Ashes of Time

by FallenAscendant

The Jedi took his life away, the Sith forced him into another but it was the Empire that gave him purpose. Glailen Reichscher learned that the galaxy is a place of many threats and little mercy. Now he's resolved to become the deadliest of those threats and never be at the mercy of another ever again. But would he live long enough for it to make a difference?

3. Chapter Two: Soul of an Empire

Chapter Two: Soul of an Empire

"Excellent, you have arrived. Welcome, Acolyte Reichscher."

Glailen paused his shambling gait and lifted his head to look for the source of the metallic voice. His eyes soon came to rest on a droid standing a few feet in front of him. The droid was unremarkable with the grey metal of its chassis perfectly shined and bereft of imperfection as was imperial standards. Its round optics gave off a faint yellow glow as it no doubt took in every minute detail of Glailen's person but the acolyte paid it no mind for the droid had brought him out of the stupor of exhaustion. Now Glailen was taking in his surroundings and appreciating where he was.

I've finally made it…

"I am Y-5O3," the droid continued, "I have been waiting to take you to Overseer Tremel's office, unless you failed to arrive on time. You made it with little time to spare."

"Yes." Between how tired he was and how struck by the world he had stepped into, Glailen could offer only the simple response. His eyes roamed around what he supposed was the main hall of the Sith Academy from which anywhere else in the building could be reached. He was eager to take in the sights and begin understanding what he could but still had the presence of mind to be discreet about where he looked. After all, it would not do to have a Sith lord catch him staring wide-eyed and become disgusted or, worse, offended and there were certainly plenty of Sith about.

Everywhere one looked could be seen a mixture of Sith lords, overseers, acolytes and the ever-present service droids. Stationed at particular points in the hall also stood members of the Dark Honor Guard, elite warriors indistinguishable from each other in their crimson uniforms complete with a full helm. They stood completely still but even had Glailen not been aware of them he would not have been foolish enough to think them nonthreatening. Most of the passersby were barely acknowledged though for his attention was captivated by the Sith lords as they went about their business.

It was impossible for Glailen to mistake them by the way they carried themselves or the difference they were shown or, most importantly, by the dark power that emanated from them. The dark side of the Force was heavy in the academy and for Glailen it was like moving through surging water, at once terrifying and comforting in its hold. Around the various Sith lords the dark side was at its strongest and they could best be described as whirlpools in an ocean as they pulled in the power but at the same time released it. The young acolyte found his gaze following one Sith in particular, a pureblood who was staring at a monolith that dominated the center of the hall. He couldn't see the face of the Sith as he was turned away but that didn't matter for Glailen could glean more than enough from the man already and anyone with even a simple grasp of the Force could have also. For someone in the relative safety of the Korriban Sith Academy, he seemed ready for battle with the armour he wore and the power he kept tightly restrained just beneath the surface. There was so much of it. It was easy to imagine the Sith lord exploding into a fury that would leave everyone dead at any moment.

As Glailen stared, he considered his own state, physically, mentally, and for the first time since arriving on Korriban he seriously wondered if he could become more than another name on a ledger. It was in this moment of doubt that the pureblood turned his head but only enough so that his left eye found where Glailen stood. The acolyte wilted under that gaze, quickly averting his eyes as sweat tracked down the small of his back. He eagerly gave Y-5O3 his full attention.

"I am no medical droid but a quick scan shows you in need of medical treatment. The sooner the better." The acolyte stared unblinking at the droid for a moment

"Yes," he said simply. The bluntness of Y-5O3's statement soured Glailen's mood further but he didn't let it show. He was quite aware of his condition but equally he knew there was nothing to be down about it just yet. Some things just take priority over others.

"No time for that now. We must not keep the Overseer waiting. Please, follow me." Without waiting for Glailen's response, the droid turned and began towards a hallway on the far-left side of the room. The acolyte followed at an unhurried walk. As the moved down the corridor, taking several turns, they passed many more occupants of the academy, all of whom spared them more than a passing glance. That suited Glailen fine, given his physical state.

"You there! Hold on, acolyte, let me get a look at you." Holding back a curse, Glailen stopped in his tracks and slowly turned towards a pair of approaching acolytes. In an instant he looked over and assessed the other two men, sensing an odd combination of hostility and indifference. If the hostility won through then, Glailen realized, this would be how he would end. Beaten to death in a hallway.

He drew in slow, even, breaths. Whatever happened next, he would be ready.

"Overseer Tremel requests his presence immediately." Chimed Y-5O3 from where it stood behind Glailen. Glailen didn't take his eyes from the other two acolytes, not expecting them to give much weight to the words of a droid.

"We'll only be a moment, droid," responded the first acolyte with a dismissive wave of his hand. He was a few inches shorter than Glailen but carried himself with a confidence bordering on arrogant. A weapon Glailen recognized as a warblade was on his back and it was likely he was very familiar in how to wield it. The pair of scars crossing on the right side of his features a more sinister look. It was the second acolyte who appeared the more physically intimidating of the two. He stood taller than Glailen and was much larger than the first acolyte but the way he stood back and kept his silence indicated a difference to his partner. This made it clear in Glailen's mind who he should be giving the most attention to. The first acolyte openly looked him over.

"Hmm, yes, you would be impressive if not for the fact you're already half dead." There was a noticeable pause after the comment as the acolyte waited for Glailen to rise to insult. When it didn't happen, he continued as though he hadn't stopped talking.

"I'm Vemrin, and unlike you I've fought and bled for everything I have." With each word the tone became more serious and he stepped closer until no more than a foot separated the two men.

"I demand respect." Those words, barely more than a whisper, seemed to reverberate against the walls as the two acolytes locked eyes. Both matching the other's stone-eyed gaze, refusing to be the first to back down. Glailen knew what was happening and he knew he the smart move would be to keep his head down at least until he was healed. On the other hand though, after everything he had been through, Glailen couldn't stomach the thought of allowing this Vemrin to walk over him.

"What are you implying? You think I haven't earned my place?" Glailen shuffled forward as he spoke those words until he was able to speak directly into Vemrin's right ear.

"You don't know what I've done to get here and you would do well not to assume otherwise." There was a pause as those words settled. Glailen could feel the disdain grow within the other acolyte but paid him no mind, confident he wouldn't make a move without Vemrin's consent. When Vemrin finally did speak his tone now had an edge to it.

"An acolyte in your condition shouldn't posture. Everyone knows what's going on between you and Tremel and frankly you're too late. Perhaps a year ago things would have been different but now you'll only end up like all the others who get in my way if you're not careful." Finishing what he had to say, Vemrin stepped back but in such a way that said he only did so because he felt like it.

"This is ridiculous, Vemrin," said the other acolyte with a shake of his head, "let's just kill him and hide the body. I mean, it looks like he knows all about that." Ignoring the sudden burning he felt from his facial tattoo, Glailen watched as the large man flexed his fingers, itching to reach for his warblade and give action to his words. Before anything could happen, Vemrin stayed his companion with a halting finger.

"Not here, Dolgis. There are rules. Traditions."

"Besides," he continued with the smallest of smiles, "I don't require shortcuts to get what I want – unlike others." Vemrin looked expectantly at Glailen, once more goading a strong reaction out of him. Glailen remained silent and unmoving.

"Nothing more to say? I guess you're learning." Without a concern to be found, Vemrin stepped past Glailen, considering the conversation over. After a moment he realized he was walking alone and glanced over at his partner who hadn't moved.

"Coming, Dolgis?"

"Be right there, Vemrin," replied Dolgis as he kept his eyes on Glailen. Once Vemrin was out of earshot, Dolgis stepped closer and spoke so that his each word had a special emphasis.

"You'd best remember something, Vemrin is the alpha monster around here. There will be no more warnings. Step out of line and you won't live long enough to regret it." Still Glailen said nothing but his body was tensed to respond to anything unexpected. With Vemrin out of sight, Glailen was less certain that Dolgis would hold back.

"Acolytes may not be allowed to kill each other," the protective brute continued, "but accidents have a way of happening to those who deserve it the most around here." For a long moment the two stood completely still as though the slightest motion would be catastrophic. Finally, Dolgis made the first movie, looking away and walking unhurried down the hall. Glailen turned and watched the other man go until he disappeared around a corner, noting how Dolgis looked back only at the very last moment.

"A rude pair," chimed Y-5O3, breaking the silence, "their interruption has kept Overseer Tremel waiting." Glailen faced the droid's blank visage with his best imitation.

"Let's not delay any longer, then."

Reaching Tremel's office was only a matter of a few more turns and a couple lengths of hallway. When they came to the door Y-5O3 inputted a code on a panel and the door parted smoothly. The pair entered into a fairly large, square room. It was lightly decorated but what could be seen was all related to the Sith offering nothing about the owner of the room other than that they were enthusiastic about Sith. For Glailen though, that spoke a great deal in and of itself. Tremel sat behind a desk placed close to the far wall. Upon hearing the doors open he look up and immediately his grim features grew grimmer still.

"What's this?" he demanded, pushing back his chair to stand.

"Acolyte Reichscher as request, Overseer Tremel. He arrived on time." Tremel waved Y-5O3 to silence with a cutting motion that gave away how irritated he was.

"I can see that – Acolyte, what is the meaning of this?" Glailen licked his lips as he gathered his thoughts but before he could speak the overseer leaned forward against his table with a piercing glare.

"You are no good to me or the Empire if you die before you even begin your trials. You can barely walk so how are you to be of any use?" Again, Glailen needed time to consider his response and Tremel waited with arms crossed. It was an effort for the acolyte not to let his shoulders sag; he suddenly felt the physical and mental exhaustion of the day as a renewed pressure. He knew Tremel would not be interested in what actually happened so Glailen kept to his training.

"I became sidetracked. Forgive me, Overseer." Unsurprisingly this response did little to placate Tremel's mood as he walked around his desk and strode over to stand before the acolyte.

"What's at stake is the very core of the Sith Order," he said with a tone that left no room for debate, "we can afford no mistakes but you have already put us at a further disadvantage than where we already were."

"My apologies, Overseer," said Glailen as he bowed his head and held it lowered. He had to force himself to keep breathing as he waited for Tremel's response. Suddenly he heard a low sigh and retreating footsteps. Glailen risked lifting his head and found the overseer standing in front of his desk, looking up at a banner displaying the Imperial sigil.

"I wasn't planning on beginning your trials today but there will be no excuses going forward." Tremel glanced back when he finished speaking but Glailen kept silent and still, maintaining a perfect picture of discipline.

"I'll not keep you any longer either," the overseer continued, "Y-5O3 will show you to the medbay and you had best hope you heal quickly."

"Yes, Overseer," replied Glailen with another bow of his head. The acolyte was just about to back away when Tremel suddenly turned around with narrowed eyes.

"One more thing before you go." The overseer walked over to the right wall of the room and opened a cabinet. Inside, Glailen could see several warblades lined up. Tremel picked one out seemingly at random and examined it a moment. Apparently satisfied, he held it out to Glailen.

"That practice blade will not do here on Korriban. Take this warblade," weapon suddenly left the overseer's hand and floated over to Glailen, "perhaps it will serve you better should you become distracted again." Slowly, surprised by the turn of events, Glailen grasped the blade and appraised it much how Tremel had a moment earlier. Y-5O3 took the practice blade from Glailen and placed it on a table to the side of the room.

"Thank you, Overseer," said Glailen as he placed the warblade where its predecessor had been. Tremel watched him for a moment before clasping his hands behind his back and returning his eyes to the banner.

"Dismissed."

"Please, follow me." Glailen gladly did as Y-5O3 requested as he had plenty to think over now and was not averse to finally receiving some medical attention.

---

Somehow Glailen had expected the medbay to be more active but as it was there were half a dozen injured seeking attention. Even with such low numbers, however, he was still being looked after by a droid. It suited him fine if he was being honest, droids struck him as more dependable in various areas of life such as careful and precise administrations. Glailen sat contentedly as the med-droid applied a series of kolto patches; he'd already been given several injections to ease things along. One was to battle potential infection, another to aid in the healing process and the third, which Glailen was perhaps most thankful for, dulled the pain he hadn't quite become accustomed to. The pain wasn't gone entirely, though he had little doubt the feat could be managed. He guessed pain was encouraged to some extent as a reminder of failure and motivator for success. Glailen used it to stay focused.

As the med-droid worked, Glailen looked around the medbay to keep himself occupied. There were actually two flesh and blood doctors on duty – both human, of course – one of which was seeing to a woman Glailen knew instantly for a Sith lord. That didn't surprise him, the doctors were likely reserved for true Sith which explained why the second doctor was walking around the room supervising the other med-droids as they attended everyone else.

Glailen's eyes drifted to the back of the room where four kolto tanks stood against the wall. Those were something else he supposed were for special use, which is why he didn't bother asking about them. One held a human male with burn marks on the left side of his body that made Glailen rethink the severity of his own injuries. The other tanks were empty, probably only used for severe cases or sufficiently impatient Sith lords.

I'm becoming more acquainted with an impatient Sith all the time. Glailen thought back to his conversation with Tremel. He had been right earlier when he thought the overseer was desperate and now it was clear that desperation was making him nervous enough to allow his personal misgivings to slip through the cracks of his defenses. What worried him so much, Glailen wasn't certain but it would be a huge impact on the acolyte whether he cared for it or not.

"We are done now, Acolyte." Glailen glanced at the med-droid and then at the kolto patch that had been applied along his ribs just below his left arm. He got up from the bench table and tested his limbs with some slow movements.

"You should heal to satisfactory levels so long as you remain inactive for at least twenty-four hours," spoke the droid with its monotone mechanical voice. The acolyte looked impassively at the med-droid for a moment, considering the wistfulness of that statement, before turning towards the exit.

"Noted," he called back over his shoulder.

As he approached the doors, they slid open and he exited to medbay. The difference was as striking leaving the room as it had been entering it. He had been to many such medical facilities before and they all largely looked the same, following some sort of imperial standard, with the major difference being the clientele. Once he was no long in the medbay though, he found himself in a completely different world. One ruled by the Sith.

"Acolyte Reichscher, it is good to see you looking livelier." Y-5O3 approached from a stairway and Glailen wasn't sure if the droid had been waiting for him or if it had timed its return to near-perfection.

"Let's hope it lasts," he responded while his eyes continued to take everything in. He was new to the academy and had been taught to always be gathering information.

"Yes, of course. Any worse than earlier and you would probably be deceased." Glailen's attention turned to Y-5O3 with a raised eyebrow.

"We wouldn't want that."

"It would certainly be an inconvenience for Overseer Tremel." The two stared each other for a long moment before Y-5O3 gestured aside.

"If you would follow me, I will show you to the sleeping quarters Overseer Tremel arranged for you." The droid turned and led the way as Glailen followed closely in silence. As they walked they passed a great number of rooms and within some could be heard anything from cries of joy to screams of pain. In others Glailen could sense such an immense aura of the dark side that he imagined there must be multiple people working together. It was all nearly too much to take in at once, although Glailen found himself craving more.

At length the pair came to a stop before a door that looked no different from a dozen others but it was here that Y-5O3 worked the control panel to open the door. Inside Glailen could see it was a long bunk room with simple beds lining both the right and left walls. He estimated there were enough beds for forty people but he noticed no more than a handful of occupants. It was possible the others had not yet retired for the day but another thought came to mind for Glailen. Y-5O3 had said Tremel picked this place personally; perhaps the overseer was trying to keep Glailen from mingling with too many other acolytes. Y-5O3 entered the room and indicated a bed that looked like it hadn't seen any recent use.

"I suggest you get some rest. I will return early for you tomorrow to bring you to Overseer Tremel." Without waiting for an acknowledgement, Y-5O3 turned towards the door and began walking away.

"How early?" Glailen asked of the retreating droid.

"Why, when Overseer Tremel decides he is ready, of course." There was nothing more to say as Y-5O3 moved out of sight and the sound of his steps quickly receded. Glailen was left standing alone in the room considering what he should do next. A small part in the back of his mind suggested taking some time to go over the day's events, another part urged caution at letting down his guard for rest while surrounded by potential threats. Both of these were easily outweighed by Glailen's near-desperate need for sleep. It was clear to him that whatever tomorrow would bring, he would need every bit of strength he could muster.

On heavy feet he marched over to his bunk, placed his warblade against the wall but easily in arms reach and then collapsed onto the covers. Sleep took him without hesitation.

---

It was getting late but Overseer Tremel still had work to do. He was an overseer after all and therefore had obligations to other acolytes in the academy, though he despaired with every holoreport he read over. Everywhere he looked he saw the Sith way endangered by radical minds and the increasingly impure blood of so many acolytes. Such were also grim reminders that he likely only had one chance to set things right or he would die a broken man. But right now, my best chance is two steps away from joining the Force.

Tremel's mind returned to when Acolyte Reichscher had been brought before him in his office. When he first sets eyes on the boy when he arrived planet side, he had felt a spark of hope in his chest but then, mere hours later, he had felt more helpless than he had in a long time. If Reichscher proved nothing more than another strong arm then Tremel was indeed wasting his time. Still, he had to admit the acolyte had showed great fortitude in weathering his condition and seemed willing enough to see things on without complaint. However, some would say he was just being stubborn and it would take more than that to save the Sith. Shaking his head, the overseer cleared his throat to speak.

"Are you going to stand out there all day?" A few moments passed after Tremel had spoken but he patiently remained reading the report in front of him. Finally, a young woman appeared around the corner of the door leading to the waiting room for his office. It was only when she revealed herself did Tremel raise his eyes from the report. The dark-skinned woman stared at him with eyes that blazed with anger and defiance – a look the overseer had seen many times before.

"What is it, Eskella?" he asked, though he believed he had good suspicions as to the answer. Eskella glared at him as only she among the acolytes would dare.

"That's all you have to say, father?" Tremel watched his daughter with disinterest. He didn't care for her calling him her father – especially around others – given that she was an acolyte at the academy and he an overseer. The silence stretched on for no more than a few seconds before Eskella realized no response was forthcoming.

"I know about your new pet project." It was an effort for Tremel to keep his face blank as his daughter came closer, her eyes boring into him.

"Project?" he asked.

"Oh, don't play dumb, father, especially not with me. Half the academy knows." Eskella flicked her hand aside as she spoke. A grin came to spread across her lips as she seemed to realize her father had truly believed he had kept things secret.

"Vemrin has already introduced himself." The words oozed satisfaction and Eskella smiled at the frown that creased her father's features. He looked away and seemed to become lost staring at something far off.

"Damn," he breathed, "I thought I'd have more time." Eskella crossed her arms, smile gone, and leaned closer to her father.

"Why him? What does he have that makes him so special?" Normally Tremel wouldn't have bothered responding to his daughter when she displayed such audaciousness as to use a demanding tone with an overseer. This time though, as he looked at her and sensed the need behind her words, he felt some measure of pity for his flesh and blood.

"Some people are ready for what the galaxy holds. Others take longer to reach that point – if they ever do." The rage that boiled just beneath the surface of Eskella would have made Tremel proud had his daughter shown she could properly apply it to the dark side. As it was, she kept it restrained as she turned to leave. She had just reached the door when she stopped and glanced back at her father.

"Whatever happens, father," she stated, with poison on her lips, "don't expect my help."

Tremel was left alone with his reports after that but he didn't make any progress with them. They just didn't hold the same importance for him that they had earlier.

---

Glailen jerked awake and a groan escaped his lips. It came from a mix of waking too early and feeling his muscles, stiff from healing, protest the sudden movement. He looked around the room slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark, searching for any reason why he might have been roused from his sleep. There were a few more people in the room occupying other beds than there had been before he had fallen asleep but not many and none were awake. Suddenly he was struck with pangs of hunger and with another groan he realized why he was awake. He hadn't eaten since arriving on Korriban and his body wouldn't wait any longer.

As Glailen got up from his bed he glanced at the chronometer hanging above the doorway. He wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep but he guessed he had been out for no more than five hours. Not the best but he had worked with less. Gathering his warblade, he left the bunk room and searched for the first service droid he could find that would agree to direct him to where he could get some food. It didn't take long to find a willing droid or for it to guide him to a sort of cafeteria available for acolytes at the academy but the wait greatly increased Glailen's hunger. He helped himself a plate full of some kind of porridge and bread – then another – and decided to take a piece of fruit for his walk back to the bunk room. The fruit was nothing he had seen before but he found it was pleasantly juicy and completely gone before he returned, which was just as well for he spotted Y-5O3 exiting the bunk room.

"Ah, there you are, Acolyte Reichscher," said Y-5O3 upon noticing Glailen's approach.

"I came to bring you to Overseer Tremel," continued the droid, "and was worried to find your bed empty. It would have been quite unfortunate if some of the other acolytes had orchestrated your disappearance. Such things are not entirely uncommon."

And such thoughts never occurred to me, thought Glailen sarcastically. Outwardly he shrugged off Y-5O3's words.

"That doesn't surprise me but I believe Overseer Tremel chose wisely when he placed me here."

"I would have to agree with your assessment. Now, Overseer Tremel is waiting for you. Please, follow me." The acolyte fell into the now familiar routine of being led around the academy by Y-5O3. He wondered if the droid was always going to be there to lead him around or if he would be expected to quickly become acquainted with the layout of the building. Glailen wasn't opposed to the idea necessarily but it would be a lie to say the complexity of the academy wasn't somewhat intimidating.

As they walked Glailen noticed there was still a great deal of people about despite what he guessed was an early hour, in fact he got the impression that the academy was bustling with activity day and night. Not a surprise really, Sith didn't strike him as being afraid of the dark. When they came closer to Tremel's office, Glailen half expected Vemrin or Dolgis or both to cause him grief but neither man appeared. No one new decided to make things difficult for him either for that matter, for which the new acolyte was relieved. He wasn't afraid to fight for his place but he also wasn't foolish enough to be over eager. There would be plenty of opportunities before all was said and done, he was sure.

They arrived at Tremel's office without incident but as they did Glailen could sense the overseer was struggling with anxiety. Tremel had been pacing in front of his desk but as the pair entered the room, he turned to meet them. His eyes looked over Glailen quickly, judging his health. Glailen guessed he looked decent enough by the way the overseer pursed his lips but gave no other indicator of being displeased. After a moment he spoke.

"Good, you're here. We haven't any time to waste; today you begin the trials." The edge to Tremel's voice confirmed for Glailen that the other man was struggling with his thoughts.

"I am ready." Glailen stood with his back straight and arms clasped behind his back. The painkiller he'd been given was beginning to wear off he felt but that was fine; he fed on the pain.

"Perhaps. But first you should know something of why I am doing what I am and why you are here." The overseer glanced back at the Imperial banner before continuing. Glailen looked at the banner as well. It meant something to both men but, Glailen surmised, not quite the same thing. A sigh announced Tremel was about to speak.

"The Sith Order used to be pure. Its members followed the traditions passed down over the ages and respected those who came before." Tremel's gave returned to Glailen and the acolyte saw a barely restrained rage flaring to life behind it.

"That has changed and is continuing to get worse every day. More and more Sith are scoffing at tradition and the blood of true Sith has become despairingly thin. The cause of it all has been the lax in recruiting criteria. In an effort to swell our numbers, the order has been accepting just about anyone with Force sensitivity." As he spoke, Tremel walked closer to Glailen who kept his eyes pointed straight ahead.

"Even the number of aliens has grown at an alarming rate and there are too few bothered by it." For an instant the acolyte's eyes flicked to the older man. The scorn with which he said the word aliens was not something Glailen could share but had come to expect within the Sith Order.

'We'll watch out for each other.'

Glailen let out a hissed breath before he realized what he was doing. He quickly schooled his body back to stillness. Tremel nodded in what the acolyte could only guess was approval. Perhaps he thought Glailen's reaction had come from sharing the distaste for aliens in the order. Glailen had no intention of correcting the other man.

"They try to dismiss my concerns with talk of how the impure and aliens will always be beneath true Sith in status," resumed Tremel, "but they are fools. If you allow an infection any room for growth it will seize it and not stop. One day we double the number of aliens recruited in a year and the next those aliens are sitting on the Dark Council."

"It's only a matter of time," the overseer leaned closer before finishing, "and weakness." His eyes searched Glailen's and it was an effort not to turn away from that inquisitive look. After a moment, Tremel stepped back and walked over to his desk. Against his better judgement, Glailen found words forming on his lips.

"Would it be so wrong to diversify the species among the Sith? So long as they adhere to the dark side and are loyal to the Empire, what more is needed?"

"Careful, acolyte," said Tremel as he stopped in mid-stride to face Glailen, "that is dangerous talk." Glailen kept his eyes straight and mouth shut under the overseer's scrutinizing stare. The acolyte could feel sweat begin to track down his back when finally, Tremel looked away and moved his way over to the chair at his desk which he promptly sat down in.

"Never forget humans are the superior race and we will only be held back by others. Vemrin is one such individual who doesn't see this. He consorts openly with alien acolytes. He brags about coming from a low family never before associated with the Sith. He would change the Sith if he could and to make matters worse, he is being groomed by a Sith lord called Darth Baras to be his newest apprentice." The name was not familiar to Glailen but any Sith who could earn the title of Darth was not one to be taken lightly. Knowing this did not improve the acolyte's mood as Tremel spoke.

"Baras does not respect the traditions of the Sith. Not only would he accept Vemrin's attitudes but he would encourage them and this cannot happen. Those two cannot be allowed to work together or I fear they will become too powerful to stop. Baras has aspirations of reaching the Dark Council, Vemrin is gifted and destined for great things in the Sith; they will change the order until it is unrecognizable." Pausing, Tremel leaned forward on his desk, clasping his hands together in front of him.

"You must stop that from happening." Glailen was beginning to truly understand the motivations that drove Tremel on and with each word he became less certain of his resolve. He had no fears of the calamity the overseer was describing. No longer was he concerned with whether or not he could succeed but rather did he want to? Was he on the right side in this fight? He couldn't give voice to any of this of course and he had to mask his emotions to prevent Tremel from suspecting his conflicting loyalty. Hesitantly, Glailen tried a neutral response that might give him more insight.

"Overseer, you speak of a movement with a great deal of momentum already. How am I to stop it?" Tremel waved a hand through the air as though to ward off the concerns of his acolyte.

"More on that later, for now you must begin the trials. Y-5O3 will be taking you to the prison block, there you will find Jailer Knash who will show you to three prisoners. They have committed crimes against the Empire and it will be for you to pass judgement on them. Give them the sentence you feel is right but remember to be ruthless. Keep in mind I will not be the only one hearing of the results. Dismissed."

---

There wasn't much to do in the morning. Not that Vette knew what time it was – not that there was ever anything to do – but still there had to be something better than picking at her nails. Yet, after a few days in the tiny cage, she had yet to figure that out. Oh, sure, sometimes there would be a half decent conversation going on between two or more guards that she could listen into but that wasn't often. So, she was left with cleaning her nails, getting every last bit of dirt that appeared under them even though she hadn't been outside in days. Although, what she would rather have been picking at was her slave collar so she could possibly, maybe, find a way to get it off and then maybe, possibly, attach it to one of the jailers and find out how they like getting zapped. Unfortunately, big boy Jailer Slash – or Dash or Knash or something – had already made it clear he didn't take kindly to her inquisitive nature.

Least I'm not alone anymore, thought Vette as she looked at the other three occupied cages. When she had first been locked up, there had have a handful of other prisoners but in the span of two days they had all been taken away and she hadn't seen or heard about them since. She didn't like to dwell on that or on what that meant for her. But, early that morning, three new prisoners had been brought in and placed in some cages along the perpendicular to the one at Vette's back. It would have been nice to talk with some, exchange gossip and all that, but Tash wasn't interested in hearing anything above a whisper from the prisoners. That was fine for the newcomers since they were so close together but Vette was too far away to be heard by them if she tried. So, really, the only fun that had come from the new arrivals for Vette was making up stories for each of them even if that took up no more than an hour.

Vette sighed her frustration. If she didn't get some kind of stimulation soon then she was worried it would start affecting her sanity. At that moment Flash himself walked in, looking at a holoreport and heading straight over to the other prisoners. Vette's eyes tracked him for a moment, considering.

Screw it.

"Hey, boss guy," Vette began as she stood up, "shouldn't us inmates get some exercise time or something? You know, to stretch our toes and stuff. Wouldn't mind sitting in this cage but there's shockingly little to do – if you can believe it – not even some reading material." The jailer stopped and turned towards Vette. He was usually quick to make use of the collar's electric shock feature but today he seemed distracted as he walked over.

"Heck, I'd even settle for some dirty pictures…" mumbled Vette as Knash stopped in front of her cage, giving her his best menacing glare.

"One more chirp out of you, little bird, and you'll regret it." The locked eyes for a moment and the smallest of smirks quirked up Vette's lips.

"Chirp. Chirp, chirp." Knash raised his right hand and in it Vette saw the dreaded switch. She had only a second to brace herself before the collar sent a painful shock through her body but she bit down against the pain. The first few times had been difficult to get over but Vette – dare she say it? – was getting used to the electric agony.

"Alright, I get it, you're not a fan. But hey, I can do other animals though; dire-cat, frog-dog, kowakian monkey-lizard, you name it and I'll pretend to know it." Some might consider Vette's behaviour self-destructive or even signs of a masochist but the truth was boredom could be a powerful motivator. At least that's what she told herself. Even as Knash drew closer to get a better look when he sent another shock through Vette, she was already considering what to say next. How angry could she get him before she couldn't take the pain any longer? Wasn't the healthiest game, sure, but it was something.

At that moment someone entered the room and caught Vette's eye as he stopped just inside, his head turning as he surveyed his surroundings. Knash paused upon noticing Vette's attention turn away and he looked to see what was happening. Vette wasn't paying attention to Hash by that point though, she was sizing up this newcomer and, she admitted, there was a fair bit to look over. He was a large muscular guy with either the most serious or most bored face she'd seen in a long time and that was hard to do on Korriban. From his clothes he looked to be one of the students at the academy so, like, a baby Sith, Vette supposed. He didn't seem to carry himself like a Sith though; there was a lack of swagger and sense of supreme superiority over all other living creatures in the galaxy. But even as Vette thought he wouldn't be as bad as all the rest, his eyes found her – and moved along without pause as though she wasn't even there.

Well, maybe Sith develop a god-complex when they hit puberty.

---

"You there, I'm Jailer Knash and I run this cellblock. I'm guessing you're the acolyte Overseer Tremel sent down for the test." Glailen's eyes came to rest on the man who had spoken. His tone was professional but not overbearing and for that Glailen was glad – he didn't need someone pressuring him while he was deciding the fate of several people. He inclined his head in greeting.

"He certainly thinks highly of you to have prisoners brought in like this," continued the jailer as he scratched at his burgundy beard.

"I plan on making sure his faith is not misplaced." The acolyte glanced at the three prisoners caged up along the wall as he spoke. He supposed those were the ones he was meant to pass judgement on.

"Good luck with that – he must think you're the next coming of Exar Kun or something. Acolytes are supposed to go off world for this test but I guess Tremel doesn't want to waste any time." Knash gave a light snort and shook his head, thinking of something he apparently found amusing.

He certainly didn't go through the trouble of bringing me here just to send me away the next day. Glailen studied the prisoners, a depressed looking bith, a human woman who appeared to have lost a fight and an elderly human male wearing Sith armour. At a glance he had no idea what their crimes could be but he was ready to learn. Knash came up alongside him, waving a hand to indicate the same prisoners.

"Anyway, these are the prisoners. You'll decide their fate whether that be lifetime imprisonment or execution or even freedom if you woke up feeling particular merciful today. Talk to them, interrogate them, rip out their inner secrets with the Force; whatever you decide, you should know others will be watching." Knash's voice took on something of an ominous tone but Glailen wasn't interested.

"So I'm told," he replied, walking over to the cages. The first he came to was the bith sitting in the center of his cage, a scrawny representative of his species, he was probably the least threatening thing Glailen had encountered since arriving on Korriban.

"Well, we start with a bit of an odd one. This guy's name is Bregh and he's suspect of supplying forged documents to Republic agents. He maintains his innocence though, despite what the Inquisitors have done." Suddenly the bith leapt to his feet and pushed against the bars of his cage. He reeked of terror and desperation. That alone, Glailen knew, didn't equate to be guilty.

"That's because innocent I am! Believe me, you gotta – I had nothing to do with no forged documents! Set up, I was set up!"

"And why would someone want to set you up?" asked Glailen, not bothering to hide his skepticism. Brehg recoiled as if struck, his expression sobering.

"No idea…I once did time in a Republic jail for forgery so that would make me a good choice I guess." He looked down at his feet as he spoke; almost like a child being questioned by an adult. He's way out of his league here, thought Glailen.

"Someone to take all the attention," supplied Glailen. The bith nodded eagerly but still kept his eyes low. Knash took a step closer, rubbing his chin.

"Yeah, he keeps coming back to that. The evidence is mostly circumstantial too so I suppose he could even be innocent but, well, that's not for me to decide." The jailer looked at Glailen expectantly and the acolyte found himself wishing he could wash his hands of the whole affair. Judging the fates of prisoners was not what he had in mind when he was selected to become Sith or before that. Suppressing a sigh, Glailen moved closer to the cage.

"Look at me Bregh." The command in Glailen's tone was not to be ignored and the bith quickly obeyed though he seemed to struggle to maintain eye contact. For a long moment Glailen held Bregh under his gaze, weighing the bith in his mind. Finally, he looked away.

"Let him go."

"Justice! There is justice in the universe!" Bregh became ecstatic with the proclamation, dropping to his knees but throwing his hands in the air.

"Freedom, eh? That's a new one." Knash gave a sidelong look at Glailen as he spoke.

"Don't think everyone will like it," he added.

"Then I'll have to deal with that later." Glailen was already looking over the next prisoner, hoping they would be easier to judge. He walked over so that he stood in front of them. The woman, arms crossed, stared back defiantly.

"This one goes by Solentz–"

"Enough, freaks, just do what you're going to do and get it over with." The acolyte cocked an eyebrow at Solentz's interruption and then the other eyebrow went up with her statement.

"Are you looking to die today?" he asked.

"I'm not afraid to die," she replied evenly and without hesitation. Already she appeared to be the complete opposite of Bregh. Behind Glailen, Knash cleared his throat.

"Yeah, she likes to put on a strong front. She was hired to assassinate an Imperial spy but she maintains that she was hired anonymously – despite lengthy torture." That explains the state of her, thought Glailen, no one who makes an attempt on the life of an Imperial agent can expect easy treatment. Solentz for her part was giving a frustrated shake of her head.

"The only real torture around here and having to repeat myself all the time – I don't know who hired me and I didn't know he was an Imperial spy!" Glailen could understand the passion with which the woman spoke but he couldn't bring himself to sympathize too much with an assassin. Still, he had to consider the case carefully.

"So, you insist you're not a Republic assassin." Glailen murmured, talking to himself more than to anyone else. Solentz seemed not to realize it as she rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

"Maybe the Republic are the ones who hired me but, like I said, I don't know. Not interested in politics, only in who pays."

"But the point is she doesn't deny being hired or attempting to fulfil the contract," stated Knash, "so this one is pretty clear. Only thing to do is decide whether it's a clean execution or death by combat." A frown creased Glailen's face. Knash made it sound so simple but, as much as he wished he could believe that were true, Glailen saw the situation different. It was true Solentz was guilty of her crimes and a part of Glailen wanted to see her receive the punishment owed to enemies of the Empire but there was another option. In war it was foolish to waste any resource no matter how small; the Empire may not be at war currently but the fragile peace between it and the Republic would not last. Some might consider it crazy but it was possible Solentz would prove useful in a coming conflict – or maybe in delaying one. Glailen let out an irritated sigh.

"Neither actually. Give her to Imperial Intelligence. Perhaps they can give her the skills and equipment to be an effective assassin." Glailen could easily feel the surprise that came from Knash but he was more interested in how Solentz would react. Her expression softened only slightly and her eyes had a suspicious shine.

"I won't work for free," stated Solentz bluntly. Glailen narrowed his eyes on her.

"How you are compensated is not my concern but I will say this; you have been given another chance in this life, don't let your pride ruin it." It looked like the assassin was going to add more as she opened her mouth but instead closed it a second later, choosing to remain silent. Nodding to himself, Glailen moved on to the final prisoner. He took barely two steps before the older man reached out an imploring hand.

"Please! I am a fellow Sith – judge me with an open mind and grant me trial by combat. I beg you." Glailen had guessed the man was Sith – or used to be – but he looked to Knash for the full story. The jailer took the cue quickly.

"This pile of waste is Devotek. He used to be a big-shot Sith, like a champion of sorts, but then he botched a rather important mission and caused a thousand Imperial deaths. Now look at him." The disdain in Knash's words couldn't have been more self-evident. It didn't surprise Glailen either; he himself wasn't feeling too fond of someone who made such a grievous mistake. Devotek, on the other hand, was shaking his head with dismay.

"One mistake – one! – and decades of loyalty amount to nothing. They threw me in a cell and left me to rot. I don't deserve this…please, let me feel the weight of a weapon in my hands again. Let me die with dignity."

"He's not worth it." Those few words summed up Knash's feelings on the prisoner but Glailen needed more.

"You're so insistent that your crime isn't worth this fate – or a fate far worse – but why?"

"Like I said," responded Devotek, "I've devoted my life to the Sith and the Empire. I've slaughtered the Emporer's enemies and obeyed every order without question. The least I should get in return is an honourable death."

"But all those Imperials…do you feel nothing for their loss?" asked Glailen, struggling to understand the other man.

"They were soldiers – servants of the Empire – their lives are owed to the Sith, mine is to the Emporer." Glailen's mouth worked for words but he could find none to use against such a complete lack of remorse. The utter callousness with which the man before him disregarded the lives of Imperial troopers just…enraged him. He realized there was really only one option left.

"Open his cell," he said, turning to take several paces away from the cage, "give him a weapon." The acolyte's eyes, hardened with anger, bore down on Devotek. He drew his weapon when Knash handed the disgraced Sith a warblade. They faced one another, each lowering into a battle stance. The thought that Devotek, being a Sith lord with decades of combat experience, could defeat him never crossed Glailen's mind. There was no way he could lose.

The two combatants eyed each other wearily, studying their opponent. Whoever could anticipate the other first would gain the important upper hand early on and Glailen, as he liked to think of himself, was a patient man. His patience paid off as Devotek suddenly dashed forward with an attack to Glailen's side but the acolyte caught the blow easily enough. That didn't deter the Sith as their blades made contact for only an instant before he was changing his point of attack and striking for Glailen's other side. The strike was easy to read and quickly defended. Devotek leapt back, creating some distance for momentum, then rushed in undeterred. Glailen had only a second before his opponent would be on him again but it was all the time he needed to truly see his foe.

Experience was on Devotek's side, Glailen freely admitted that as he saw the technique behind the Sith's moves and how his body moved easily as though familiar with the motions, but that was where his advantages ended. Being locked up for so long, likely malnourished the entire time, had taken much of Devotek's strength to the point where there was no real power behind his strikes. Worse than that, Devotek was resigned to his fate. He fully expected to die here and sought only to put up enough of a performance to satisfy himself at the end. The latter reason disgusted Glailen; a warrior unwilling to fight for victory wasn't worth the title.

Glailen remained on the defensive for a few more attacks before he slowly but firmly shifted the balance of the fight, delivering probing blows to see how Devotek would react. The acolyte was confident of victory but he wouldn't allow that same confidence to be his undoing. Devotek showed he knew how to parry and block with great skill but was unable to compensate for his diminishing energy. He staggered back from each blow until his back hit the cage that had held him moments earlier. Glailen struck then, moving fast and with precision. Devotek moved his warblade to block an attack but Glailen had planned for it. He used his superior strength to bat aside the weapon like an insect; immediately he redirected his warblade to strike point first against the Sith's chest. A lightsaber would have burned through the body almost instantly but a warblade, while it worked in a similar fashion, did not have the same power. The tip of the blade passed through the fabrics of Devotek's tunic easily and burned into his flesh but stopped against the more resilient bone beneath. Devotek cried out in pain even as Glailen edged his lead foot closer and leaned into the strike. An agonizing second later the pain gave way and the sudden force sent the warblade passing fully through Devotek's body as the end erupted from his back.

A final gasp of air escaped Devotek's body but Glailen didn't look into the other man's eyes as he faded. He had already taken his measure and was unimpressed. When Devotek became nothing more than dead weight, Glailen retracted his weapon with a swift pull and stepped aside as the body dropped to the floor.

Knash offered a slow and brief clap.

"Well, that was entertaining at least," he said to fill the silence.

"I only wish I could have fought him in his prime," replied Glailen with genuine disappointment. Knash shrugged noncommittally; likely just glad Devotek was finally dead.

"I'll say this, kid, you're an interesting one," added Knash. None of the other prisoners dared comment, of course, and so a silence grew to encompass the room. Glailen remained looking towards the body of Devotek without seeing it. He was lost in his thoughts as he struggled to come to terms with the growing sense of disappointment in the pit of his stomach. Years ago, he hadn't eagerly begun his training to one day be Sith just so he could kill other Sith – even ones that deserved nothing better. He wanted to kill Jedi.

I doubt the Jedi are killing each other with such casual acceptance.

After a few moments, Knash coughed to break the silence.

"Anyway, that's all of them. You should be heading back to Overseer Tremel now. I'll send my report on ahead." Without waiting for a reply, Knash began typing away on his holopad. Glailen lingered a moment longer, glancing at the two prisoners he had allowed to live and wondered not how his choices would be considered but rather if he cared any more.

---

Vette watched as the acolyte left, wondering about him. Things had not gone the way she expected them to. Even if Brash hadn't been there to give voice to how odd it was for a Sith to show mercy, she would have thought the same thing on her own. Sure, he didn't let all three live but the one he did kill was – or at least used to be – a Sith.

After inputting something on his holopad, Brash left the room as well. Likely to find help with cleaning up the body and getting someone to take away the now free prisoners. Now would have been a perfect time for her to talk with the others but even had they looked like saying anything at the moment, she wasn't really interested. That Sith student had kept her guessing the whole time right up until he made his exit. If that didn't make for good entertainment, Vette didn't know what would.

But alas, back to the fingernails. Maybe I should check my toes too.

---

Returning to Tremel's office was proving uneventful which suited Glailen fine as his thoughts were distracted. He kept thinking back to Devotek; to what his ultimate fate had been and wondering if that would be his own end. Serving the Empire loyally only to be locked away to rot. Would Glailen one day be responsible for such a heinous loss of Imperial life? Was he destined to be left with nothing except a hope that he would be allowed to die on his feet instead of left alone in a cell somewhere, forgotten? Glailen felt very real fear thinking that when he had seen Devotek, he had received a glimpse of his own future.

'We mean so little to them – maybe nothing.'

Yeah, I'm starting to see that now.

Still running around his own head, Glailen was close to Tremel's office when a figure walked around a corner and stopped in his path. Glailen's gaze locked on the individual and hardened into an unforgiving glare.

"Remember me?"

"Don't push me, Dolgis," warned Glailen with a tone coated in ice. Dolgis, unconcerned, planted his hands on his hips.

"Still acting like a tough guy, huh? Guess I'll find out how tough you are – look around." Dolgis waved a hand to encompass the area but Glailen didn't take the bait, keeping his eyes on the other man.

"We're alone," continued Dolgis, undeterred, "and I've decided I really don't like you. So, I'm going to make sure you never get in Vemrin's way." The clear and obvious threat in those words was not lost on Glailen as his muscles tensed for what would surely come next.

"That didn't take long," stated Glailen with a challenging roll of his shoulders. He wasn't looking to back away from this fight – he wanted it. In fact, he should have been surprised at how much he was daring the other acolyte to give him an excuse to get violent. A part of him was surprised but another, louder, part was just yelling at Dolgis to quit stalling and go for his weapon.

The other man didn't disappoint as one hand suddenly reached up for the handle of his warblade. Glailen didn't wait, nor did he hesitate as he dashed forward and his right hand lashed out to grab hold of Dolgis' right elbow. A look of surprise flashed over Dolgis' face as Glailen's left hand went for his own warblade. His fingers wrapped around the grip when suddenly a hammering force struck him in his side, driving the wind from Glailen and momentarily weakening his limbs. A moment was all Dolgis needed as the hand that had punched Glailen's side was thrust into his face with authority. Glailen was thrown onto his back from the force but he used the momentum to keeping rolling into a kneeling position. Even before he had his feet under him, Glailen was pulling his warblade free, which proved fortuitous as Dolgis was instantly looming over him. Glailen barely had time to position his warblade before his foe's own blade crashed down on it. Glailen's defense held firm but the power of the attack sent painful shocks through his arms. Not giving his opponent a moment to recover, Dolgis slammed a boot into Glailen's chest that sent him to the floor. Again, Dolgis delivered a downward slash but his blade succeeded only in leaving a burn streak in the floor as Glailen rolled aside and quickly got to his feet.

Cautiously the two men began to circle each other as they now had a new understanding of one another. Glailen was not afraid of a confrontation and Dolgis would not be easily dispatched. Despite the danger, Glailen felt a sense of enjoyment. This, at least, would be a better fight than his last. He just had to make sure it wasn't his last.

This time it was Dolgis to take the initiative, presumably feeling confident after warding off Glailen's opening gambit. As he came closer at a frightening speed, Glailen was reminded that the other man was larger and stronger than he. Someone weak of heart would have broken under the sight of Dolgis rushing to kill them but Glailen planted his feet and willed his body to remain steady. He heard the panic in the back of his mind but it was pushed into a distant corner as he raised his warblade to meet the assault. Dolgis delivered a heavy slash, throwing all his weight behind it but Glailen caught it on his own weapon and refused to give way. The sheer force, however, threatened to overwhelm him as his knees bent and he was forced to lean back. With a primal snarl, he began to push back. Dolgis, for his part, abandoned the test of strength quickly and instead focused on unleashing a series of blows. The flurry of strikes kept Glailen on the defensive and now he found himself backing away in order to parry the blows effectively. Glailen was calling on the Force to sharpen his sense, give more strength to the power and speed of his movements, but he knew Dolgis was doing the same. Who had the greater command over the Force? Glailen couldn't risk the outcome believing he was stronger in the Force. He would need to find an opening and go on the offensive. Just have to weather the storm…

Glailen was beginning to wonder how much ground he would have to give when suddenly opportunity presented itself. Dolgis overextended himself, stumbling forward and Glailen reacted greedily. Glailen lunged forward but instead of seeing fear in the other man's eyes he saw satisfaction. Dolgis suddenly regained his footing with ease and swatted away Glailen's attack; as he did so he spun around and the back of his left fist smacked into Glailen's head. Now it was Glailen stumbling while lashing out with his warblade in an attempt to ward off any follow-up attack. He didn't see it with his vision blurred but Glailen felt his warblade be deflected at the same time Dolgis kicked his right leg out from under him, dropping Glailen to his hands and knees. The acolyte nearing defeat stared numbly at the ground, cursing himself for falling for an obvious trap, while Dolgis stood over him and angled his warblade to end the fight.

"And you thought yourself a match for Vemrin."

An explosion of rage mingled with the need to survive. Suddenly Glailen felt he had all the power in the galaxy. His head shot up and he locked eyes with Dolgis. The other man's face twisted in shock at what it saw but only for an instant as Glailen thrust out an open palm. The Force threw Dolgis through the air until he came to a stop crashing against a wall. The impact knocked the air from his body making a struggle out of pushing off from the wall. He had just managed the task when Glailen came crashing into him, his warblade deflecting Dolgis' aside and leaving the larger man open for the forearm colliding with his chest; further impacting his ability to draw breath. Glailen prepared to strike again with his elbow but then Dolgis' left hand flew out and grabbed Glailen's neck on the left side. Before Glailen could react, Dolgis was thrusting him aside with his impressive strength, even as the larger man pushed off from the wall. The momentum sent Glailen knocking into the wall, his head bouncing off the solid surface.

Dazed, Glailen glanced around, his eyes quickly found Dolgis as his opponent took a swing with his warblade. Glailen reacted without thought, dropping down to his knees and immediately pushed off from the wall, angling his body so that he could slice the back of Dolgis' legs with his weapon. Dolgis cried out in pain as he fell against the all even as Glailen got to his feet and, not allowing the other man a reprieve, delivered a thrusting kick to his back. Dolgis' face smashed into the wall and he pulled away to fall onto his back, revealing blood pouring freely from a broken nose. Slowly, Dolgis rolled onto his stomach and looked around for the warblade he had released in his pain. Glailen spotted it at the same time and, with a flick of his wrist, sent it rolling away with the Force. A defeated moan escaped Dolgis as he got to his knees. Glailen raised his weapon and prepared to deliver the final blow. Suddenly Dolgis' arms flew up protectively as he cried out.

"Wait! Please – so strong – I don't want to die…" Glailen listened as the other acolyte resorted to begging. Listened and felt a deep disgust for the scene. He lips drew back in a snarl as he became angry with Dolgis for losing his nerve at the moment it mattered most. They had just fought each other with all they had and now, thinking that this man could have beaten him, Glailen felt a roiling fountain of rage rise up in his being.

"There's no room in the order for cowards." Dolgis had only a second to process those words before Glailen lifted his warblade and delivered a slashing blow across the kneeling acolyte's chest in a quick, fluid, motion. Dolgis' cry was cut short.

Begging to die, begging not to die; will I kill anyone who doesn't beg?

The surviving acolyte remained standing over the corpse for some time, gathering his thoughts. He hadn't expected to kill anyone this day, hadn't planned on it, but he found he wasn't sorry for it. He meant what he said earlier and that was what the trials were for. Some people, like Tremel himself, would consider the most important thing for the order was to purify the blood. Glailen, however, was more interested with ensuring the order had real fighters in its ranks. None of that mattered though because he had just murdered a fellow acolyte, which was frowned upon, and he had no idea how to go about disposing of the evidence.

Somehow, I don't believe I'll be lucky in this situation twice.

"Greetings, Acolyte Reichscher. Were you returning to Overseer Tremel's office?" Glailen was startled by the sudden words driven into the silence. He stepped aside, revealing the body, and turned to find Y-5O3 approaching, coming from the direction of Tremel's office. The droid stopped and stared at what remained of Dolgis.

"Oh! It appears Acolyte Dolgis met with an unfortunate accident." The droid moved closer as Glailen remained silent. It seemed fitting that his guide through the academy was the first to find him.

"I shall notify sanitation services that there is a mess to be cleaned immediately." There was a pause as Glailen waited for Y-5O3 to add more but nothing was forthcoming.

"Aren't you going to call the guards to arrest me?" inquired Glailen. Y-5O3 turned and looked at Glailen. If he was capable of facial expressions then Glailen would have expected the droid to show confusion.

"Whatever for? All I know is that you were the first to find this waste to be removed." Glailen opened his mouth to respond but then closed it. It occurred to him that he was learning a great deal about the unspoken rules of the academy. He looked back at the corpse, wondering how long it would be before he was no more than waste at someone's feet.

"Go ahead," said Y-5O3, pointing down the hall, "we would not want to keep Overseer Tremel waiting."

Nodding, Glailen left the scene to the droid. It was a short walk before he came to the overseer's office and, with the door being already open, he walked in. Tremel was standing in front of his desk but turned to look at Glailen as he approached. Seeing the overseer, Glailen wondered how he appeared and how he should explain himself if he was pressed. Tremel though either didn't notice or didn't care, as his words made evident.

"Acolyte, good you're back. Took you longer than I expected but we must push on."

"Yes, Overseer," responded Glailen with an added bow of his head.

"First, we should discuss your choices with the prisoners. Your first choice was freedom for the bith. Explain." Already by the overseer's tone, Glailen could tell Knash had been correct; it was an unpopular choice. But it had been the choice he made so Glailen had to stand by it. Licking his lips, he gave the only answer he could.

"He was innocent, Overseer." Even to his own ears the response sounded weak. Tremel's eyes narrowed disapprovingly.

"And you know this how?" he asked, his voice taking on a sharper edge.

"I trusted the Force in this regard, Overseer." He knew there would be no winning an argument with Tremel but Glailen still felt a need to defend his actions. The overseer's nostrils flared momentarily before he continued in a biting tone.

"Whether he was innocent or not, the far more important concern is that he now has intimate knowledge of our facilities and having him running around the galaxy is potentially quite compromising." Glailen scoffed at the idea of Bregh being any sort of threat to the Empire.

"Intimate knowledge may be an overstatement in this case, Overseer." The acolyte cursed the words before they left his lips; he knew they were the wrong ones. He also knew why he said them, he truly believed the security risk posed by Bregh was miniscule even if an overseer with a low opinion of aliens wouldn't see it the same. Glailen knew he shouldn't have said it but his blood was still up from his fight with Dolgis, making him more prone to risks.

"Any knowledge of this academy is unacceptable and protecting that is certainly worth one alien." The overseer's snapping retort left no room for further debate and Glailen, having calmed his own mind, was happy to leave it at that. He bowed low before speaking.

"My apologies, Overseer, you are correct." That seemed to placate Tremel who sighed as though he were disciplining a child. With a wave of his hand the matter was shoved aside.

"Let's move on. The woman, you gave her to Imperial Intelligence; that was a wise decision. Never waste a resource." For Tremel to be pleased with a choice was a pleasant change of pace, one Glailen was happy to encourage.

"That was my line of thinking, Overseer," he said, standing straighter.

"You must always be thinking like that. Display cunning and the right people will notice. Now, the final prisoner, Devotek, you granted his request for trial by combat. Why?" Glailen sensed he was dangerously close to getting on Tremel's bad side again but the overseer's tone held more curiosity than hostility. Even so, Glailen chose his words carefully while staying with the truth.

"Two reasons, Overseer, I wanted to test his worth and I wanted to ensure his death was satisfying for me." Tremel was nodding as Glailen spoke but lacked the same acceptance that he had shown for Solentz's fate.

"Understandable," he said slowly, "however, it should have been obvious that Devotek was long past being of any use to the Empire. You could have killed him without wasting time on a meaningless fight. You must always be looking forward; time is always of the essence." Tremel looked at him pointedly, making sure the importance of his words was understood.

"Yes, Overseer." Uninterested in further argument, Glailen opted to accept the other man's words. The overseer watched him a moment longer then nodded.

"We must move on now; your next trial awaits."

"I am ready, Overseer." The possibility that the next trial would be much more taxing didn't really come into Glailen's mind. What he wanted was a task to focus on to distract for the other thoughts in his mind. The look Tremel gave him seemed to indicate he sensed something of Glailen's thinking.

"You had better be. This trial will take your strength and I have made adjustments for you. It's time you proved you have what it will take to face the powerful individuals who will oppose you." Tremel paused to let those words sink in. So far Glailen was pleased with what he was hearing though; being directed at something or someone to end was less complicated than deciding whether or not someone deserved to live. When Tremel resumed, Glailen found himself reconsidering.

"In the Valley of the Dark Lords you will find the Tomb of Marka Ragnos. In his tomb you will find a Beast of Marka Ragnos, a creature made strong by the dark side of the Force. Slay the beast and then return to me." Glailen wonder if the dizziness he was feeling was from his fight with Dolgis or from the daunting trail Tremel had just casually placed upon him. Any creature chosen by a great dark lord such as Marka Ragnos was not going to be easy prey, to say the least. Was Tremel becoming unhinged in his gamble to make Glailen into the strongest acolyte at the academy? It seemed possible given that he thought it necessary to make up such a special task as the next trial. Finding his mouth suddenly dry, Glailen had to lick his lips a couple of times before responding.

"Yes, Overseer." It was all Glailen needed to say and that was a good thing for it was all he could bring himself to say.

"Y-5O3 has procured some supplies for you. This trial is likely to take more than a couple of days." Glailen glanced over his shoulder and was surprised to see the droid entering the room at that moment. Or rather he was surprised to see Y-5O3 had a backpack with him that appeared relatively full. How did he get it so quickly? Y-5O3 stopped next to Glailen and held out the bag, which the acolyte took after a second. He wanted to open it up to see what he had to work with but held his curiosity in check of the moment.

"Take him to a hovercab," said Tremel, addressing the droid, "I don't want him walking the whole way there."

"As you wish, Overseer Tremel," replied the ever-obedient Y-5O3.

"Dismissed." Bowing once more, Glailen turned and left the office. He still felt his mind reeling from the task he had been given but he was steadily returning to calm. Surviving wouldn't be accomplished by allowing his mind to remain scrambled. With a start, Glailen realized he was walking far ahead of Y-5O3, so distracted was he with his thoughts. He stopped and waited for the slower moving droid to catch up.

"It is good to see you eager to begin your trial, Acolyte Reichscher, but it may be best for me to show you to the hovercab station." From anyone else Glailen would have considered the comment sarcastic but in this case, he stepped aside and ushered the droid ahead.

"By all means, lead the way."

"Thank you," chimed Y-5O3, moving on ahead.

"You may also be pleased to know I packed your bag myself. You will find energy bars, several canteens of water, kolto patches, a protective sheet against the elements and a map of the Valley of Dark Lords, although I am sorry to say the map is rather old and made of parchment." Glailen carried the backpack with a new appreciation for it. What was held inside and how he used it would be a strong determiner in whether or not he survived the next few days. He also looked at Y-5O3, wondering how much of the supplies was stated by Tremel specifically and how much had been the droid's decision.

"I'll take whatever I can get. Thank you for the assistance," he said with genuine gratitude.

"You are quite welcome." Glailen glanced at Y-5O3 who actually sounded pleased.

At length they exited the academy and Glailen glanced around at what he supposed qualified for bustling activity on Korriban. Imperial troopers, various service droids, acolytes and Sith; all of whom had somewhere they needed to be. For a moment Glailen felt contentment; this was what he wanted to see, where he wanted to be, but that was not what he would get. Soon he would be alone in the wild.

Y-5O3 led the acolyte to an enclosure that stood a few dozen meters from the academy. Inside there were lines of hovercabs, some with droid drivers and some without. The pair headed over to the closest droid operated vehicle. Next to the cab was a panel that Y-5O3 operated for a moment before addressing the driver.

"Take Acolyte Reichscher to the Valley of Dark Lords." The driver gave a few beeps which Glailen took for an affirmative. He hopped into the vehicle and the hovercab began to lift into the air. Y-5O3 stood by as the cab rose higher.

"Good luck out there," the droid called, "and remember not to drink all of your water too quickly. I know how you organics find basic function difficult if you have not consumed liquids recently."

"I'll keep that in mind," Glailen called back just before the hovercab accelerated away. As the cab made its journey, Glailen spent the time going over the map he had been given. He tried to get an idea of how far he would be walking and determined he would be away for a couple of days at least and that was if the weather and terrain were forgiving. Leaning back in his seat and gazing out at the Korriban landscape, he considered what it would be like to be alone for so long. He couldn't really remember the last time he spent so long without someone else nearby.

Then he did remember.

He remembered the heat, the darkness, being stuck with nowhere to go, just waiting for…something – anything at all. Frantically Glailen shook his head to be rid of the images. When that didn't work, he slapped himself. Hard. His vision blurred momentarily.

"Are you alright, sir?" inquired the driver, understandably.

"Fine," he responded curtly and began rummaging through his backpack. At that moment he needed anything to take his mind off things and that included taking inventory of what he had.

Nearly half an hour passed before they reached their destination. The cab touched down lightly at an Imperial outpost. Glailen waved his thanks to the droid who nodded back before taking off again, returning to the academy. As the acolyte watched the cab become a dot in the sky he felt like he was truly stuck with nowhere to go but into the valley to hunt a monster that would probably kill him. Sighing, Glailen looked around to get his bearings and then set off. There were at least a dozen Imperials and even a couple of Sith but none paid him any mind. Soon the only sign Glailen had been at the outpost were his footprints but the wind would see that change before the end of the day.

He walked for hours through the valley, looking for landmarks for reference in conjunction with the map. Above the sign beat down oppressively. Even without Y-5O3's words of warning, Glailen knew enough to ration his water but the heat was testing his will. Pausing, he took a single sip from the half-finished canteen, remaining keenly aware that he would have only two more canteens when the first was emptied. Glailen replaced the canteen into his pack and took out an energy bar while glancing at the horizon. It wouldn't be long before night came. He could continue for a few more hours before the demand for sleep would require him to stop.

When finally the last light died away Glailen began searching for a place to rest for the night. In his travels his nose picked up a scent of smoke and something else – something pleasant that made his mouth water. Cooked meat. Curious, the acolyte followed the smell as best he could but it wasn't long before he spotted a light burning in the night. At a trotting pace Glailen approached what he presumed to be a fire until he could get a clear idea of the scene. A fairly large fire was blazing away, around it was long sticks with strips of meat; an animal carcass lay to the side. From what he could see, there was only one person at the fire. They sat facing away from Glailen, eating their meal. Either the person was incredibly brave to be cooking food with a large fire out in the open or they were another level of foolish. The thought that he was looking at a trap also occurred to Glailen.

He approached the fire slowly, stopping far enough away to remain hidden in the dark but close enough to study the person. It was a woman, small in stature, with short cropped red hair. As she moved her head Glailen could spot the outlines of three scars running down the left side of her face. Glailen remained still, considering whether he should risk approaching or continue on his way. The woman finished the strip of meat she had been chewing on and then, with perfect accuracy, turned her head to look directly at Glailen.

"You might as well come into the light. Don't be shy." Glailen stiffened upon being found out but forced himself to relax. At a deliberate pace he got up and moved over to the fire, keeping a discreet distance between himself and the other acolyte.

"You knew I was there the whole time?" he asked. The woman cocked an eyebrow in his direction.

"Not exactly hiding yourself well." This time it was Glailen to raise a questioning brow.

"Coming from the person sitting in front of a fire at night in the open?" A smile spread across the woman's face at the retort.

"True but considering the benefits – warmth and cooked food – I'm happy to take the risk," she said with a wink. Glailen shrugged, unable to agree fully but not wanting to be antagonizing.

"You can call me Silthrai by the way." Still suspicious of the other acolyte, Glailen wasn't sure whether or not to offer his own name yet.

"Because that's what you've decided I should call you?" he asked. Her brows creased in annoyance and Glailen wondered if he had misread the situation.

"Because it's my name," she snapped. For a moment Glailen wondered at how quickly Silthrai had become defensive but he let it go. Everyone had their quirks.

"Glailen," he supplied. Silthrai looked at him with a deadpan expression for a few seconds before nodding. She was about to take another bite from her meal but stopped and waved at the ground.

"Sit down, you're making me uncomfortable." Without taking his eyes off the other acolyte, Glailen eased himself down to a sitting position but kept his legs poised to respond quickly. He was about to ask a question when Silthrai raised a hand and spoke first.

"Let's cut to the chase, eh? I'm guessing you're looking for food–"

"I have energy bars," cut in Glailen.

"I'll take that as a confirmation," resumed Silthrai without missing a beat, "I'm looking for water. I brought some but that fella there," she pointed at the carcass roasting over the fire, "liked to play rough. One thing led to another and the next thing I know, no more water. So, I'll trade you some food for some water." The other acolyte waited patiently, seemingly without a care to be had, as Glailen thought over the proposition. He had a limited supply of water and didn't really need any food. Of course, as he looked at the cooking meat, he really wanted some. If he was careful going forward – more careful than he had been – he could afford to go without a single canteen.

He pulled his pack off and rummaged through it for a canteen of water. After taking a second to think it over again, he tossed it over to Silthrai. She made no move to catch it but the canteen slowed to a gentle stop next to her. She pointed at the food.

"Help yourself, I won't be able to eat it all." Glailen considered the selection a moment before taking one of the sticks of meat. He took a bite and, while the food lacked any kind of seasoning, it was significantly more filling than an energy bar. As the pair ate in silence, Glailen found himself feeling at ease around this Silthrai. He could sense no hostile intent from her. Not yet at least.

"What brings you out here?" Silthrai's finger shot up before Glailen had even finished speaking. She waved it back and forth as she finished the morsel in her mouth.

"Ah! If you want to make small-talk that's fine with me but no talking business. Might discover we're after the same thing and then we have to kill each other." Glailen considered the warning and he had to admit, it was sound. He would just have to avoid compromising details.

"Fair enough. How long have you been out here?" he asked, trying again.

"Two days, going on three. You don't think this place is so big until you get here and walk around for a few hours and can't figure out where you're going." He understood what Silthrai was saying, the valley appeared to go on forever, but something she said confused Glailen.

"You don't have a map?" Glailen couldn't keep the surprise from his words.

"What? Of course not. The overseers aren't exactly leaping to make things easier for acolytes." Glailen stared at her. Oh, he thought. He considered not adding more; perhaps it would be safer not to reveal he had a map. Then again, he doubted any overseer had given Silthrai the same task Tremel had given him. Casually he reached a hand into his bag and pulled out the map; Silthrai's eyes snapped to it as Glailen used the Force to send it over without risking it falling into the fire. She took it out of the air and glanced at him before opening it. Glailen remained focused on his meal while she looked it over.

"I'll need it back," stated Glailen after a few moments though he appeared unperturbed. He needn't have bothered as it turned out for Silthrai began rolling up the map even as he finished speaking.

"Yeah, go ahead. I got what I needed." She tossed the map over and, aided by the Force, it landed neatly at Glailen's side. He picked it up and returned it to his bag. The two acolytes sat in silence with the exception of the fire crackling and their own chewing.

"Thanks," Silthrai said finally.

"You're welcome."

They remained silent as they ate until they had their fill but the silence stretched on. Glailen wondered if he should say something but really all he wanted to do was rest. Sitting, staring into the fire, with his thoughts was enough for him. Then he sensed they weren't alone.

At the same time the pair of acolytes leapt to their feet however, Glailen noticed, they weren't looking in the same direction. That's because we're surrounded, thought Glailen grimly, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. Eventually a man walked into the light. He looked worse for wear, his clothes were torn and he was filthy but, more importantly, he was armed. A warblade was leveled at Glailen as he drew his weapon. Glailen began turning a slow circle and noted Silthrai doing the same. He counted quickly.

"I count–"

"Six," Siltrhai cut in. Four men and two women drew closer, keeping the pair surrounded.

"Still happy to have taken the risk?" asked Glailen as he assumed a battle-ready pose.

"Oh, I don't know. That tuk'ata tastes better than anything they give acolytes at the academy." Despite himself, Glailen couldn't help but grin.

At that moment all six attackers rushed at once. Immediately Silthrai thrust out a hand and the two in front of her were thrown back to disappear into the darkness. She turned and face the woman rushing her from behind. Glailen didn't have time to be impressed as his three opponents were upon him. The first lunged in but Glailen was able to deflect the blow and send the man stumbling into the woman approaching from behind. The third attacker, undeterred rushed in with frantic swings of his warblade. Blocking or dodging the strikes was easy and as Glailen delivered a solid punch to the man's head that sent him to the ground, he felt certain he knew why. As the first two returned and Glailen found himself warding off both, his suspicions were confirmed. There was no style behind their attacks. Whoever these people were, they sought to win simply by overwhelming their targets. Glailen used his superior training to stay ahead of his opponents but as the third attacker rejoined the fight it was all he could do just to hold them off. His warblade was constantly needed to defend leaving him with the option of punching or kicking when he could. But every time he knocked down one, they would get back up before he could deal with a second. Despite how things look, Glailen was hopeful of a victory. He may have been outnumbered but his enemies were malnourished; there was little strength behind their strikes as they relied on a frenzied offense. If he held out long enough, he was certain they would be too tired to react.

There was a cry and Glailen glanced across the fire where Silthrai now fought. She had delivered a damaging blow to her opponent's arm but was now engaged with the two she had blown away earlier. One of Glailen's attackers saw him distracted and rushed in to take advantage. Glailen, however, had expected the move. Almost too fast to see, Glailen's warblade whipped through the air and licked across the man's throat. His eyes grew wide at the sudden realization as he dropped his weapon to clutch at the wound. It was fatal, Glailen knew, as he brushed past the man to approach his two comrades. Then there was another cry from where Silthrai fought and this one sounded more urgent. As Glailen looked over he saw a woman curled up on the ground, clutching her stomach before lying still, but what caught his eye was Silthrai holding her leg where a warblade had scored a blow.

Consumed with desperation, Glailen called upon the Force and leapt over the fire to land between Silthrai and her two remaining assailants. They paused at his sudden appearance but then wide, toothy, smiles spread across their faces. It seemed clear to them, and Glailen if he was being honest, that the advantage was firmly theirs as their two companions approached from the other side of the fire. A leg wound would seriously compromise Silthrai's mobility, Glailen would have to bear the brunt of the coming assault. He sized up his foes as he held his weapon at the ready. Deep down he felt resigned to whatever would come next.

"Come on then. The meat will burn." Despite knowing he was likely about to die, a smile was on Glailen's face as the two immediate attackers surged forward, howling with bloodlust.

A hand pulled against Glailen's shoulder and he looked back just as Silthrai lurched forward with a screech of fury, reaching out with a hand and suddenly lightning lashed out to engulf the two attackers. Glailen could only gap as she reached out with her second hand and the other attackers were similarly caught in an electric field. He wasn't sure how long they stood writhing and screaming but it was enough to kill. The lightning finally stopped and all four collapsed lifelessly. Silthrai swayed on her feet and was about to fall as well when Glailen caught her and held her up. Glailen studied the smoldering corpses while beside him Silthrai laboured for breath.

"You couldn't have done that earlier?" he asked.

"Not mad enough earlier." Glailen grunted his understanding. He would be a hypocrite if he argued that. When Silthrai had regained her footing, Glailen nodded towards what remained of their attackers.

"Who were they?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Academy rejects content to wander the wilderness of Korriban."

"Until they met you," said Glailen.

"Until they met us," replied Silthrai in retort. Glailen glanced at her and she grinned back.

"Smell that?" asked Glailen. The other acolyte gave a couple of sniffs of the night air before responding.

"The meat burned."

Glailen helped the injured acolyte over to her pack and she eased down, hissing at the sting from her wound. After examining the cut, Glailen went over to his own bag and rummaged around for a moment. When he returned to Silthrai, he began applying a kolto patch to the wound on her leg. Her eyebrows rose at the sight.

"Kolto patches – you came prepared. Surprised you were able to get your hands on any." Glailen shrugged at the comment.

"My overseer is intent on ensuring I don't fail." A quizzical look was directed at Glailen.

"Having an overseer take a personal interest in you; not sure if that makes you lucky or cursed. My overseer would probably be relieved to hear I died out here." The casual statement gave Glailen pause.

"Why is that?" Even as he asked the question Glailen wondered if he couldn't relate. The only reason Tremel would be upset with him dying would be because the overseer would have to start over with another acolyte.

"Because I was a slave until a couple of years ago." Glailen frowned as he considered that. It sounded like their overseers would get along. But there are no overseers here, thought Glailen fiercely.

"That shouldn't matter. We can't control where we come from and it doesn't define our worth." Silthrai looked at the other acolyte openly, almost like she was revaluating him. After a moment she shook her head.

"Don't need to tell me that but because I was indeed a slave and have hardly any Sith blood in me, Harkun thinks I'm little better than dirt. He's much more interested in the other acolytes – particularly this one pure blood…it doesn't matter. I'm used to it." She waved a hand through the air to dismiss the conversation, as though she wasn't bothered by the whole situation. From her tone and the way she wouldn't meet his eyes, Glailen knew the opposite was true. He also knew enough not to press the issue. Who was he to make things personal? After a moment he let out a tired sigh.

"We should get some sleep." Silthrai allowed Glailen to help her lie down without complaint. She rolled over and began breathing regularly. After taking a moment to look around, sensing for additional threats, Glailen went over to the other side of the fire and eased himself down. A long sigh escaped his lips as he closed his eyes.

"I still have my name." Glailen's eyes opened and he looked over at Silthrai. She was lying still and facing away and for a moment Glailen thought he had imagined what he heard but then she continued.

"They took everything from me but I still have my name. That's how I remember I'm not what they decide I am. Before the Sith, before the slave, there was a little girl and her dreams are too big to be stamped out." Nothing more was forthcoming and Glailen wasn't sure how long he lay staring at the other acolyte's back. Listening to the crackling fire, he felt like he should add something. Some final offering to the night.

"You always have to remember where you came from or you'll forget where you're going." Nodding at his own words, Glailen shut his eyes and soon fell asleep.

The glare of light on his eyelids woke Glailen. He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he looked about. The fire had been reduced to no more than embers which was just as well for with the daylight came the heat that would soon have the acolyte sweating. Other than the fire pit and what remained of the tuk'ata, Glailen was alone. Silthrai was gone. Glailen didn't look far though as he spotted a piece of parchment sticking out from a small rock next to where he had slept. He picked the up the note and read it.

'Sorry to leave in a hurry but I hate goodbyes. Thanks for not being a total Sith last night.

Try not to die, it would be nice to see you again.

Silthrai'

For a while Glailen sat looking at the note before finally folding it up and placing it in his bag. He stood and resumed his long march, finding his feet lighter this morning. His mind kept going back to the note and one line in particular. Thanks for not being a total Sith…maybe I'm not the only one with different ideas of what the Sith could be.

---

After many hours of walking through the valley, Glailen reached the top of a rise and paused to survey his surroundings. Everywhere he looked just like all the rest – except for one spot. From the rise the land sloped down to the feet of a plateau and there could be made out what appeared to be statues or remains of some hand-crafted works of stone. There also looked to be fallen pillars leading the way to the same spot. Glailen consulted his map once again and felt a spark of hope; if he understood correctly then there was a good chance he was in the right place. Animated by the prospect of finally finding the Tomb of Marka Ragnos, Glailen set off towards the plateau with single-minded determination.

The closer he came to his destination the more it appeared to Glailen that he had indeed come across the entrance to an ancient temple or tomb. When finally he could make out the entrance built into the red stone, he felt that sense of hope grow exponentially. His steps became quicker as his body felt renewed with energy. As he came closer, he could confirm he had seen large statues but time and weather had eroded the features. Perhaps they had once shown the likeness of Marka Ragnos or maybe it had been another Sith lord and he was wasting time. The acolyte chose to believe the former.

When he came to the entrance, Glailen stopped and peered inside. It was dark but, like all tombs on Korriban, the walls seemed to give off a faint light. Everything else looked still and silent which did nothing to calm Glailen's nerves. Taking a deep breath, the acolyte took a step forward and passed through the threshold carefully. He was not interested in coming all this way just to be killed or maimed by some long-forgotten trap. Nothing happened though as he entering the tomb and stopped just inside. Already he was faced with a new decision as immediately the tomb offered three different paths to be taken. One of those routes would eventually lead Glailen to the goal of his trial: a Beast of Marka Ragnos – and that was still difficult to accept. In order to pass his trial, he would have to slay a creature chosen by Marka Ragnos himself. If he were a lesser man, Glailen would likely have resorted to becoming another acolyte outcast. As it was, he saw no alternative to seeing the trial through to the end no matter how that would turn out for him.

First, he had to find his target but how? He could pick a path at random and possibly wander for days. Closing his eyes and concentrating, Glailen reached for the Force. Tremel had said the creature was strong because of its affinity to the dark side. Perhaps he could locate it through the Force and not wander aimlessly. Almost immediately Glailen felt surrounded by the dark side with all its temptation and power. It came as no surprise to him, being in a tomb belonging to a dark lord of the Sith – especially Marka Ragnos. The walls practically oozed with the Force which raised a new issue, maybe he wouldn't be able to distinguish the beast from the rest of the tomb; like camouflage. But then, sure enough, he could feel it. There was one spot deep in the tomb that had a relatively stronger concentration of the dark side than anywhere else that Glailen could detect. With no better options available to him, Glailen began working his way towards the source.

It wasn't long before Glailen found there were more twists and turns to the tomb than he had anticipated. Several times he had to double back upon realizing he was moving further away from his destination. At times it was difficult to tell though; he would be the first to admit his ability to sense things in the Force was not anything impressive. Still, it was all he could do and so he kept on and ignored the stress of getting lost. As he made his way through the tunnels, he noticed signs of recent activity; footprints left behind, debris pushed aside, dust and dirt disturbed. Glailen focused on his senses but noticed no sign that someone was close by. It was entirely possible that whoever had passed through did so days a day or more earlier. Eventually, as he got deeper into the tomb, all signs of other people vanished which didn't strike Glailen as odd. It would take a brave soul to venture too deep into such a forbidden place.

Or an acolyte with an overseer expecting greatness out of him, thought Glailen bitterly. Sighing he pushed such thoughts aside and focused on the task. He was beginning to wonder if he would spend all day skulking through the tunnels when he came upon a large chamber. Hesitantly he entered and surveyed his new surroundings. It was rectangular in shape with the far wall collapsed. Round pillars with symbols carved into them rose up to the ceiling. What captured Glailen's attention was along the wall to his left; a staircase led up a short way to a dais and on the dais, he could see a sarcophagus of some sort. Remaining alert, the acolyte walked over to the stairs and ascended to the top. He looked over the stone encasing and marveled at the masonry. The likeness of a sleeping person – a pure blood Sith – had been carved into the stone. With certainty, Glailen knew he was staring at the final resting place of Marka Ragnos.

Have I been sensing you this whole time?

Slowly Glailen reached out a hand to lightly brush away some dust on the stone lid. A rumbling coxed him to spin around, drawing his warblade at the same time. He faced the pile of rubble where the wall had collapsed. The stones trembled ominously. Glailen tightened his hold on this weapon.

An immense clawed limb erupted from the stone launching debris throughout the chamber. Then another limb appeared. Finally, a large head burst forth and the rest of the body followed. A terrifying creature roared at Glailen who stood rooted in place. He was certain he had found the Beast of Marka Ragnos. The creature's maw opened and closed menacingly and Glailen imagined himself being pulled whole into that pit of teeth. On two rather stubby legs the beast began to approach and for a moment the acolyte believed he could win by using greater speed his own legs would allow. Suddenly the creature launched itself at Glailen who had just enough time to leap over the grasping claws. As the arm passed under him Glailen slashed at it with his warblade. His feet landed on the limb and he immediately jumped off, flipping over the monster's head and craving a path with his weapon. He had barely landed when he had to react to the creature charging him. Rolling aside, Glailen escaped the beast's open mouth as it snapped shut where he had been a second earlier. Without pause the acolyte dashed past his foe and sliced at both its calves.

At a safe distance, Glailen stopped and faced the creature. He became dismayed at the sight for the Beast of Marka Ragnos seemed not to notice any of the blows inflicted upon it. The beast's hide was too tough for a warblade to make any significant damage. Frustrated and feeling the familiar sensation of fear creeping up his back, Glailen returned the warblade to its hook on his back and stared at the creature. It was walking towards him, mocking his seeming inability to resist. Concentrating on the Force, Glailen looked around the chamber until he found the stone from the collapsed wall on his right. He raised his right hand and thrust it out towards the beast. At the same time a large rock flew from the pile and smacked into the side of the monster's head. It recoiled from the attack but then glared back with a snarl, blood oozing from a cut above its left eye. Without a moment's hesitation, Glailen lifted as many rocks as he could and hurled them at the beast but it didn't simply remain still this time. It charged him, pummeling through the stones and smashing its powerful fists on the ground at Glailen's feet. The acolyte attempted to back step but was caught but one of the beast's flailing arms and sent flying until he hit a wall. He fell to a sitting position and fought back against the clouds in his mind.

It was difficult to keep his eyes open but Glailen looked over at the creature just as it charged again, one vicious claw outstretched. At the last second the acolyte rolled feebly to the side and the claw struck the wall, striking deep gouges into the stone. The monster turned its terrifying gaze upon him and Glailen saw his death in those eyes. A death he couldn't accept. He called upon as much of the Force as he could and pushed against the beast will all his might. Suddenly the creature was flung across the chamber to make a deafening crash against the far wall.

Gasping, Glailen fell back and heaved for air but a voice in his head commanded he get up. He wasn't done – the fight was not over.

With a great show of strength, Glailen got to his feet. He then fell to his knees. Still labouring for breath, he stared across the chamber at the Beast of Marka Ragnos extricating itself from the impact point on the wall. Anger welled up inside the acolyte. It grew until it overcame exhaustion, pain and fear.

The beast roared and charged its prey.

Glailen raised his hands to the sky, howling his defiance.

Chunks of stone and stalactites shook free of the ceiling and plummeted to the floor. Some struck the beast as he ran. A stalactite became embedded in its shoulder causing it to stumble but still it came on. Glailen worked the Force through the rock above, forcing more and more to fall. The world shook around Glailen but he refused to let up. If he were to die then he would take the beast with him. With a final surge he brought down a torrent of rock and dirt. It showered around the monster as it attempted to push through.

Finally, the conflagration became too much for the creature as it slowed and fell prey to boulders as large as itself. A claw reached through the dust only to fall short of where Glailen knelt. The acolyte waited for the scene to settle. When he could see through the dust, he found the only thing still visible of the beast was the hand that had sought his flesh. It didn't move.

Sighing his exhaustion, Glailen rose unsteadily to his feet then began walking slowly through the rubble. He made his way around the mound that was to serve as the grave for the Beast of Marka Ragnos, leaning on the pile of rocks to keep from falling over. As he came in sight of the entrance to the tunnel he stopped and stared. Four men wearing torn up acolyte tunics were hesitantly entering the room, gaping at the destruction. They spotted him shortly after he saw them and moved towards him. Their faces spoke of ill intentions. Glailen fumbled for his warblade and pushed off the mound.

"Alright, who wants to try their luck first."