It's Treason Then

[Varyn Rask]

The Daedalus was a destination for gambling, fine dining, resort-goers, and those who wanted to not only have the most enjoyable get away possible but also had the money to spend. A weekend on the Daedalus wasn't cheap, but the Sith Lord could write this off as a "business expense." After all, if you were going to meet with the Grand Moff to discuss the fate of the entire galaxy sometimes you had to wine and dine.

Varyn was dressed in his robes, though in this case they were slightly more fitting of a place where the "rich and spoiled" lived. He wouldn't stand out, and with his lightsaber hilt hidden, no one would look his way. He took a seat in the corner of the restaurant, nursing a non-alcoholic drink at such an angle that he could look out the window and also keep an eye on those that came and went. Despite the time he'd spent in space, he never fully adjusted to looking out and seeing nothingness beyond. In fact, it was one of the numerous reasons he didn't like space travel. Despite all the time he spent in transit from one place to the other, he'd never really loved it.

He reached out to the Force to feel those around him. This place was vibrant and alive in a way that was quite different than being in the underground or the underbelly of Coruscant. The people here lacked the desperation but not the depravity of the underworld. The same instincts that people in the underworld had were the same ones here, just dressed up in finer clothes.

Vary considered for the dozenth time what he would say to the Grand Moff, but ultimately he realized that no matter how much he prepared nothing would go as planned. He'd already thought about the possible ways this could unfold, but whatever happened in the end would be different than what he anticipated. @Nefieslab

 

[The Storyteller]

The Grand Moff Otenaz Mazim was not a man of the people but he was far from being someone accustomed to the wining and dining that accompanied high level Imperial Politics. Positions within the Imperial Republica were often political but Grand Moff was a position that could only be obtained through vigorous hard work and dedication to duty.

And the elimination of your rivals with poison as they dined in places such as this.

Dressed impeccably in his military dress uniform, Mazim strode into the restaurant without hesitation. It was still likely that the man he was meeting today was going to kill him but that was simply all the more reason for someone like him to walk with his back straight and his dignity intact. Once upon a time, in the military academy, one of his instructors had lectured them about how death had a dignity all of it's own.

That same instructor had shat himself to death due to poisoning a few weeks later so Mazim had always hated the very idea - there was no death in dignity. Dignity was something you prepared when you were alive and you carried it to your death only if you prepared it in life.

He was prepared.

Reaching the table, the Grand Moff of the Imperial Republica nodded once to Varyn as he sat. It wasn't polite but neither man was really here to stand on ceremony.

"Crusader Rask." he greeted the other man before tilting his head to the side slightly, "Or do you go by a new title now to suit your new Master's dedication to tradition?"

Was it insulting? Technically no.

Technically.

@Phoenix

 

[Varyn Rask]

Ah, this would be the man of the hour. Unlike Varyn, the Grand Moff's face was one that was recognizable. He was a man high up in the Imperial Repubilca, whereas Varyn had only recently clawed his way into his position through a combination of cunning, manipulation, combat skills, and outright daring maneuvers. The thought that he had leveraged a defection into a Lordship was just ballsy.

Hmm, it's actually Lord Rask now. But Varyn will do, he said. He had initially thought to merely let the comment go as normally throwing out a title was nothing but an ego move, but in this case something was different: a higher title meant more validity to any claims or power he made. The Darth title wasn't one he carried yet, but he was a Sith Lord nonetheless.

As for the jab... Varyn didn't really care. If the man was so bound to his "side" in an astronomically stupid and pointless war, then perhaps he was more ignorant and narrow minded than Varyn had first thought, but he would let that judgment linger until he knew more of this man.

A waitress droid zoomed over as soon as the Grand Moff sat down, asking if he wanted anything as Varyn took a sip of his own drink. He was perfectly content to wait to address their conversation until the man had chosen. He half expected the man not to order anything out of paranoia... it was exactly what Varyn would have done in some situations.

If this were going to be a confrontation, it would be direct, he said absentmindedly. The Old Empire valued strength, and while Varyn still had his Republica roots and training as an assassin, he didn't feel the need to poison this man if they were going to fight.

Regardless of whether he ordered a drink, the droid would vanish and Varyn would have the opportunity to continue. I'm sure you can see the writing on the wall in this war, he said. The Republica was under attack from all sides, and it was only a matter of time until death and destruction came on a wide scale. Varyn left his opening sentence vague on purpose because he wanted to garner the man's thoughts first. Plus, he didn't like to play all his cards out of the gate. @Nefieslab

 

[The Storyteller]

Mazim raised an eyebrow at the title but didn't say anything.

He had no doubt that Varyn had 'earned' his rank by selling his allegiance... not that the man could blame him. Everyone was doing it these days and in this changing Galaxy where Sith on Sith violence seemed to be nothing but a distraction from the real war? Well he could hardly blame the man for selling himself to the Old Empire.

At least Rask had the decency to demand a high price.

The comment about poisoning actually made Mazim smile as he ordered a whiskey without a moment's hesitation.

"A comment muttered by every would-be poisoner at one time or another I'm sure." he joked before accepting the drink from the droid and sipping it, "If you have though - you've had the decency to make sure that it doesn't interfere with the taste at least. Decent of you."

He didn't truly believe that Rask would poison him. Mazim had met hundreds of Sith just like the man - the quiet arrogance that came from someone who knew they were skilled enough that they didn't need to use underhanded tricks. But tempered in this Sith in particular by a willingness to do the underhanded regardless.

After all - diplomacy was often considered the most underhanded of all tricks.

He scoffed.

"Please. This isn't a war." he rebutted with a small sniff, "It always has been a family squabble between Drasts who have built up ideology to bring people to their banner in particular. Even now your Emperor only attacks the Republica now that he has succeeded in a singular event - stabbing a young woman who was an incompetent warrior at best. How this must have bolstered his confidence so."

Sipping at his whiskey, Mazim gestured with his chin towards the window, towards the people walking and flying past.

"Do you think they care about who sits upon which throne? The people out there trying to go about their lives? No. No they don't." he answered his own musings bluntly, staring back at Rask, "They care about not being blown up because the Mandalorians decide they want to start ramming orbital shipyards into the planets below. They care about going back to the chaos and uncertainty, the corruption and hypocrisy that was the Republic under the gaze of those judgmental bigots, the Jedi. And yes - I recognize the irony of a Republica man calling someone a bigot."

He stared at Rask for a moment longer.

"What I want is a strong Empire. Can you ensure me that, Rask? Can your Drast offer that when mine could not?"

@Phoenix

 

[Varyn Rask]

Varyn actually had a genuine smile at the comments about poison. It wasn't the arrogant grin or vicious, chilling barring of fangs like a predator, but something that Varyn had actually found humorous.

Touche, he said with a nod. Yes, it was likely that there were hundreds of poisoned individuals who had been told the same only to be choking on their own vomit minutes or hours later.

The man launched into his evaluation quickly, and Varyn was actually a little surprised. So many people were unwilling to speak their minds or give their opinions unless the other person had already given theirs. It was the exact reason that so many discussions got off to a brick wall and never moved further. He was glad this wouldn't turn out to be the same.

But more than that, the man was right. None of his evaluation was mistaken, and that was - Varyn assumed - precisely why he had come to his position.

And then they reached the end of it all: a strong Empire. That was something that Varyn could absolutely agree on. It was what everyone wanted, but no one seemed to know how to go about getting.

Why a Drast? he finally decided to ask. It was tradition that a Drast ruled the IR, and that was precisely what had gotten them into this situation. Andraste is untouched in terms of what she could do, but her descendants have clearly shown they fall short, he said. The Grand Moff would be able to see the writing on the wall for where this was going, but he didn't bring them there yet. There was more that needed to be tackled first.

The "line of succession" needs to come to an end, and that will happen with Darth Vrael, he said. If he is inadequate then another will take his place. Can you, the other Moffs, and the people - who don't care who sits on the throne - live with dispensing of a bloodline succession? he asked. If they couldn't, then there were going to be continued problems, but if they could... the door was open to true change in the galaxy. @Nefieslab

 

[The Storyteller]

Seemed that the two of them weren't going to be hitting any brick walls just yet and that was fine by him. Mazim reached carefully, but not too slowly, into his uniform's inner pocket to produce a cigara case. He popped two out onto the table, taking one himself and lighting it with the built in lighter on the cigara case.

He didn't doubt that Rask would be able to light his own somehow if he took the offered cigara. Taking a pull, he ignore the dirty look one of the human staff shot at him when they thought he wasn't looking - this conversation was breaking laws much higher than some smoking ban.

Raising an eyebrow, Mazim hummed.

"Why a Drast?" he mused, "It has nothing to do with tradition. It has everything to do with status. The name gives an air of strength and validity that names like Rask or Mazim lack. There's a reason why there hasn't been a non-Drast member in charge of the Empire for it's history and it only has a little bit to do with lineage and dynasty."

Setting his cigara down in an ashtray, he sipped his whiskey, finishing the glass. He picked the cigara back up and looked back at Rask with a calculating look in his eye.

"The thing the Mandalorians and the Jedi and their Rebellion don't understand is that they have no endgame. No one but Mandalorians will follow Mandalor for long. The Jedi are ill-suited to ruling and rebels, terrorists and anarchists are not going to be able to replace those they despise." he mused, tapping some ash off the end of his cigara, "The bloodline is not perfect. It is downright flawed - but it gives stability. Order to the chaos. You seem to agree with me on the point that the Empire needs to be strong... but without the line of succession every regime change would result in conflict. Duels at best and civil war once again at worst."

He took another pull from his cigara.

"I hate to make this sound like an interview Rask but... sell it to me. Convince me that your endgame is sustainable. That it won't just result in a bloodbath of not proving who is fit to rule an Empire that stretches across the Galaxy... but in proving who can better kill a single opponent." he shrugged, "Empires are not ruled by stabbing one person at a time. Peace is not maintained by a skilled duelist but by a skilled ruler. Andraste, her name hallowed as it is, was something truly unique; she was both. Can you say the same of any of your rank?"

@Phoenix

 

[Varyn Rask]

Varyn took the offered cigara and cupped his hand under it. The end sheered cleanly off and floated down to the table before a small flame began to hover and flicker over his hand. He put the cigara to his mouth and puffed at it as the end lit up and he pulled a long drag of smoke into his mouth before blowing it out. He was unconcerned with the attention that the smoke drew, knowing no one was going to come bother them. The two put of an aura of someone who shouldn't be bothered, and second looks made people realize at least who the Grand Moff was.

Varyn shook his head in disagreement with the man's point. It's Drasts because of tradition. They have driven the Empire into the ground because they are not what Andraste was, he said. He wasn't sure the two should continue to belabor the point, but at the same time, it could be an important point. If he thought that Drasts ruled because they were actually good at it just because of a name... well, they were going to be disagreeing.

Then there was the question of how to decide succession. Yes, civil wars were on the table, and Varyn had mixed feelings about it. The man didn't directly ask a question about that, though, and rather than take unnecessary fights - which only a fool did - he let that pass and focused on the actual question asked, not missing the dig once again. He had let teh first go, but he wouldn't a second time.

You're correct about one thing, Grand Moff. This isn't an interview. You're the head of an organization whose downfall is weeks away, and if you don't start making friends soon... he didn't finish the sentence. Well, I don't need to define that for you, he said. They both knew what would happen if he didn't make some friends soon. Varyn was far more forgiving than most Sith. He let the silence hang in the air for a moment, perfectly content with his position.

You're right, stabbing a single person doesn't make a good ruler, he said. But a single man willing to risk his own life to avoid a war. That does, he said. It was a subtle shift in mentality that made all the difference. Some would say it was a distinction without a difference, but anyone who said that was narrow minded at best.

The prior Sith rulers were foolish, and there's nothing more to say to it than that, he said. He was here to climb up the ladder because he didn't think prior rulers had done what they should have. All the problems except the Jedi are the products of prior foolishness: suppressing the Mandalorian culture, excessive brutality against other worlds, xenophobia, he listed just a few. And then we sit back and wonder how the Empire has plunged itself into war, he said with a frown and a shake of his head. You want to know what my first step will be: stop fanning the flames, he said. It was a simple plan, but somehow one that no one seemed to be able to grasp. @Nefieslab

 

[The Storyteller]

Mazim was glad to see that neither of them was the type to linger on a point that was clearly not going to be resolved in one conversation. Perhaps, if it were debated at length, they could enjoy a lovely conversation about it. But right now? It was hardly the time for debate and neither of them sought to make it into one.

He raised his glass and the droid scooted on over to refill the glass, and Varyn's, as the two of them just sat there and took pulls from their cigara. Humming a little bit, the Grand Moff of the Imperial Republica laughed at Varyn's words. It wasn't a mocking laugh by any means - it was a laugh of agreement. He grinned a little bit.

"Varyn Rask... I pulled on my Imperial Trooper's uniform almost thirty years ago and I expected to die in it." he replied with a knowing smile, "I've been dead since I first pulled it on. It doesn't need defining because men like you and I? We exist as we do because we know death will come for us and we do not care."

Well - more that they did not care to debase themselves in delaying it's arrival. It would arrive regardless of what they did, one day. One day it would come for him and if it was this day? Well, the way Mazim figured, he'd already lived thirty more years than he had expected to.

"True - until that man slips up. Just once." he shrugged, "And a selfish jackass sits on the throne because a good man, a good ruler, died. I have no doubt that there is a Sith living today... who could be glorious. A true revelation. My issue isn't that this Sith cannot exist without the name Drast. My issue is that once they're dead and gone? It'll be be another jackass. And again and again."

Pulling the last of the taste from his cigara, Mazim looked across the table at Varyn and there would be no doubt what his meaning was, not between the two of them. He raised an eyebrow.

"You mean you'll not burn your 'own kingdom' as the decrepit old man from Korriban seems intent on doing? Though I suppose when all you have is a hammer... everything looks like a nail." He frowned slightly, setting the end of his cigara down in the ashtray, "I am willing to work with you, Rask. I will not compromise who I am or what I believe in... but thankfully it appears we are of similar enough mind that I would play foil to you rather than rival. It is up to you if you wish to engage in this, the beginnings of governance, together."

He smiled a little bit.

"Or if you have decided I shall die in my uniform as I long suspected."

@Phoenix

 

[Varyn Rask]

The two of them might be able to see eye to eye on some things after all. Varyn had long ago realized that the odds he die on his way up to the top were high, but it was worth it. The closer he got to the top, the more he thought he could taste a victory. It seemed like it was almost in sight at this point, but he also knew that a single misstep along the way could still spell disaster.

And even if he got to the top, if the base under him crumbled it would all be for nothing.

The Sith were on a steep decline and their foundation was being chipped away at in a hurry. Warriors were dying on a daily basis, and it was unsustainable. But that thought was one for another time. First, he needed to secure support.

The Grand Moff certainly was a pessimist, but he also had probably seen a few things along the way. And why would I kill you? he asked. He knew the answer, but it was also a genuine question. Killing the man gained him nothing, and while Varyn was more than happy to kill a man if it would benefit the Empire, killing the Grand Moff certainly wasn't a benefit.

You might still die in that uniform for treason, but not from me, he said. At least probably not from him. Who knew what the future held? So do you think I can do a good job of running the Empire? he finally asked. It was the real question that needed asking, and there was no point in beating around the bush. @Nefieslab

 

[The Storyteller]

Why would he kill him?

It was a question that the two of them both knew the answer to and it was a question that he didn't really think required an answer but he wasn't about to be rude and just let it go. Instead he just smiled a little bit and sipped at the whiskey that had been refreshed by the droid server again.

"I try not to assume that people don't want to kill me." he admitted bluntly, "When you reach the highest levels of political office, you realize that everyone wants to kill you or would, at least, not be concerned if you die."

It wasn't the answer but it was an answer to the question in the end. Looking around him for a moment, the Grand Moff took a moment to think about his answer. This next answer would be the ending of their meeting one way or another. If he agreed it would be the end of his meeting with Varyn.

If he disagreed it would mark the end of the meeting and likely the beginning of battle.

Looking at the Sith across the table from him, Mazim said nothing for a few moments before calmly standing from his seat. Taking out some credits, he dropped them on the table to pay for their drinks. He looked Varyn in the eye for a moment before nodding once.

"I'll make preparations." he declared simply, "And I shall arrange a meeting between yourself and the remainder of the Moff Council. It is time for this war to end."

@Phoenix

 

[Varyn Rask]

Varyn could feel that tense moment when things were either going to defuse or escalate. It rippled in the Force in such a unique way, and in oh-so-many instances, it resulted in combat. It made Varyn naturally stiffen, nearly reaching for his saber... but then it was over. As quickly as the meeting had started, the two of them were able to part ways... reluctant allies.

The Dark Lord will come for your surrender, he told the man. It wasn't something he was likely supposed to relay, but then, he wasn't supposed to do any of what he did. If you want to save Coruscant, give into him... or at least don't deny him, he said. It was a subtle difference, but if the man was killed in the negotiations ahead of time... well, that would certainly pave Varyn's way. It was just a thought if the Grand Moff had the means. Either way, it would prevent Coruscant from being destroyed, which was what Varyn was after.

Stay safe out there, he said as the man rose to leave. He gave a nod and took another sip of his drink. Maybe even try to enjoy yourself while you're here, he gave a shrug. He knew it wasn't likely, but it was worth a shot. Might as well enjoy something in their lives before they both risked death.

//Thread @Nefieslab