A reminder that this woman whose day job was killing the deadliest people in the galaxy.
But she did not move to remove the hand.
Thankfully.
...
"If I fall, I want you to kill me," I said as calmly as I could manage.
"Not even five minutes ago, I told you that I want you alive," she pointed out. "And you are aware that redemption is a possibility?"
"Little Jedi, I'm asking you to remove a threat to the galaxy once it presents itself, and you want to make your job harder?" I asked.
For a very long moment, neither of us said anything.
Why?
Why the Hell wasn't she saying anything?
It hadn't been that hard of a question.
Eventually, while I was trying and failing to figure out what was going on behind those pale blue eyes, the door to the apartments whispered open.
"Lord Nestor." The voice of the guard and his impression in the Force were both surprisingly lacking in hostility. Quite odd, that, given that I was a Sith Lord. "His Highness requests your presence at your earliest convenience."
Ah. Earliest convenience. In other words, right now.
Releasing my grip on the Little Jedi, I struggled to my feet on legs that felt as tense as cords of wood.
"Just me, or Knight Lia as well?" I asked.
"His Highness King Bouris invited only you, Lord Nestor," came the answer. "Knight Lia will have to remain here."
"I suppose if that is the king's wish, then so it shall be," I said, walking over to the guard. "Lead the way."
The guard marched me through a maze of corridors, passing statues and paintings tucked away in alcoves at regular intervals. Sometimes the alcoves were empty, sometimes the alcoves were empty, or the art on display had clearly been recently changed. All evidence that the Panteer Palace had not always been part of the Ulgo holdings.
Eventually, I was brought before a double door with a pair of guards in highly polished armor with an impressive amount of gold inlay. My lightsaber was confiscated for reasons of safety, and I was ushered in to meet with King Bouris Ulgo.
The man in question was seated in a richly appointed study. Barely an inch of wall was visible, hidden behind bookshelves that were crammed to the gills with actual physical tomes that were so rare in this galaxy. The carpet beneath my feet had a distressing amount of give that reminded me of walking on the beach.
And in the center of it all was the usurper king.
"You were as good as your word, Lord Nestor," Bouris Ulgo managed to say once the door whispered shut behind me. The self-proclaimed King of Alderaan was seated at a neatly organized desk. That a king did not have a stack of papers or their equivalent on hand to showcase how busy he was, only a pot of tea and a single cup. No attempt had been made to introduce the thought I should have been thankful that he made time for me. Everything suggested that he was meeting with me in good faith. "The bones of Trask Ulgo rest within the crypts of House Ulgo with all the honor they deserve."
Belatedly, I recognized that he had used the proper method of address. To answer his term of respect with one of my own, I doffed my mask and let my face meet fresh air. He had responded well to that in the past, after all.
"I make it a point of pride to do as I said I would, Your Highness," I said lightly, running a hand through my hair to try and make it look as presentable as possible.
"So it appears, Lord Nestor," he said. "Or would you prefer Janus?"
Were it not for my sleep deprivation, I suspect I would have flinched. To have my secret identity revealed so casually was not a good thing.
"Nestor is fine," I said. "Janus is… a product of circumstance. And he makes the galaxy a better place, so I hope you will keep his existence confidential."
"A product of circumstance?" he asked with that raspy voice of his. "You created an alternate identity with his fingers in a dozen different industries, someone who is making tangible progress in making a ruined world habitable again, a product of circumstance?"
"It was hardly my intention to give the Republic a propaganda win," I admitted. "But I had a group of people who depended on me. I could hardly let them down, now, could I? Besides, I rather like knowing that I made at least a small corner of the galaxy a slightly better place."
The usurper king stared at me for another second before letting out a ragged sigh.
"You make my life difficult, Nestor," he admitted at last. "All these evil Sith and the first conscious one to come before me acts like a perfectly normal person."
"I object to being called normal," I said dryly.
"I suspect you would," he answered equally dryly. "You said you had another proposition for me. You may present it."
Ah.
This.
The usurper king had said he would hear me out if his ancestor's bones were returned and no sooner.
The bones had been returned, and he was a very literal man in this sense.
For a brief moment, I pondered how best to broach the subject before opting for the frontal approach.
"Your Highness, I ask that you begin negotiating a ceasefire with House Panteer, both Republic and Imperial," I said. "The war on Alderaan is a needless waste of life that could be resolved through alternative means."
"Why do you care about what happens on Alderaan?" he asked. "And don't give me that 'doing the thing' excuse. You're only here because one of your insane countrymen is looking for a superweapon. Or so you said in that joint press statement. So why care about what's happening on my homeworld?"
Well, wasn't he straight to the point?
"The noble houses of Alderaan all have a fleet," I said, opting to match his blunt honesty with blunt honesty of my own. "If Alderaan stands united, or at least at peace, that fleet can give chase to Darth Angral. With a joint Jedi-Sith command, it could move freely throughout the galaxy."
"You came here, offered up one of your own to get me to not kill you on the spot, returned my ancestor's remains to me, all so you could try to convince me to start negotiating a ceasefire, as a precursor to convincing all the other noble houses of Alderaan to let you borrow their fleets?" he asked, his tone incredulous. "Lord Nestor, that plan has more points of failure than a broken cup."
"I'm already halfway to success," I pointed out. "That rounds up in my book."
"None of the other houses have any reason to agree to it," he pointed out. Even my sleep-deprived mind was able to pick up the deliberate word choice. "You haven't done anything to prove to them that you can be trusted."
"Other houses, Your Highness?" I asked lightly.
"Truth be told, using an Alderaanian war fleet to turn a Sith warship into a debris field appeals to me on a personal level," he admitted. A treacherous part of my mind was very glad that the usurper king was sitting down. "And damn it all if you having several Jedi with you allays my reservations in handing over the Ulgo fleet to a Sith Lord."
"And using the Ulgo fleet to hunt down a renegade Sith Lord is a great P.R. win," I pointed out.
"Also that, yes," he agreed, nodding.
"Then the ceasefire?" I asked.
"Oh, my agents have already reached out to the other noble houses to organize a summit," he revealed, pausing only to take a sip of tea. "As we speak, they should all be on Mount Sendoth discussing terms."
Excuse me, what?
"Say again?" I asked.
"A ceasefire is already being negotiated," he said calmly, a pleased smile on his face.
"Make that three quarters to complete success," I commented. "My thanks for your assistance, Your Highness. It appears that I need to get to that summit rather quickly."
"Not possible, I'm afraid," he said. "The summit only permits representatives from the noble houses of Alderaan to attend."
"House Ulgo has already sent a delegate, I presume?" I asked, trying my damnedest to keep any hint of dejection out of my voice. I suspect the only reason I succeeded was because I had the faint stirrings of a plan forming in my head.
"You presume correctly," he confirmed, not elaborating further.
"And the right to send a delegate is granted to whom?" I asked.
"Every noble house that is involved in the war," he answered. "Tragically, just about every one of those houses has already sent a delegate. Don't feel too bad about not being able to attend; that plan of yours was always hopelessly optimistic."
"Do vassal houses get a delegate?" I asked.
"No. Otherwise, my fellow nobles and I would have created hordes of paper barons to negotiate a deal that was heavily in our favor. Great houses only."
"And kings cannot create new great houses?" I asked.
"Yes, but… ah, clever Sith." The usurper king let out a grim chuckle. "You want me to make you a noble so you can attend the summit."
"If it isn't too much of a bother," I said. "The tentative support of one house with a fleet is good. A dozen fleets are better."
For several long moments, the king sat in silence, scratching his chin while thinking.
"I cannot create a great house without it being seen as a blatant grab for power," he said at last, and my heart sank. "But this war has driven a great house or twenty to extinction. I can get you into the summit, but the rest is up to you."
"That's all I ask."
...
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