Leaning on the railing of a path some distance from the castle of the late Artorigas Wessex, Sah’ra watched as the sun began to descend behind it’s great towers. How strange it was to her, observing the building here and now while knowing that it’s Lord would never again walk it’s corridors. Never would the little feet of heirs scamper the steps leading into it’s great hall. Nor would there be any lavish parties such as those held on Serenno, a testament to the generosity and support of the King of Avillion to the greater Empire. Shaking her head slowly, Sah’ra pushed herself upward with her arms crossed at her chest and allowed her feet to carry her on. She had not come to the palace simply to mope and mourn. Artorigas was a great man, a Sith Lord who had every ounce of her respect, but there was more to this visit than simply paying her condolences.
As she approached the palace gates, one would expect that it was business as usual. Servants, messengers, government officials and emissaries continued to come and go as though their King still sat upon his throne, and it bothered the Sith more than she could have ever expected. Avillion was not just some plaything but a true form of government that expanded much of the western reaches. The death of a King could never be enough to cease the wheels of bureaucracy, there must always be progress. And yet seeing these folk carry on as though nothing had changed, that the man who had brought them under his protection had not just passed on, infuriated her to no end. Surely there were murals, statues, perhaps even a day of remembrance. In truth, Artorigas was honored and offered every ounce of respect he deserved. Her emotions were irrational and she recognized as much, so she buried them deep.
Within the palace was what she sought. There had always been rumors of how Artorigas had assembled his fleet and why he had elected to consolidate his power separately from the greater Empire. Many whispered it was due to his own ambitions, wishing for a seat of power that he alone controlled should a divide occur within the Sith. Some believed it was for reclusivity, not by ambition but simply for seclusion. That he simply wished to avoid war as it accelerated. Try as she might, she could not believe it. To her, Artorigas was both loyal and fearless so these rumors could carry no weight. No, she believed there was another reason.
Openly walking through the halls of Avillion after delivering her report from Adumar, Sah’ra drifted from the common path as soon as she could sense no eyes on her. She was unfamiliar with the layout of the palace beyond what she had seen during her brief visits in the past but deep within, the Force called out to those who would listen. Somewhere in this place was the Vault of Caelestis, packed full of ancient artifacts and tomes. His collection had always far exceeded her own and had been a subject of great envy for the Champion but now he was not here to protect it.
The Force served as her guide, dictating to her where she needed to turn, what stairs she needed to climb and descend, what lifts would carry her to the source of it’s sweet melody until she finally arrived at the massive door, sealed tight.
”Of course,” Sah’ra groaned as she stood before the vault, arms crossed as she tapped her toe while observing it’s magnificence. ”He never was one to skimp on protection,” she continued to muse, chuckling as she recalled the tale of Lord Draugr and the infected suit of armour. ”Now, how do I get you to sing for me?”
Placing a hand on the cool steel and focusing on the locking mechanism within, Sah’ra was moments away from trying to coax the door open through the Force when it suddenly began to open on it’s own. The vault, as it had turned out, was already receiving visitors.
”Shit!” the woman hissed, stepping backward in panic. Looking to each side for a place to hide and spotting only suits of armour that lined the halls, Sah’ra tucked herself in next to the nearest suit to the vault door. From within, none other than the sister of the late Lord Wessex, Cornelia, emerged though continued down the hall in the opposite direction. Seizing her moment with silent steps, Sah’ra slipped within the vault as the door shut behind her.
”That was lucky,” she smirked, pushing a stray strand of black hair behind her ear. All was well, until she saw what existed before her. Jaw agape, both hands hanging at her sides, Sah’ra found herself staring at yet another vault door. ”You’ve got to be kidding me,”
The room wasn’t empty but any of the truly worthwhile artifacts were certainly beyond the larger vault and effectively sealed away from her. Quickly, the Sith began picking through what existed in her reach, so she could save this endeavor from being entirely pointless. Much of it was useless, ledgers and financial statements. She may have been here to recover treasures but nothing that had a credit value. One thing that did catch her eye, however, was a communicator laid out on a desk that bore the familiar crest of House Wessex where one would place their thumb. She couldn’t explain why but the fact of a simple communicator being sealed in a vault intrigued her and would be the only thing she departed Namadii with.
Returned to Adumar in her private quarters of the Royal Palace, the device sat before Sah’ra as she leaned her chin into her forearms on the desk. Staring at it was all she had done. She never activated it, never tried to reach whomever may be on the other end. Perhaps she was afraid? Grimacing at her own cowardice, she reached out and flicked the activator stud, unaware that it would connect her with Artorigas' operations on Exegol.
”Hello?”
”Yep. Charisma runs high today,” she groaned.
