3 Months, 23 days after the Battle of Geonosis
Armand Isard's eyes stare intensely at Jallis Mar as he explains, "If allowed to continue unabated, Devlikk King Elgaf's plan to secede will have a profound impact on not just our efforts within the Esstran Sector, but dramatically tip the scales in favor of the Confederacy over the entire Trans-Hydian Borderlands." Isard is not one to exaggerate, but the icy determination that accompanies his Coruscanti accent can have a profound impact nevertheless. This is Jallis's first time hearing about the matter, yet Isard still makes him still feel guilty for it not being solved.
"If his government, the Kingdom of Aratia, were to join the Confederacy," Isard elaborates, "that would only be about 160,000,000 sentients, barely a tenth of the Ord Radama's total population, but the fact that the planet would contain one sub-constituency within the Republic and one sub-constituency within the Confederacy would render the its orbital space politically neutral, and grant the Confederacy a right to travel through it. Allowing that would, of course, grant them the ability to ship matériel across the entirety of the Myeni Corridor and provide them with a staging area to invade any planet on the northeast end of the Hydian Way."
This just in: It's bad for us when planets or parts of planets join the bad guys. Who would have thought of that? Nevertheless, Jallis nods approvingly at Isard's explanation.
"Our military is spread thin as always, so we aren't exactly looking forward to having to hold Ord Radama by force. Of course, we are currently in the process of searching for a diplomatic solution, but if and when the negotiations fall through, we are…" Isard pauses, and his voice becomes lower, quieter. "We're considering assassination."
Jallis blinks. "I am a Jedi. I will conduct espionage for you, and I will sabotage Confederacy comms, but this crosses a line," he proclaims, reminding himself of his loyalty to the Force and to what is good is more important than his loyalty to the Republic.
Isard leans forward, staring daggers at Jallis, and he whispers, incredulously, "Jedi Knight Mar, are you telling me that you can't infiltrate the castle of some little bird who thinks he can stand up to the Republic? If you want to serve COMPOR, this is what you have to do. Are you up to it, or do you need me to transfer you to serve somewhere else?" For a few seconds, both of them are silent, and then Jallis makes up his mind.
4 months, 2 days after the Battle of Geonosis
The faint yet distinct reverberation of keratin grazing against stone continues to echo throughout the courtyard, getting louder and closer with each passing second. The time to hide has arrived.
His mustached face veiled by a dark hood, Jallis glances throughout the courtyard, with both the mortal instruments of his eyes and the overwhelming wisdom of the Force. His eyes grasp what is in front of them, latching onto what is illuminated, but to the droplets of awareness that they collect, the Force is an ocean of knowledge. His eyes note the potential hiding places behind the columns on either side of the courtyard, supporting the building above them, but the Force warns him that they are bound to be searched and not the way.
The Force is subtle, it does not speak in absolutes like the blacks and whites that his eyes are capable of detecting.
His focus is slowly directed toward the doorway from which the sounds seem to be originating, but then upwards, to the stone wall above it. The doorway is circular at the top, and all of it is surrounded by a thin line of stone that sticks out. This layer seems to be an exclusively decorative feature, as it contains what appears to be highly stylized writing in the Devlikk language, but it also serves Jallis in a practical manner: As the sounds grow closer, he leaps up into the air, augmenting the muscles in his legs with the wondrous power of the Force, and his dark cloak billows behind him as he soars through the air.
With startling precision, he lands atop the thin ledge above the door, despite it being not much more than five centimeters out of the wall above it. A faint crack resounds through the air, far louder than he would like. Waiting atop the ledge, balanced precariously, he sighs silently, and he looks down at the doorway below him. Things are not right with me tonight. I am not who I must be. There is a sinking feeling in his stomach, and he clenches his fist. The sound of keratin on stone is below him now, and a green-feathered avian with a long neck and short legs emerges from the doorway.
It is, as he feared, a guard. Taller than most Devlikk but still shorter than any human, the diminutive watchman is alert, waving his flashlight around with a pathetic degree of enthusiasm, and his aura is one of smug overconfidence in his skills and the blaster at his side. The emblem of the Kingdom of Aratia is one he wears with pride. He steps into the courtyard, about a meter beyond the doorway, and observes his surroundings.
He, of course, fails to turn around before Jallis can swiftly land behind him, the master of infiltration easily avoiding a cognizance which is determined only by mere eyes and ears.
As the Force forewarned, the guard looks carefully behind each of the columns, all while his quarry ducks underneath the doorway behind him, stepping like a ghost into the dimly lit passageway of the castle's interior.
The fortress is a backwards one, refusing to use any sort of technology that would improve upon the brutal humidity that plagues the planet of Ord Radama, which strikes Jallis as eerily symptomatic of its current ruler's overall outlook, one looking to return Ord Radama to its earlier state of rural communities unaffected by the wealth brought to the planet by offworld businessmen.
As Jallis moves from winding corridor to winding corridor, the layout of the centuries-old castle well-memorized, it is clear to him that King Elgaf would need quadruple his staff of guards if he wanted to have a decent chance at stopping even a moderately skilled infiltrator, much less a Jedi Knight. Security holocameras are far too few, and the attempts to hide them are equally pitiful. Each is as easy to avoid as the guards.
After stepping on a bug, he notes the irony in how even a worthless insect noticed him more so than everyone paid to do so. The Devlikk guards are quite literally less than worthless.
As he gets closer and closer to the King's personal chambers, the castle slowly fades into darkness. Glaring lights in a futile attempt at security around the outside were replaced with a more tolerable light level on the inside, and as he now goes into the King's personal living chambers, the lights are further dimmed to match a level similar to moonlight, as if to remind the castle's occupants of the time of day.
It is not long before he reaches King Elgaf's bedroom, which is protected by a door that appears to be locked. Two guards stand outside the entrance, and he senses the presences of both of them, each restless and bored. He stretches out to each of their minds, and to each, he creates the illusion of a loud noise coming from their left. They stare at one another briefly before they each turn towards the source of the phantom sound.
Jallis makes his move, taking swift strides to reach the doorway before seizing a fusion cutter to cut open a small hole, barely noticeable, in the control panel, behind which he observes a tangle of wires. Telekinetically, rearranges and eventually manages to hotwire the poorly-designed panel, all before the guards have even started their walk back towards their post.
The door opens, and he enters carefully, disabling the security camera above him. He closes the door behind him, and he is left alone with the target.
The room is in nearly total darkness once the door is closed, but he is still able to observe it using the Force. In the center is a bed, large for a Devlikk but still on the small side for a human. The walls are exclusively stone brick, as they avoided windows out of security concerns. That's annoying, but also something he planned for beforehand. Getting out shouldn't be any harder than getting in as long as I bide my time.
Jallis moves toward the sleeping figure, the heinous being who could bring Ord Radama to ruin. As he extends his trembling hand, it again occurs to him that assassinating an unarmed sentient as he is about to do would be almost certain grounds for expulsion from the Jedi Order.
His hesitancy, the voice in his head saying that it isn't too late to come back, does not act as a barrier to his hand reaching out toward the King, but it is a barrier to his mind reaching out toward the King via the Force.
This is necessary. This is the only way to keep peace on Ord Radama.
He imagines the war, the Confederacy's reign, and… the condescending voice of Armand Isard. That distinctive Coruscanti accent, the incredulous dissatisfaction in his failure, and the smugness. Armand is as patriotic as they come, but should one of his subordinates fail in their service to the Republic, he has a way of gloating over their failures that Jallis hates. "You let yourself get bested by a naïve fool like King Elgaf? I thought you said you were better than that."
Jallis snarls, and he finally opens up to the full power of the Force. Overwhelmed by his desire to bring justice to Ord Radama, its welcoming current flows through him like a waterfall.
There is a distinct voice in his head: "No, don't do it!"
The voice is one that he has heard for years, one that defined his more innocent days, one from a time when things were simple.
It is the voice of Master Kindee Ya, the Quermian Jedi Master who trained him in the ways of the Force. While many Jedi have telepathic abilities using the Force, the Quermians tend to specialize in those fields more than most. He last heard from her three months ago, just after he passed the Jedi Trials.
She likely knows little specifics about what is going on, but she no doubt senses the turmoil in him even from halfway across the galaxy. He shakes his head as if she can see the gesture, and he then thinks back to her, "You don't understand. Things are more complicated than you realize. Times are different now."
King Elgaf stirs in his bed.
"Perhaps it is you who are different now," she replies, in her usual haughty tone, criticizing him as though she is privy to every situation and above any fallacy in judgement herself.
"I should have been more vocal to the Council. You were not ready to be on your own," she proclaims. The condescending words sting, even though they are both Jedi Knights and she technically no longer has any real authority over him.
Sighing, he retorts back, "I have a job to do! We are called to serve the Republic."
"Your loyalty to the Republic must not overturn the Jedi Code," she explains.
"I can remain loyal to both."
She then begins to lecture, "The way into darkness is a slippery one. You won't change in a day, but it's a slow fade. Once you start down the dark path, a price will be paid."
The last line sends chills down his spine, and he is left alone with his thoughts and the sleeping monarch. The stillness drags on for minutes. What will the price be?
Can I pay it?
Still perfectly silent, he paces nervously about the room, eyes on the Devlikk who remains asleep, hand sliding out from the folds of his cloak but not outreached. Is the price the life of King Elgaf, who is dangerously misguided but perhaps actually innocent? Surely, if a toll is calculated among innocent lives lost, his death would be a small price to pay in comparison to lives I will save by bringing peace?
His life is not the price that she is referring to. But what is the price? It is…
He turns around and finds himself looking into a mirror, and he is surprised. He should not have been surprised, he had noticed the mirror before, but it is how the Force now speaks to him as he looks at the very darkened yet faintly visible version of his own face.
Look in the mirror; the answer is there.
Master Ya once told him after he attempted to cheat on lightsaber training by reprogramming one of the droids that he could never get away with anything. "Even if no one had caught you, you would've paid the price," she had explained, "Evil always catches up to you."
What happens when it catches up? What is the price?
For once, he wishes he had the counsel of his former Master, but he doesn't want to come begging for answers after all this time. To ask her would prove her point that he shouldn't be on his own in the first place. He is on his own now, and he is capable of making this choice. He again looks into the darkened silhouette of his own face in the mirror. The answer is there.
The answer is… behind me? The answer is me? The answer is inside me?
He can almost hear Master Ya's chiding voice as the Force proclaims, you know what it is.
When he was a youngling, one of his mentors illustrated to him that the Dark Side is like the legendary ortha-ker monster of Railis V. It is a legend that everyone knows, you take even a step into the muddied waters of Lake Villai, and the ortha-ker's tentacles will grab your foot and drag you down into the murky depths forever.
Being attacked by a mythical monster if he takes this one step towards the Dark Side is almost certainly a metaphorical warning, but a warning for it? Do they mean that someone will find out and take revenge by punishing me?
Surely a master of stealth like me can manage to cover my tracks better than that, and Master Ya has no evidence outside of her own feelings, not that she would be the type to tattle-tale anyway. Armand Isard knows of this, but he is in total approval of my actions. The King will not live to tell the tale.
If I, for the good of Ord Radama, take this step into the darkness, and then step back, no one will ever know but me. It will be controlled; I will do what is necessary for the greater good, and then I will be done.
As he prepares to become a murderer, he dips his toes into the puddle of the darkness. It is controlled, necessary, staying as much in the light as possible.
Slowly, he extends out a trembling hand, and he reaches out into the mind of King Elgaf. His conscience is seemingly absent from the rest of his mind in his sleep; it is like exploring a vacant building. He witnesses, in a distant way, more like reading about a past event than seeing it, the King's despicable naïveté, his delusions of bringing harmony to Ord Radama, his belief that he is the one who will save the Devlikk people from millenia of imagined oppression.
If only he could just understand. If only he could just see the bigger picture, and see how he is wrong. Through the Force, these thoughts begin to bridge the gap between their minds, and a mental war is fought for the mind of King Elgaf. Consciousness is slowly returning to his once asleep mind, mental barriers are slowly constructed, and his attempts to expel Jallis from his mind become more forceful.
His will is surprisingly powerful, the King begins to triumph over Jallis. As Jallis's mind is slowly expelled from the King's, the last thing he senses from the King's mind is satisfaction, as though he has conquered a great evil. Oh, you think you're so good, don't you?
Jallis snarls, and he feels his heart race as he is suddenly overwhelmed by the power of the Force, like a giant ocean wave, a dozen stories high, falling over him and engulfing him in darkness. Before he can even think, before he can consider, he is lifting the King up, who is now totally awakened, arms flailing around helplessly, and Jallis throws him with all of his might.
The King's momentary terror, the realization of his impending doom, is delicious, satisfying a primal part of Jallis's mind in a way that the Light Side of the Force never had. Oh, how the tables have turned. In a fraction of a second, King Elgaf is killed on impact, and it is concluded. The force of the collision is not just enough to shatter hollow avian bones, it is enough to make a crack through the stone brick wall. Wanting to expand the damage, he moves his victim back, and he throws him into the wall again, this time with enough velocity to make a larger hole.
And it feels so good.
The door opens behind him, revealing two stunned guards. So much for stealth. Ready to kill yet again, he ignites his golden blade, and he sees his own reflection, his face bathed in yellow light.
His eyes are especially yellow, but that's surely just a trick of the light.