3 BBY, PROVODI III,

GREATER TION REGION

Prologue

Provodi III was a world of contrasts. Lush forests blanketed its surface, with towering trees whose canopies formed a verdant sea that rippled in the wind. Rolling hills and expansive plains were dotted with crystalline lakes that shimmered under the sun. The air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the songs of exotic avian creatures, creating an idyllic backdrop that belied the turmoil brewing beneath.

Veridia was the heart that kept Provodi united, a nexus of cultural and political power that harmonized the diverse elements of the planet. Its elegant skyline, a tapestry of spires and domes, stood as a testament to the architectural prowess of its inhabitants, blending ancient tradition with modern ingenuity akin to the fusion of Coruscant's skyscrapers and Naboo's classical beauty. Veridia's sweeping bridges and towering walls had protected its people for generations, serving as both a symbol and a safeguard of unity. Cobblestone streets, winding through bustling marketplaces and serene gardens, facilitated commerce and fostered a sense of community, echoing the vibrancy of Coronet City on Corellia. The architectural marvels of Veridia were a sight to behold. Gleaming white stone edifices adorned with intricate carvings rose high above the streets. Grand statues of Imperial and Provodese heroes stood sentinel in public squares, their forms bathed in the soft glow of street lamps. The Royal Palace, an imposing structure of marble and gold, dominated the city's center, its high towers and fortified walls symbolizing the might and majesty of the realm. This tranquility, now shattered by the echo of conflict, beheld the vital role Veridia played in maintaining the cohesion and spirit of Provodi.

Tonight, Veridia trembled under the weight of rebellion. For nearly five months, a fierce civil war had raged across Provodi III, a desperate struggle to oust the tyrannical King Hyress and end the Empire's oppressive grip on their world. The once serene streets of Veridia, lined with flowering trees and intricate mosaics, were now battlegrounds, their beauty marred by the relentless tide of insurgency.

The capital was a city under siege. Buildings that once stood as proud testaments to Provodese culture now lay in ruins, their elegant facades crumbling under the onslaught of rebel bombardment. Fires raged unchecked, casting a hellish glow over the cityscape. The acrid scent of smoke hung thick in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and the stench of death.

The Provodese rebels, driven by desperation and the will to reclaim their freedom, had commandeered stolen Imperial technology, turning the Empire's own machinery against its forces. These captured vehicles laid siege to the city with relentless efficiency, their heavy blasters and turbolasers pounding the palace walls and obliterating defensive positions. HAVr A9 Fortresses hovered ominously above the ground, their sleek, armored hulls impervious to small arms fire, while the HAVw A6 Juggernauts, massive and imposing, rolled through the torn town squares like behemoths of war. Their heavy armor and devastating weaponry turned each street corner into a battlefield, crushing any resistance with relentless force. TIE Crawlers, with their twin tracks and powerful cannons, wreaked havoc in the narrow streets, their weapons tearing apart stone and steel alike. The V-wings roared overhead, strafing loyalist positions and adding to the chaos below. Together, these stolen war machines formed an unstoppable force that shook the very foundations of Veridia, threatening to bring the once proud city to its knees.

The king's own royal forces, bolstered by four platoons of Imperial stormtroopers and HAVs of their own, fought valiantly to repel the onslaught. These platoons, clad in pristine white armor, were strategically positioned throughout the capital. AV-9 cannons, placed on key defensive structures, unleashed devastating volleys of fire, their beams slicing through the air and creating temporary gaps in the rebel assault. Provodese AH6-Anti armor cannons, deployed at several choke points, sought to neutralize the rebels' stolen heavy machinery, their armor-piercing rounds aimed at the weak points of the fortresses and Juggernauts.

The devastation of Veridia was unparalleled. Entire city blocks lay in ruins, with crumbling facades of buildings teetering precariously before collapsing into the streets below. The ground was scarred with deep craters from relentless artillery fire, and shattered transparisteel littered every surface, reflecting the flames that consumed the remnants of shops and homes. The air was thick with dust and smoke, obscuring vision and casting a grim pall over the battlefield.

The echoes of war replaced the city's once familiar sounds. Streets that had been filled with the laughter of children playing were now drowned in the cacophony of blaster fire, explosions, and the anguished cries of the wounded. The lively marketplaces, once bustling with traders and shoppers haggling over goods, were now deserted, their colorful stalls reduced to twisted metal and burning debris. Towns squares that once bustled with lively festivals became graveyards where the fallen lay unburied, their bodies a stark testament to the city's agony. The few remaining civilians, trapped by the chaos, huddled in basements and makeshift shelters, their eyes wide with terror as the sounds of war raged above them.

Despite their valiant efforts, the king's forces found themselves overwhelmed. The floating fortresses proved nearly invulnerable to the defensive cannons, their thick hulls absorbing or deflecting most of the incoming fire. The Juggernauts, on both sides, clashed in titanic battles, their cannons exchanging thunderous blasts that echoed through the crumbling cityscape. Several TIE Crawlers flanked the loyalist positions, their cannons tearing through defensive lines and sowing chaos among the defenders. Overhead, V-wings dueled in the sky, the sound of their engines and the flash of their laser fire adding to the pandemonium.

As the siege entered its 13th day, it became clear that Veridia was on the brink of collapse. The palace, once a symbol of the king's unyielding power, now stood battered and scarred, its ornate walls shaking under the continuous bombardment. Intricate carvings depicting the kingdom's history were marred by scorch marks and shrapnel. Towering spires, once gleaming with golden accents, were now fractured and blackened. The defenses, formidable as they were, simply could not withstand the overwhelming force of the Provodese assault. Inside, King Hyress, once hailed as a visionary leader, clung to power amidst the tumultuous tempest of rebellion. His loyal kingsguard, stalwart and resolute, formed a shield against the tide of insurgents who sought to reclaim their city from the grip of tyranny.

Inside, the chamber was silent except for the echo of Kaell Brenko's own labored breaths. Around him, the ornate trappings of power seemed to mock the brutality of the act he had just committed. King Hyress, once a symbol of authority and order, now lay lifeless on the cold black marble floor, his blood staining the regal tapestries. The throne room of the Imperial Palace, normally a testament to the splendor and might of the Provodese Kingdom, now felt like a mausoleum. Grand pillars adorned with intricate carvings rose to a vaulted ceiling, from which hung opulent chandeliers that cast a ghostly glow over the scene. Rich tapestries depicting the planet's proud history lined the walls, now bearing silent witness to the treachery that had unfolded within their confines.

Kaell knelt beside the fallen monarch, his hands trembling as he stared down at the corpse. His mind raced, thoughts colliding like ships in the vastness of space. The weight of his sword felt heavier now, not just in his grip but in the burden of betrayal that settled upon his shoulders. He was the Captain of the Kingsguard, Hyress' iron fist, sworn protector of the realm. The black and red armor he wore, emblazoned with the royal crest, now seemed a cruel mockery of his oath.

King Hyress had been more than just his liege; he had been a mentor, a guiding hand through the tumultuous waters of court politics. He had seen potential in Kaell, plucking him from obscurity and shaping him into a leader. Their bond had been forged in the fires of mutual respect and friendship. The king's voice, once a source of wisdom and comfort, now echoed in Kaell's mind like a haunting refrain.

He had sworn an oath to protect the king, to serve with loyalty and honor. Yet, in a single moment of clarity—or madness—he had become the instrument of regicide. The irony was not lost on him—the royal guard turned king's killer. He had betrayed not only his king but also his brothers and sisters in arms, those who had stood by his side through countless battles, bound by their shared duty to defend the throne. He had betrayed the entire kingdom.

The Kingsguard, clad in their imposing black and red armor, were a formidable force. Each guard was handpicked for their skill and loyalty, their presence a constant reminder of the king's unassailable authority. The crimson accents of their armor, symbolizing their readiness to shed blood for the crown, now seemed to bleed into the blackness, a visual metaphor for the chaos and treachery that had engulfed them all.

Images flashed through his mind: the escalating tyranny, the cries of the oppressed, the faces of those condemned unjustly under the King's rule. Each memory was a shard of glass cutting into his conscience, a reminder of the cost of unchecked power and the price of obedience. The anguish of those he had failed to protect gnawed at his soul.

The rebels outside, fighting for their freedom, were mirrored in his own struggle for justice within these walls. He had chosen this path, knowing full well the consequences. But now, as he gazed upon the lifeless form of his liege, doubt gnawed at his resolve. Was this the right choice? Had he forsaken his duty, or fulfilled it in the most unexpected way? The answers eluded him, hidden behind the veil of his conflicted heart.

The sound of rapid movement shattered the silence, jolting Kaell back to the present. He glanced up, meeting the accusing eyes of his fellow Kingsguard, their expressions a mix of horror and fury.

In a surge of collective outrage, the remaining kingsguard descended upon him with the force of a tempest. Hands that had once clasped in camaraderie now gripped him with brutal strength, their voices a cacophony of disbelief and accusation. They bore him to the ground, the weight of their crimson armor pressing down upon him like a judgment. Kaell offered no resistance as he was tackled to the cold, unforgiving floor. His gaze remained fixed on the lifeless form of King Hyress, the crimson pool of blood slowly spreading beneath him like a dark omen.

"What have you done?!" shouted Taraka, his voice a thunderous accusation that reverberated through the chamber. His eyes blazed with a mixture of grief and righteous fury, his hands gripping Kaell's shoulders with punishing force.

In the midst of the tumult, another Kingsguard, Altome, stepped forward, his features twisted in anguish. "Do you even comprehend what you've unleashed?" he demanded, his voice raw with emotion. "You've damned the kingdom with his death!"

Kaell's response was a hoarse whisper, laden with bitter resignation. "The kingdom was damned long before this day," he murmured, his words barely audible above the chaos.

Silence descended upon the chamber once more, broken only by the ragged breaths of those caught in the grip of disbelief and the distant blaster fire outside the palace walls. The weight of his actions pressed down upon Kaell like a leaden shroud, each heartbeat a reminder of the irreversible path he had chosen.

Then, as the accusations continued to swirl around him, another voice pierced the tense atmosphere. "And Elara," the voice trembling with grief. "You've orphaned Elara!"

The name struck Kaell like a thunderbolt, the weight of it crushing his spirit. Memories flooded his mind: Elara's laughter echoing through the palace corridors, her bright eyes filled with innocence and hope, her trust in him as her protector.

Guilt and determination warred within him, a storm raging beneath a facade of stoic resolve. He met their accusing gazes with a solemn nod, acknowledging the enormity of his deed yet unable to articulate the tangled web of motives that had driven him to this precipice.

"The rebels have breached sectors 3, 8, and 13," shouted Jarek, another guard, his voice edged with panic. "TIE Crawlers and numerous foot soldiers have penetrated the defenses. We're being overrun!"

"Our defense perimeter is collapsing!" said Lenari, her face pale with fear. "Without the king, what the hell is the point of defending it?"

Taraka's eyes hardened, and he barked a command, "The princess! Her survival is absolutely vital, she's our last hope."

"The Imperials will be here soon," Taraka continued, his voice a mix of determination and urgency. "They're sending reinforcements—three full TIE Fighter wings and an entire contingent of Imperial special forces. We need to hold out until they arrive."

Kaell's voice, a bitter rasp, cut through the uncertainty. "Fools," he muttered, his words laced with scorn. "The Empire has played us for years." His gaze hardened, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. "You think they'll save us? They'll tighten their grip, not offer salvation…"

"What are you saying, Kaell?" Taraka demanded, his grip tightening on Kaell's collar. "Speak clearly!"

Another guard, Merek, stepped forward, shaking his head. "He's gone mad. He's one of them!"

Kaell's eyes blazed with a fierce intensity. "Mad? Maybe. But blind? No. Hyress was a puppet, and we were his strings. The Empire's grip is iron and unyielding. They don't save, they conquer. The king.."

Altome cut him off, his voice was a choked plea. "And what of Elara? What future does she have now, with her father dead and her kingdom, our kingdom, in ruins?!"

Kaell's defiance faltered, replaced by a profound sadness. His voice began to break, tears welling up in his eyes. "Elara... she'll have to survive in a world we couldn't save. We failed her. I failed her."

Taraka's eyes flashed with urgency as he turned to the remaining guards. "Merek, Lenari, call up the reserves. Send every available troop to reinforce Elara's chambers. They are to defend her with their lives."

A tense silence settled over the room, broken only by the distant sounds of battle. Finally, Jarek, his face pale and resolute, raised his blaster. "Enough. We have no time for this. We need to keep the palace secure and hold it."

"No!" Merek interjected. "We need answers. We need to understand why he did this."

But Jarek was unwavering. "There's no time for answers. He is a traitor to the kingdom. We need action, and we need it now." He began to adjust the setting on his blaster, moving it to kill.

Before Jarek could act, Taraka placed a hand on his arm, his face contorted with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "Wait" he said quietly. "I'll handle this." Taraka unholstered his weapon and switched the blaster to stun, his movements deliberate.

Kaell looked up, meeting Taraka's eyes. There was a lifetime of shared memories between them: training together, fighting side by side, protecting the realm under Hyress's command. Taraka's hand trembled slightly as he aimed the blaster.

"Why, brother?" Taraka's voice cracked with emotion. "Why did you do it?"

Kaell's voice was a whisper, laden with regret. "For justice, for the kingdom... I had… I had no choice."

Jarek, watching Taraka closely, demanded, "Why stun him?! He deserves to die for this treachery!"

Taraka's gaze hardened as he stared down at Kaell, then back at Jarek. "Silence! We'll deal with him later."

Without waiting for further debate, he fired. The stun blast struck Kaell with shocking force. Electricity surged through his body, wrenching a cry of pain from his lips. Darkness encroached swiftly, swallowing him whole.

In his final moments of consciousness, Kaell's mind raced through memories of Princess Elara—their laughter echoing through sunlit gardens, her smile radiant and untainted by the shadows that now consumed him. Her innocence was a stark contrast to the chaos he had wrought upon the kingdom.

As oblivion claimed him, Kaell Brenko found solace in the fleeting warmth of those memories, even as the consequences of his actions plunged Provodi deeper into inevitable uncertainty and despair.

Merek and Laneri exchanged glances and breathed a sigh of relief, their eyes reflecting the turmoil within. Merek's jaw tightened, his gaze lingering on Kaell's unconscious form with a mixture of sorrow and reluctance. Lenari's usually steady hands trembled slightly as she fought to suppress her emotions, her expression a mask of quiet anguish.

They nodded in understanding, not out of agreement with Kaell's actions, but out of the unbearable weight of the idea of losing another person they revered—a mentor, a confidant, and a figure they deeply admired. In that silent exchange, they conveyed their shared sorrow and the grim acceptance of the harsh realities that lie ahead. Jarek scoffed and stumbled backwards, disgusted with the choice.

Taraka released his grip and knelt beside Kaell's unconscious form, his expression a mix of sorrow and determination. "You've damned us all to these beasts, Kaell. You've damned Elara." he whispered. "May the gods have mercy on us all."