Chapter Twelve: Musings

Jresh and Lorrik awoke the next morning to a curious advisement. A blinking notice on their datapads revealed a message from their master. A change of venue. It seemed the next meeting would be held instead in the lecture hall where the two Sith had first met. The warrior knew that full combat practices were forbidden within this particular venue, so the day's challenge would be of a different nature than the previous one. The inquisitor's thoughts could barely venture past the notion of a cooler venue than a hilltop exterior to the Academy. Still early in the morning, the acolytes readied themselves for the day ahead before meeting in the suite's common room.

"The old lecture hall, huh," Lorrik stated, sparking a conversation. "Wonder what trials are in store for us today."

"Seeing as to how yesterday's activities centered on our physical capabilities, I would assume our master has something more mental in store for us today," Jresh replied.

"Makes sense. How are you doing by the way? All healed up?" Lorrik asked, expressing a genuine emotional investment.

"A little soreness persists, but a quick round of rest and meditation seems to have done away with most of my wounds."

The Human gently scratched his chin. "Meditation, eh? Didn't take you warriors for the meditative type. Usually it's all rage and shouting with your kin."

"It is something of a departure, I admit. I have always eschewed wearing my emotions as a mask, as the first thing people see. My passions are my own and I need not put them on display to prove myself Sith. I need not keep them at the surface to draw upon their strength."

"Sounds like what Syrosk was trying to tell Nesk."

"In a way, yes. I possess something of a distaste for chaos. Order. Control. I find power within these things."

"A curious notion," Lorrik stated. "Like you said, Sith is contradiction, as evident by its odd penchant for chaotic order."

"Chaotic order," Jresh repeated. "Yes, an apt description. Continuous change, guided by a maneuvering hand."

"And there I find myself drawn back to our beginning. By almost all accounts, we aren't fit to be Sith. No offense intended on your part. A calm, collected warrior and a kind, empathetic inquisitor."

"The Sith breed conflict. Strife. Challenge. We are doing our part as much as any other acolyte. And in the end do we still not believe in the Sith code?"

"I suppose so, but with each passing day in the place I find less and less to believe in. I was lucky to have met you when I did, lest I lose any semblance of hope."

"So what, at this very moment, do you believe in?" Jresh asked. The inquisitor met the question with an extended silence.

"Hey," Lorrik began. "We have more than a few hours before we're needed in the lecture hall. I don't know about you, but I could use a meal. How about I cook up some morning foodstuffs, and we have something of a philosophical discussion. You know, to prepare us for our meeting later."

The Pureblood gently stroked the fleshy tendril that hung from his cheek. "Syrosk did say we should get to know each other. I don't know if that pertains to philosophy…"

"Answer me this. Do you find the discussion of the subject boring or tiresome?"

"Somewhat."

"Then consider this me challenging you, in my own special way," Lorrik warmly stated.

Jresh accepted Lorrik's proposal with dutiful conviction. Reading his companion, the inquisitor hurriedly, and with glee, made his way to the suite's kitchen area. Jresh took a seat at his desk, curiously watching the Human parade around the room as he made preparations.

"You seem rather excited, Lorrik," Jresh stated, unable to particularly understand the inquisitor's emotions.

"Did you ever get the chance to cook your own food in the years past?" Lorrik pleasantly asked as he peered into the conservator.

"I can't say I did."

"Me neither."

"Are you… capable of preparing a meal?"

"Oh, yeah! You see, over the course of my many years trying to collect various tomes of Sith and Force related knowledge, I came across some less than profound texts here and there. Of note, were the many cookbooks that seemed to fall in my lap. At an early age, I thought I would need a hobby to distract myself from the happenings of the Academy, and I figured cooking to be more than suitable to my tastes. If you'll pardon the pun."

The warrior watched his partner dash around the kitchen rummaging through wall-bound cabinets and pantries, taking in the information of all the ingredients as his disposal. "But have you actually prepared a meal?"

"A couple of times. But, as you can imagine resources are rather scarce for a lowly acolyte. Funny story. I once prepared a meal for a classmate. Jora. Cooked up some K'lor'slug eggs. Bad idea. Misread the data. Turns out their species' poisonous parts develop rather early in the gestation period. It took a while to convince her I wasn't actively trying to make her ill. Learned that around here, you need to learn what not to do wrong rather than what to do right much earlier."

"So what do you plan of making today?" Jresh plainly asked.

"Not quite sure yet. Never had this much choice in my life. Oddly prudent. It seems we have the necessary ingredients for some flatcakes. Sound good?"

"I suppose," Jresh replied, rather dubiously.

Lorrik went fast to work, with Jresh watching from across the suite with subtle curiosity. As time passed, Lorrik found himself utterly engrossed in his activities, drawing upon his own passions as he stove-cooked a thin layer of batter laying in a pan. After a predetermined amount of time, the inquisitor focused and flipped the half-cooked flatcake over telekinetically. Lorrik grinned at how effortlessly he was accomplishing the task he had set out upon. In the end, there rest two stacks of three flatcakes upon separate plates. Adorned with various imported fruits and accompanied with a dispenser of syrup, Lorrik was ready to serve his first true meal.

Jresh studied the dish laid before him. Squishy slabs of bread lay stacked on a black plate. Topped with a powdery substance and a selection of berries, the meal seemed to be trying its hardest to contradict its atmosphere. Eschewing his purely visual examination, the Sith grasped the top flatcake and gingerly lifted it to study what might rest between the breaded layers before being interrupted by Lorrik handing him a fork and container of syrup.

"I'm not sure what particular kind of syrup that is," Lorrik stated. "So I wouldn't go pouring it over the whole thing. Maybe put some in the corner and you can dip a bite in to see if you like it." With his words of advice, the inquisitor placed his own food and fixings upon his desk, and set down ready to partake in his work.

Jresh grasped the fork in his hand with a clenched fist, unsure of how to partake in the food placed before him. Peering over, he closely studied the Human as he took his first bite. Seeing a look of delight grace the inquisitor's face, the warrior decided to mimic the cook's actions.

"So, how do you like it?" Lorrik asked, mouth half full of food.

Jresh offered no immediate response as he slowly churned the flatcakes within his mouth, carefully analyzing and processing the new sensory information that flooding his brain. Upon swallowing, the warrior seemed no less puzzled than in the moments leading up to the meal. "What is this powdery substance?"

"Sugar. I suppose acolytes don't have much access to it." A renewed smile graced Lorrik's visage as he saw his companion slowly return to partaking in the meal he had prepared. The acolytes dug into their meal in silence for a few minutes before Lorrik chimed in.

"So. Philosophy," Lorrik began, waving his fork around in lieu of hand gestures. "Where should we start? Sith code? Sounds good. So… peace is a lie, there is only passion. As good a foundation as any, but I see some problems with it."

"Such as?"

"Well, peace. I'd say we're pretty peaceful, by comparison anyway. I'm not one to pick fights. You have a knack for meditation. We seem to find an enjoyment in peace."

"It all depends of how you define it. What is peace?" Jresh asked.

"Well, it's a lie. It's right there in the code, right? The infallible code," Lorrik muttered.

"Since when do you believe in infallibility."

"I don't, but certain Sith of prominence certainly do."

"We aren't those Sith."

"Right. We're those other Sith. Those Sith who are Sith by nature of not being Sith."

"You realized the more you say that the more it loses meaning."

"And yet, that's what we're searching for. Meaning. What does it mean, peace is a lie? For us."

"I don't think peace is being calm and collected. I don't think peace is restraint. Peace is merely the absence of conflict."

"Makes sense," Lorrik said. "The first to embrace the Sith doctrine were simply Dark Jedi who had turned away from the Order. In the beginning it was simply a reactionary response to the Jedi Code. They strive for peace. The elimination of conflict. We, on the other hand, enable conflict. And reap its rewards as well as its punishments."

"Conflict is just as ill-defined a term as peace," Jresh replied. "The mind of the average Sith immediately leaps to war, and the many instances of infighting and duels to the death that plague the system. Which I despise."

"But not conflict."

"Indeed. I believe that conflict breeds superior strength. I also believe that conflict can be brought about and controlled in such a way that it doesn't inevitably destroy its instigator. I am not a simple minded killer. I do not murder my 'allies' in their sleep. I do not terminate every obstacle that lies in front of me."

"So, if you met a Jedi on the battlefield, then what?" Lorrik asked.

"We would do battle until one of us could no longer continue," Jresh answered. "If an enemy lie at my feet, broken and defeated on their knees, that it how I would leave them, not decapitated in a pool of their own blood."

"But what if they should recover and seek revenge?"

"Good."

"Good?"

"That is my vision of conflict," Jresh bluntly stated. "Two forces come into contact. The superior force prevails while the weaker one retreats to rebuild its strength in the hopes of someday proving itself stronger in a future clash. Killing a strong enemy removes their influence from your life. Removes the countless challenges and conflicts that would bring to you. Only when my own life were in danger of being extinguished would I utterly strike down an opponent. Let them retreat. Let them fester in their hate and scheme of revenge. Let them continue to challenge me. As they gain strength, so do I."

Lorrik offered a brief, subtle nod. "Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Peace inhibits emotion and evolution. Conflict promotes such things. With emotion comes the spark that drives progress and improvement. Through passion, I gain strength. I probably think of strength as you do with peace. An ill-defined term but infinitely sought after. I feel most Sith put an emphasis on physical strength. And those that do value mental acuity typically take it a few steps too far. Strength isn't just the ability to overpower your opponent. I seek knowledge as my strength. But knowledge in and of itself is not strength, just as pure physical capability isn't. There's a culmination of the body, mind, and spirit. Physical, mental, and the connecting of them with personal skills."

"Through strength, I gain power," Jresh continued. "Power is freedom. Power is control."

"Power is the ability to influence those around you. The ability to be strong enough to direct the action of others, while resisting the influence of those who would direct you."

"Power pertains to the beginning of the self's ability to shape the world around it," Jresh explained. "Passion and strength are drawn from and consolidated in the person. Power is utilizing those internal aspects and manifesting them in the external realm. It is not as simple as the ability to defeat your enemies and keep your allies in line. It is understanding the forces that you encounter throughout your life, and driving those forces in the direction of your goals."

"Through power, I gain victory," Lorrik recited.

"Victory. Evidence of success."

"Validation of one's goals and desires. To be victorious is to prove your way of life is worth following. Worth continuing."

"Defeat reveals our inadequacies," Jresh stated. "And weakens the foundations of our tenets. Thus we must always strive for victory. Defeat is inevitable and cannot be utterly avoided."

"But so long as we try. As we stay determined to prove ourselves. Our strength. Our power. Victory is never beyond our grasp," Lorrik said with a confident smile.

"And therefore we must grasp it. Grasp victory and reap its rewards. Through victory, my chains are broken."

"And whether we realize it or not. We are chained. By our masters. By the Empire. By the Republic. By ourselves. I was a born into slavery. Given a glimpse of hope when the Academy accepted me. I was promised that I could break my shackles by proving myself. By fighting. By learning. By ascending. With defeat, my mind is chained by the reemergence of every inadequacy that rested deep within my mental confines. But if I am victorious… I will be free."

"And never doubt that you can be victorious. As a Pureblood I should have… I was born into place of prominence. Ready to rise through the ranks of the Academy and become a great warrior. But still I was chained. Limiters plagued my life. I could train. And train. And train. But still I would not be the strongest. If I am victorious, my chains will loosen. If I am defeated, the chains will tighten, pushing me to lash out and attain victory once again."

"And I'll be here to lend a hand. Together we'll move forward. Bound, but not in chains. My strength is your strength. And yours is mine. Knowledge and skill reflecting upon one another until no mere chains can restrain us."

"The Force shall set me free."

"The Force shall set us free."