Author's Note: Um. I am deeply, truly sorry about the late update. The chapter was actually written pretty early, but complications ensued, things were said, mistakes were made, and many llamas were tragically and needlessly killed (okay, so that last thing didn't really happen). I and my muse hit a major glitch, and we've spent a good deal of the past month going over it. It's almost fixed, so as soon as that's done, normal updates will resume. And I promise, the next one will NOT take a full month. (At this point, the author feels so guilty that she crawls into a hole and dies.)
Quick pronunciation guide, before I forget: "Brigia" is pronounced "BREE-gee-ya".
Anakin was now stuck in a permanent position of teacher and general mentor to Drin Audris, and did not resent this. He was anxious to see the effect a year of devoted study might have on his pupil. Unfortunately, Anakin's duty as a Jedi called him elsewhere, only a few months after Drin's return.
"You want me to convince a planet to join the New Alliance?" Nothing showed overtly in his manner; only the eyebrows slightly raised, the tightened lips, told Windu that this was not a mission Anakin would easily accept.
"Anakin, General Grievous requested you specifically," he said. "You should be flattered."
"What if I have other things to do?"
"You don't, and I won't lie to someone who has total control over half the universe. That sort of thing never ends well."
Anakin did not answer, choosing instead to look at the wall over his shoulder with intense interest. Windu sighed; he could be so stubborn sometimes.
"Authority on Brigia is chaotic, at best," he said. "Their government has been in tatters ever since the last member of their royal line died a few decades ago, and the problem's only getting worse."
"Why the Alliance?" asked Anakin. "Why not the Republic?"
"Because Grievous has been attempting to earn the Brigans' trust for some time. He believes that it holds a vast amount of nova crystallite underneath the surface, which he could mine and sell for a fair price. He needs such funds—the Republic does not."
"Isn't that exploitation?"
"Anakin—!" Windu was a Jedi Master of the highest rank, but that didn't mean that his former Padawan couldn't make him want to explode with frustration on occasion. An occupational hazard, he supposed, of being too closely involved with Anakin Skywalker. He calmed himself before speaking. "This is not about Grievous or the Republic. Right now, it's about ensuring the permanent safety of this planet. Make sure they've got laws and a leader—then worry about whose side they're on."
Oh, he knew Anakin wanted to comment on that, to say something about taking sides. Thankfully, the Knight only nodded, if with obvious reluctance. "As you wish, Master," he muttered.
Brigia, in ancient times, had been a beautiful planet, wide plains stretching over the vast horizon, which was broken only occasionally by the odd town or hunting camp. Sadly, during the Great Sith War, the planet had been used brutally as a battleground, and now the formerly lush fields, flat as ever, were nothing but burnt soil.
Even Kerea, a city, reflected the earth's sad status. The stones from which the city walls were built were permanently streaked with ash, giving the place an air of somberness that it simply couldn't help, no matter how cheerful its residents. This, in addition to the faint and ominous undertones that the planet's history provided to those touched by the Force, made Brigia one of the more interesting places that Anakin had ever visited in his history of diplomatic missions.
No sooner did his ship touch down on the ashen ground of Kerea's docking bay than a man emerged from a nearby building. He greeted Anakin as the Jedi hopped out of the cramped cockpit, eager to stretch his legs.
"Welcome to Kerea, Master Jedi," said the man. He could not have been more than a few years older than Anakin himself, perhaps four or five, with spiky red hair, pale, freckled skin, and a smugness about his manner. "Your visit is an honor to our fair city."
"I thank you for consenting to have me," Anakin replied, his legs aching. "Not all planets would be so hospitable toward Jedi."
"Not all cities, either," the man pointed out. It seemed an odd response. "But forgive me, I have not introduced myself. My name is Abrat San-Vo. I have been commissioned by the Kerean lord to act as your interpreter."
"My interpreter?"
"Here on Brigia, we have very little contact with other worlds, and learning Basic has never been a necessity. In order that you might be able to communicate with the rest of our population, Lord Sathiel asked for someone to volunteer as your interpreter, and I was proud to offer my services as one of the few Basic-speaking sentients in Kerea."
"You speak it very well," said Anakin. "Is Lord Sathiel expecting to see me?"
"She is, but she is very busy today," said Abrat regretfully. "In the meantime, I've been instructed to take you to your rooms in the Hall."
He began leading the way toward a waiting speeder, parked against a high stone wall, and Anakin followed. Something bothered at him. "She?" he repeated. "Lord Sathiel is a woman?"
"Of course," said Abrat, looking faintly surprised. "Why should she not be?"
Anakin blinked. "Well, calling her a Lord made me think…"
At this, Abrat chuckled. "I can understand your confusion," he said, stepping into the landspeeder and motioning for Anakin to do the same. "The title of 'Lord' is universal on Brigia. Each city has one, no matter if they are a man or a woman. They are the governors of their city—although here in Kerea, there is not much to govern. The people here are quite well-behaved and gentle."
"I have no doubt of it," said Anakin, wondering privately if everyone on Brigia made such random remarks about the good nature of their city, or if it was just this one man.
It was only a short drive along the white-black streets of stone until they reached what was presumably the Hall, a tall building of at least three stories, with high, rounded ceilings and an air of elegance about it. Abrat led the way up the stairs and inside to the second floor, showing Anakin to a simple set of rooms.
"In my capacity of service to the Lord, my apartment is very close to yours," he told Anakin. "If there is anything you need, don't hesitate to ask me. The servants might be by to clean, but you can send them away."
"Of course," Anakin said blandly. "Thank you for your trouble." Abrat was a bit supercilious for his tastes, and right now the Jedi preferred solitude to his company. Abrat left, and he was given it. Anakin's time, aimless though it was, belonged to him for the moment—he ran through a few katas to stretch his cramped muscles, then found the sleep couch in the bedroom and rested.
He awoke only a few hours later to the sound of a gentle knock upon his door and Abrat's voice calling, "Master Jedi?". Anakin fumbled with the covers a moment, his mind unusually befuddled. Some dream…hadn't there been a flower in it? And if not a flower, then something dark which had suddenly burst into flagrant color, reds and yellows and bright orange.
"Master Jedi!" called Abrat again. Anakin, shaking off the sleep, rose quickly and opened the door. "Master Jedi, Lord Sathiel is ready to see you."
They traveled downstairs to the receiving rooms, around which the rest of the Hall was centered. These rooms were simplistically decorated as well, with only a few tapestries and Alderaanian moss paintings hanging from the walls, and the tiled floors a basic black.
A woman stepped forward toward Anakin. She was tall and slender, dressed in a white robe slashed with red, and there were wrinkles at the corners of her brown eyes. Her hair was dark, and on her forehead were painted three ceremonial red dots, to match the color in her dress.
She spoke, but her words were unintelligible to the Jedi. Abrat turned to Anakin.
"Lord Sathiel of Kerea welcomes you to our city, Master Jedi. She has had some notice of your coming from the General's men, but asks to know the details of your visit."
Anakin hated using translators; he never knew whether to look at the interpreter or the person he was addressing. After a moment's hesitation, he settled on the Lord herself to be safe and said, "I have come on behalf of the Alliance, on behalf of the General himself."
Well, it hadn't killed him to say it. That was a good sign.
"My mission is only to speak with the reigning power on this planet, and ask them to consider placing themselves under the General's protection."
Sathiel made a small, pensive noise in the back of her throat and addressed Abrat once again.
"The Lord warns you that this may be a far more difficult task than you have imagined, Master Jedi," Abrat related. "There is no worldwide power on Brigia, and has not been for some time—each city governs themselves, to the best of their ability. Any decision affecting the entire planet must be ratified with every Lord of every city. That is our way."
Thank the Force for his Jedi training—none of Anakin's frustration showed as he asked, "How many cities are there on Brigia?"
Abrat was able to answer that himself. "Eleven."
Kriff.
Sathiel was speaking again, and Anakin hastened to pay attention. "Lord Sathiel wishes to know more of this Alliance of which you speak. She says that the General's men gave her little idea as to what this might mean for our planet."
Oh, this was going to be the fun part—doing his best to earnestly persuade someone to do something against which all of Anakin's soul rebelled.
By the time they had finished speaking—the whole process took twice as long as it should have, since everything said had to be run by Abrat first—nightfall had come over Kerea. Sathiel seemed not averse to joining the Alliance, but admitted that she did not think much would come it, since it was rare that the cities agreed on anything. Anakin's head was throbbing gently as he climbed the stairs, Abrat trailing behind him.
"Do the other ten cities of Brigia speak Basic?" Anakin asked him, feeling that, the way his luck was going, he already knew the answer. Abrat shook his head.
"They do not," he said. "If you intend to speak to every city, Master Jedi, we must leave soon. Lord Sathiel has given me permission to follow you."
Anakin gave an inward sigh. "All right," he said. "I would like to leave tomorrow." He turned away, making a mental note to ask Windu what grievous offense the Knight had committed that had caused his former Master to give him this mission.
They traveled to Morar the next day, the closest city to Kerea, and some of Anakin's long-standing questions were answered. After reading up on Brigia and meeting its inhabitants, he had been left with an impression of orderliness and stability, and he was unable to understand Windu's statement about chaos. Chaos, at least on one level, required some sort of conflict of two or more general parties; it wasn't until Anakin met the other party that he understood.
It began with Abrat's low warning in his ear as the speeder approached Morar ("I wouldn't expect much from them"), and continued throughout the day. Apparently, something in Abrat's dress that Anakin could not see marked them as aliens in this city, and aliens obviously were not liked much here. Stares of disdain and open loathing followed them on the streets, and although most people were out of earshot, Anakin could still hear their whispers carrying on the Force, hissing, "They're Kereans!"
"Have you…" Anakin stopped, trying to figure out how to phrase this well. "Has anything occurred in the past that might have turned these people against Kerea?"
Abrat scowled. "It is jealousy, nothing more," he said sharply, and would say nothing more.
It wasn't until his talks in Morar were over, and Anakin and Abrat had moved onto the next city, that Anakin truly understood. Each city on Brigia stood almost as its own nation; it has its own ruler and its own laws, though they differed only slightly from each other. Force knew when this mentality had set in, but along with it had come a hatred toward all other cities on the planet. From what Anakin could gather, a war had never actually broken out, although fistfights were not uncommon. The fact that people seemed to have no real reason for this attitude deterred them not in the least from exercising it.
This only made Anakin's task that much more difficult. Now not only did he have to travel over a few thousand miles of blackened Brigan soil, but at each stop of eleven he had to convince the reigning Lord of the benefits of joining the Alliance. This did not get easier with time, for then he had to tell them that a few of the other cities on Brigia had agreed to his proposal, and they seemed set firmly on doing whatever it was that the other cities were not.
Anakin began to lose track of time. It wasn't until he was back on the ship, ready to leave for Coruscant again, that he realized that it had taken him nearly five months on Brigia to accomplish his mission of getting eleven consents.
He felt lethargic and frustrated, not caring what he had done. He was tired of politics and diplomacy and smiling; with a sigh, Anakin went to the cockpit to set to coordinates for home. There was a message waiting for him; Anakin played it.
No, it wasn't a message, not a hologram anyway. It was automated; in a crisp mechanical voice, a droid announced repeatedly, "Distress signal sent from Jedi Transport 147-43. Status: urgent. Distress signal sent from Jedi Transport—"
Anakin shut it off. His lethargy had gone; now his instincts were on edge. The message, he saw, was over a week old. Probably too late for him to do anything about it, but regardless, Anakin pinpointed the location of the distressed ship.
That was strange. Of all places, it was on Coruscant. With a few quick movements, Anakin sent the ship plummeting into hyperspace. He thought he remembered, though he wasn't certain, that 147-43 was the ship Ka'ela Brun and her Padawan usually took on their missions…
Anakin went in back and slept, but fitfully; and he dreamed of the orange flower again.