Though he did seem slightly feigned in his humility.

"Let's not-"

"I'd certainly like to think so, Chancellor." Obi-Wan was cut off by his old apprentice.

"Nonsense! I have the utmost confidence the Council will have to see your defeat of Dooku as grounds for promotion to Master. To have set a precedent and not follow through on it would seem well...shameful really." Palpatine scoffed though and waved his hands before himself.

"But, who am I to speak on Jedi matters. Forgive me, Master Kenobi. I forget myself sometimes."

"It's no trouble, Chancellor." Obi-Wan may have spoken despite himself.

"No, no. It's true I speak out of turn! I was merely quite stunned by Anakin's swordsmanship, as well as his self control. Even at a loss of prompt on my part."

"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked with curious brow returned. Anakin visibly tensed as well.

"I think it would be better stated from Anakin, my friend." Palpatine prompted the younger Jedi.

"Anakin?"

"I..." He took a moment.

"I had Dooku on his knees and both sabers at his neck. I...could've killed him. I did not. I just hit him...really hard. Knocked him out, you know." Obi-Wan felt as though there was more to the story. Especially based on what the Chancellor had said. Though he didn't sense any lies from Anakin. The Knight made no attempt to hide his thoughts or feelings either. It did fill Obi-Wan with a small beam of pride and satisfaction. So, he smiled.

"Then you made the right choice, my friend."

"Even though I left him on the floor? What if he's alive?"

"What could you have done? Taken him with us? If he is still alive we'll deal with it." Obi-Wan offered and pat Anakin's shoulder with a light and reassuring tap.

"I certainly do hope so." Once again Palpatine injected himself.

"If Count Dooku is in fact still alive he may well find a means by which to return to the Separatists. Prolonging this war even further." Anakin narrowed his gaze and twisted about himself until he settled on the direction directly behind them and the fallen half of the Separatist ship they had taken with them. He then closed his eyes and delved into himself. Seeking to find his center before reaching out.

"Anakin?" He ignored Obi-Wan for a minute and attempted to use the Force as he settled. He reached out across the planet and felt its mass of swirling billions. A trillion lives packed onto a single world. He could feel them all. They were indiscernible from one another, but Anakin was only looking for one. One that was sicker than the others. Darker and more oily than any oth-

Anakin paused. He felt something else. Something...different but familiar. He felt his pulse slow and calm, and he followed the feeling to its source. He appreciated Obi-Wan remaining silent behind him. The Chancellor, he did not sense all that much of, though he could note his presence. Politicians were rarely ever so easily read through even the Force. So, Anakin paid his reserved presence no mind as he kept following the unexpected sensation he received.

As it grew nearer to him he felt himself relax further. The presence was bright as it was subdued beneath the masses of Coruscant. Yet, they were plain as day 'seen' by him, felt by him. It was so bright and soothing. New yet familiar. When he reached it then he remembered. It had been so long he had almost forgotten. It was like a shining light that was tied to him by unseen strings. He had reached it, and unseen by those he stood with he smiled. He knew it to be her. Anakin had forgotten through the madness of what had just occurred. The fears and terror that engulfed this world were thickened like a sheet of darkness over the planet. Yet, alone for him he found the one thing he had missed since even before Elom and the trek across Arda with so odd and so welcome a Fellowship. He didn't dare even whisper her name. Instead he simply remained content, calm and soothed where he stood. He opened his eyes and wished her safety from afar. Padmé, his Padmé. Everything seemed in that moment all too well. Nothing else mattered in the instant he had reached her. It was enough for now.

Anakin could hear the warbling approach of several LAAT gunships as he turned. Indeed he saw no less than fifteen of them. Manned to the brim with troopers brandishing their blaster rifles.

"Well?" Obi-Wan inquired. He bore an expression about him, a subtle knowing smirk. Anakin figured his Master knew what he had found through the Force. It made him somewhat embarrassed, but he did his best to not show it.

"I...Chancellor!"

"Yes, son?" Palpatine smiled. Almost knowingly himself. Anakin didn't know what that meant, but maybe the Chancellor had an idea same as his own? Regardless he approached Palpatine as Obi-Wan waved the nearest gunship over to them.

"While this battle still rages you'll be taken to the nearest bunker, right?"

"As is protocol." Palpatine nodded.

"Right." Anakin turned back to Obi-Wan just as that gunship became leveled with them and allowed a squad of troopers to disembark.

"Master, let me take some men with me. I'll head for the crash sight of whatever is left of the rear section of the ship, the stern."

"You want to see if he's still there." More a statement than question. Anakin nodded.

"Yes! If he's still alive I can arrest him. If he's knocked out all the easier for us. And if he's dead, we can confirm it with our own eyes." Obi-Wan thought it over for a moment. He noted his friend's resolve. As well as his calm demeanor and anticipation. Anakin in that moment had seemed to have aged many years. One of many times did Obi-Wan realize how much older he had became. Both he and Anakin. No longer was a boy before him. If nothing else, this past year had taught Obi-Wan that he should have listened to Anakin more. Many things had been done out of his sight, and out of his means to hear. It was perhaps time to lay a little more trust upon his friend's shoulders than even Obi-Wan would have admitted he held back. So, he nodded.

"I say, do it." Anakin beamed again.

"Good! You go with the Chancellor. I'll meet you two after I'm done." Obi-Wan nodded. Content and sure he had made the right call. Anakin for his part turned to Palpatine.

"Chancellor sir, I hope you don't mind if I commandeer a few of these gunships?"

"Oh, not at all! In fact I insist as the Chancellor you take on this assignment!" The Chancellor offered.

"Great!" Anakin turned to the first trooper Captain that had landed.

"Captain."

"General Skywalker, Kenobi, sirs! We were alerted to the Chancellor's transponder upon your reentry to the atmosphere. We're to relocate the Chancellor to bunker 287-D."

"Charming." Palpatine noted from behind. Anakin sensed sarcasm.

"Good. You and your men take my Master, our droids, and the Chancellor to the bunker. I'll need three of these gunships."

"Yes sir, of course sir. Where to, sir? If you don't mind my asking." Anakin smirked.

"We're gonna go find Count Dooku." The trooper was silent. Likely stunned at the statement. Artoo behind Anakin chortled in his binary at that.

(Previously)

It was the middle of the day. This world's sun, its star was beaming bright rays across and down upon it. Setting the steel that consumed it in pillars of gleaming fire. That rapturous glows of glinting metal high above the unseen ground were marred by the tribulations of explosives and the cries of echoing thuds stirred by war. These seemed so common through the many days of carnage that Coruscant now seemed to have always been absorbed in such warfare. The undulating masses that this world played host to were visible in many ways. Unseen by many a number in the ways of the Force. Save for those granted access to such power and whom could learn to wield it in ways useful for such ventures. It was quite a fascinating thing. A marvel of what could be yet discovered.

"This has to be the most boring thing I've done in ages!" Vica lamented aloud and without opening her eyes.

"You've inferred my readings to have been such. Then my consumption of educational videos." The Dark Lord replied in kind. His form only visible to her in his shadowed astral projection within their shared mind.

"Yes, and at the time my statements were true. Now you have me do this?! This is not something I would ever be doing!" She whined more than shrieked her disdain for the task Sauron wished of her to commit to. It was perhaps the only reason he willed her back her body. Of course only after she demanded he return it to its proper form. With some 'adjustments.' She seemed mostly her old self. Fair toned and lithe, slim and fit. Her features were paler than what perhaps could be considered normal, but she had always been so even upon their first meeting. Her golden hair was now changed though. The Dark Lord knew the race of Men to have an odd obsession with 'styles.' Fashion was seen as a mark of attraction and status. It mattered not to him. Though her hair was now half shaven low along her right where the other half was swung down across her left. He knew not the reason nor the origins of the name of this style; 'a bob' with long bangs she had called it. Nor did he much care. No, that was untrue. It was odd and as such intriguing. He had never seen a woman hold such a look to her. Regardless, she now retained control of their shared body.

"You supposedly have all the access in the universe to my powers. You can sense through the Force, and use it with such ease. You make a big deal about it nearly every time I bring it up. Let alone if I imagine for a minute you can't then I get the whole 'I am so powerful and old' spiel!" She mocked him and he let her do so. Benign as it was it mattered little.

"So, explain to me why I'm the one cross-legged on the ground, eyes shut, 'reaching out' through the Force!" She finally opened her eyes, golden hued as they were, they turned and half glared towards his astral self.

"I'm not a Jedi."

"This much has been made clear to me." Sauron responded coolly. His voice now projected in its deepened and powerful truer manner. Even if only heard in her mind.

"Has it? How very good to hear! Now how about I stop and you do this Jedi poodoo!" Sauron took a moment to rummage her mind and find the meaning of the curse. It was if nothing else an odd collection of syllables.

"You and this Sith Order are peculiar to me." Sauron began as his form shifted from across her field of vision before the open balcony doorway of their gifted apartment.

"This Force has many aspects to it. Many powers and capabilities that may well be used to a host of needs and desires. Yet, by doctrine alone you limit your reach. Perhaps not all among this Sith do such, and perhaps not all Jedi limit themselves. It is, that I seek to understand the heart of this Force. To see all paths from which it may be used. A road untraveled does not reveal its end point. The sights along it remain forever unseen. How then can you say you have seen all avenues?" For once in her tenure as his host she paused and seemed to honestly think over his statement. Her eyes turning upwards, and not rolling. A shocking development to be sure.

"Yeah, fine I guess." The best one could hope to receive from her in terms of a relent.

"Again though, if you're the one that wants to see all these damn 'roads' then how about you do all the Jedi reaching out nonsense? I don't need to do this. It's boring!"

"To understand one added atop another creates two, does not mean you comprehend its function."

"What?" She sneered in confusion.

"I may use your abilities, and study them as I wish. Yet, I would be more greatly informed by seeing its application by those whom I assume have been doing so for many years. Indeed I crafted the One Ring, greatest among the Rings of Power. Yet, I learned much in watching the works of Celebrimbor. As I told you regarding your 'ships;' I may see how such a thing may take flight, but to see, and in our case, to feel its function grants me much greater depth of understanding." The Dark Lord again shifted before her. His darkened form containing no real discernible features save but the blackened shadowy mass of a man as it blotted the sunlight that streamed inwards.

"So, I ask you again, witch, use the Force, and feel through it. I wish to experience the sensation the way in which you see it." Sauron appealed as best he could. Vica watched his form for a moment. Her eyes then fluttered in annoyance as she huffed in a long breath. Followed by her relenting and closing her eyes once more. She straightened her back and placed her hands atop her knees where they bent outward. Vica then loosed the breath and allowed the ones thereafter to slowly intake and flow out.

"What is it you want to see?" She asked, her voice unusually calm as she reached out through the Force.

"Do as you are. Allow this to flow over you."

"It is more 'through.'" She corrected.

"The Force is a field. Some would say. As you're aware, Dark Lord, the Force has many differing schools of doctrine. To some it's a field, and to others it's a presence with will and thought. The Jedi say that it flows through all things, and the Sith do not disagree. The Jedi assume the Force is inherently 'light.' Used only for the benefit of...whatever subject the Jedi give credence to."

"The Sith do not." Sauron added, and she nodded.

"The Jedi say the 'Dark Side' is an aberration. Something those who wish to use the Force for ill intentions sort of manifest. We have enough power; we as in those who use the dark side, to twist this all flowing field, or presence into doing what we want. To the Jedi the Force does not crush a throat, but we make it do so. In their minds warping it. To them the Force cannot create electric tendrils from our fingertips, except that we make it do so." Sauron had not expected this of the witch. Her eyes closed and body seeming so rigid and under control as she explained her understanding of doctrine quite eloquently. For her, of course. Indeed he was pleasantly surprised and welcomed her elaborations. Even if they were purely of her own views.

"Do the Sith, or those who use the dark side disagree with this view?"

"Maybe, but from what I have seen most accept it. Though there's always some slight catch to their views. Most Sith or various dark-siders will say that if we can use the Force to make lightning, to snap a neck, to bend the wind around us and throw men across fields or even kill entire planets, then surely WE are the ones who hold the power. If we hold the power then why do we limit ourselves? If we are the powerful why should we make ourselves weak? The Force serves us, if we so choose to make it do so.

'The Jedi feel they serve some greater purpose. An almost divine mission I guess. Some among their Order even believe in a Living Force. The assumption that states the Force is a presence, a thing with mind and will, of thoughts and decisions. Regardless, because the Force is inherently light any turn away from the light and any stray act must incur their wrath. Of course, to them they would use the word 'correction.' If the Force does indeed think for itself, and we Sith...we dark-siders who use it, if we can turn it to our own will then surely the Force is a weak thing! Better suited to be used for greater purposes. A mind? No I don't think so. It is a plain of power, a well from which we can all pull from and use. I choose to not limit the breadth of knowledge and skill I may come to acquire."

She stated with an air of finality to her voice. Indeed Sauron was still silently struck by her articulate detailing of doctrine and personal view of this Force. Sauron knew much of what she said. Purely from historical texts he had absorbed. Yet, her view did help enlighten him on such schools of thought. As he stated to the witch beforehand; first hand knowledge and observation was a far better educator than simply absorbing regurgitated knowledge or wisdom. The same applied to views, and philosophies. What better means to understand such than to hear one who held a view in an argument present and argue their case? The Dark Lord knew it would not last, but while it did he was impressed by her own understandings.

"Then show me the connections. Reach out and find just one."

"On a world like Coruscant?" She scoffed without opening her eyes.

"These worlds and their billions upon billions of lives mask one another. Take the battle that's been unleashed and what you get is a chaotic mess of fear mingled with panic, tinged in anger, masked by hatred and all manner of further thoughts and emotions." She went on.

"The Force flows through everything and everyone. Without some manner of bond or tether formed between individuals, or a strong point within the Force; which can be easily suppressed, finding just one is near impossible. What I'd be feeling is what you're feeling now. A mass. Undulating, moving, rippling and thrashing around with all the emotions and thoughts ever conceived by we little 'mortals' you constantly remind me we are." Sauron took note of her words. Indeed he bade himself the concession that he should perhaps listen a little while longer to her wisdom. In this moment where she seemed calmer and more collected than before.

"To whom are you bonded then?" She snorted. Sounding more like her usual self.

"Bonds are created between few people. Usually there's a reason for it. Masters and apprentices among the Jedi form bonds between one another. The Sith do the same, but to far lesser degrees. Bonds can fluctuate in their intensity. A strong bond between two individuals can cause a 'bleed' of sensation. You can sense their thoughts, their emotions, and their physical realities. Very rarely does anyone form such powerful bonds. I've heard of some old rumors about a Jedi at one point having the ability to form near immediate bonds that fed them power off of their bonded. As well as strengthening the bonded in turn. 'Hive-mindy' almost if you ask me. But, you know," She shrugged.

"Rumors." Sauron silently thought her words over. Beyond them and ignored, save for muted acknowledgment, another rippling explosion graced their senses. A distant tower rattled with flame as one of the many uncounted ships slammed into it and perforated several floors of glass and metal.

"You've explained what a bond is, yet you have not answered whether or not you are yourself bonded to another." The Dark Lord deduced. She opened her eyes, but it was merely to exaggerate her rolling them upwards.

"I'm not bonded to anyone! The closest you could count any single sentient in the universe is you. Even then our little...arrangement is unique. You didn't use the Force. Well, not before you became the uninvited guest that you are. So, while bonds can still form between Force practitioners and those who cannot so easily feel it, our connection is not one I would say forms a bond of any significance."

"Very well." Sauron began.

"If this Force forms bonds between those who connect in some significant way then reach out and find a target with which we have history with. A person with whom we have concerned ourselves." She narrowed her eyes and remained silent in thought. Before she cocked her head quizzically, causing her shortened hair to shift across her brow.

"You mean our Jedi friend?"

"Why not?" Sauron's chosen baritone inquired.

"If the Force flows through all things and we are all of us then tethered to one another through this connection, all bonds must simply be that. Tethers. Ropes of unseen connections that cross distances to form a web. Bonds are the strengthening of such tethers, and for good or ill we have made an impression upon this Jedi. Serra Keto." His looming shadow once more swirled about the room and moved across her line of vision.

"If you wish to cease conducting my test then this may be the best course of action to take." To that she seemed more receptive. Again sighing, Vica closed her eyes and receded into the Force.

"Fine." She intoned followed by a permeating silence. The Dark Lord followed her there. Through means only possible by their own; as the witch stated 'unique arrangement,' Sauron descended into the Force.

He had felt it before, and had used it. Yet, even still it was nearly wholly unknown to him the function and origin of such a binding power. Through the mere word of his Creator, the World was born. They, those who would become Valar and Maiar came into the World and found Arda. Uncounted years, a number for which any mortal would be astounded and horrified all in one, they tended and toiled. Never has he seen signs of such a binding power. Some blanket that encased, folded across and over, and through all things. Then again, it was stated that Varda had outlined the stars, had drawn them and set them to the skies! Sauron...could not remember those times as clearly as he once could, so long ago they were. Had they been but wisely made platitudes? As he had seen and as he had read the stars were not things you could cast from the surface of Arda into being. Neither was it possible to set trillions upon trillions of them afar and into a universe that now seemed endless in all senses of thought and word. This Force complicated some truths Sauron knew to be true, yet now could not trust in full.

Nonetheless, the witch entered the Force and continued traversing a darkened nothingness. Many streams and glimmers of being were found. Countless as she stated, and mixed together in as vast and plentiful an emotion and thought. Lust was mingled with love. Death with life. Zeal for life, as was the wish of death. Anger and joy were commonplace and they were suffocating as they drowned one in their labors. Projected as the greatest of horn blows. The witch followed the tether, and from the outside looking in her brow creased and eyes danced beneath closed lids as she struggled to maintain focus. Undoubtedly due to lack of practice in such a field as this. However, the Dark Lord loomed and he did inject her with the strength of his spirit and her struggle eased. The power he bore setting a fire within her own soul that erupted in a sense of domination. A shock of strength and power loosened and like a wave of fire burst out.

She sucked in a breath and shivered from the unexpected sensation as she continued on outward and along the path of the anticipated tether. The minds of the billions around them turned then to voices. The spirit of Sauron giving another shot of adrenaline to Vica's power. The both of them traveled across the bind and they heard them. Men and women and assorted unknowns wallowing in hatred, fear, self pity and doubt. These things were stronger than that of the subdued, content and loving. The battle that raged loosed torrents of greater wrath, fury, and rage. The deaths of beings, both soldier and civilian were like strikes into the fabrics of the Force's finely knit raiment. They traveled out like waves of water struck by stone. They vibrated the tethers around them and nothing was left unaffected. The Dark Lord found this intriguing. These 'echoes' were oddly powerful. Even as they neared the witch's objective, Sauron could see the most minute of tremors, of echoes affecting everything around them. In the instant of trauma this Force rattled and cried out. In the next it was silence and returned to normalcy. Follow the echo back to its origin and you find the hole made in this Force. It lingered, but slowly faded. The greater the hole, the greater the trauma. The greater the trauma, then perhaps greater the shock wave? What affects could such a wave have upon those caught up in it? Sauron pondered such, and would do so for a time longer, but said nothing and kept to the matter at hand.

"I...think I found her." Her voice was unsure. Strained, but Sauron did not know if it was from a waning of the power he enriched her with. He followed her senses through their shared mind. He came to perceive the woman they had captive elsewhere much as the witch did.

"Yeah...yeah that's her."

"You are unsure?"

"I followed the tether like you wanted! Just because some minuscule connection exists does not mean I am a hundred percent sure on the presence of someone I know nothing about." She angrily retorted through semi-grit teeth.

"You know, forgive me for not making it clear, but bonds are a tricky thing! Not only that, but those who use the Force are more than capable of masking themselves more effectively even from those who form bonds with them! Clearly she had withdrawn herself into the Force."

"Indeed she has." Sauron simply responded as he indeed took note of their prisoners subdued state and manner within the Force.

More sensation than true sight. The two of them, or at least Sauron for his part, perceived her from afar. The woman was unconscious. Her form battered and beaten. Bones...broken and reset time and again. Mind worn and weary as muscles thrummed in aching. Darkness loomed around them and over them. Yet, from within pouring outward was a pale light. More a sensation than a visible thing. It was in purest her essence, and not a concept so unusual to the Dark Lord.

"Her thoughts, or I guess her dreams, are muddled." The witch intoned with her closed eyes. Her face contorted as she fought to gain a greater grasp of what she was feeling from Keto.

"I don't know Jedi thoughts all too well. From what I can get though, she's restless. I..." She trailed off.

Sauron for his part followed the probing thought and presence of the witch. He lingered as a shadow crept from the walls and twisting in as a specter from the darkened corners of the mind.

This, however, was not Sauron. Not himself, not his form and not he himself. Rather, the Dark Lord perceived within this Jedi a manifestation of himself. A projection of his being as a nightmarish and foreboding mass that loomed across her thoughts even as she lay silent and unconscious per his workings.

"She's not all too good up there." The witch seemed to deduce Sauron's probes upon their captive. She tilted her head and herself continued to investigate herself.

"A foul thought has entered her mind. A lingering darkness and fear that I have planted as a seed. Despite what you say and what I know, these Jedi are not infallible beings or creatures. The darkened emotions of fear and anger thrash within them. They try to hide them to release them into this Force. Yet, I know from your enemy, Skywalker, that some among them merely silence such thoughts. They do not release, but repress. It lingers and festers. Until it becomes malignant." Sauron expounded.

"Yeah? So what? Jedi are known to be hypocrites anyways."

"Mostly because you and your kind wish for them to be so." Sauron countered.

"Merely because one think an enemy to be one way does not make it so. Certainly I should wish all my enemies to be fools. Within my mind I may even imagine them to be. Floundering things that fail and squalor all actions made against me. Yet, that is not true. Do not be so quick to cast a simplistic view of an opposing thought, and those who hold such." Again, oddly enough, the witch remained silent and seemed to indeed take Sauron's words in.

"Yeah, okay fine." She relented.

"Still, what's you point?" Sauron lumbered about the presence of the Jedi through their mind.

"Through the Force I have seen the guided connections we can form. A thankful task you have performed in such a regard." He complimented.

"Indeed I have seen further in this one outing than expected." Sauron recalled to himself the echoes.

"Perhaps it means nothing. Perhaps it will mean something. It will take time, skill, and no small amount of patience to see. I shall posit on what I think. In time you shall come to know my mind in this manner." She sighed quite prominently.

"All that, and you don't even tell me what you've gained out of this? You really do make this whole working relationship karking aggravating." Sauron ignored her for the time being though. Instead, the Dark Lord returned his attention to the resting and battered Jedi. Another test in mind now even from afar.

The Dark Lord reached out his hand, more so his presence and pushed his spirit through the Force into the distance. The seed of fear, the repression of horror and anger he found, Sauron pressed upon it and loosed another wave of power. A mingling of his spirit thrust outwards and the Force rippled. The Jedi's presence trembled and shook beneath him. Again, more a feeling, but Sauron perceived Keto's form shake and seethe even whilst asleep. Indeed there was much to be discovered here.

"What was that?" Sauron in that moment yielded and made to answer her.

However, both of them were struck then by a ripple that reached them with unusually strong an intensity. The striking unusual nature found them, for they were delved deeply into the Force. All binds and all connections were strongly interlaced between the countless forms and beings. The expanse of the Force was before them and any splash into this sea was palpable. The Dark Lord and the witch turned their attention to this sensation from within the confines of the Force. Following it to its point of origin. When they reached it silence remained, but for the quiet realization of what it was. A cold and visceral anger entered one, and a dull realization that turned to excited satisfaction.

The witch, Vica opened her eyes and her one mouth that carried a tremor of two voices. Vibrating as a single one that was unnatural as it was powerful spoke. Just an instant of some inhuman synchronization occurring.

"Old Greybeard." They trembled beneath the weight of their own recognition. The White Wizard was come. Arda was loosening forth. The Dark Lord was no longer alone in this venture.

The stern's crash sight was a smoldering wreck by the time Anakin and his reassigned troops reached it. Thick and choking blackened plumes rose through the air. Several fires burned along what was visible of the ship. While the engines continued to vent their pulsating fire. Only beginning to fully die as they arrived on sight. Their fires having burnt massive holes along the side of a rectangular complex likely used as a shopping center. The smell of fuel was lingering in the air, and not just from Anakin's own robes this time.

The body seemed to have crashed along its underside. Though it did now seem to be tilted along its aft. The command tower still seemed mostly intact, however its base was clearly breaking away from the rest of the providence. Anakin had ordered his ship to pull in low to the spire's top. From there he and a squad of troopers broke through one of the many viewports while two more of the LAATs lowly circled the ship. Their orders to await any possible movement seen by droids. No telling if any of the clanking machine men had made it through the crash. Very likely some had. Though, for his part Anakin was not concerned with them. His mind was set on the potentiality of what awaited him. Be it the capture of one of the arch-villains in this war. Or, the confirmation of a corpse, he didn't really mind.

"Check every nook and crevice. I don't think I need to remind anyone what Dooku looks like?" The troopers; of which there were seven, all gave small laughs and chuckles.

"Negative, General!" Their leading squad Captain replied for the lot. It brought a smirk to the Jedi's face, but he remained silent. The whole group entered in through the shattered viewport. Anakin scanned the interior and immediately had a striking sensation of deja vu. Not even an hour before now he had been in this very same room. Attempting to rescue the now safe Chancellor, fighting Dooku alongside Obi-Wan, and then taking the old man's hands. He had to shake himself of the sensation and look about. The anticipation mounting within him. This, despite the fact that he could not sense an overt presence of darkness permeating the room. That didn't really mean much though. Dooku and any Jedi or Sith worth their salt would have and could have made themselves difficult to sense out in the Force even while asleep…or otherwise knocked out.

"Corporal, this way."

"Aye, sir." Anakin observed two troopers angle themselves along the glass of a viewport window they hadn't broken. The tilt of the ship making traversing more difficult than necessary. For his part, Anakin jumped in and allowed himself to fall to the ground with a huff and clang of boots against glass and metal. The room shifted underneath his weight but he remained steady as he pulled himself to a full stand and scanned his surroundings a little more closely.

"Stragglers moving on several decks. Permission to engage, General?" Anakin pulled at his now constantly transmitting comm from his belt and brought it to his mouth.

"Granted. Mop up any and all droids you see. The old man gets in your way it won't be something I cry over."

"Copy that, General!" The trooper beyond replied with just a hint of humor to his voice. Those within the spire all heard the warble of the looming LAATs circling and felt the room shake from the air movement. Before the sound of the gunships beam turrets howled out and explosions rippled the carcass of this downed ship. Already, this thing was crashed into the shopping center and bore a fallen spire atop its topside from where it had careened through it. Now the gunships were beating it whilst already down.

Regardless, it had to be done. With how things still seemed to be planet-side, the last thing Anakin wanted was a few stray droids wandering around and making a worse mess of things. He turned his head right as the crack of glass under boot sounded. One of the troopers had activated a head lamp in his helmet and was pushing past a large collection of fallen viewport glass that had remained scattered just ahead of the metal panes. One of the troopers was bending down and flashing a blaster mounted light underneath the far walls staircase. The same one he had followed Dooku up not too long ago.

Anakin tilted further left and took note of the fallen walkway where his Master had been pinned. That slab of metal was nowhere to be seen. The smashed viewport that was adjacent to the one he and his team had entered through led him to believe it had at some point been ejected out into the atmosphere. Hopefully only after entering the airspace. Anakin still wanted to find the traitor.

He took a step ahead and realized he was behind the same command chair the Chancellor had been strapped to. Not too far from where Dooku had last been left. Anakin circled about himself and couldn't even find Dooku's hands. That raised a brow across his face, but he didn't say anything just yet. Even whilst tilted, Anakin pulled on the chair as leverage and moved around it. He checked the chair...of course nothing was there. He sighed which turned to a grumble as he passed it with unsteady a footing toward one of the conference tables. Taking note of two troopers meandering around a messed heap of electrical wires now hanging and sparking from the ceiling from where they had jostled loose.

"Hey look!" Anakin and the other troopers, turned as one of the men, this one on what had once been the upper landing, held up a hand.

"Guess this belongs to Dooku?"

"You'd be right." Anakin couldn't help but smirk. The same trooper whistled from behind his mask.

"Must've been painful, sir." Anakin chuckled and shrugged.

"My guess is it must've been. Go ahead and bag that thing, as well as the other one if any of you find it."

"What for? If you don't mind my asking, sir?" Another among the troopers asked.

"I've had experience with Dooku clones. Happens a bit more than anyone would think. Best we nip that problem here in the bud before it becomes an eventuality, eh?"

"Fair enough, General sir." The first trooper replied and moved back towards the viewport to probably place or package the severed hand.

That was one of the hands. Now Anakin just needed the whole man. After all, he couldn't imagine Dooku getting up and walking off so easily! Without hands, beaten and bruised, then the ship's decay through orbit? If Dooku had gotten up and moved around so easily and free then maybe Anakin would have to hand him one compliment. Though he doubted it. He had to be here somewhere! He felt it...or maybe he wanted to feel it. Regardless, he kept looking, as he peaked underneath one of the aforementioned tables and saw a whole lot of nothing.

"Oi!" Everyone jumped, and Anakin pulled up so fast he slammed the back of his head to the table with a thud.

"Ah, sithspit!" He cursed and rubbed furiously at his cranium. The rest of the men had once more zoomed toward a single among them. All aiming blasters down sights. The one in question was also aiming. This was the man with the blaster mounted light and he was partially obscured by the steps Obi-Wan had climbed to destroy the B2s during the fight here.

"What've you got?!" Anakin called followed by a pained seethe. He pulled his hand ahead of himself and checked for blood. Nope no blood. So, heart suddenly racing and had a little battered, Anakin vaulted the table and raced towards the trooper.

"Not sure if it's necessary a 'live one,' sir. It's something though." Anakin pulled in beside the trooper and skirted as he fought against the tilt of the room and ship. The outside rumbled again as the gunships made another pass just outside. The light of the green turret beams illuminating them all as Anakin peered through narrowed eyes.

His heart pounding and eyes set even as they widened very quickly thereafter, Anakin yanked his saber from his belt. In a flash the blue blade hissed to life and cast its light over them all. The rest of the squad pulled in and all formed a crescent just behind Anakin.

He loosed a shaky breath. All emotions, anger, fear, hatred, disgust both inward and out flew over him. He felt sickened but Anakin fought it off as he used the Force and pulled the lump towards him. Nothing sounded out but the scrape of cloth pushing debris about the floor. Anakin lowered his saber and the light showed from the darkness the fallen form of Count Dooku. His face hardened and all mirth was struck from him as he felt no more pain from anywhere across his body. Only his right hand twitched even as it held his saber hilt. A jolt of memory. From Geonosis, and another from a blackened slope hit him. One of pain and another of power. He remembered and held both in this moment.

"Sir?" Anakin ignored the trooper for another moment. He willed himself to bend down. His left hand reached out and pulled the slumped form onto his back. A nasty gash was present along the old man's brow. Anakin ignored it, and noted the swelling forming along the cheek where his metal hand had cracked the Sith Lord. Still, not as important as checking to make sure he was just alive. So, left hand again, he placed his fingertips and embedded them to the Count's neck. Where he felt a pulsation of life. A sneer formed along his face, but was quickly thereafter turned to a smirk. A cocky and superior thing as he pulled back up to a stand.

"Well..." Anakin glanced left and right. The troopers all fixated on him.

"I sure hope you boys enjoy the honor of being the ones to officially arrest Count Dooku. With a little room for me in the story too, of course." He beamed and the men around him all broke into nervous laughter and sighs. Which only blossomed into exuberant calls and whistles. Their jubilation was somewhat infections, and Anakin grinned as one of the troopers brought out some force binds and clasped them just below Dooku's elbows where they tightened to nearly constrict any blood flow.

Anakin pulled away and once more brought his comm to lips.

"Master, you there?" A moment or two passed as the shuffling of the troopers and their laughing banter sounded from behind him.

"Yes, Anakin. Go ahead."

"Well, I've got good news and better news." Obi-Wan made a 'hmm' noise.

"Well go on then."

"Count Dooku has been found. Alive at that. That's the good news."

"The better news?" Obi-Wan chuckled. Anakin smirked and felt just a hint of elation and victory ebb within.

"We have him in custody." Anakin giddily informed.

"My...well that certainly is 'better' news!" Obi-Wan's voice filtered through and shared in the sudden jubilation to be found.

"I'll be bringing him into custody myself. I'm guessing the Temple would be most secure for his sort?"

"Agreed."

"While the battle is still going on I say we hold him here at the bunker." Anakin cocked his brow.

"You sure about that Master? What if he wakes up...did I mention he's unconscious?"

"No you did not." His Master laughed.

"Still, I don't think we should have much to worry about a Sith Lord with no hands who was readily and smoothly defeated by yourself, Anakin."

"Oh well, you know Master I-"

"Don't let that go to your head now." Obi-Wan warned just as Anakin was getting started.

"Just bring him here while the battle sorts itself out. We'll figure out how to move him and the Chancellor once that's under control."

"Got it." Anakin remained smirking as the troopers began fashioning together a gurney of sorts.

"Oh, and Anakin."

"Yeah?"

"Good job my friend. I mean it." The two were silent. Anakin felt a wave of appreciation flood across him. An easing of tension came across his shoulders and he felt a mist of emotion much as he had before cascade over mind and body. He fought it off, and released what he could into the Force. Just as Obi-Wan always taught him to. Still, he couldn't fight off the pride and elation he felt at his Master's accolades. He shook his head whilst beaming a smile.

"Thank you, Master." The two of them need say no more, and both sensed it. Anakin shut off his comm and turned to help the troopers haul the out cold Sith Lord out of here.

From one Head of State being taken captive to the other's arrest, the Battle of Coruscant certainly had taken a major turn. Anakin couldn't really believe it himself.

"What a day!" He stated aloud. Much to the snickering agreement of the troopers around.

The day was withering on and here Taruk had found himself. Meandering across well crafted and placed stone with a fine and deep purple set of robes about himself. He moved down onto the fifth level of the great White City. His nerves were shot, but such had been the case for days. He had managed to not drink himself into a stupor, but by sheer will, and he was not known to hold much. He could and did admit as much to himself. The summons he had received had not gone unanswered despite the fact that he didn't even know if by the hour his Republic would still be standing. After all Taruk could not in good conscience ignore the request for a drink with Prince Amathir of Pelargir.

"What would Lady Sipillona say?" He asked himself in mocking a tone when he had been given the invitation from nameless a messenger. Honestly it also gave him something to do to ignore the realities of the war beyond. Kriff, he hadn't even told King Elessar about the fact he had sent his little delegation into a war zone. He'd heard nothing on it, and Taruk wasn't sure he wanted to hear anything about it. They had received no transmission from the transport, and at this juncture they had to assume it was at Coruscant.

Best case scenario, the ship never even reached Coruscant, but Taruk wasn't a foolishly optimistic idiot. More likely and better case scenario, it reached the capitol but made it through whatever was happening over the world. Even then though, the negative view of the Republic off the bat by the sheer magnitude of the war may be irreparable. The worst case? Well...everyone's dead. Followed swiftly by him, the Republic, one or both. So, why not pretend to still be doing his job?! After all, if things panned out, but he still had to work for that little schutta Arsuna, he may as well try and appease the brat before she got on him for slacking off.

"My Lord Delegate Koll." Taruk glanced left from within a sort of residence he found himself. A lankier man of some age bowed his way from a doorway.

"This way please, my Lord."

"My thanks. Though I generally only go by Delegate, sir." Taruk smiled his best diplomatic and welcoming smile. The old man bowed again as Taruk passed by.

"Your humility is fitting of such a fine station, my Lord. Alas, I must insist on speaking to you in the most formal and proper of manner. Otherwise would be a disgrace!" The older man, hair white as snow with a peppering of hair about his face scoffed at Taruk's show of humility. Not having the strength to ward off such 'proprieties' Taruk gave a nod of his head and allowed himself into the new room. There awaiting him sat Amathir at a table lined with food. He found that slightly odd. Usually the host entered later, but here Amathir sat, waiting. Then again, perhaps Taruk was projecting some customs of this world onto others? Maybe even a little of those from beyond this planet.

The stern looking older man was clothed in a simple tunic not unlike that of the King's cloth. Though the one Amathir wore bore a golden lining and patterns across his chest carrying the symbol of the white tree. It glimmered in the light of the sun that streamed in. It was supported by simple leggings of equal finely made materials and boots. Whilst his hair was pulled back and finely kept. His eyes were still dark in mood as Amathir's features bore an expression that was anything but expressive.

"My Lord Prince Amathir, I present, Lord Delegate Taruk Koll." The servant from before, as Taruk deduced easily enough, presented him with another bow toward Amathir.

"You have my thanks, Tallandir. Do please leave us. Be sure to direct all potential guests and visitors elsewhere until such a time as I am ready."

"Of course, my Lord." Amathir rose as this Tallandir dipped at his waist and turned on his heel out the doorway back towards the main antechamber.

"Prince Amathir, it is an honor to meet with you!" Taruk dipped his head as Amathir neared.

"The pleasure is mine, Lord Delegate." Amathir reached his hand out. Taruk took it and gripped it at the inner forearm as Amathir reciprocated. A somewhat different and local handshake customary of these people.

"Do please have a seat!" Amathir laughed and motioned to the vast table. Though, Taruk could sense the feigned heart of the laugh. The very air around this man was heavy. He had seen and felt as much days back upon departure of the now inevitably doomed delegation. Nonetheless, he needed be the humble and thankful guest.

"Oh my! What a selection you've had prepared! I must admit I had not imagined such a fine table of food."

"Not just food." Amathir chuckled as he pointed to a bottle containing local wine. Taruk had sampled some days prior. Not a bad vintage at all honestly. The northerly based ones were better in his view, but the more regional southern ones reminded him of Mid-Rim or some Outer-Rim winery products. Ironic seeing as...well the world was in the Outer-Rim.

"Ah, don't mind if I do!"

"Please, take a seat." Amathir prompted and Taruk sighed himself into a chair sat directly next to the one the Prince had been seated in moments prior. Without prompt and as Taruk pulled his robes out to straighten them, the Prince took the wine bottle and uncorked it. A fine reddish-purple liquid was then poured into a glass that was swirled in design and led from a slim base to a bowl. Taruk watched Amathir fill this bowl about halfway before pulling his container away and doing much the same for his own prepared and untouched glass.

"Perhaps you wonder why I've asked to meet with you?" Amathir began, retaking his seat.

"Not particularly, no." Koll chuckled and nipped at a food tray pulling a bundle of grapes onto a preset plate.

"Really? Why's that?"

"To be honest, I've met with many Lords since my arrival in the White City. Prince Imrahil, as well as a brief meeting with the Steward. Himself now a Lord and Prince of the burgeoning Ithilien region, no? Among others from the further western portions of this Kingdom I have yet to fully appreciate." Taruk went on with an air of disinterest as he nipped at a grape or two.

"Why shouldn't all the Princes and Lords wish to meet with a diplomat such as myself?! Especially seeing as I'm the one with the flying machines." Taruk chuckled.

"A fair view of things." Amathir nodded sipping at his wine.

"Indeed I have asked to meet you on some account due to your flying contraptions."

"As expected." Taruk laughed some more, but Amathir did not. Instead he placed his glass down and rather improperly dipped backwards into his seat.

"You know of my city? You know what's become of it?" His tone became in a moment quite stern. Taruk was sure to adjust.

"Ah yes, Pelargir. I had not been here when it was bombed by the Separatists. Though it is a tragedy to be sure. One that plays out across the galaxy on a daily basis at that." Taruk sounded forlorn even as he took a sip of his wine. Silently basking in the taste of it.

"Yes..." Amathir trailed off. His eyes grew distant and glassed. They twitched and his nostrils flared before he sucked in a breath and turned his attention back fully onto Koll.

"I had not been present within the city when it was 'bombed.' I had been out riding with my retinue just beyond the city's limits. Remnant forces of Southrons were moving over my lands and I sought to commit to my duties and waylay them at every turn. I killed many a man there, and in my heart I know I should mourn for the deaths of the unwitting or unwilling."

"Yet?" Amathir hardened and glared. Though seemingly not at Taruk.

"I don't mourn a one of them." Taruk nodded, but said nothing. Instead choosing to pop another grape into his mouth and await the Prince's further words.

"I did not come to feel this way until I saw what I had thought to be dragon fire loosed upon my people." The man began with a harsh loosening of another breath. He swigged his drink before carrying on.

"None among the people within my city, and dare I say none of the people of Gondor have ever seen a dragon. They are but old tales. Tales that even now begin to fade into legend and memory. So, when it was that beasts flew overhead, loosening a whine and wail unlike any beast ever heard to my ears, all began to imagine the old tales true." Amathir straightened himself.

"Then came the arrival of more beasts. I rode towards my city and saw great plumes of smoke rising. Stone as old as Númenor cast into the sea and the screams of women and children could be heard echoing through the valleys even from so far away. Scattering dots like ants caught in a torches flames could be seen from the rising hills scattering across the lower fields. The waters were not safe for even they burned.

'The beasts were joined by the others. These too sounded with unnatural whines, but their look was dissimilar. They loosed green flame, and they burned the air where they crashed against nothing. Though when they met their mark they loosed a crack and flame burst. Raining shards of metal onto the ground as beast slew beast in duels about the sky. In all my years I never imagined seeing such a thing. Horrifying in its visceral wrath, and beautiful in its far off canvas of the skies." Taruk let the man carry on. Assuming there was a point to this story. Had they developed psychiatrists? Probably not. He wondered if the Prince had spoken to anyone about the horrors he had seen. If not, that may have explained a bit of this information dump. Good thing fine wine made him a hell of a listener.

"By the time I arrived at my city it was ablaze and littered with the dead and dying. The scale of which had been unseen since a time long past when kin fought kin. Overhead the two parties fought one another, before one group was joined by a great flock of similar beasts. Before these two flocks traveled into the far north to be unseen for a time. I dug through the stones and the watery graves to find bodies of my people. I pulled forty five from the waters on the first day."

"Horrible." Taruk was sure to shake his head.

"When more metal beasts came they bore men within them. Clad in white armor painted blue or orange here and there. They came to be helpful and search for the living hidden among the dead. Sleepless I carried on looking..." His eyes again turned distant and he turned silent. Though Taruk perceived the Prince to have stopped mid thought.

"I found many more bodies. Some of those I found living bore no arm nor leg. Some were burnt so deeply I wished to end their suffering myself. Yet, those men in white assured me they could save them and for some of them they did. Through some miracle medicine they now seem near fully recovered. Those who remain at least."

"Yes, bacta it's called. Not a miracle necessarily. A medicine of great healing capabilities though. For which I am grateful my people shared with yours." Amathir nodded.

"Indeed I am too. If only it were a miracle. Then my city's people may not be so greatly outnumbered by dead kin. Alas, I stray from my point." Amathir huffed again and took a rather strong gulp of his wine.

"I should have liked to remain blissfully unaware of what had become of my city. Unaware of the nature of these 'beasts.' To imagine my city waylaid by great monsters, unthinking and terrible in their fiery wrath and rage. Yet," Amathir drew an odd smirk along his features. Dark and almost a little mad, Taruk would say.

"I do know what they are. Perhaps not in and out. I know not how they move nor how they came into being, but I do know they were made by the minds of beings not unlike myself. They move and fight not because they are beasts bent on destruction or with a need to horde gold in their holds. They murder and destroy because they are sent to do so with flippancy. They are mounted though unseen by men, aren't they?" Taruk felt a slight moment of panic and wordlessly felt his words caught.

"We...well that's true, but not the whole truth. The ones, these metal things that came to destroy your city they were not of my people's will or doing! They came on the orders of our enemy. From what I have been told your Enemy, this Sauron, also willed it." Amathir waved Taruk off.

"Spare me the details, Delegate Koll. I care not." Taruk furrowed his brow and frowned as Amathir poured more wine into his glass and now picked some bread from a loaf upon the table.

"I know those that ruined Pelargir were not of your people. I know not the details of your far off war and nor do I care. What I know is what all know."

"That being?"

"Well," Amathir snorted.

"That Aragorn ordered an attack to the far north! Those beasts that came and waylaid the ones destroying Pelargir were your people. Yet, they did not come to meet a battle they had not drawn first. Rather they had gone into the north beyond our borders and slaughtered those friendly to Sauron. For this provocation the Dark Lord sent agents from your enemy to destroy my city. So, the act of kindness was made in attempt to in fact resolve an error made. One that cost the lives of thousands." Taruk followed and processed what the Prince was saying. Though he found his manner quite disheveled even if he seemed outwardly cool and collected. He gave off an uneven feeling and it put Koll on edge. He also noted the improper use of the King's birth name from the Prince.

"The blood of thousands of men, women and children from Gondor are upon his hands. That northerner's hands." The Prince nearly growled. Taruk for his part placed his glass down and cleared his throat.

"Pardon my saying so, Prince Amathir, but that 'northerner' is your King." Amathir sneered and Taruk watched his nostrils flare.

"My 'King?!' No," He shook his head, and Taruk could sense before it happened that he had broken some front the Prince had been keeping up.

"That...that 'man' is no king! Certainly he is no king of mine!"

"The record keepers and men of wisdom say that he is undoubtedly next in line to the throne of Gondor. He's been crowned not but weeks ago. Indeed what you say here would be grounds of treason, no?" Amathir laughed. A sharp and insincere one at that.

"Yes. Were I speaking to a man of Gondor. You are not. If I'm not mistaken." Well the sarcasm wasn't necessary.

"No."

"See!" Amathir shrugged.

"No treason, my Lord Delegate. Though you certainly could go to Aragorn and mention that I've said such things to you about him. What are they but rumors told by an outsider looking to gain favor of the 'King' to further his own political need?" Hmm, Taruk had to give that one to Amathir. Well said, and certainly no Lord would tolerate any actions taken against one of them by sheer rumor. Especially by an outsider such as himself. Though he had no intention of doing any such thing. He had to commend Amathir for that realization. Silently of course.

"Might I ask, why you call him 'Aragorn?'" The Prince's gaze once more darkened and he smirked an equally dark smile that was half upturned.

"This Aragorn, son of Arathorn is of the North. From the Dúnedain Rangers, so we've been told. Descendant of a defunct branch of long forgotten and bereft a rag house. The Kingdom in the North, Arnor long since passed into civil war, and conquest thereafter. Its people proving themselves weaker than those in Gondor and more prone to barbarism. We may remember the kin-strife, but what happened in Arnor is far more terrible a thing."

"Perhaps." Taruk began.

"Though he is a descendant of this Elendil figure, is he not? As such he is among the royal bloodline." Amathir nodded.

"That much we can perhaps agree to. Though I do wonder..." Amathir started with a ponderous tone.

"How easy it should be to lose your Kingdom, allow your people to fall into squalor and then by sheer wondrous luck come to the protection of the elves? Better still, I wonder how easy it should be to say you are descendant of Arvedui of Arthedain, to be a Ranger and one of the descendants of Númenor is not so rare a thing. Not least in the far northwest of Middle-Earth." Taruk cocked his brow.

"You doubt the validity of his claim." A statement, not a question and Amathir nodded.

"Indeed I do." He leaned in and Taruk did so as well.

"No one is willing to question if this man is even Aragorn. No one doubts that the line of Arvedui perhaps ended millennia ago. We in Gondor know nothing of what became of our kin following thousands of years since the loss of Arnor and the rise of Angmar. What do we have?! The claims of elves who have since time immemorial sought to dictate their vaunted wisdom. These same lords who were so easily fooled by the Dark Lord Sauron. These same elves who have injected one of their own into the royal house of Gondor and Arnor! The 'Reunited Kingdom!' The elves they say are leaving these lands. Yet, what do we hear and what do we see? Elves moving into Ithilien, the perpetuity of elves at our court. One of them a Prince of but one of their Kingdoms to the north. None showing any sign of leaving. Better still, who was sent to meet with your people?!" Oh, this man was on a conspiratorial roll. Taruk had to admit he was even beginning to buy into where this was leading toward. Just a little bit.

"Elves! One of them a Queen of her people. Another two, Princes from the same household as Aragorn's wife. Only one did they send whom holds no royal affiliation and that is a poor attempt at masking their true intentions."

"That being?" Taruk asked in hushed tone. As if anyone could hear them.

"What if these elves leave not because they must? What if they leave because they seek a base from which to pool their power free of the dangers borne of Sauron? Now that he is vanquished they move into new territories. Lands owned by Men! Then they see the power of your people, the strength of arms and the power of your machines and they seek to gain and garner favor of your lot.

'Do I believe that this Aragorn is of the line of Elendil? Perhaps, but maybe not. Do I believe that he allowed a city to burn to aid men far off from these lands? Indeed I do, and better still now we know that it aided the elves fighting there as well. At the cost of one southern city of men! How low and meaningless a cost I should think, now that he has taken the throne of Gondor for himself. Now that he is become a puppet of his adoptive family. Now that he bears an elvish word as his royal name! 'Elf-Stone!' The rock from which the elves retain power and grow!" Amathir's mouth was a tightened mess of anger. Honestly were Taruk not more practical he should find himself almost believing this man. Though for his own purposes his belief was not necessary.

Taruk leaned back and once more took up his glass. He swirled it about and watched the darkened colored pool of liquid swish about. His mind churning with thoughts. Some moving back to the realities taking place on Coruscant, but he did his best to ignore those. Kriff, Amathir may be pleased to imagine the delegates turned to dust particles traversing the great void of space if he said as much.

"These are all fine theories, Prince. Though I don't see why I should be the one hearing such things. Certainly your time would be better spent convincing your fellow Lords and Ladies?"

"Trust among that lot would be as seeking blood from a stone! So worn and wearied by decades of war, indeed by prolonged centuries with but moments of peace in between. The men and women who serve as this Kingdom's lords are content to accept the man as King. They are happy to do so because the peasantry is happy to do so. The White Tree blossoms and blooms with petals once more, and it is a sign, a portend of peace to come." He gave a single sarcastic snorting laugh.

"If only the peasantry knew!" Taruk sipped his drink but tilted his head.

"What do you mean?"

"Whispers have begun to be spread about. The great Enemy is defeated but not all his servants. The orcs flee to the far off mountains and darkened caves of the world. None fear an orc or troll at this hour. The face of the Enemy is all but out of mind and sight. Yet, we have greater a threat about us that looms to the east and south."

"You mean Rhûn and Harad." Amathir nodded.

"Not but three days ago, the same day as the delegations flight into the skies aboard your metal contraption, word had reached the ears of the learned and lordly. To the east men are marshaling. The loss of their great Emperor has set the far eastern lands on the path to conflict. Be it with us or with one another only time will tell. The men of Rhûn will come for us once they have ended their turmoil and their numbers have swollen where ours have bled against Sauron. The same can hardly be said of the lowly northern rangers." Taruk didn't know if that was true, but didn't really care either. He did think Amathir was correct on the impending return of these easterlings. This information also finally answered, at least in Taruk's mind, what the Steward had been in conversation with the King over. Before the delegation was made ready to leave on that day.

"The men to the south will in time also move against Gondor. We have not the men to meet them head on. Not against either nation, should they unite against us as they have before. Men had been sent to treat."

"'Had?'" Amathir nodded.

"The day the delegation left word reached the ears of Aragorn, as they did mine. The emissaries sent to the south were returned dead. The emissaries sent to the east reached the border lands and were stricken with arrows." He shook his head.

"There is no peace to be had. The easterlings and the southrons seek no peace with this false king! Not when he has seen so many of them killed. Be it by his arrival by sea aboard the Umbar ships and his army of betrayers. Or, by the fire loosed against the easterlings besieging the great dwarven mountain in the north. He has made terrible enemies now indefinite rivals."

"Then it should be said that many mistakes have been had surely. Though I do not see war impending upon these lands. He seems quite content. The people seem quite at ease."

"They know not what has become of our emissaries!" Amathir lightly slammed the table rattling the wares atop it.

"The Steward has told no one, but those he must keep council with, and we are bound by oath to keep these secrets until time allows a strategy be made to counter any incursions!" An oath he was breaking by merely speaking with Taruk. So the delegate noted.

"Tell me something," Taruk started once more.

"What have you brought me here for? More exactly, if you wouldn't mind." Amathir leaned back once again and sighed.

"You have been pushing quite hard for the lords of these lands to support your need. The need for Gondor to join into this 'Republic.'"

"More or less." Taruk conceded.

"Surely you understand that Aragorn will not be so easily swayed to join into something that does not benefit the elves. Sure he may make use of platitudes dictating the need to gain the support of others abroad these far lands of Middle-Earth, but that is only his means to speak of the elves."

"You sound as though you know what he's said already." Taruk narrowed his gaze. To which Amathir chuckled.

"The Steward has kept us all appraised of what it is you desire. We are also all aware as to what our answers need be." Taruk frowned and felt his chest constrict slightly. He felt foolish and heat flushed to his cheeks. Those talks he had had with Imrahil and the others. They had all already been told to expect him then! They had all been told to listen and given vague reactions to his own endearing words. He felt a jolt of anger spike through him, but he suppressed it and did his best to mask it before the Prince.

"Do you honestly think that delegation has been sent to truly change that northerner's mind?" Suddenly Taruk recalled the King's addition of that woman, the Queen Galadriel to his delegation. What had he said about her? She had not gone to involve herself but observe? Force...this Amathir was nearing making a believer out of him.

"What are you suggesting then? You speak on matters with me you certainly should not be. Yet, I have been so far left in the dark as to the point of this whole meeting."

"It is not clear yet?" Amathir sardonically asked.

"I want you to know that I am willing to be an ally in your needs." He leaned in.

"If I am an ally to yours." Amathir nodded and smiled. Taruk was sure to recall the point of this meeting. At least for his unspoken part. Lady Sipillona should be made ecstatic if she could only hear the things being said now.

"That remains to be seen. It also remains to be heard what it is you expect of me."

"With some time and deliberation of what can be done." Amathir waved Taruk off.

"You have marked yourself for treason time and again, Prince Amathir. I should imagine the other lords would not take so kindly to your words. Even if I am not one to tell the King...the northerner of what you've said. Surely the landed types would be equally as disinterested in your remarks this day?"

"Oh indeed. Though you needn't worry about them. None save one or two are as keen on bowing before some dirty northern ranger. They mask their disdain better than I, but they do not take kindly to the ascent of one whose claim seems grand on paper, but as disheveled and marred as the cloth he rode in on. Yet, the people praise the 'return of the king.' They can also be turned against him."

"No small task." Taruk simply stated.

"Certainly not. Though when they are waylaid by war the will and tolerance of the people always wains on their leaders. Especially their kings who usher in the 'days of peace.'" The Prince mocked the King's statement from the coronation.

"Fanciful dreams and statements. Still haven't heard any ideas."

"Well I imagine that when your delegation returns they will very likely advise the northerner against joining the Kingdom to your 'Republic.' If I am proven wrong then I should very much keep watch on whom is telling him what he should or should not do." Taruk kept such a thing noted.

"What I can state simply is that he must be removed from power." Well there it was. Out in the open and naked before him. Kriff! He didn't know coming to this little backwater would mean involving himself in acts of treason against those he had been told were to be treated as allies. He was a politician! Not a spy!

"To remove a king from power would be no simple task. Especially seeing as someone would need to take his place to secure power and the people. Would, by chance, you have any interest in that?" For the first time in their conversation Taruk watched Amathir's features twist in shock and confusion. He dare say even horror.

"What?! No, never! I am no king, and I bare no blood of Elendil within me." Well that was more honest and humble than expected of a traitor in waiting.

"Well I don't see anyone else here having a reliable claim to the throne." Taruk paused. His brow furrowing and his head cocked.

"Unless..."

"Unless I perchance know of another?" Amathir smirked darkly.

"Perhaps. Just perhaps." Taruk now leaned forwards. His mind honestly blown at such a declaration.

"What?! If such were true your people would have sought this person out long ago wouldn't they?"

"If this person were considered alive. Let alone worthy of the throne. They would carry much in the way of judgmental eye upon their claim to the throne. However, these are the days of peace, are they not?"

"Regardless I would hear of whom you speak!" Taruk was genuinely intrigued. Such a thing was at the least tantamount to some good gossip. Though, of course he was more interested in what the repercussions of such a being's existence would entail. Amathir poured the both of them more wine and pulled at some more bread and fruit upon the table. Taruk silently watched and waited.

"How much do you know of our line of Kings, Delegate Koll?" Taruk silently played over what history he had taken the time to familiarize himself with since his arrival here. He knew a fair share. Certainly more than anyone else in the universe, but that was no real accomplishment for a world where he alone sat from the civilized galaxy.

"More than some, less than many." He felt that was a fair self assessment.

"Have you heard of King Castamir the Usurper?" The name was familiar and some vagueness on a civil war, but in general Taruk could not recall all details.

"The name yes, but the deeds are a little hazy." Amathir nodded.

"Castamir with the help of many among the landed lords and the people of Gondor overthrew the King Eldacar. Eldacar bore blood from the people of the Rhovanion. Lesser folk than those born of Númenor and her descendants. Castamir took the throne and ruled for ten long years. None can deny his cruelties and I am not one to defend him. Yet, he did bare the blood of our royal house. He was of Elendil's bloodline." Taruk was following so far. Indeed he was just as intrigued to see where this went.

"Unfortunately, because Castamir was a cruel fool he led to the return of Eldacar with the blessing of our people. Perhaps for the better, but he was slain by Eldacar. His sons and forces made for my city many hundreds of years ago and from there they fled to Umbar. From which they became the Corsairs and they waylaid their father's old realms for generations. In fact the Corsairs and the descendants of Castamir slew King Minardil. That continued until King Telumehtar assailed Umbar and retook it. For a time at least, in the name of Gondor. It was then that the last of Castamir's line was ended." Silence followed and Taruk chuckled.

"So they thought?"

"So they did." Amathir agreed.

"You're telling me that after...however many years it's been you have alone discovered one of the descendants of this Castamir alive and well within Umbar?" Taruk again laughed and leaned back into his seat.

"None, and I do mean nobody should believe you I think. Even if such a thing were true it would seem too fanciful and sudden a tale for the unlearned masses. Not only that, but as you've said the people of Gondor would hardly take kindly to some new usurper rising from this Umbar."

"Perhaps."

"How is it you've come to know of this...person anyhow?" Amathir motioned his hand out in a flippant manner.

"It is...had been the duty of my city to keep a watchful eye on the movements and activities of Umbar. Specifically my house, specifically my duty. I have spies within Umbar. Some time ago I had been told of a family. A mother and a son living within the city and seeming to hold some importance among the Corsairs for undetermined a reason. Through some gathered documents and infiltration of their household my spies have told me as to their nature. The Corsairs believe them the last of Castamir's line. Why they have not made an effort to promote their claim likely falls to the same reason we do not ourselves think such a claim believable. It is just that, unbelievable!"

"Then what gives you pause to think it possible?" Amathir pulled at a piece of flimsy, a note of some kind from the table. Though he did not unfold it.

"I've made an effort to get in contact with these two. The matriarch did me the kindness of responding to my letter. Her name is Amdirniel. Upon our correspondence, she was quite interested in what I had to ask, and what I may have to offer. Should our dear northern master prove himself undesired as the 'King.'"

"Any evidence as to this claim?" Taruk pressed.

"The learned men, the record keepers are always quick to jump to the whims and wisdom of the elves. That and they hold great importance in the treasures of time long since past. The sword of Elendil, the ring of Barahir on and on. Well our lady Amdirniel holds a treasure long since believed lost. The sword of the first King of Gondor. The sword of Anárion." Amathir laughed again and spun his glass beneath his fingers upon the table.

"Surely the sword of his father should carry more weight to it? Again I ask you," His eyes returned to match the stare of Taruk.

"Can I, and better yet, can the people of Gondor trust what a servant and pawn of the elves says? Can we trust that this sword 'Andúril' was forged of the remnants of Narsil? Perhaps Narsil was lost? Never to be found." Taruk drew in a long breath. Both men allowing a pregnant silence to pass between them. Taruk gazed at his own glass, and managed to pull another grape into his mouth. His mind playing over the tale spun for him. Imagining if such a tale could be believed of the masses. If for a moment, should the need be had of him and his benefactor.

"I would imagine those from Harad would be most welcoming of a King in Gondor who knows their lands, and was among them for a time."

"Most certainly." Amathir agreed.

"Peace may yet be had in that way." Taruk nodded as he continued to muse aloud.

"I can imagine that the people of Rhûn could be made to agree to peace should the people of Gondor and Harad make peace in kind. I can imagine that the lords of Gondor who now have a King who listens to them, or the most wise among them at least, could negotiate peace on behalf of the Kingdom."

"Could be." Amathir again agreed with sly a smirk. Taruk chuckled into his glass.

"I can imagine the People of Gondor welcoming a King who bares blood from one of their own. Rather than from some unknown northerner whom peddles his throne and legitimacy to elven lords who sit and control from afar."

"I can imagine rapturous a crowd and joyous a day when the lords of Gondor hail the return of the true King and the line of Anárion to the throne. No longer besmirched by a pretender who sells the lives of 'his' people for the sake of elves." Amathir added. Both men nodded their shared mind on this matter. As the room about them grew dark while a conspiracy began to formulate in the very air.

"What I can say is this; I and the Republic may be agreeable to the removal of...this northerner should he prove a danger. Not only to the Republic's interests but to the very people he himself rules over."

"A very noble viewpoint to take." Amathir complimented.

"We would, however, be in need of assurances. Regarding any support of actions taken for the benefit of all. As well as time to ascertain the truth behind your claims."

"Due diligence when dealing with a scandal of this scale is understandable. So long as you understand actions, though small, must be undertaken."

"But of course! You are nothing but a concerned citizen of a Kingdom that may well be under foreign occupation." Taruk humored, and found humor in. Amathir smiled.

"Then I think we understand one another, Taruk Koll."

"Indeed we do, Prince Amathir." Taruk raised his glass and the Prince followed him.

"May I just ask, why? Why do all this?" The Prince remained silent for a moment as he seemed to reflect over Taruk's question. His eyes darkening again and his features glowering for an instant before turning to one of a slate of cold and controlled stone.

"The people of Pelargir who were slaughtered on the whim of one man who bore not the title of King cannot go unpunished! The men of Gondor who had fought for generations against the Enemy in Mordor cannot go unremembered, and be so callously sacrificed at the alter for the rise of some unknown northerner. I am loyal to the Kingdom of Gondor and its people. I shall see the memory of its people, our people, my people, Pelargir's people avenged. To the betterment of all Men, and to the peace in this the Fourth Age." Taruk smiled and raised his glass once more.

"Here here." The Delegate toasted and Amathir gave a thin smile as his glass met that of Taruk's.

The two drank, and in that moment a pact had been made. If the time came Taruk would have much to say to Lady Sipillona. Even if the Lord Prince Amathir would not see aid of the Republic, Taruk could see this conspiracy heading far. Indeed, regardless of his own intentions he had no will and intent of saying anything about this matter to the King.

This was not his world. Not his problem. Only his and the Republic's gain.

L's Note: Alright ya'll hopefully the wait between chapters wasn't too much this time! Obviously i can't control that on my end, but still...Anywho, as always if there are any grammar issues I and Lord Kun missed in our first couple of rereads of this then do your best to point them out to me for my changelog, or just ignore them. Don't worry I will be rereading this post upload at some point for another thurough grammar check. Until then just enjoy. ;p

Notes: And oh boy there's a few.

Black direwolf: I understand you may see Sauron as a little OOC, but Lord Kun and myself (when I have to add or change things) are trying to keep him in character. You're awesome for noticing that he has shifted in attitude since the loss of his Ring. That was one of the hopes that people would see. In the LOTR times he was full of anxiety and wrath to see his objective complete. Now that he feels secure he has cooled but has lost none of his malice or cruelty. Thanks for reviewing!

King Quinn Of Tucky: Lol soon friend...soon. ;)

Celgress: Patience young padawan. No spoilers, but just wait and see. :P

Guest (who never commented in Arda Campaign): Better late than never! Even if you never review again just enjoy the read! :D

101Asa: I sent you a personal message regarding last chapter. This one was what I was referring to.

Greer123: Lol as am I! Lord Kun (who writes 99% of this story) made me a happy camper there.

ZabuzasGirl: I and Lord Kun are always happy when you're happy. You're like the number one fan of this tale. ^_^

Guest (who feels spoiled): I and Lord Kun are quite happy you're pleased! There's a lot to do on the interactions between the Arda folk and the Coruscant crew. Time will show what will happen, but it should (we hope) be a ride. :D

Ultra Sonic: Man your review and reviews like yours are always so great for me and Lord Kun to read! We love all reviews but those that delve into why they things point by point really do help us shape how things should continue! Thanks, and I'm sure Lord Kun will do his best to keep you engaged and entertained!

Sealiman Dawntracker: You spoil Lord Kun with such praise my friend! You have his thanks and mine. :D

Grima0912: Lol, no spoilers, just wait and see. The dear General may have a greater part to play. Maybe not. I tell no secrets. :P

star wars fandom: You've brought up some ideas and points that have been in discussion. Not necessarily word for word, but ideas are always being discussed and possible planned out.

kalani gapido: The Sauron story is in fact necessary, but your tastes are your own and I respect that you are not engaged by his/Vca's side of things. Hopefully the overall story can prove to be more negaging as time goes on. :)

Guest (With Eru theory): Your idea is in fact interesting. I had not personally thought about Eru being a Celestial. Though with how big a Star Wars nerd Lord Kun is I'm sure he has thought of it. As to whether or not that will play a part in this tale I have no idea. The thought is certainly interesting, and could be neat to explore...IF things go that way. No spoilers. ;p

Huan of Valinor: Your feedback is always a treat!

Shadowmane2001: Hmm you have a point. It may spoil the story of Arda Unleashed a little. Maybe arevision is needed. I will look into this with Lord Kun. Hopefully you're enjoying the read though!

Final note: To any debate taking place in the review section I and Lord Kun welcome it! In fact I find it fun to see people debating the differences and views on powers concerning those in both ficitonal universes. Just keep it clean and respectful is all I and Lord Kun ask. (You guys have been so this is not an attack or anything just being thorough.)

Till the next everyone!

Edit Note: Edited/Updated 11/10/2019