Emotions – 3660.015 BY
Zanleya sat on the edge of her bunk staring blankly at the plain wall in front of her, mind lost in a myriad of swirling thoughts. The young acolyte was still clad in her blood splattered robes, the stains now rusty brown and was barely any cleaner herself. But she barely even noticed her attire, instead feeling strange, as if she was undergoing some kind of metamorphism from who she had been to somebody new. Every time she closed her eyes she could see her vibrosword tearing through Frendric's throat and hear his last choking cry ringing in her ears. Yet she did not feel remorse, there was no guilt and that in itself was puzzling her, she was not experiencing shame, sorrow or any feelings of culpability. She had almost been expecting her actions to be haunting her. But there was nothing. All she was experiencing was the fading effects of her sudden connection to the dark side. She had expected that she would be questioning her actions, staring at her shaking hands, instead they were just resting on her knees. She had taken somebody's life, snuffed out the light of a living being. In the end it had been easy, a simple downwards slash so similar to those she had practiced countless times. He had deserved it, she reasoned, as if trying to justify it all, had their positions been reversed he would have killed her without a moment's hesitation. He had in fact sent those exiled acolytes to slay her, literally ordered people to end her life. Yet, she did not need the justification to clear a guilty conscience, it was done and that was that.
A chime from the intercom interrupted her maudlin brooding.
"Your master wishes to see you," a timorous voice notified her. Zanleya turned her head to the door and waved her hand, activating it with the force. It slid open to reveal a green skinned male twi'lek with his head bowed, clad in the garb of a slave.
"What did he say?" Zanleya inquired, getting to her feet.
"Just that," the slave replied, not lifting his gaze.
"Very well," she stated simply. She crossed the small space known to her as home, past her sparse decorations. There were a couple of ancient scrolls on her desk half read, a claw of the first k'lor'slug she had killed hung by the narrow window and her old golden orange slaves dress was pinned to the wall, to constantly remind her of her past and fuel her hate. She swept past her meagre trappings without hesitation and headed for Darth Kharvak's chambers.
She expected he wanted to comment on her performance in the tomb, perhaps reprimand her for not going after the alpha beast or maybe congratulate her on defeating Frendric. Though, as she well knew, speculation was all but pointless where Darth Kharvak was concerned, she could rarely second guess him.
It did not take many minutes before she was standing outside his chambers, still looking dishevelled and dirty from her morning in the tomb. After only a moment the door slid open granting her entry to Kharvak's sanctum. He was seated for once, sat in his high backed chair with an ancient tome upon the desk in front of him. He closed the weighty book as she entered, granting her his full attention. Zanleya noticed that his face seemed less stern than usual, something she considered strange, his characteristic brooding yet aloof expression softer.
"You did well today my apprentice," Darth Kharvak stated by way of introduction, he leant forward and almost smiled at her. Zanleya tried not to outwardly display surprise, but she certainly felt it, he scarcely ever called her his apprentice. Normally he would only give her commands, never openly acknowledging their relationship.
"Thank you my master," Zanleya replied, quickly regaining her composure. She walked to the centre of the chamber and adopted her customary position, kneeling with her hands in her lap. She could easily see Kharvak over his desk and he could deliver lessons from the comfort of his chair, not that he usually did so, pacing seemed to suit him far better.
"You were smart not to chase after Lord Claw's prize," Kharvak remarked.
"Thank you master, I thought there would be too many others going for it. I didn't wish a vibrosword in the back when I already have you to teach me," she said, relieved that he was applauding rather than condemning her. She had learnt long ago to be honest with Kharvak. From painful experience she had come to the conclusion that he could sense even the tiniest smudging of the truth or the smallest omitted fact.
"A wise decision. Too many are swayed by promises of grand rewards and run blindly forward like a charging rancor without properly assessing the risks or their chances of success. Several of your fellow acolytes made this mistake today and paid with their lives," Kharvak replied. "You were right not to chase it; you do not need to impress me with deeds of reckless courage. I want to see you think for yourself, act for your own benefit and further your personal aims, which you did," he commended. Zanleya nodded, in a way she was grateful that Kharvak was her master and not somebody like Darth Thanaton. Kharvak could be harsh and unforgiving, but, providing she could explain her actions and justify them, he did not unduly punish deviation from his expectations or the use of underhand tactics. Whereas another Darth might punish their acolyte for not following instructions to the letter or for not being the greatest in any given competition, Kharvak would be lenient if he could see that she was taking initiative. This was not to say he had not castigated her before. More than once she had been scraped off the floor by a meddroid after he had chastised her for failure to pay attention or for poor performance. However, as with her current situation, he was not angry for her playing it safe and sticking to what she knew she could achieve.
"I also hear that you fought and killed another acolyte," he stated.
"Yes master. He attacked me along with a trio of outcasts. Änastasiä was there and together we beat them," she affirmed, again opting for a policy of transparency and not attempting to pretend it was all her own achievement. She did not bother to ask how he knew what had happened, she had just come to accept that her master had eyes and ears everywhere.
"Frendric was a fool and deserved what he got. One does not move against a more powerful opponent until certain of victory, to do otherwise is rash. If you do not believe you can beat an enemy in a duel, you stab them in the back. If you do not believe you can sneak up on them to stab them, you hit them with a bomb. If you do not believe you can bomb them, you find a way to make peace until you are better equipped to bring them down. Frendric should have known you were the better duellist and not attacked you. He was therefore not worthy to become Sith and you did our kind a service by removing him from the Academy," Kharvak lectured. Zanleya nodded, it was a lesson she had heard before. Darth Kharvak, despite outward appearances, did not fight with honour. He was a firm believer that the only victor was the one still standing, that no tactic was too foul or disgraceful.
"I would not have survived without Änastasiä," Zanleya admitted, her eyes downcast. "His strategy of recruiting help to overcome me would have worked had she not been there."
"And it was stupid of him to attack you both," Kharvak countered.
"That is true," Zanleya agreed.
"Nonetheless, what matters is that you stand before me and he does not," Kharvak said. "You killed today, tell me what happened, describe it. I want to hear an account of the fight from your own lips." Zanleya proceeded to narrate the events of the morning, relating as best she could how Frendric had met his end.
"What gave you strength? From what did you draw power?" Kharvak queried once she had finished.
"What do you mean master?" Zanleya asked apologetically.
"What emotion was it, was it hate, anger or something else?" Kharvak clarified. Zanleya was relieved at his patience, he was clearly in a good mood.
"Anger, I guess, and the will to stay alive," she replied.
"And when you struck him down?"
"I killed him in wrath and with the determination to become Sith," she answered, the moment still crystal clear in her mind.
"Good, through passion I gain strength. This is why we will ultimately triumph over the pathetic Jedi, they try to fight without emotion and it makes them weak. Passion gives us strength, it lets us connect to and harness the force, control it and bend it to our will. Fighting with anger makes us strong, it fuels us," Kharvak lectured.
"Yes master, I have no shortage of sources of anger." She had only to think of her father and her face would twist into a snarl and her hands clench into fists.
"Good, but remember that anger does not have to be the only source of our strength," Kharvak stated. Zanleya frowned slightly, he was deviating from teaching she had heard before, it was not a lesson she was familiar with. She did not interrupt him though, curious to see where his line of logic was going. "Passion is not restricted to anger and hate, during a battle they are emotions that are easy to access and draw upon. It is trivial to hate your enemy or to be angry at the circumstances that led you to combat. But sometimes other emotions are better. Passion covers joy, love, happiness… anything that you feel passionately about," Kharvak explained. Zanleya paused, she had never heard of the concept of a Sith drawing on love to power them, quite frankly it sounded absurd.
"Speak," Kharvak stated, seeing that she had a protest building.
"How does that work master? How can love give you strength?"
"In much the same way as hate, the height and strength of your emotions fuels your power. If you feel you are fighting to defend one you love, or fighting on their behalf it gives you strength. The same can be said of joy or happiness. Anger is certainly easier, but equally you can be blinded by hate and anger, leading to one making poor or foolish decisions," Kharvak explained.
"I don't love though. My mother is dead, I hate my father and I don't have any interest in guys," Zanleya objected fiercely; Kharvak forgave her interruption.
"This is theoretical knowledge my apprentice. I am merely informing you of ways to fight. The style you adopt and how you choose to strengthen yourself is up to you," Kharvak said. "The majority of Sith fight with anger and hate, but it is not the only way… you have more questions?"
"Yes master. How would I draw on joy in a battle? Surely I'm not going to be happy if I'm fighting for my life?" Zanleya asked, completely baffled by what she was hearing.
"True, but maybe you are fighting because you want to be happy. Perhaps you are fighting because you want to see the smile on your daughter's face again or fighting for the good times you have enjoyed and still wish to experience. These emotions or memories would be what you are passionate about and it would be these that give you strength," Kharvak replied.
"Then how is that different from the wretched Jedi? Surely they fight for their order or something they are passionate about?" Zanleya queried, her confusion clear.
"No, they believe that there is no emotion, that they should fight with a clear and empty mind to better allow themselves to become vessels for the force… and that is why they are weaker than us."
"I still don't understand how you could focus on joy, how in all the 'verse does that make you powerful?" Zanleya said, still at a loss.
"Perhaps you have not experienced a moment of great enough joy to draw upon," Kharvak countered evenly. Zanleya automatically opened her mouth to object, then stopped and snapped it shut. She tried to remember when she had last felt truly joyful; she could think of plenty of times she had been elated by success, victory or triumph. But a joyful memory was harder to recall, one of pure innocent delight and bliss, nothing sprang to mind, her fond childhood memories all tarnished by the shadow of her father and Bragga. She pursed her lips, then gave a distinctly unladylike snarl.
"I don't need joy to be powerful," she declared, one corner of Kharvak's mouth twitched up into a smile. "But I can take joy from becoming powerful!"
"As I said, everyone must find their own source of strength, their own passion. It is just wise that you know all the options," Kharvak stated. "And of course it is good to understand how others may fight, knowledge is, after all, power."
"Ma…" she stopped herself.
"Voice your question," Kharvak said, giving her permission to continue.
"Master, if it's not impertinent to ask, where do you draw your strength from?" Zanleya asked, genuinely curious. Whenever she had seen her master fight he had always seemed calm, unlike Traz he fought with an expression of almost grim determination, not a snarling rabid one or a hateful scowl. Kharvak did not respond immediately and Zanleya flinched, thinking that she might have crossed a line.
"Patriotism, my desire to glorify and strengthen our Empire. In striking down my foes I tighten the grip of the Empire on the galaxy and bring us one step closer to total domination," Kharvak replied. "Sometimes anger powers me, but more often it is my passion to see our Empire rise that gives me strength." Zanleya blinked, staring at him, notably taken aback by his answer. It had never occurred to her before that somebody could feel so strongly patriotic that it gave them strength, not to mention enough power to become a Darth. She had always suspected that Kharvak had strong feelings toward the Empire, the mere fact he wore the insignia upon his armour was proof enough of that. But what she had not realised was quite the depth to which his feelings ran. In all honesty she was quite indifferent toward the Empire, having had precious little to do with it save from train upon one of its worlds. Nar Shaddaa was firmly outside the Empire's domain and the Hutts had a habit of being very insular.
"Oh, I didn't realise…" Zanleya responded in surprise, tailing off.
"How much it meant to me?" Kharvak said, filling in the gap for her and gracing her with another half-smile.
"Well… yes," she admitted.
"It is my firm belief that the Sith should serve the Empire, we are the leaders, the elites, the shock troopers, but we should ultimately fight to better the Empire. I admit many Sith do not behave like this, but it is how I believe they should. Being Sith is about more than being angry, killing Jedi and seeking personal power. Whilst the latter two are admirable goals in themselves, they are not all that matters. We fight for the Empire, to unite the galaxy under one great rule, to crush the weak and narrow minded Republic and to bring about a new and better era. Being angry is senseless without somewhere to direct that anger. Killing Jedi is alone does not give you purpose and seeking power is empty if you do not use it for something greater. That is why I strive to further the goals of the Empire and to destroy those who oppose us. Only when every world kneels before us will our work truly be done. Never forget the big picture my apprentice," Kharvak went on. Zanleya paused, uncertain for once, she had always believed that power was the aim of being Sith, simply the acquisition and use of it. That was the impression she had gained from reading about the ancient Lords.
"How can I fight for an Empire I know so little about?" Zanleya asked, uncertain if Kharvak expected the same patriotism from her.
"Soon I will show you my apprentice. I shall take you to see our home world, Dromund Kaas, and there you will witness the true glory of the Empire. For now though you must finish your training. You have done well this day. Go, meditate on what I have taught you and what it means to you to be Sith."