Star Wars: Slave Of Darkness

From the moment I touched down on Dromund Fels, I knew that it was only a matter of time. The peace couldn't last forever. Peace is a lie, there is only Passion.

The two halves of Garsh's lightsaber, stolen away from his corpse, sat on the table before me, reduced to their component parts. I had been studying them to get an idea of how a lightsaber was constructed without disassembling my own. After all, I didn't want to risk not being able to put it back together again.

For such a dangerous weapon, it had been made from absolutely subpar materials. The hilt itself was little more than a cylinder made from cheap rusted durasteel, cut in half then crudely welded back together. The internals were little better and looked like they had been scavenged from a glowrod.

The batteries were poor quality and old, likely having been thrown out once they had started to fail. From my scans with the Force, they only had the capacity to power the lightsaber for a single battle, maybe two if you only used a single blade. Even the "crystals" were little more than shards of brittle green glass, likely from a broken bottle.

Garsh's lightsaber was a weapon of desperation, a last resort for if he needed to fight his way off Korriban. It was the Jedi equivalent to a hold-out blaster.

And yet, he decided to waste it and his life on a pointless battle in a musty old tomb. Though perhaps I shouldn't complain since his sudden discovery of a guilty conscience gave me a chance to kill him.

While it provided little insight into the construction of a typical lightsaber, it did prove that one could make one out of damn near anything if sufficiently motivated. Through Passion, I gain Strength.

As I reached for the first piece to begin putting the broken weapon back together, a familiar chill went down my spine. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the light spilling from the sconces lining the walls dim for a moment before suddenly flickering.

Even without scanning them with the Force, I knew that they were in perfect working order. The maintenance staff were quite zealous in fulfilling their duty.

Leaving the broken lightsaber where it laid, I pushed away from the desk and stood, calling my own weapon to my hand before clipping it to my belt. I didn't bother donning my armor before leaving my quarters.

The master of the house had returned. And I was being called like a dog.

As the doors hissed closed behind me, I found I was hardly the only one hastening to greet him. Servants and staff departed from their own rooms or places of work, doing last minute cleaning or preparations.

I spotted the Zeltron for a moment, though I allowed my gaze to slip by without pause. Within the blink of an eye, she had already disappeared.

I did not know her name yet, but that was deliberate. Keeping the personal connection to my soon to be servant weak would likewise weaken her presence in my mind. In turn, the imprint I would leave on her would also be weaker.

And if the connection remained weak enough? Then there would be little to manipulate and no reason for it to stand out in my mind.

As I moved down the hall, bodies parted ways before me, even before they consciously recognized my presence. It was preceded by a shiver running down their spine and a slight widening of the eyes before a sudden desire to move overwhelmed them. 

The best description that I had been able to infer so far was that it resembled the feeling one got when the shadow of something immense draped over them, before they see the creature itself.

At first, it had been interesting to watch and note how the Leviathan's touch affected "normal" people, but the fascination faded quickly. After all, you could only watch the same thing so many times before it became boring.

Still, it had become a useful tool for gauging people…and navigating crowds. Through Strength, I gain Power.

By the time I arrived at the manor's private landing pad, the staff heads had already arrived to greet their master, whose shuttle was just now touching down. My clothes were buffeted by the breeze kicked up by the thrusters and I was forced to squint as dust and dirt was kicked up into the air.

As the Dark Lord walked down the ramp of his ship, the air itself seemed to grow heavier, pushing down on us all as though the planet's gravity had just increased. But I did not see the shadows grow longer or stone and metal become fouled. I felt no urge to run, nor urge to kneel.

Some of that might have only been visible under Force Sight, but it felt…different from what I had experienced on Korriban, even if I couldn't see it.

With each step he took closer, I realized.

He was holding back. Restraining his presence to something more bearable.

But it certainly wasn't for my sake. Sith, and even untrained Force Sensitives I supposed, might have possessed natural buffers against it, but simple servants would have had little chance.

It wasn't out of mercy. Constant exposure to his unrestrained power would eventually burn out their minds, leaving them as little more than husks. They would be devoid of will…and utterly useless to him.

It was a subtle reminder than, in a galaxy without Vitiate, this man might have been Emperor. And that I now had his attention. Through Power, I gain Victory.

Red eyes swept over those assembled, prompting servants to bow and respectfully mutter "milord." They did so without hesitation, so long conditioned to bow and scrape in his presence.

And then, he looked to me.

For a moment, I considered defiance. I hated this man. I didn't want to kneel before him, I wanted to stick a knife in his gut…

But as I looked back at him, I saw the challenge in his gaze.

…I allowed the anger to cool. Not now. Not yet. I had to pick my battles.

I swore I would take every scrap of knowledge that he would deign to part with…then choke him with it. Years, I had to remind myself, it would take years.

But I was a patient soul. Through Victory, my chains are broken.

My head dipped slightly after a short pause. It wasn't a full bow, but it was as much as I would endure, "Milord."

Darth Rictus' face remained neutral, showing neither approval nor disappointment. A hand rose lazily to bid me to follow.

Falling in step behind and to his left, we re-entered the manor, leaving the servants and guards in our wake. The silence between us persisted for several long minutes as we passed hall after hall at a rather brisk pace.

Part of me suspected that he was trying to see exactly how much of the mansion I had explored…and if he could get me lost. If that was the case, it was a futile effort.

One of the first things I had done was construct a mental map of the property by using the Force to trace the wiring running through the walls while the slave girl had been reading to me. 

I knew where the security rooms, armories, offices, training salle, and libraries were. I'd even managed to uncover a few "secret" rooms in the process, but I hadn't dared to poke my nose in them yet.

I didn't think he knew that I could use the Force to interact with technology, but I couldn't guarantee that. He might suspect something due to my previous use of Qiv's jury-rigged drones, but there had been a terminal to control them through to throw him off.

As we passed one of the libraries, the Dark Lord finally deigned to speak, "I trust your sight has adequately healed?"

"Well enough to navigate without aid." I answered truthfully. There wasn't really a point in lying about it, "Though reading small print is still difficult."

"It will suffice. At the very least, we may begin addressing that atrocity you refer to as lightsaber combat." The barest hint of a smirk cracked his scarred visage, "If you are to be my apprentice, I would prefer you not embarrass yourself the moment you draw your weapon. It would reflect poorly upon me as your Master."

Hey, that "atrocity" got me through an assassination, a free-for-all, and a giant monster-slaying expedition. I'd say it at least sufficed for the circumstances.

That was what I wanted to say. However, I kept my mouth shut. I'm pretty sure he felt my annoyance anyways.

...

The training salle was sparsely decorated, little more than an empty room with wood floors and several inactive sparring droids. However, my earlier scans had revealed several panels in the walls that could retract to reveal weapon racks. Some of the weapons were powered, others were "dead" weapons.

I glanced at the droids, expecting at least one to stand to attention. Instead, all four activated, drawing lightsabers.

Not exactly surprising. As the only Sith in the house before now, they were likely preprogrammed for Darth Rictus' training regimen. I was more surprised they had actual lightsabers.

"Stand down." Rictus barked.

At once, the quartet extinguished their blades, but remained where they stood, awaiting further orders.

Holding out a hand, the Dark Lord said simply, "Your lightsaber."

With a moment's hesitation, I unclipped my weapon from my belt and placed in his grip. I wasn't exactly happy to be unarmed in his presence and he likely knew it.

Studying the lightsaber with a practiced eye, he activated the blade. He ignored me as I flinched back, very uncomfortable being unarmed in front of a Dark Lord that was armed.

The bloodshine blade snapped into a guard position before Rictus launched into a dizzying array of maneuvers. I recognized only a few because of how fast he was moving. The tall man was a blur of movement, never faltering or hesitating. He knew exactly what he was doing.

In the blink of an eye, it was over and the lightsaber was deactivated. I had barely had the opportunity to take a breath.

Years. It would definitely take years. And he had at least fifty on me.

Darth Rictus had returned to examining the hilt, turning it over in his hand. Finally, he spoke.

"A generalist's weapon." He finally commented, "Overseer Miral was never known for her creativity, but perhaps that will serve you well until you become more familiar with lightsaber construction. 

It should suffice for any of the Forms, though it will not perform as well as a specialist weapon."

Basically, it sounded like he was describing the blade I took from Castor's corpse as a training wheels lightsaber. While I didn't build it, I couldn't help but feel a little insulted as it being dismissed.

Still holding the extinguished lightsaber in his hand, Darth Rictus began to circle me, eyes roving up and down my body. It would be a lot creepier if I didn't know exactly what he was doing.

His voice low, he began to speak aloud. I wasn't sure if he was speaking to me or simply airing his thoughts.

"You lack the agility for Ataru and the ferocity for Juyo. You have the correct build for Djem So and Shien, but not the temperament. You have the mindset for Niman yet lack the understanding to properly utilize it…"

He was trying to determine which Form I would work best with. I supposed I favored the idea of Niman in a "use every weapon in your arsenal" kind of way.

He stopped his pacing in front of me, his mind seemingly made up.

"You will begin with Shii-Cho."

Before I could protest that I had already started on it, red eyes boring into my soul stopped me before I could interrupt.

"I watched you fumble through the steps against the training droids. Perhaps you utilized elements of it during your trials, but you never understood Shii-Cho and never internalized its teachings."

Darth Rictus pressed the lightsaber back into my hands before stepping back.

"Jedi younglings and Sith children are taught Shii-Cho from the moment they can hold a lightsaber to build their foundation. I myself mastered it by the age of five, nearly one year after beginning my education."

The Dark Lord did not leave the center of the salle, planting a stone of worry in my gut.

"You will not utilize any Force abilities, either to augment yourself or to defend yourself. From this moment until you have claimed mastery, your only weapon will be the lightsaber in your hand. Failure to adhere to this rule will be punished."

A large, scarred hand reached down to his waist and grasped the silver cylinder that hung at his side. The corners of his mouth rose into the beginnings of a wide grin, creasing his facial scars into a horrific sight.

"I trust that you will achieve greater results than children."

Red light filled the room as Darth Rictus' lightsaber ignited. The Force shall free me.

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The first book of this fanfic has been completed on Patreon, you can look it up in the collection alongside the second book. You can visit Patreon if you want to read in Advance.

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