| Logs |
2003 October 11
| These Shattered Stars |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: These Shattered Stars Logs |
Chapter Seven, Part Six
The wedding day is from the start a bustle of activity and chaos -- even before dawn. While the wedding itself is being held in the traditional Grand Cathedral of the Lady of Golden Fortune, some two score kilometers away, Taj Rigg is still a hotbed of activity for the hafla tomorrow.
Lord Ghang has not yet arrived. At last check from Space Control, the Lord's shuttle had passed the fourth beacon, and based on its past performance it would arrive sometime in the afternoon. For the time being Balmorra is (currently) Sith-free.
A seat chit for the wedding is probably the most hotly contested item in Balmorra's social scene this season. Favors have been called in, debts paid, and promises made over, obtaining the small, runed stones. Not surprisingly, there are many more people who want to be at the wedding than there is capacity in the several-thousand-seat cathedral. And since nobody thought to ask the paramours...
Zero and Fhazil find themselves enjoying an early lunch in the hectic kitchen. About a dozen retainers are also having lunch there while the rest, eating in shifts, are preparing for the hafla. The cook is a short, wiry Southern Balmorran named Srini Mohan, "But call me 'Cookie,'" he says, an instant before he shouts with autumlas lungs, "Neh neh neh neh! That goes to the west end of the hall, so it has to be blue!" -- has seen them served with sandwiches and nerf stew.
They are not completely isolated form the festivities, however. Above the table and up on the wall is a holovid screen, patched into the Haus network and showing the wedding. The kurasai are chatting and talking excitedly about the whole ceremony. Needless to say, they consider it quite a great thing to happen.
Magnussen stomps in, a monster of a slug-thrower in an underarm holster visible beneath his briefly-unbuttoned tunic, and talks with Cookie about getting meals to his people in the security center. While Cookie is distracted, one of the bakers wanders over, wiping her hands on her apron as a droid scurries off with a loaf three times its size and almost five its mass. She's watching the arrangements being completed on the screen. "Och, 'bout time thot one got tae be havin' paramours, I say. Aristoi 'oo nev'r take par'mours nev'r get kind, y'know?"
Zero says, "So, Fhazil. I had a thought."
One of the people sitting near Zero says, "Git on wi' ye! 'Ave some court'sy, will ye?" She glares back. "S'truth! Try an' be tellin' me it ain't?" Her expression turns to a beatific smile as she looks at Fhazil and Zero. "An' such fine gentles they are, too!" She nods firmly before heading back to work. "She'll be turnin' out all right, I'm thinkin'! So is she treatin' ye aright?"
Fhazil looks a bit startled at the person's forwardness, not to mention the unusual question itself. He manages to get out, "Ahhh... yes, she is...?" as he casts a glance to Zero.
Zero pauses. "Tell you in a moment." He turns to the speaker and smiles politely. "Of course. You don't think two young men from aggressive warrior cultures like us would stay around to be mistreated, do you?" He continues to smile politely, not wanting to let the joke out too obviously.
The woman blinks at Zero for a moment, then lets out a loud laugh, lightly cuffing him on the shoulder. "Och, 'tis a fine one she's got indeed 'ere!" "Kali!" "Oops!" she says, grinning. "Back tae work wi' me. Good luck tae ye both, an' best o' wishes in yer love!"
Zero turns back to Fhazil. "What was I saying?"
Fhazil looks helpless for a moment. "I have no idea! you were going to tell me something..."
Zero says, "Oh, right. So tell me something. What comes after Apprentice for you? As I recall, they don't have Knights where you're from."
Fhazil chuckles a little. "Well, I mentioned already I'd finished the Trials. Sometimes we're called 'knights,' but that's not really often. The word has a nice ring to it, though. The actual term varies from teacher to teacher."
One of the people eating lunch beside them finishes off his meal with a gusty, comfortable sigh. "So, are ye both married as well?" he asks, with the light Southern accent. "Or just betrothed?"
Zero blinks. That one gets him to break pace. "Uh, pardon?"
The man says, "Oh, sorry. Are you both married, or just betrothed?"
Zero says, "Um, do you mean to each other?"
The man blinks, looking between Zero and Fhazil. "Are you? That's unusual, but -- oh, right." He laughs. "You got me with that one. No, seriously, are either of you married?"
Zero says, "Oh. Sorry. Er, no. Well, I'm not. Fhazil?"
Fhazil shakes his head, equally startled. "Uhm... no, not married...."
"Ah, I see. Betrothed, then?"
Well, we could tell him we're sleeping together. Zero grins at something, though to the inquisitive servant it isn't precisely clear what. "Well, actually no. We're just together with Freyja. Why? Is that... unusual? I don't really know much about customs here."
Fhazil almost coughs up his stew. You waited just as I was taking a mouthful to say that, too! As he hurriedly waves off a few concerned people -- and one eager back-slap that almost lands him across the table in Zero's lap -- he sends back, I don't think that's what he means, you know!
Zero grins, I know that, and you know that, but...
The man shakes his head. "Oh, nehneh, not at all." Pause. "Well... a little. Maybe. I guess we sometimes forget that betrothal isn't commonplace all over the Republic. It's fairly common on our mother-world and our daughter-worlds, but that's just about it."
Zero says, "Well, we used to have arranged marriages back on my homeworld, but that's pretty much over with these days."
"Really? Oh, too bad." It's obvious he's thinking of the Balmorran definition of marriage rather than any concept of the Sedraki one. Another kuras chimes in; this one is about Zero's age, and while Northern Balmorran is much less stocky. "So, what'll'yabedoin' 'ere when alla'said'andone? 'Ll yebe movin'ere f'rgood an' what'll'yebedoin'?"
Fhazil looks at the man for a long moment. "Uhm... well..." Zero, what the stang did he just ask?
Uh. I'm not sure? We could tell them we're sleeping together now and run away in the confusion...
Something tells me that won't faze them at all.
It's that or throw a fusion block into the kitchen. Zero adds verbally, "Er, well... actually we have some pressing business in the Core we have to deal with first." He adds to Fhazil, Considering they're roasting what looks like a whole autumlas, they might thank us for saving them the trouble of searing it.
The man bobs his head, "Roight, Ahkinunnerstand 'ow thotis."
Meanwhile, on the holovid several shots of the Grand Cathedral of the Lady of Golden Fortune are being shown, to pass the time until the wedding party arrives. The commentator's voice is respectfully hushed and well articulated, like an announcer at a serious sports event, as she discusses local color and history of the cathedral, the planet, and the uniting Hausa.
The crowds before the cathedral are surprisingly well behaved, staying behind the mostly-decorative bunting and ropes which line the pathway to the cathedral. Vendors are doing a brisk business, selling everything from hand-warmers, to finger food and drinks, to small flags bearing the colors of Balmorra and the Hausa Rigg and Jotunsen.
Zero says, "Fhazil, what was I saying?"
"...I have no idea, Zero."
"...sah. I'm really drunk."
One of the persons seated nearby laughs cheerfully. "It'll pass ye before th' hafla tomorra," she says. "Thot's the main thing, seein' as every nob -- er, aristoi on th' planet's at th' Gran' Cathedral."
In the high-ceilinged, dimly lit, hushed interior of the huge cathedral, the atmosphere of waiting is almost palpable. The church itself is sumptuously decorated with glittering golden statuary and sparkling jeweled mosaics of religious significance. A delicate rainbow pattern of late winter sunlight adorns the altar, falling there from the huge circular stained glass window above.
The sweeping, colorfully embroidered banners and bunting of the two Hausa being united are almost anti-climactic in the face of the sheer magnitude of this symbol of religious faith. Soft music plays as the gorgeously dressed aristoi wait, packed into every pew in the place.
The commentator's voice gets quietly excited sounding as the Rigg wedding party arrives in the traditional festively decorated, slaypneer-drawn carriages. The crowd surges and murmurs with excitement, although it stays tidily behind the now-deployed security services stationed along the road. The party's members proceed into the cathedral, and the huge holodisplays set up in the courtyard outside the cathedral spring to life, showing what's going on inside.
"Och, look, 'tis startin'!" one of the kurasai exclaim, and almost as one they turn to the screen. Even some of the workers and Cookie gather about the table a bit to watch.
Zero murmurs, "...they don't build 'em like that on Sedrak."
The music swells dramatically as Freyja paces in with her family, counter-pointing the high, pure voices of the choir. The Rigg family seats themselves at the front of the cathedral, leaving only Freyja to head up the few steps to the altar, to wait with the pope for her betrothed to arrive.
In the kitchen, folks are still excitedly hushing and nudging each other, "Look, look, look -- it's started, it's started! Oh, don't she look grand?" and to the paramours, "Ah, bet you're so proud of her, eh? Handsome lass, isn't she?"
Zero says, "Sah. Got that right." Fhazil grins.
Things progress fairly swiftly from that point. Leif paces in, escorted by his oldest family member to give him away to the new Haus they're allying with. The pope, dressed as gorgeously as all popes usually are, smiles beatifically once Leif's ensconced safely before her and on Freyja's right, and begins the sermon. Her deep voice is smooth and rolling as she speaks the ancient words of ceremony and peaceful union.
Occasional close-ups of the faces show Freyja's mother and sister dabbing away tears, and her father looking sternly proud. On the Jotunsen side of the cathedral, his remaining siblings vary from aristoi impassivity to biting their lip to keep back tears also. The pope, of course, looks benignly magisterial, her smooth face beatific, while Freyja and Leif both seem to have quietly pleased smiles. Only those who know them well would realize the quietly murmured responses are rote, and they're both completely hiding their current emotions.
The kurasai in the kitchen, however, are entranced, watching raptly. One of them grins and whispers, "Do you? Do you? Kiss him already!" but is indignantly shushed by the others. Indeed, some of them are dabbing away tears of emotion also. "Ah, she's going to be a fine baroness -- a fine one indeed! And already planning ahead for her people -- he's a beautiful lad, he is!"
Zero says, "So what's everyone think of the new Baron? How's he been doing while the Lady's been gone?"
Mohan -- Cookie -- gives a quiet laugh. "The Arving Lord has done very well indeed, all in all. He is not as... strict... as the reigning Baron, but such is the way of things. Each reigning baron brings their own way of doing things to their demesne. We do look forward to seeing the Lady's own reign, of course, but we are reasonably certain he will keep things running well enough in her absence."
Zero nods. "Well, good then. Nothing for us to worry about."
Mohan laughs. "Of course not! Whyever would there be?"
Zero waves a hand absently. "Of course there wouldn't be. Everything's gonna be fine here... finally."
"Hai... of that we're grateful. There's been enough of problems these past few years. Perhaps it is a sign, then, with the new reign's dawn."
Some distance away, two Rigg arms bearers pace the breadth of the manse's landing pad cautiously, alert and wary. "What are we supposed to be watching for?" the younger Human asks."Not sure," the older one replies, reseating the strap to the concussion rifle on his shoulder. "There may be a landing tonight. We're supposed to report immediately."
"From what, a speeder-caravan? A suborbital shuttle would have to pass through space control and they'd pass on word to the manse."
"That may very well be it. Just keep your attention on -- what's that?"
The sound the older Human had heard is the characteristic whine of repulsorlifts -- apparently far-off, but with a faint, unusual modulation to it. The younger armsbearer hears it shortly and nods, "Speeder-caravan," he says. "Coming this way?"
"Mmph... yeah, sounds like it. If they land, we'll ask them to wait while we roll out the red carpet."
The paramours realize someone's carefully pouring and handing around small paper cups of some slightly sweet-smelling alcoholic beverage, but no one's drinking yet. They simply hold the cups, watching silently in varying degrees of emotion.
The kitchen is packed full now... people sitting around the table have paused in their food preparation, while other kurasai line the back walls and lean in the doors, all equally raptly silent. It makes sense, in a way... this is their future they're watching being created.
The pope finishes the ceremony, and Freyja quietly, speaking ritually, puts a bracelet on one of Leif's wrists. Then he speaks the same words as he puts a ring on her finger... and then the two face the pope again, Freyja's left hand reaching across her front to hold Leif's right hand, which is also across his front.
The pope smiles as she ceremonially wraps an embroidered strand of cloth in a complicated pattern about their clasped hands, murmuring further ritual phrases, and the paramours can hear the kurasai around them softly echoing the phrases, "...that ye be united in Hausa, that ye stand united to care for thy people, that they be first in mind and to care for..."
The two arms bearers wait, and the whine becomes louder... and still louder. The younger frowns. "That's not the sound of a 'caravan. It's way too loud." He's starting to have to raise his voice over the din.The older armsbearer squints, looking up into the early-afternoon sky. "Blast. Repulsorlifts don't get that loud!"
They wait a few minutes more; the older is sure whatever it is, it's going to pass right overhead. Then he feels the air twisting and whirling in that characteristic way it does when exposed to repulsorlift fields. "Stang! What in the name of the Norns...?!"
The wind becomes a gale, the repulsorlifts' whine becomes deafening. Suddenly there is the glare of bright light and hard metal. The arms bearers stagger back, yelping.
It is a shuttle -- a deep-space courier in fact; it's impossible for it to be anything else -- folding its wings upward along its body as it extends landing gear and a ramp. The arms bearers drop their rifles to port arms, the younger shouting into the comlink.
When the dust settles and they can see again, footsteps on metal are heard. The older armsman looks up... and up... into the tall dark shadow that seems to eclipse the mid-afternoon sun. As his eyes adjust, the first thing he notices is the faint hint of red-reflected light in the level gaze regarding him. The shape raises a fist to its chest, and bows slightly.
The commentator continues giving 'color commentary' all through the ceremony, explaining symbolic significance and meaning... how the bracelet symbolizes bringing the new Haus into the ranking Haus' shelter; how the ring reminds the new husbonda to care for her husbond as kindly and gently as for his family; how the ranking member's left, or guidance hand, is bound to the right, or acting hand, of the new husbond...
The ceremony is finally concluded -- the living symbols of the newly united Hausa turn, hands still clasped, to face the audience, and the choir picks up again with softly chanted song. The commentator sounds reverently pleased, as if she herself were the one directly benefiting from this union. The holocams, of course, instantly close in on the faces of the two standing on the alter...
...and the two paramours can see Freyja take one step forward, then raise an inquiring eyebrow at Leif. He smiles and steps forward too, standing tall and straight next to her. Freyja turns to face the crowd again, her face unexpectedly stern looking, and raises her free hand in a loosely clenched fist.
The small, admiring murmurs of the crowd of aristoi go utterly silent -- this is not part of the script! Even the commentator's voice is softly startled as she describes what's happening... then falls silent, waiting with everyone else to see what's happening. The holovids show the crowd outside as well, as raptly, puzzledly silent as the household kurasai in the kitchen with the paramours.
Zero tchs. "That was a touch melodramatic," he mutters to himself.
One of the older kurasai murmurs, "Now, this is nae in th' program."
"I apologize for this breach of protocol but I hope your master understands why I had reservations about the security put in place by the Count.""Un'nerstandable, milord," Magnussen says a little uncomfortably, as he and half a dozen huskarls pace the Sith Lord and his small entourage. Only one of the group of four wears armor, black and decorative with a flared helm and featureless faceplate. The others wear robes of an almost barbaric cut, completely unlike anything one would find in any civilized portion of the Republic.
That's not what fazes Magnussen, however -- it's the swords they carry. The armored one has what looks like some kind of double-bladed thing, hinged at the pommel. The tall one, Lord Ghang, carries his sword in hand, and it seems almost as long as he is tall, hilt and all. "An' th' Baron is m'lord, nae m' 'master.'"
Ghang doesn't miss a beat. "Of course. Please forgive my ignorance." He falls silent, which lets Magnussen glance warily to the others in the entourage, as he leads them through the halls to the portion of the guest wing his soldiers had (fortunately) prepared for a high-security-requirement VIP, against this very possibility.
None are as tall as the Lord. He can't tell the species of the armored one, but of the other two, only one seems to be the same race as Ghang. The other appears to be the same race as Freyja's huskarl, Vakkal, which causes some gears to turn in Magnussen's head.
His thoughts are interrupted by Ghang speaking again. "I take it the Arving Lady is currently occupied by her wedding ceremony?"
"Aye, milord. In th' Grand Cathedral. Ye can watch it on th'olovid though, if'n ye wish it."
"Thank you. I would like to."
Freyja's voice is slow, strong, and determined, "Still! We! Stand!"
There is utter silence in the cathedral -- and the kitchen, for that matter. It's just long enough for one of the kurasai near Zero to murmur, "Isn't that...?"
One thousand aristoi stand as one, some with fists raised in mirror to Freyja's, and one thousand voices -- Human, Trandoshan, Rodian -- shout out a clarion response to the traditional call of their world: "Balmorra! Balmorra! Balmorra!" Three times -- no, three times three the wave of voices crash through the cathedral.
In the kitchen there is an equal, if even more exuberant response to the tradition. It's almost deafening to Zero and Fhazil, in fact.
In the cathedral, Freyja's face is still impassive, although her eyes are a bit bright. She looks to Leif, who smiles at her, and the married couple descend the altar stairs, striding down the aisle with the heavy ceremonial cloaks flowing behind them. The commentator is almost gasping with excitement, trying to explain what's going on even as she's tremendously moved by it.
The huge cathedral doors swing slowly open, letting the weak winter sunlight stream in, along with the noise of the crowd outside, where the slaypneer-drawn carriage awaits to take them to the reception. The kurasai outside explode into cheers as the doors part. To Freyja, the wave of enthusiasm is like a tidal wave of energy through the Force. People shouting, cheering, waving, caught up in the energy of the moment, making the mass of Balmorrans seem as if a single being with tens of thousands of voices.
Elsewhere in the manse, a holovid screen shows the crowd of people thronging outside the church as the slaypneer-driven carriage trots away to the reception, while the commentator continues breathlessly speaking. Briefly, the clip is shown of the aristoi shouting the Balmorran salute -- followed by the still wildly cheering crowds of kurasai thronging about the cathedral.Strong yet slender red-hued fingers reach out and tap the screen control, pausing the image. Lord Ghang leans back, looking at the screen thoughtfully for several long minutes, lightly stroking his chin. His lips quirk a little into a small, quiet smile.
From Freyja's point of view, the reception is the most unpleasant and low point of the entire week. Standing in a line with both family and newly united family for endless hours, smiling and saluting and speaking in sincere tones to an endless parade of well-wishers, is not her idea of a good time. Nevertheless, she knows there are many there who will be thrilled at the chance to (for perhaps only once in their lives) smile, share a moment, and speak earnestly with the Riggs. It is for them she maintains her best behavior, well past the point when her feet are aching and her face feels slightly numb from the forced, polite smiles.
Every once in a while, when there's a slight lull in the number of passersby, Freyja gives Leif a (hopefully encouraging) smile. He seems a bit tired too, she thinks. She consoles herself internally with the thought of a nice hot bath waiting at home, and determination not to let her family down. This does not prevent her, of course, from occasionally wondering if her sister is an alien -- where does all that energy come from?!
The reception goes well. There is very little special about it; the line is a blur of faces and clothes and words that by the end of which has Freyja utterly dazed. She'll be lucky if she can remember a tenth of the people who greeted her.
For their part, Zero and Fhazil have been finding some of the activity at the manse a little peculiar. The number of arms bearers in attendance seems to have increased steadily over the course of the afternoon, as speeders carrying them have been landing all day. Most seem to have been hastily called in from Rigg holdings elsewhere on Balmorra, since a few appear to be wearing some serious cold-weather gear that's extreme even for the weather around the Rigg manse; others rush into Taj Rigg wearing short sleeves and rubbing their arms. Unfortunately, Magnussen is not available to ask, and none of the arms bearers or huskarls seem able to talk about it.
The reception line isn't rushed, though, and it proceeds with agonizing leisure. Later, on the trip back, Freyja's parents are quite approving (if intrigued) of her call at the end of the wedding ceremony. They ask her about it, why she chose to make it -- though there's no question they certainly thought it appropriate.
Freyja smiles tiredly, explaining why she gave the call as she did -- as well as why she informed none but Leif. "So... now we know. The kurasai do care who their leaders are... and now I know they want us to continue fighting for them -- even against the Sith." She adds a bit bemusedly, "Had neh idea the aristoi would react like that, though..."
The Baron makes a quiet rumbling sound. "Yes, well... I imagine most of them are honestly devoted to their Hausa, Balmorra, and the Republic. The rest are devoted to their Hausa, Balmorra, and the Republic... in that order." Freyja blinks tiredly at her father... but is a bit too brain-tired to ask what the difference in those two types is.
Even on the trip back, there is nothing at all to give any indicator that things are amiss... at least until they land.
A squad of huskarls, the majordomo, and Magnussen are waiting there, and Zero and Fhazil have been rather perfunctorily asked to be at the landing pad with the arrival of the speeder. Zero folds his arms, standing next to and a little behind Fhazil. The shard-blade is a freezing lump in the small of his back, and he huddles into his long coat. "...should've worn the weather-cloak."
Fhazil gives a quiet sound and nods. "Just because I'm used to the weather on Ziost doesn't mean that I like cold weather...."
Zero grunts softly. "Hope Ghang isn't big on speeches and we can go inside soon. Is that the Baron's speeder there?"
Fhazil makes a quiet sound. "I've been trying to look for him in the Force, and I can't see him. He must be muting himself and hiding. Can't say I blame him. If we're lucky he won't come out. Yeah, that's the Baron's..."
Zero mms. "Shard-blade is freezing against my back. Starting to wish I'd come unarmed."
On the ride home, Freyja has been wearily stripping jewelry off and handing it to the waiting-folk who'd accompanied them to make sure the wedding party was immaculate. She shakes her hair out, picking out the last jeweled pins, and idly notices it's now reaching her waist... huh. Pretty color too...
Freyja's very tired, and suspects everyone else is too. The Baroness is leaning her head against the headrest, eyes closed, and Leif's face is a bit wan. Freyja suspects hers would be too were it not for her normal coloration. Even Syf seems a bit more subdued than usual.
The Baron's speeder lands, and the huskarls form a twin line on either side as they usually do, though in slight change from tradition they're facing outward instead of inward -- clear to both Freyja and Zero that either they're expecting trouble, or threw tradition to the winds in order to prevent trouble.
Freyja eyes the odd formation, and Fhazil and Zero can hear her tired query, What's up? Ghang arrive?
Zero replies, We're waiting. All they said was for us to be here.
Freyja murmurs very quietly to her party within the shuttle, before they disembark, "Sith lord's arrived, I think..."
The Baron looks out the window, and grimaces at the lines of huskarls. "I'm not sure who to be more irritated at... him for breaching protocol, or Count Mis for making the Sith Lord feel the need to break protocol..."
Freyja grins tiredly at her father, forgetting and using the childhood appellation, "Sorry, Papa. But he's an Honored Stranger I invited, not Magnussen... so I'm thinking it's neh his fault for being worried, hey?"
The baron makes a quiet sound. "Neh, it isn't, and I can't blame him. All right, let's see what there is to see..."
Freyja scans a bit perfunctorily through the Force, wondering if she'll be able to sense the Sith lord. Her weariness is such she's not sure. A flicker of... something...? If it's actually there, and not her mind playing tiredness tricks on her, that'd indicate someone of power at least equal to Master Roakkana -- because she can barely sense him, at this point. She smiles tiredly and nods, smoothing her hair back as she rises. Should look nice for the welcoming committee, she tiredly thinks...
The speeder lands and the Baron, as usual, is the first out. His pace takes him off the pad fairly quickly, and Magnussen is there almost immediately. "M'lord," he says, walking with the group off the landing pad. "We 'ave one 'oo's askin' f'r 'ospitality."
Freyja whispers through the link to Zero and Fhazil, Barring disasters, could I talk you both into a nice, long, lovely, hot tub soak with me? The reception was incredibly... ugh. Hela's teeth, I am beat!
Zero answers, Provided no one does something ridiculous and take a swing at Ghang. And provided my fingers don't fall off before he arrives.
Freyja giggles tiredly at Zero's response, pushing her scarlet mane back as the wind teases at it. Pull your coat mittens on, silly!
The Baron simply nods to Magnussen. "Let's get this done in the manse then, Magnussen, no need to us to be out in the weather more than we have to." With that he sweeps up the entire party in his wake as he treads towards the manse. Freyja surreptitiously braces her mother a bit as they head for the manse... Erde looks more tired than Freyja's ever seen her mother. Syf quietly falls in on her mother's other side as they head towards the house.
Inside the manse it is a lot warmer and more comfortable, but still busy -- or quietly busy. Most of the guests have already returned from the reception or are on their way back, and so none are visible. Instead of going to the formal reception hall, though, the Baron is directed to a side room. The party turns, is ushered in -- and there he stands.
As tall as Roakkana, with a pale red hue to his skin and a stern, commanding presence, Lord Ghang does not immediately seem to have a personality that overwhelms the room. Like the group has seen some Sith do, he is muting his presence and the Sithstain he carries, which perhaps is why.
Freyja straightens in spite of herself, realizing protocol demands she perform introductions, as the inviter of the Honored Stranger. Let's see, he's a fleet commander and owns a planet, so he outranks us, so he should be introduced to first...
She steps forward and gestures gracefully, so as to include all the ranking members of each party in her introduction, "Father, Mother, Fafnir... may I introduce to you the honorable Warlord Ghang Si'yul of Khar Velos, Commander of the Fleet of the Sith Empire, present as Unknown Stranger at the unification of our Haus with that of Jotunsen?"
Freyja quietly hopes this is correct. Fhazil and Vakkal get a quick-whispered, Are there any more titles I should use, guys? The group notices that Ghang is carrying his sword, not in its usual sheath but in a thick scabbard covered in odd markings and hieroglyphs.
Fhazil replies this is well enough for the purposes of the introduction. He has a lot more but they're very minor comparatively and wouldn't mean anything outside the Empire.
Ghang inclines his head in greeting at the introduction, still maintaining his rigid control over his presence and Sithstain.
Freyja whispers over the link to Vakkal and Fhazil again, this time asking if they know who the other three are, so they can (if proper) be introduced also. Neither Fhazil nor Vakkal recognize the others, who are remaining back some ways. Fhazil notes it is normally the place of the Lord being introduced to introduce his subordinates or not.
Freyja thanks Fhazil (with some relief) as she turns slightly to face the Sith lord, to introduce him to her parents. Sheer curiosity causes her to pause for a moment, studying him with fascination. She's talked to him twice now... but never actually seen him. She wonders if he finds them as oddly interesting as she's finding him... Ghang turns his attention briefly to Freyja as she looks at him. His expression is neutral but not inscrutable. Not haughty but unbowed. Not arrogant but not without some pride.
Zero finds himself taking measure of the Warlord, a habit of long years he's never quite broken himself of. He recognizes immediately the Si'yul's martial ability. At the same time he finds himself positive that at no time will this Warlord make such a comparison necessary. Something in the Si'yul's bearing convinces him; he relaxes a bit.
Freyja's steady gaze notices dark, equally steady black eyes; an odd cartilaginous growth beneath the skin -- or perhaps a protrusion of some sort upon the chin. It almost suggests a split goatee, and yet does not appear to be a beard. Fairly pronounced, swept eyebrows give a quietly determined appearance. His body is trimly proportioned and muscular. His stance indicates a settled preparedness for just about anything...
Freyja smiles faintly, still quite interested but remembering her duty. She gives the correct Balmorran salute, politely murmuring, "Warlord Ghang Si'yul, may I introduce my parents, the Baron Forsetti and Baroness Erde Rigg, and my newly wed husbonda, the Baron Fafnir Jotunsen. I hight..." she pauses, then decides right now, here and in this clothing, she should use the Rigg information first, "Arving Lady Freyja of Haus Rigg, Baroness Jotunsen, Padawan to Jedi Master Roakkana."
Freyja takes a breath, then continues, indicating who she's introducing as she speaks, "My Jedi Master, Roakkana of Kashyyyk. My sister, the Lady Syf; and my triat-mates, Zero Satau of Sedrak and Fhazil Taas of Ziost." She bows politely, "Enter our Haus as Honored Stranger, and be welcome in peace, Warlord." Over the link, Freyja's friends catch her slightly amused thought, Bright Lady, what a mouthful all that was!
The Riggs bow politely as they are introduced, and when the introduction is over and the welcome given, Ghang inclines his head and speaks. His voice is much the same as how they heard in the last farseeing with him, "Thank you for your welcome. I apologize for such short notice." He hefts the sheathed sword lightly in both hands. "As guest of your House, I offer my sword as a gesture of my good faith and trust for as long as I am here. I believe that is the tradition."
Freyja blinks, taking a long, slow breath... then says cautiously, "Your gesture is deeply appreciated, Sith lord. May I inquire as to, ah... whether your releasing it will... allow blight to be felt in the surrounding area?"
Zero arches one slender brow, but says nothing; that's an impressive gesture, and unexpected. Not, he reminds himself, that Ghang actually needs a sword to be a whirlwind of destruction if he puts his mind to it... but still. Quite an expansive thing to say.
A small smile touches the Lord's lips. He holds the scabbard forward for Freyja. "Though it may not be apparent, the scabbard is warded 'gainst such. It will be no harm to anyone so long as it remains sheathed."
Freyja sighs softly in quiet relief. While she knows she's not been having any trouble with blight currently, she'd really not been looking forward to the potential metaphorical stench of rotting corpses and swamp gas in the house! She smiles, glancing at her father to see if he'd like her to step forward to accept it -- or would rather Magnussen do so.
The Baron is curious about all this talk of 'wards' and 'blight'; he glances to Roakkana briefly. After making a near-silent sound of affirmation, the Baron nods, though Freyja detects a hint of reluctance in the gesture. Freyja steps forward and politely accepts the huge sword, "Many thanks for your courtesy, Warlord." The sword is longer than she is tall, so she handles it carefully, as well as respectfully... although she can't help surreptitiously and curiously examining the wards!
Whether the markings are the wards themselves, or symbols indicating the presence of such wards -- or more like 'WARNING: BLIGHT' signs -- Freyja can't tell. When she holds it she can feel distantly something sleeping within the scabbard. Not merely like a big ferocious frehkee; that much she could probably understand. This is something alien and disquieting and mindless, and yet it sleeps within the womb of the scabbard.
Freyja's friends can 'feel' her cautious examination of the sword's scabbard, over the link... as well as her faint relief at how securely it (whatever it is) sleeps. She finds rampant blight personally disgusting! That thought reminds her, and she looks up at the Sith lord, wondering if she can 'feel' the blight wound he carries in his left shoulder.
Whatever the Lord is using to conceal his presence in the Force is apparently concealing the fact he was wounded long ago as well. Ghang half-turns, indicating first the pureblood, then the one from Khar Velos, and finally the armored warrior. "This is my aide de camp, Lord Varsuth Dhal of Khar Velos... my tactical advisor, Ghurrakh of Khar Velos... and my Soulguard, Amn Noss. We thank you for your hospitality. I do hope our sudden arrival at your door instead of Count Mis' won't cause problems for you."
Freyja grins quietly to herself, but remains silent -- that question is her father's to reply to, as the Haus leader. Instead she just nods politely to the three being introduced... although she's faintly curious as to how Vakkal and Fhazil could not know any of Ghang's entourage. The war must be far harder on the Sith than she'd realized, if he's had to replace all those close to him. She feels faintly sorry for the Sith lord -- it's not easy to lose those you trust and are close to, or accustomed to metaphorically leaning on.
"It is... well, not so much a problem as something that will be interesting to see the consequences of." The conversation is fairly idle for a few moments more, before Ghang asks, "And now a peculiar request, Lord Baron, if I may. I would like to speak with those who arranged for this journey we undertook, before retiring for the evening."
Freyja wonders with faint startlement if Ghang resents losing Fhazil and Vakkal... then realizes probably not -- he must know apprentices graduate eventually. Then she tilts her head, realizing the Sith lord must mean the triat... and perhaps Master Roakkana and Vakkal? She's not sure. She glances inquiringly at her father.
The Baron raises an enquiring eyebrow, and Ghang explains, "Your daughter and her paramours and huskarl, and Master Roakkana." Though it is something of an odd request, the Baron grants it. Shortly the small room is cleared of anyone else -- the Sith Lord's companions are being shown back to their quarters.
After the doors close, Ghang seems to study the group for all of five seconds. "Well," he says quietly, smiling a little. "Who would have thought the tides of events would come to this one cusp?"
Freyja's weariness is making her seem rather pale by now -- she's bordering on exhaustion -- and her eyes look huge in her face. She's still careful with the sword, however, as she cautiously frees one hand to make a gesture towards the sitting cushions nearby. Tripping with the sword would definitely seem disrespectful, she's sure! "Ah... may we invite you to sit, Sith lord? And... maybe some hot tea, perhaps?" She's dying to get off her feet; and some hot, sweet tea might help her perk her brain up some, she hopes.
Ghang nods. "Of course, Lady Freyja. You have had quite the busy day." He lets the other sit first, before settling himself.
Freyja smiles gratefully, then settles as quickly and gracefully as she can, carefully laying the sword to one side the way she's seen Zero do on occasion. Hopefully that'll seem respectful to the Sith as well. Zero settles onto a cushion himself and watches quietly. A droid is sent off for hot tea, and Freyja whispers tiredly to her triat brothers, Can we give me a small energy boost without linking, do you know?
Zero replies, I don't really know, honestly. Freyja will try, 'reaching' a cautious mental hand out to Zero, to see if he can give her anything.
Freyja sighs a moment later, realizing they really do need to link first. She smiles with tired rue at Zero, Ah, well. Now we know. When the tea arrives, she's delighted to find someone considerate has included hot, damp towels for them all to use as well. That helps re-invigorate her quite a bit, as does the tea.
Freyja's eyes aren't quite so huge in her face now, and her complexion is returning to its usual warmth. She pushes her fiery golden mane back and waits until everyone's had a moment to sip their tea before she smiles at the Sith lord, "Hai, this is certainly nothing I ever expected in my life." She tilts her head thoughtfully, then grins with shy pleasure, glancing sideways at her Family of the Heart, "It's been a trip well worth the ride, though, I think..."
Ghang lets out a breath, and rolls his shoulders a little -- it's hard to tell if he winces or not, or favors one shoulder over the other. "Thank you," he says upon being given the tea. He takes a sip, and offers compliments on the tea. "Indeed it has," he says. "I did wish to see you before the rest of the Republic demanded my attention, however," he adds, smiling softly. "I wished to see the infamous Jedi of Marnaas... though Marnaas is by now so far in the past most of the Republic has forgotten it."
Freyja blinks... then laughs softly in spite of herself, "'Infamous'? Why so, Sith lord?" She grins, adding, "Well, in defense of the Republic, they never got to hear about it... er, at least from those self-same Jedi."
"Your story has become known, Lady Freyja, to many in the Moot. There were quite a great many questions asked when we discovered the existence of the Oath of Fire. The importance of that world lay not with the incidents upon it, so much as the consequences." He takes another sip of the tea. "I merely wanted to thank you in person for telling us of it, and in particular telling me the identity of Qatto Verg's superior in the Oath."
Freyja smiles, quietly pleased, and nods once, "We're happy we could help -- all of us. I could not have reached you without the aid of everyone else here." She grins a little mischievously at Fhazil, remembering his shocked pleasure at 'seeing' her, "Even Fhazil. He gave me someone to 'reach' for."
The Sith lord nods. "Yes. Reaching across the galaxy through the Force is difficult for even Masters. I could tell it was with the help of your other paramour." He nods to Zero. "I had not realized quite what you were up to, even when it became clear to me you were arranging some sort of zeitgeist of Lightsider, Graysider, and Darksider."
Zero nods in return; "No one's ever bothered to try since the Heresy Wars... it's no surprise then that's the last thing anyone would think of."
Freyja says, "Hai, and with Master Roakkana's help, that first time." She smiles again with pleasure as she glances at her quiet friends, "We were not sure it would work, but we had to try. It's called a triat." She turns back to the Sith lord, adding quietly, "Hai, it's been a while since there's been one... but we intend to do our best to show there can be peace between Force users, regardless of 'flavor.'"
Ghang smiles a bit. "Perhaps there can be. But it must come after the Oath and the Calefactors are both dealt with. Until then they will do everything they can to ensure such cannot be."
Freyja tilts her head thoughtfully, regarding the Sith lord, "Do you feel it is possible there be peace between all our peoples, Warlord?" There's perhaps the faintest of emphasis on the word 'war.' She wonders if she can figure out how to ask the Sith lord about this odd... impression she's occasionally gotten from the Sith... a feeling almost that if the Calefactors are not summarily dealt with... the Sith will be entirely obliterated.
Ghang is thoughtful for a moment, as he takes another sip of the tea, finishing it. "It does seem an odd thing for a Lord of War to say," he comments, setting the cup on the table. "I believe that there will always be conflicts for which the skills of war are needed. I also believe, as you surely do not, that war can be an honorable profession. However... it looses its honor when the reasons for the war are unjust, or at the behest of those whose motivations are against that of the Empire. Speaking as a Sith Lord of War, that is.
Freyja raises a quietly amused eyebrow, not being so rude as to correct the Guest as to his assessment of her estimation of the profession of war. However, as someone descended as much from warlords as traders and peacemakers, she's quite aware of how useful the skills of conflict management are. Instead she simply nods in agreement.
Zero says, "I think you'll find that the Calefactors won't find themselves unopposed from the inside."
Freyja nods again at that, then adds quietly, "I wish we could convince you to let the Calefactors... dig their own grave, as the saying goes. I worry your people give them aid in their quest, by showing good reason to resist."
"Ah, yes. Well, that is partially what I am here to determine. I would like to leave knowing the Calefactors are as broken and without support as the Oath is in the Empire."
Freyja smiles ruefully, "Does this mean you intend to stay until you are sure of this? While I see nothing wrong with that, I would hope you would be willing to be a little patient for that result... considering this is a different realm and culture?"
Zero nods softly. "They are not without support, but that support is internal; having set themselves up as a secret order within an order, they have secured for themselves a pool of resources. But they have no popular support."
Ghang smiles. "We shall see. Much depends on the reaction of the Republic's leaders when I tell them of the Calefactors and Senator Kalatis on the morrow."
Freyja nods slowly, considering... then looks up at the Sith lord. Remembering his fondness for conciseness, she asks, "Do your people have Kalatis?"
Ghang nods to Zero. "Neither does the Oath. It is the quiet, ambivalent support they receive that is the most troublesome... as it is with the Calefactors." He shakes his head to Freyja, "We do not. We heard earlier he had disappeared. Most unfortunate."
Freyja sighs a little disappointedly, "Well, wolf-feathers. I was hoping you'd have him. I guess he's well on his way to Hutt space by now." She considers a bit more, glancing at Vakkal and Fhazil -- then back to the Sith lord, "Should things change in the current way the war is going... you will not blame Vakkal or Fhazil for that, hai?"
He waves his hand a little. "Not at all. The current war plans were drawn up well after Fhazil left, as it is. While some Lords of State worry about 'cultural intelligence,' those of War feel strategically it is a non-issue." He smiles a little. "Besides... they were my own. Blaming them would be blaming myself." He stands, straightening. "I would ask to retire for the evening, Lady Freyja. It has been a long journey, as I'm sure the day has been long for you. I do look forward to speaking with you more in the days ahead."
Freyja nods, quietly relieved, "Of course. Thank you for your time, Sith lord," and grins mentally at Vakkal, well pleased, There, see? Neh problems at all regarding that oath you were worried about!
The Sith lord inclines his head, raising a fist to his chest in salute, then departs, a servant showing him to his quarters. Freyja makes sure a protocol droid is assigned to each of the Sith entourage, so they don't have to worry about accidental faux pas, then sighs, sagging in relief after he's left. "Goddess... next time someone talks about marriage to you? Kill them. Kill them right away, and then kill yourself -- to spare yourself the pain!"
Zero sighs softly. "Well. Now that we've taken care of that... I have to take this sword off -- my own, that is. But now that I think of it, someone ought to see Ghang's off to a suitable place."
Freyja blinks, "Oh, dear. Good point, Zero." She looks at Vakkal and Fhazil, "So... what's the proper way to handle a sword for the Sith? Is it similar to here? If I put this on a formal sword stand..." she glances dubiously at the huge thing, then adds, "...or two, in my personal suite, will that suffice?"
Fhazil nods. "That should be fine. In that scabbard it's as harmless as an inert chunk of metal. Just so long as it's someplace secure, it'll be fine."
Freyja says, "Excellent. I'll assign a droid to watch it as well, just to be sure." She covers a yawn, then grins and adds sleepily, "And now... lovely, lovely bath and bed, hai?"
[Previous Log] [Index] [Next Log]