Chapter Fourteen: Teachings
Lorrik and Jresh stood in front of one of the classrooms situated in the lecture wing of the old halls. The one Lorrik had once belonged to. The one Jresh had only once made a brief visit to. In response to their presence, the metallic door rose into its recess above, granting the two apprentices entry. The room was empty, devoid of life but also lacking in the way of fixtures.
A clear path rest between the two apprentices and the lectern that stood across from them. To the left and right of the instructor's position, two sitting areas composed of tiered rows of uncomfortable benches behind solid desks. Having spent so much time amongst the higher levels of the Academy, the apprentices had almost forgotten the cold, brutal designs that made up much of the old halls.
As they familiarized themselves with the classroom, Lorrik felt himself return to a time of simplicity. A time when his only obligation was to show up to class, listen to his instructor's teachings, and demonstrate the simplest of manifestations of the Force. He thought back, to all the times when he felt he narrowly escaped being expelled by the Academy staff, only to wonder if he was ever truly in any danger. The classrooms were the result of a calculated design, one that called not only for subservience, but for a particular population. As his mind focused on the past, he struggled to recall any of the students actually being forced out of the classrooms, despite the constant threats which they would receive.
It was all about keeping up appearances. Maintaining the illusion. Standing within the classroom once more, Lorrik wondered how he ever fell for it to begin with. Then he remembered the sanctum provided by such an illusion. For years, the lie persisted with no one to challenge it. There was evidence for all whom were willing to look. But no one was willing. There were no sinister powers at work, no mental domination beyond the exploiting of the acolytes' dedication to the belief. The belief that to challenge the status quo would be the end of them, that it would sever the only chance they had at becoming an apprentice. It was easier to follow, rather than risk losing what little life they possessed.
"Excuse me, we got a notice saying there was class today," a female voice rang out from the room's entrance. Turning around, Lorrik saw a gathering of acolytes outside the classroom's entrance, headed by a familiar face belonging to a once friendly blonde.
"Jora!" Lorrik welcomed, spreading his arms out wide. Jora offered only an arched brow as she hesitantly entered the room, the other inquisitors-in-training following her. The female Human stopped short of accepting Lorrik's embrace, staring the apprentice up and down as he eventually lowered his arms.
"Lorrik? What are you doing here?" Jora asked.
"Well, me and my partner here will be acting as substitute instructors for today's lessons," Lorrik answered, turning his attention to the entering students. "Everyone. Everyone. Please. Take your seats."
The acolytes hesitantly took their places amongst the tiered rows on either side of the lectern. The majority of the class' makeup was Human, with a few humanoid species filling out the remaining spots.
"So, this is what apprenticeship looks like," Jora said, still standing in front of her former classmate. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you always talk about how cool it would be when you finally got to wear a robe with a hood?"
Lorrik let out a soft chuckle as he patted down his black, form-fitting robes. "What can I say? Things change," Lorrik warmly stated.
"They certainly do," Jora replied. "Honestly, what are you doing here? I can't imagine our instructor sanctioned this. Especially after what your friend here did."
As if on cue, one of the last students to enter the classroom was another familiar face to the two apprentices. Human. Male. Even after all these months, same slicked back blonde hair, same snidely face. Ornell Barath. As he made his way into the room, the Human looked past Jora to see his former classmate offer an even more confused arch of his brow than the one Lorrik had received earlier. Then, he looked past Lorrik to see Jresh, coldly staring into his eyes with a piercing sternness.
Ornell's body immediately tensed, frozen in place as he saw the Pureblood raise his hand. Both parties remembered each and every minute detail of their last confrontation. It was more than a year ago, in the early days of Lorrik and Jresh's apprenticeship, and yet the memory was clear as day. Jresh withdrew a finger, leaving only four raised, slowly counting down the number of seconds Ornell had to leave his sight. The acolyte had not forgotten the ultimatum the warrior had last left him with, and promptly turned on his heels and walked out the door.
Lorrik turned to his companion before looking at the departing acolyte. "Hey Jresh, start without me. I'll be back in a minute."
"Lorrik, you-"
"Don't worry. It'll be fine. Trust me," Lorrik said as he made his way toward the classroom's exit.
"What should I talk about?" Jresh asked, his stoicism faltering.
"I'm sure you'll think of something," Lorrik shouted as he turned the corner into the Academy halls. As Jora took her seat amongst the other acolytes, all eyes were upon the warrior. Silence persisted as the Pureblood panned his gaze across the gathered students unsure of how to proceed.
Outside, Lorrik rushed to catch up with Ornell before he could move too far. With a quick shout and wave of his hand, he managed to catch the acolyte, who came to a stop, but not before letting out a heavy sigh.
"What are you doing here, Lorrik?" Ornell harshly asked as he turned to face his pursuer.
"I'm getting that a lot today," Lorrik joked as he caught his breath. "We're here to teach in your instructor's absence."
"As unlikely it is that he even gave your permission to do so, why would I bother listening to you prattle on about whatever nonsense you find significant?" Ornell asked. "Why should I care about anything you have to say? Hmm? You think that you're something special just because some nobody Sith Lord made you his apprentice? You don't know how unlucky you are. After you left, a real Sith Lord came to speak with us. He even forced your master to submit. Since then, our training has increased tenfold. Before he left, he told the instructors how to unlock our potential. We may still be acolytes, but we are not the weaklings you think us to be!"
"Yeah, I know," Lorrik bluntly stated to a confused Ornell. "You may look the same, wear the same clothes, possess the same sparkling personality, but I recognize the strength you possess."
"Oh! Praise the emperor!" Ornell sarcastically declared. "The great Lorrik Velash recognizes my strength! That make it all worth it! The pain! The hardship! The fact that my hand still hasn't properly healed from when that monster snapped my fingers!" The acolyte thrust his right hand towards Lorrik's face, showing the hardened cast that encased it.
"I didn't know broken fingers took that long to heal."
"Well, it's not like the Academy has the best medical facilities," Ornell declared. "Couple that with the fact that I get my hand smashed with a training saber every single practice bout… yeah, you can see why it's not in prime condition."
There was a pause before Lorrik let out a soft chuckle. "I guess we're not as different as we once thought," Lorrik stated as he raised his right hand. The acolyte's eyes grew wide as he gazed upon the other inquisitor's cracked hand. For once, Ornell was speechless.
The two Sith lowered their hands, and shared a moment of silence as their eyes locked together. Without a word, Lorrik took hold of the acolyte's injured hand and began loosening the cast's fasteners. Ornell winced as the glove passed over his finger before finally being removed. Dropping the cast, Lorrik took hold of the other inquisitor's hand, straightening the acolyte's fingers. The acolyte attempted to pull away, but the other Human maintained his grip.
A soft luminance began to emit from Lorrik's left palm, and soon the glow enveloped both of the students' hands. Before Ornell could speak, he was consumed by a sharp pain as he felt the bones in his hand shift and mend. Slowly, the pain subsided, until he felt only relief. The light grew dim and Lorrik loosened his grip, causing the acolyte to rip his hand free of the other Human's grasp. Examining his hand closely, he offered only confusion as he found no trace of the injuries that had once plagued him.
"What did you do?" Ornell asked, almost with a sense of wonder.
"Really? I thought it was fairly obvious," Lorrik joked.
"But why?"
"Because I could," Lorrik answered. "Isn't that why we do the things we do, Ornell? Because we can? To serve no greater purpose? To act only in our self-interest? After all, that's what it means to be a Sith, right? Or, perhaps it isn't. Perhaps there's more to our tenure at the Academy than our mere survival. Perhaps we can find strength in ourselves, as well as each other. Perhaps we can rise up without knocking one another down."
"You know things don't work that way…"
"Do I? If I recall correctly, is was not me who mangled your hand, but my partner. His strength is mine, and mine his. We possess a bond that has lifted us above whatever we could have possibly achieved as individuals. As much as you can't stand to believe it, I am not weak, neither physically nor emotionally. I do not wish to extol or to tout my methods or my ideals. I simply wish to impart upon you and your classmates information that I possess, that you all deserve, and that I wish I had acquired much, much sooner. You can walk away, and there's a chance we'll never see each other again. You can continue on like you always have with the added luxury of two completely functioning hands. Or you can sit down and listen, to a man who has seen more in the last two years than he has in his entire lifetime. The choice is yours."
With that, Lorrik turned and walked away. Ornell stood motionless as he watched the other inquisitor return to the classroom. As his gaze drifted toward the floor, it was interrupted with the sight of his right hand, free to move and contort how he wished without fear of pain or discomfort. The acolyte let out a hefty sigh before following the other inquisitor.
Lorrik entered the classroom to see a room of silent acolytes, their attention completely focused on the Pureblood that acted in front of the lectern. His saber out and ignited, the warrior demonstrated a series of quick jabs and thrusts toward an invisible target.
"Finally, knowing that the beast had Lorrik in his sights, I thrust the saber through its gut and carved up through its chest," Jresh said, in a manner more befitting a scientist reciting an equation rather than an invested storyteller. Seeing his companion's return, the Pureblood disengaged his weapon and offered a dutiful nod. The class of acolytes turned their heads in unison to see the other apprentice enter.
"So, you two actually got to explore a tomb?" Jora asked her former classmate, sufficiently impressed with the idea.
"Well, there wasn't much exploring to be done," Lorrik joked. As the acolytes murmured amongst themselves, they quickly gave way to silence as Ornell entered the classroom. As Lorrik approached the lectern in the center of the room, he offered a gentle pat on his partner's shoulder. "It's okay, he deserves to be here for this."
"As you wish," Jresh stoically offered. "If you have forgiven his transgressions, I will as well. But I will not hesitate to break him again for any future misdeeds."
Lorrik and Jresh stood side by side in the center of the room as the last acolyte took his seat. The eyes of nine acolytes now fell upon them. Silence griped the cold chamber, each student patiently awaiting what was to come. Some with intrigue. Some with dissent. The rest with confusion.
"I guess it's now or never," Lorrik stealthily thought to his companion.
"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll do fine," Jresh mentally replied.
"What? So I'm supposed to do this alone?" Lorrik thought, half joking, half worried.
"You were once one of them. Anything they need to hear, they need to hear from you and you alone," Jresh advised. The Pureblood took a step from his companion and make his way toward one of the sitting areas. "Not only that, but your words must carry the weight of a man capable of standing on his own. It is easy to speak with a warrior at your side. Show them that you need neither my protection nor my presence."
"And what if that isn't true?"
"Then you are not the Lorrik I know," Jresh mentally declared as he found his new seat.
Lorrik gathered his thoughts and situated himself behind the central lectern. Gripping the sides of the stand, the apprentice bowed his head and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, the Human straightened his posture, finally exhaling only when he had determined himself ready to begin.
"Ten years," Lorrik softly spoke. "That's about how long we've been here right? Ten years. Stuck in this Academy. Forever awaiting the day we finally earn our chance at being… something more. Awaiting that fateful day, when someone takes notice, something uplifts us from a state of worthlessness. Because that's what being an acolyte is, isn't it? Others might see it as a privilege. But we know better, don't we? Then again, we really, really don't. Ten years. Ten years, and how many of us became apprentices? How many of us ascended? For that matter, how many of us fell? None. The Korriban Academy. A place where the strong survive, and the weak perish. And yet, in ten years, how much has truly changed? How many of us stood on the precipice of expulsion, of exile, only to somehow redeem ourselves in the eyes of the instructors just in time? The Academy we know is not the Academy that births great Sith. It is not the Academy that mothers and fathers pray their sons and daughters worthy of admission. It is not the Academy worth our countless hours of pain and misery. For it is a fabrication. A cheap knockoff. A lie perpetuated by the old sustained by the blind faith of the young. I have seen the real Academy, and we are not welcome within it."
Murmurs and hushed whispers began to circulate amongst the acolytes.
"The real Korriban Academy is a sacred institution," Lorrik continued. "One based on timeless traditions and rigid structure. Where acolytes die each and every day at the hands of one another, until only the most worthy of Sith remain. But before their trials even begin, these acolytes are measured, held up to the standards set by those in power. That only those of pure blood should even receive the privilege of shedding it on this planet. There is no tolerance for aliens… for slaves… for outcasts. No tolerance… for any of us. These classrooms? The warriors? Your fellow inquisitors? Many do not even know of their existence. And those who do, tolerate them only because of who established the classrooms in the first place."
"And who would that be?" Ornell asked.
"Two men. My master, Lord Syrosk. And your benefactor, Darth Tash," Lorrik informed. The murmurs and whispered transitioned to a muffled clamor as the acolytes looked to one another in disbelief.
"You mean that alien Lord was actually plucking students from his own classrooms?" Ornell continued.
"They were his no longer," Lorrik stated. "They hadn't been ever since he and Tash parted ways shortly after we were all brought to Korriban. They possessed a difference in… ideals. So Tash was left with the eighty or so Force-sensitive children they had gathered to do with as he wished."
"And what exactly would that be?" Ornell asked.
"I'm afraid only one man knows the answer to that," Lorrik answered.
"That doesn't make any sense," Jora interrupted. "He held an assembly, all of the students and instructors were there. Even your master showed up to challenge him. Why would Tash wait so long to reveal himself? Why would Syrosk not reveal his true intentions then?"
"Perhaps because he was afraid such an action would endanger himself, his students, or even you," Lorrik offered. "We were in the wastes of Korriban on a trial when Tash visited the Academy. Those two are far too invested in the future to truly act in the present. Two mortal enemies, face to face, and yet they could do little more than ineffectively test one another."
"If my memory serves, your master was forced to his knees during the encounter," Ornell stated.
"Such was relayed to me," Lorrik admitted. "Syrosk either underestimated Tash, or overestimated himself. In the end, the encounter served to display Tash's prowess, and likely won the hearts and minds of the many acolytes who watched the scene unfold. Am I too far off?" Ornell scrunched his face as he leaned back crossing his arms, finding some truth in the apprentice's words. "That day was a turning point for you all. You got to witness firsthand the power of a Darth. What's better is that he took an interest in all of you. He provided you the light amongst the darkness you had all been waiting for. He promised strength. He promised something more. He promised to put an end to the miserable days of being a mere acolyte."
"And you're here to tell us that was all nonsense, right?" Ornell replied.
"No, because I cannot say for a fact that Tash does not intend to follow through with his promises," Lorrik admitted. "The reason I am here is to offer guidance."
"You still serve Syrosk correct?" Ornell continued. "That rather skews your objectivity, does it not?"
"I am not here to further his goals beyond the one he possessed when he sought each and every one of you out, plucked you from whatever miserable lives you possessed, and offered you a chance that would otherwise never be afforded to you," Lorrik explained. "His master had afforded him an opportunity despite his perceived impurity, and sought to offer that same opportunity to the next generation of Sith. But while I value his intentions, I find myself questioning his methods as much as Tash's. So I speak to you all today, not on behalf of any master, and not as your better, but as a contemporary, as an equal, as a man who thought he had broken free of his shackles only to realize he still remained chained to a series of events that stretched back before he had even begun his training, before he had even been born. I cannot tell you all your purpose. I cannot tell you all what Tash intends. I can only tell you that you all deserve more. That you deserve your freedom."
"Our freedom?" Jora asked.
"Yes. That should be your goal. That is what every Sith should strive for," Lorrik declared. "All the strength, all the knowledge in the galaxy, will do you no good so long as you are not free. For the past ten years, each and every step we have been forced to take has not been to our benefit, but to serve the interests of those who lord themselves over us. We have been taught that the only way to rise, is for others to fall. But that is not true. We constantly seek the approval of our superiors rather than the support of our fellows. One person's strength and knowledge is not reliant on the failure of another's. And yet we claw at one another, drag each other down rather than see them leave us behind. Because we idolize those who came before us. Deify those who hold rank over us. We willingly give up our freedoms in the hopes that they convey some fraction of their power unto us, only to deal with their lies and mistruths as they withhold their wisdom and secrets. It is a problem that not only plagues these classrooms, but the Sith Order as a whole. They value only the individual, without realizing that as a group, the individual's potential can truly be realized. Differing ideologies, backgrounds, species… everything we're told should divide us, actually provides us the chance at becoming greater. Expanding our horizons, challenging us in ways we thought not possible. All without the aid of a master, all without sacrificing ourselves for the sake of our 'betters'."
"So, that really is your lesson? That we should play nice?" Ornell asked.
Lorrik let out a soft chuckle. "The lesson is that the men and women who sit around you are capable of teaching you far more than any instructor or master. The man I entered with, his name is Jresh Takuul. A warrior. As acolytes, we joined Syrosk as mere training partners. Now, he is the most important person in my life." The class of acolytes turned their heads to look upon the stoic warrior who sat patiently with his arms crossed, gaze devotedly affixed to his companion. "But in these past few months, we have broken one another's bodies time and time again. Shed each other's blood. Cracked each other's bones. We challenge one another, so that we might both become the best we can be. We are Sith. All of us. We persevere, and grow through challenge. That much remains constant, and that much I would never ask you to abandon. But challenging one another is not dependent on hatred and animosity. Cooperative antagonism. Selfless selfishness. That is how myself and the other apprentices of Syrosk have grown strong, strong enough to even challenge a Sith Lord. That, and the bonds we have forged with our partners. Complementing one another, filling in the gaps in our defenses, acting as a single entity, our minds and spirits connected with one another. Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, power. Through power, victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall set me free. What I propose is not peace. It is a chance for you to better yourselves on your own terms. It is one of many paths available to you, and it is far from the simplest or the easiest. But if followed, can yield strength, power, victory, and ultimately… freedom. For even though you will come to rely on each other, you shall be bound by no one's will but your own. No lords. No masters. The next generation of Sith."
"But what do we do about Tash?" Jora asked.
"That is for you to decide," Lorrik stated. "I offer guidance and nothing more, lest I become as controlling as Tash or Syrosk. You've been granted unprecedented insight. Me and the other apprentices are only visiting half the classrooms and possess no unified message. It is up to you whether you wish to share the information you've been given today. At this moment, there is little you could do to truly challenge Tash's establishment. But you have also moved past the point in which his instructors have anything more to teach you. So you find yourselves trapped, as per the norm in the Academy. Tash still has his plans. Tash still maintains control of the classrooms. From this point forward, it is not a matter of how you act, but whom you act for. An inquisitor knows that action and inaction are equal sides of the same coin. It's just up to you to make the most of your future… to make the most of the present. It's not about who wins. It's not about who loses. It's about ensuring that in the end, you have your own place in the galaxy. That you never sacrifice your freedom. And if you ever intend to strip someone of theirs, know that you will be met with a fight unlike any other. That is your lesson. Class dismissed."
As Lorrik stepped away from the lectern and Jresh lifted himself from his seat, the surrounding acolytes looked to one another seeking something, anything in the eyes of their contemporaries. But all they found were blank stares and silence. The inquisitor's words stirred in their heads as they looked to one another in a brand new fashion. They recognized their new position within the Academy, despite sitting in the same position they had for years. Still acolytes. Still lacking the freedom they deserved as Sith. Still worthless in the eyes of their superiors. But someone had found worthiness in them, and for all the time they spent apart, through all the changes, he was still one of them. An equal. One who desired nothing more from them but that they see their potential realized. That they earn the freedom they rightfully deserve.
Lorrik offered the class a quick bow of his head and a wave of the hand as he exited the classroom as briskly as he had entered, Jresh walking by his side.
Lorrik and Jresh made their way out of the old halls, their task for the day completed. A confidence flourished within the two apprentices, despite neither of them truly knowing what impact they had left on the class of inquisitors. They had left a message. Both of them had, despite Lorrik's speech making up the majority of their interaction.
They had spoken to them, not only through words, but through their very presence. They pulsed with energies unlike anything the acolytes had experienced before. They spoke of an unseen world that had been kept from them, a world of endless possibilities they had been blind to. A contaminant had breached the classroom's once pristinely controlled environment. Something new had been introduced into the equation. Entropy. Chaos. The unknown. Aspects that to any other could only culminate fear and hatred. But in these students, in these Sith, they knew better.
For all their time spent wallowing under the instructors who guided and misguided them, there was knowledge to be absorbed. Lessons to heed. For all the rubbish it had been buried beneath, the idea of what it truly meant to be a Sith could not be wholly quelled. They desired strength. They desired power. They desired freedom. And they just learned that the only hope towards attaining them that had been drilled into their heads had been an elaborate ruse.
They were the outcasts, the freaks, the worthless. They had always known themselves to be at the bottom of the hierarchy, but the chance to ascend was always said to be within their reach. But it was a lie. And yet, it remained the absolute truth. They simply required a change in focus. Looking inward, instead of outward for relief, for that glorious moment in which someone would finally take notice of their worth. For that moment would never come, so long as they continued to play the games of their controllers. That moment would only come, when they decided that the only person capable of lifting them from their wretches position was themselves.
They knew that Tash did, in fact, possess the ability to free them from the clutches of the Academy. He could easily offer them apprenticeship, offer them a fighting chance within the Order outside the Academy halls. But he could just as easily crush them were they incapable of standing on their own. And from this day forward, they would stand. Some alone. Some amongst friends. Some amongst lovers. But all of them would stand. They may not immediately cast off the shackles that have been made apparent. They may not confide their newfound cognizance to those who sought their submission. They may not act, until absolutely necessary. But all of them would stand.
Back at the suite, Lorrik and Jresh settled down, resting themselves despite the relative ease in which they had completed the day's trial. Relaxing in the living area, the inquisitor sat at his desk whilst the warrior meditated in the center of the room.
"Hey Jresh, what do you want for dinner?" Lorrik asked.
"I'm fine with whatever you decide to make," Jresh replied, focused on his meditations. The Human cracked a subtle smile. It was always the same answer, but it still managed to delight him each and every time he heard it.
Cracking his knuckles, the inquisitor felt odd as his two hands interlocked, two different sensations overtaking his fingers. The numbness had almost begun to fade from his right hand, but it showed no signs of returning to normal. It felt, but it did not provide the normal feelings he would receive from his left. An odd cognizance, incapable of pleasure nor pain, but capable of sending signals. And as much as the thought of regaining control of the injured hand was, he still found himself perturbed by its appearance.
Ducking into his room, Lorrik began to rummage through his closet. He saw a quick snapshot of the progression he had achieved as the various outfits he had worn over the past years hung before him. The simple gray robes of the acolyte. The black and purple inquisitor's robes gifted by Syrosk. The spare black and blue attire of his own devising. Returning to the clothes of old, Lorrik retrieved a pair of leather gloves, and slipped them over his hands. It was a petty thing, but there was a delight to found in the reestablishment of symmetry.
Plopping onto his bed, the inquisitor stared upward toward the ceiling, much as he would as an acolyte. His eyes remained open as he continued to stare toward nothingness, his own form of meditation. There was no introspection, no wisdom to dwell upon, but it brought peace, however fleeting.
Time passed. Dinner came and went. Lorrik had cooked himself and his partner a conservative meal of cooked meat and vegetables. No want for experimentation or pizzazz. A meal of sustenance. One that served Jresh just fine. For Lorrik, it wasn't the best, but his mind was as far away from food as it could be. His thoughts drifted to his former classmates, the words he imparted upon them. He wondered about the future. About himself and Jresh. About Tash. About Thorel.
As day turned to night, Jresh retired for the evening. As the warrior slept, the inquisitor remained wide awake. Removing himself from his bed, still garbed in the day's attire, Lorrik slipped out the suite, and into the halls of the Academy.