Mercy – 3660.295 BY
Zanleya cursed, her emotions were getting the better of her, what was she doing? She cast a glance back at her slave lookalike, the girl was stumbling along, still shell shocked and mortified. If she was honest Zanleya could not blame her, she had nearly cut the slave in two less than ten minutes ago.
A trio of gunshots sounded from the dig site, the trigger happy soldier exacted further revenge. Zanleya lifted her gaze to the orange sky and the harsh sun, she felt wrong. There was no glory in murder. Her mind was in turmoil, it was as if two sides of her being were arguing with each other. One the angry Sith eager to lash out at the galaxy, the other the twelve year old runaway Kharvak had found on the streets of Nar Shaddaa. One voice in her head insisted that slaves were beneath her, she was to be Sith and their lives and fates did not matter, she should not care about them. The other told her the murder that had taken place and was still taking place was wicked and she was culpable. Why did this concern her? She was going to be Sith, surely moral quandaries should be below her? The hatred she possessed for a galaxy that had wronged her built up in her chest… then faded as she remembered how she had felt, on the brink of death, when Bragga's minions had caught up with her all those years ago. How the one who would become her master had rescued her. As well as the physical similarities her past was little different to the girl's, she had been a slave on Nar Shaddaa, the girl was a slave on Korriban. How could she train to use the force for combat, to become a being that had nearly killed a copy of herself? How could she reconcile herself with the situation?
She growled and turned her attention back to the present, starting up the dusty valley back toward the Academy. As she turned her gaze up the slope she spotted a pair of figures, silhouetted against the sky. One was small and narrow, the other towering with broad shoulders and a hooded head. Even at this range she could feel the imposing presence of the larger man, there was no mistaking him. Zanleya gulped, her conflicting emotions draining away to be replaced by one of plain fear. She was not supposed to be seeing her master until the evening, so what was he doing here? It was pointless to try and avoid the confrontation, she headed straight for him. The footsteps behind her faltered then stopped.
"Follow and don't say anything," Zanleya instructed without looking back. If the girl considered running, it was only a brief and fleeting thought, she bowed her head and continued the climb.
Darth Kharvak did not move, the only motion came from the black robes covering his armoured form as they rustled in the breeze. Zanleya did not recognise his companion, nor did she care about their identity at this precise moment. She dropped to one knee as soon as she came within five paces of her master. He said nothing, as if waiting for a signal. The silence dragged on, seeming like a tortuous eternity. Gingerly she lifted her gaze and looked into his orange eyes, already knowing she was in trouble.
"Explain yourself!" Kharvak demanded, breaking the silence like a hammer smashing through ice, Zanleya flinched.
"Master I was…" she began, but he cut her off with a gesture to the slave who was standing awkwardly a couple of metres away, clearly unsure what to do with herself or how to behave before Kharvak.
"Why is she here?"
"I… she was with the slaves at the dig site by…" Zanleya said, trying to explain.
"I am aware of that, Veedron has been watching, he informed me of what transpired," Kharvak stated flatly. Zanleya looked to the young zabrak at Kharvak's side, he was perhaps in his mid-twenties, a sniper rifle slung across his back poking above his shoulders. His orange eyes regarded her with interest, as if she were a promising new recruit. He was dressed in the standard grey uniform of the Imperial military, a peeked cap on his head sitting above a prominent pair of cream coloured forehead horns. It was unusual to see an alien in military uniform, particularly one of the slave races, on the other hand he was with Kharvak. Her master was known for not letting prejudices stand in the way of his logical decisions.
"He's been spying on me?" Zanleya queried, almost feeling indignant but having the sense not to show her irritation. Veedron pulled a wan smile and unclasped his hands from behind his back, he held a pair of macrobinoculars in one.
"I asked you a question!" Kharvak thundered. Zanleya flinched again, ready for a blow, none fell.
"Master I… went to help the soldiers, then that fight happened," Zanleya started for the third time. She cast her gaze down to avoid his searching eyes, on doing so realised her robes were covered in blood once more. "And… I chose to spare her from being sent on shyrack duty," she admitted. Honesty was certainly the safest option when dealing with Kharvak, his brow furrowed.
"Why?" He demanded. A knot tightened in Zanleya's stomach, one wrong word now and she would be in for it. She knew lying was futile but she doubted he would like the true answer.
"I thought she would be useful," she replied, Kharvak did not buy it for a second.
"In what way?" He pressed, she knew she was digging herself a deeper grave but answered nonetheless.
"She could spy for me, gather information from the other slaves," she replied lamely.
"Then why her, why not any of the other wretches?" Zanleya floundered like a goldie out of water.
"Well… she, sort of… looks like me."
"Pathetic!" Kharvak boomed, waving his hand and smashing his apprentice into the ground with the force. Zanleya gasped as the breath was crushed from her lungs. Kharvak strode forward to tower over her.
"Änastasiä is an exceptionally gifted force user, Traz is a killing machine when given the simplest weapon, Anral is a renowned pureblood. Your group of acolytes is full of promising young Sith and yet you… you are out in the wilds taking pity on slaves because they are female and have red hair! Pity is a weakness!" Kharvak raged. Zanleya pulled herself up with great effort.
"But master… you had pity on me when we first met!" Zanleya objected.
"No. The force guided me to you and I had mercy on you, not pity. I saw potential in you, something that could be shaped, I chose to save you because I thought you could serve me," Kharvak retorted. "Apparently I was wrong." His words hurt far more than the force blow. Zanleya ground her teeth together and punched the sandy ground in denial.
"No! I will serve you, I want to be Sith!"
"Then start acting like one!" Kharvak shot back. "Pity and pointless compassion is for the feeble Jedi. We have strength; there is no mercy for the weak. This pity of yours is a flaw and one that cannot be tolerated, your enemies, Jensine, will exploit it, use it against you and destroy you." At this juncture the slave, realising where the conversation was heading, turned and ran. Without even taking his eyes off Zanleya, Kharvak held up his hand, freezing the slave in her tracks. He clenched his fist and she was pulled toward him, dangling half a metre above the ground. Her expression was one of pure and undiluted terror, the expression of one who knows she is looking death in the face. Kharvak's armoured fist tightened and the slave gasped, a choking gurgling sound emitting from her constricting throat. Automatically Zanleya jerked to her feet, hand instinctively reaching for her vibrosword.
"Wait master!" She cried out.
"See! Pity, weakness! Crush it, let go of those useless emotions! They hold you back, they cause conflict in you, doubt!" Kharvak roared, knocking her down again with another force blow. Her meagre force defence was but a twig before a storm. Veedron grimaced and looked away as the slave suffocated, hands scrabbling at her neck as if she could pull away the invisible choke hold.
"Master please stop! I haven't told you everything yet!" Kharvak glared at her, his eyes alight with the power of the dark side. He did however loosen his grip on the slave, who desperately gulped in air.
"This better be good," Kharvak threatened and from the tone of his voice she knew he meant it.
"When I was fighting… I… lost myself. I saw red, I just wanted to fight and kill, to spill blood and… and…" Kharvak's face relaxed slightly, it was a barely perceptible change but Zanleya spotted it, taking it as her cue to keep going she continued. "I scared myself master. I remembered what you said about the dangers of using anger and rage. I don't want to be a mindless Sith marauder who lives purely for violence… but that's what I felt… and when I came to attack her… I saw myself and it broke the haze. I realised what I was doing, that I was becoming… well… a monster," she said, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. Kharvak's expression changed completely, the anger and ire vanishing in an instant. He released his grip on the slave, who collapsed to the ground still wheezing. He crouched down on one knee beside his apprentice, bringing himself to her level.
"I see, go on," his voice was suddenly different, as if he was comforting his grieving daughter.
"I hoped that perhaps by saving her I could make things right. Prevent myself from…" she trailed off.
"So it was not just pity," he said. "You were self-aware enough to stop, many Sith cannot do that."
"I… I don't know what to feel master. I didn't feel remorse when I killed Frendric, he was my enemy, but I feel hollow now."
"You have only taken three lives, I was surprised you did not feel like this after the first time you killed," Kharvak remarked.
"But I still felt the power of the force, just like I did in the tomb. As if, well, I was supposed to kill that that was what brought me to the force… and that feels wrong, they were only slaves."
"That is because you experienced victory, remember that through victory your chains are broken. Everything comes back to our code. Even though they were mere slaves you beat them, proved your superiority and achieved victory, therefore you felt a strong connection to the force," Kharvak explained.
"…so that's not bad?" Zanleya queried. "I don't want to take pleasure or feel powerful by butchering hapless slaves."
"I cannot tell you if it's bad or not, but I can tell you that it's natural to feel that elation and connection after beating an opponent. When you are more experienced and attuned to the force you will experience it more often and in other situations. For now however it is only in combat that it will be pronounced enough for you to feel, that is why you experienced it. Do not feel… ashamed," it sounded like Kharvak almost found the last word distasteful.
"I still want my revenge, master… against Bragga, my father, the Jedi," her fists clenched. "But I don't want to be… a monster," the tension faded.
"Sith are not monsters, not by default. Some choose to act in ways you could call monstrous, like the marauders you speak of, but we are not all destined for that. The force sets us free, allows us to fulfil our desires. Only you can choose what being Sith means to you. Of course you must adhere to the code, or you will become weak and fall," Zanleya nodded. "But it will not make you a monster, not unless you choose to become one."
"But master, you were admonishing me for my pity," she objected, Kharvak's face hardened slightly.
"Because some things will get you killed. What I have just said is true in a purely philosophical sense, but remember where you are, who is around you. Becoming a Sith Lord is also a game of survival, survival of the fittest. Through power I gain victory, if you become weak, you will not achieve that victory and you will fall. I do not want that to happen to you, therefore you must not let yourself become weak."
"So is there a balance between staying true to myself and following the way of the Sith?" Zanleya asked.
"You should know the answer to that. You must embrace the way of the Sith wholeheartedly, there is no other option. You cannot hold back, but make your own path. Fight for your desires, with your own source of strength, but do not think you can compromise."
"I'm still confused master. How do I follow the way of the Sith and not let myself become a monster at the same time? If you're saying I should do away with mercy, pity and compassion because they're weak emotions, won't I become a monster?"
"Sith can still show mercy, mercy in fact can be a useful tool… debts of gratitude are far more valuable than payment through fear. Sith are passionate, passion is our strength. Pity though, pity will do you no favours and should be expelled," Kharvak went on. "I did not take pity on Veedron here," the zabrak turned his attention to the Sith Lord. "But I saw his potential and ensured pointless xenophobia did not keep him down.
"And I am most grateful my Lord," Veedron said, his voice was soft and gentle… quite the contrast to Kharvak's. "Without your master's intervention I would have been consigned to sentry duty on Dromund Fels for the rest of my days. He ensured I found a place in Imperial Intelligence," he continued, now addressing her.
"See, my actions did not stem from pity, nor compassion yet Veedron got to fulfil his desire. It is how you choose to use your power, how you behave as a Sith Lord that dictates if you are a monster or not. But to hold that power, to become Sith, you must rid yourself of weakness or you will never make it."
"So, it's not inherently bad if I fight with anger?" Zanleya asked, she felt she already knew the answer to this too, but wanted her master to confirm it.
"No, other than the problem you experienced, that you might lose yourself to rage or make other poor decisions. That is why I taught you about drawing on emotions other than anger. Yet if you can control your anger, harness your rage and still draw strength and power from it then there is no reason why fighting with anger should be bad." Zanleya nodded.
"Thank you master, I understand now."
"Good, I am proud of you Zanleya, very few Sith would stop to question their impulses. Too many would just give themselves over to them. I am pleased that you do not take pride or joy from killing helpless slaves, that instead you want to become a rational and knowledgeable Sith," Kharvak commended, Zanleya smiled, it was one of the only times he had ever used her name. He did not apologise for striking her, but he never did. However, his words were more than enough for her.
"But I think I'll keep away from slave revolts for now. Save my energy for killing my real enemies," Zanleya added.
"Perhaps that would be wise," Kharvak stood up and turned his gaze to the still petrified slave. "You may keep the slave if you wish, but do not grow attached to her."
"Yes master," Zanleya said, although with slight reluctance.
"Veedron, see that the girl finds work and lodging in the kitchens of the lower levels," Kharvak added.
"Yes my Lord," Veedron affirmed.
"Treat her as you see fit my apprentice, but remember that while mercy is useful, pity is weakness," Kharvak stated, although Zanleya took it more as a warning, knowing that he would be watching. More likely it would be Veedron doing the watching, or perhaps somebody else, she imagined the zabrak was just the tip of the iceberg, she reckoned Kharvak had a whole network of agents. Her master gave her a last look, then spun on the spot and strode back toward the Academy, Veedron almost having to jog to keep up.
She watched them go, relieved, not that Kharvak was gone but at what he had said. She did not feel calm or at peace, but she felt resolved. She was of course still determined to become Sith, that was the path she had chosen and committed herself to, there was no turning back. However, Kharvak's words had allayed her fears, she could become Sith without being a murderous and blood thirsty monster. What she had experienced in the fight did not make her evil. She was aware she still had a lot to work on, but she no longer needed to feel guilty. She had to get better control of her emotions, particularly when fighting, to be more restrained and not give in to the red mist of rage. That would come though, she told herself, one day she would be like her master. For now she needed to turn her attention back to Jensine and building a powerbase.
Zanleya took a deep breath and turned to the girl.
"So… so what are you going to do with me… you monster," the girl stammered in an attempt at defiance.
"I'm going to have mercy on you."