When the unthinkable occurs, loyalties shift rather quickly to find a new balance. I find I’m having a difficult time coping with the dire reality of the situation. Such loss, such... incomprehensible loss. I don’t think anyone could’ve fully anticipated this. What happened? Are there no further precautions to take? The dark side speaks to me in a lesser voice now, its grip on the galaxy loosening. I know what must be done. But without direction or cause what good is there? No. A servant without a master. I’m afraid, afraid of what will become of us—of me. We are at the fulcrum point, when an empire lies in the balance. The Emperor wished to the tip the scales one way— by ensuring a crushing defeat of the Rebellion over Endor. Yet... with Him gone, who is to say which way the scales ought to tip for me?
The old man gave a weary glance as a crewman passed him by in the corridor. He redirected his gaze toward the door that sealed his personal quarters, for once not flanked by guards of any kind. He was uncharacteristically oblivious to the world around him—an occasional flicker of light, subtle shakes coursing through the hull, emitting muffled and unhealthy noises had not as much effect in the man as they would had normally. Had he given up? Vynar held something precious, something dear: the firm sturdy book that remained clenched between his arms. How many days had it been? His persistent gaze would have hinted it could be infinitely longer than in reality. It almost was as if he awoke slightly when a relay 20-something meters away suddenly burst. The creaks and groans of the hull were abruptly clearer to him, though he could not tell if it had been that way before or that this was something new entirely. Wasting no time, he made his way for his quarters, quickly sealing the door behind him. The quarters in the command tower were, rather appropriately, akin to those of an officer. Its bulkheads, however, in the walls, the ceiling, and the floor, were slightly more reinforced to accommodate his wishes of safety.
There was a single untidy bed at the far end of it, an executive-looking desk and chair opposite that and cases lining the adjacent wall. Due to the commotion the occasional object, mostly holobooks, had fallen from the shelves near the bed. A transparisteel viewport spanned virtually the entire width of the room which had been appropriately blinded. The quarters themselves had the look about them as if someone had been living in them for a while now with the only light sources being rather dim. It took Vynar a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkened room, his customary crimson robes still rustling and whispering, almost as if in discontent. He laid the ageing journal to rest on his bed before he sat down behind the desk. Finally, silence. He wallowed there for seconds, minutes, perhaps hours. His arm stretched out for the desk, grabbing hold of the lonesome datapad resting upon it; once switched on, its blue glow shone upon his face. A faint smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he began to compose a new message.
Kadira,
I am sorry. It seems fate caught up with me. I am distraught still after Endor, after all that transpired. I left precious Anaxes almost one week past; it was no longer safe for a person of my stature to remain—and you know I cannot idly sit by either. Perhaps this is not the most sensible decision I have made, but it is the one I must now work from.
At present, my plans take me to the Deep Core, but the journey has been excruciatingly slow due to our elaborate course evading as much confrontation as possible—which sounds less difficult than it has proven to be. We have been beset at almost every turn, what with the Alliance gaining more and more support, even in the Azure sector, and the handful of Imperial splinter factions we have encountered so far.
Few loyalists might admit it, but the Empire is aflame. We can act, my darling Kadira, or we can stand by and watch it burn like so much kindling. I remember perfectly where I was when the news reached me; the memory will forever be etched into my mind. I was on my way home from a concert performed by the Centarean Jizz Orchestra on Empress Teta—you know me.
Stay mobile, my child, and rendezvous with me as soon as possible so that we can still make a difference in this torn galaxy of ours. The book... the book will contain all the secrets and answers I have not shared with you when perhaps I should have—not unlike your great-uncle. Point out the irony for later, please. There is one in particular that is not among the pages, one I deliberately never put to writing... though perhaps you could read between my words and puzzle together my intentions. I know that if any being in this galaxy can, it’s you. It shall be yours when I meet with you.
For now I will include you in my elaborate plan, as you deserve to know my intentions: Inquisitor Yhâtyaldar Gulrac'sil—
Yhâtyaldar Ädonebela Velri Gulrac'sil ish'Malab—perished quite some time ago, of natural causes. Suffice it to say that she had far too weak a heart for her schedule. At first I intended to use her qualities directly, however, her death put a stop to that. I saw to it that my agents and I hid any trace of her early demise from the rest of the Empire. While Yhâtyaldar was effectively out of the picture, her persona was very much alive for me to use instead. She became a banner in my hands, one for all the impure and loyally-tempted Imperial followers. Surely no one would question the capabilities of the former Inquisitor gone rogue. Soon, a few dozen rallied to the subtle signals and efforts I put out from the shadows. It grew fairly organically as a legit yet covert means of eliminating those who blemished us.
Eventually I hoped to rid our glorious Empire of as many undesirables as possible in this manner as well as providing another solid example of aliens presenting a serious threat to our ways that would force our superiors to change. Gradually the dejarik board expanded to include the several key pieces I gave instructions, through proxy contacts, that would only ensure their own demise by my own subordinates—whose loyalty and devotion I questioned from time to time; their drive to prove themselves to me, however, blinded them to the immediate situation. It was a perfect orchestration, and it excelled above my other life’s work. I could almost taste the blood of my predecessor as I climbed toward the mantle of Grand Inquisitor.
But I should have known that it could not last forever. Which brings us to the present—when our Emperor fell, I fear that so too did any hope that my work would bear fruit. A House divided... in multitude.
Should I fail to reach you in time then I want you to continue my life’s work. I plead you to. We have not always seen eye-to-eye on certain matters, but out of all, I trust you the most that you will succeed where I have not.
Kindest regards,
Your loving father
