Part I: Initiations
Chapter One: Rumors
Holocrons. Immense repositories of the past, sealed away in the most insignificant of packages. Prisms of arcane knowledge. Sith secrets lie hidden within these crimson pyramids, unassuming to the untrained eye. But those who have studied the ways of dark, followed the teachings, pledged his or her life to the Empire, they knew the truth… that this was actually just a plasteel paperweight.
Occupying his quarters, which in reality amounted to little more than a desk, a couple of footlockers, and a rather uncomfortable bed, a young Sith acolyte lay in his dark, form-fitting robes, manipulating the handheld, ornately covered, pyramid-shaped trinket. Rather than tend to his studies, the Force-user opted for a bout of relaxation and drifting thoughts.
However, lying down and staring at the cold ceiling composed of the same featureless carved stones proved lacking in most aspects of mental provocation. Such was the entire design of this wing of the Academy. Dulled rock carved out centuries ago made up the walls, the floors, the ceilings. It was more a tomb than a genuine institution. But it was all the acolytes knew.
Surrounded by such mind-numbing surroundings, the young Human instead stared at the faux-holocron being slowly manipulated between his fingers. Over and over he turned it, gazing at each individual facet. But with a sudden release, the Sith dropped his raised hand to his abdomen, where it could join with his left. As his hands lay interlocked, the reclined individual kept the trinket afloat in the air with mere thought, and began rotating it through a mental whim.
The young adult didn't fit the description of your typical Sith, at least, not from the point of view of most Republic propaganda. Then again, the pale and decrepit Sith Lords that did exist didn't help the image. The Human did possess fair skin, but as a result of shunning the Korriban sun rather than dark side influence. The dark brown hair topping the Sith's head was short and unkempt. His rather boyish face was adorned with a thin set of stubble from one ear to the next. Most peculiar was perhaps the uncharacteristic smile that separated the acolyte from his peers.
"Lorrik!" an excited female's voice called out. Breaking his concentration, the floating holocron had no choice but to fall with one of its many points jabbing the startled Human in the eye. His trademark smile lost and right hand covering his injury, the acolyte sat up in his bed to address the intruder.
"Jora?" Lorrik spoke with a pleasant surprise. A classmate of his, the blonde Human poked her head around the stone corner that served as one of the quarter's boundaries. Three walled inlets, the acolytes didn't possess 'rooms' so much as delegated personal space. Coming fully into view, the similarly dressed figure passed the threshold of Lorrik's private quarters.
"Did you hear?" Jora asked, seemingly giddy with anticipation.
"That all depends," Lorrik replied, still holding his eye in higher regards than the conversation. The two were friends, or at least as close as two could get to being friends under the circumstances. The overly competitive atmosphere of their studies didn't lend itself to needless cooperation and companionship. But still, neither wanted to see the other dead, which was as good a foundation for friendship as any.
"Word is, the Academy's got a new Overseer," Jora slyly explained. Suddenly the pain in Lorrik's eye faded. Overseers played an integral part in an acolytes progression. A new one arriving would be enough to catch any student's attention.
Force-sensitives came to Korriban as initiates, either willingly or by force. Once they had begun their institutional education and displayed rudimentary knowledge, they were upgraded to acolytes. For Lorrik and his classmates, this is where all progression ceased.
They learned from instructors amongst the underworkings of the Academy, around ten of them to a class and eight classes in total. For these students, things resembled little more than an amalgamate of primary, military, and religious education. But unlike other schools, there would be no graduation. The only way they were leaving their classrooms was if they were apprenticed by a Sith Lord. An unlikely prospect.
The process of moving from acolyte to apprentice was a simple one. Earn the favor of a Sith Lord such that they take responsibility for one's further training. But simplicity did not spell ease. Especially for the classes in the halls below. The chances of a Sith Lord interacting with prospects themselves was slim to none. Instead, they worked through Overseers, whose duty was not to teach, but to weed out the weak from the strong. Groups of students would be handed to them at the behest of a Sith Lord. They would be tested, and those who succeeded would be deemed worthy of apprenticeship. More often than not, success was measured by simply being the last person left standing.
But no Overseers ever chose from the classrooms beneath the Academy. No masters ever showed interest in them. They were isolated, fated to continue their menial lessons in obscurity.
"New Overseer, eh?" Lorrik muttered, trying his hardest to remain neutral. "What're the chances this one will bother picking from our class?"
"Here's the thing," Jora softly stated, almost whispering. The woman leaned in closer, bubbling with intrigue. "In actuality, he's a Sith Lord acting as his own Overseer."
"What?" Lorrik balked. "Why would he subject himself to the process of picking through acolytes himself? I mean, unless he's got a thing for torturing his subjects, you'd think his time would be better spent elsewhere. Do we know how many he plans to review?"
"He's actually already chosen four from the warrior classrooms," Jora stated. What remained of Lorrik's smile quickly faded as he looked onward, dumbfounded. As a member of the inquisitor branch, he really saw no reason to seem overjoyed by this recent news.
The warriors and inquisitors represented two opposing, yet equally important ideologies of the Sith Empire and were different schools of learning entirely. The warrior: the clenched fist. The inquisitor: the sleight of hand. One an embodiment of physical technique, the other an embodiment of mental prowess. Both pride incarnate.
"Good for the warriors, then. It doesn't exactly concern us though, does it?" Lorrik regretfully asked.
"Except it does," Jora clarified. Lorrik offered only his continuing, blank stare. "He's also taking on four inquisitors from our classes."
"Eight students?" Lorrik muttered, scratching his chin. "Not entirely unheard of for an Overseer, but he'd be dealing with two completely different types of Sith. Even if the Lord planned on taking multiple apprentices, our kind don't exactly work well with one another." The contemplative Human scratched his chin as he remained locked in his own thoughts. Nothing was adding up, yet everything seems far too ludicrous to not be intentional. "How is he choosing the inquisitors?"
"He's not. The warriors are. They already met with the Lord and have been given their first task: finding an inquisitor who would serve as their equal. A partner of sorts."
"From our classes?" Lorrik asked. "All four of them?"
Jora offered a quick nod. "That's right."
"So that's about a one in forty chance of being picked."
"So it would seem."
"But we'll be forced to be tested alongside warriors," Lorrik stated, gaze slowly drifting lower and lower.
Jora offered a brief shrug of her shoulders. "To be fair, they'll be forced to be tested alongside inquisitors as well."
"This Lord has chosen four from the ranks of the most single-minded, prideful ranks of the Sith and forced them to interact with those from an opposing yet equally single-minded and prideful sect," Lorrik stated. "I'm having a hard time determining if this is brilliance or madness. Any word on who this new 'Overseer' slash 'Sith Lord' actually is?"
"His name is Syrosk, or so the warriors say. Word is, he's a Sith Lord who's been fighting in the war," Jora stated, emphasizing the title rather than the name.
"Well, technically, aren't all Sith but our fellow acolytes 'Lords' to us? I mean, we don't exactly carry a rank of prestige," Lorrik muttered.
When it came to the Empire's social structure, rank and title reigned supreme. Acolytes sat at the bottom of the Sith Order. Above them, apprentices. Then came the Lords and Darths. But even the lowliest Sith was viewed as superior to their Force-blind brothers and sisters within the Empire. Addressing a Force-sensitive with anything other than a 'my lord' after every sentence was a good way to seal one's fate as sacrificial material.
"All I know is that to be allowed to do what he's doing here, he's definitely someone of prestige. And no matter the circumstance, a certified Sith Lord is nothing to sneeze at," Jora stated.
The other acolyte saw her point. About the sneezing. Lorrik once heard about a student who sneezed on a Sith Lord. Beheaded.
"But the war's shown no signs of ceasing anytime soon. You don't just let a Sith Lord abandon the battlefield to pursue personal ventures. This is why we have Overseers in the first place."
Once more, Jora offered a brief shrug. "Maybe Syrosk is such a great influence that him training an apprentice is more than enough to make up for his momentary absence on the warfront."
"Training an apprentice is anything but momentary," Lorrik said with a light scoff. "Taking on students, sifting through acolytes himself to find someone worthy, that takes time. Unless, of course, he plans to use the war as a testing ground instead of Korriban. But you don't take that many people looking to stab each other in the back onto an active battlefield. Maybe the reason they let him do whatever he plans to do is because he's incompetent. This is a time sink to keep him away whilst not blatantly forcing him out. And besides that, what's his motivation for all this? There are far easier ways to obtain an apprentice."
"Do you really need to know a master's motivations if it means finally getting a chance at knowledge, power, and authority?" Jora asked with a heavy sense of sarcasm.
Lorrik cracked a smile. "Ignoring a Sith's motivations is worse than ignoring a K'lor'slug's appetite."
"So you won't be seeking a position under him?" Jora asked, now the one probing the other for information.
"Oh no, I most definitely will," Lorrik stated with renewed confidence. "I'm done being just a lowly acolyte."
"Shame. I'll miss having a classmate whom I know with absolute certainty won't attack me in my sleep," Jora joked.
"For all you know, my kindness and generosity has been a well-played ruse orchestrated for selfish gain," Lorrik said with an uncharacteristically sinister tone.
"We've been in the Academy together for years now, I know you better than that. Plus, if your intention was to succeed, you've been doing a horrible job so far," Jora stated.
"You've got me there," Lorrik muttered, not noticing the obvious insult at first. "Wait, what are you saying? I have some of the highest marks in our class."
"And they're probably the only reason you haven't been exiled from the Academy," Jora bluntly stated. "When it comes to 'Sithiness', you're well behind the curve. I honestly don't know how you plan on getting the support of one of the warriors."
"Unlike most inquisitors, I know a thing or two about humility," Lorrik said with a contradicting sense of pride.
"So you'll be taking the groveling route?"
"It doesn't sound as good when you put it like that," Lorrik mumbled. "So, for all your interest towards the subject, you don't exactly sound as if you're too intent in joining this new Sith Lord."
"It all depends. If you do end up submitting to one of the warriors, the entire ordeal might prove too easy, should we have to compete."
"You wound me, Jora," Lorrik stated, feigning extreme disappointment. "Then again, you've never been much for the easy route, have you?"
"No, I guess I haven't. And neither have you," Jora said as she turned away from the acolyte's personal quarters. The female student paused just before she was out of sight. "Oh, and Lorrik… if my intention was to wound you, I would have done so long ago."
With that, Lorrik was once again left alone with his thoughts, a slight curl on his lips. The acolyte's gaze fell to the holocron that now lay near his pillow. Holding the trinket in his hand, he studied only for a moment before sliding it beneath the bed. With that, Lorrik lifted himself from his seat, eager to secure his future. He took one step toward the open halls before freezing in place, eyes growing wide.
"Really wish I had asked for names and locations."