They've been ambushed. 

Ilek was leading a patrol through the far side of Kiat's radius, away from the front. Something - or someone - must have tipped the Imperials off somehow, because halfway along a whole host of them had descended on his squad. They'd been preforming a fighting retreat for twenty minutes when Jaim finally got to them with reinforcements. 

Most of Ilek's squad is dead. He doesn't even know most of their names. 

This isn't the time to mourn, however - even with Jaim's elites taking the pressure off, they're still outnumbered. He focuses on the enemy, threading and incanting a fire spell to throw at the nearest one. The remaining lieutenant from his squad, Kion, raises an earth shield behind him to block an incoming ice spear.

And then, suddenly: a woman, and some kind of strange... being? Appears a few feet away from them.

He whips around when he sees them, his eyes widening as he notices the imperial who had been sneaking around the battlefield to come up behind him, and the firebolt he'd cast at him which was now streaking towards the newcomers. 

The newcomer leaps, taking her companion with her, sailing easily out of the fire's path and ultimately putting a good thirty feet of distance between them with the one bound. She leaps again, for good measure, putting more distance between them and the fighting, and then turns, taking a defensive stance and readying some kind of sword made of red light.

Ilek is very relieved to have her farther away from him after this display. Such an advanced and wasteful use of space mana, and then that blade - it looks like something one could do with fire magic, but it would have to be fairly advanced. She must have an Artefact, and frankly he has no desire to fight her if she's not going to attack him. 

He's not the only one on the battlefield, however. An Imperial mage turns when she soars above him, and as soon as she lands throws a bolt of lightning at the sudden threat at his side's back. 

She deflects the lightning with the sword, sending it toward another combatant in the same uniform, and then gestures with it, try that again.

He does not! He tries something else, though. Pouring mana through his Blade to amplify it, he makes a sweeping upward gesture, pulling water from the air and freezing it with a shouted word to send it streaming at her in the shape of roughly two dozen knives.

She looks unimpressed, but waits for them to hit her telekinetic shield and fall to the ground before she counters with her own lightning.

He tries to shield by raising a wall of stone in front of himself. 

He manages it; the lightning grounds harmlessly against it. This makes for very little reprieve, though; the wall begins to fall before the sound of the lightning has cleared from the air, and his opponent is right behind it, already moving to close with him.

He raises his blade in an attempt to defend himself, calling up a twist of near-boiling water to throw at her while he backpedals.

She dodges the water, changing direction in a way that doesn't seem quite real, and then she's on him, wasting no time in bringing her blade to bear. She stays only long enough to make sure that he's dead before leaping away again, back to where her companion is waiting in a crouch.

He is dead! His blade crackles with energy where it falls, split in half by her own. After a moment, it dissolves into a pool of thick red-gold liquid which slowly pulls back together to leave it whole again.

No one else seems eager to take her on. In fact, the faction which had attacked her is retreating now, disheartened by the death of their most powerful mage, among others. 

The other, smaller faction starts checking over the battlefield, some vanishing off into the trees to make sure the enemy is actully retreating, and others to follow the trail of the fight and find the dead and injured members of Ilek's patrol. 

Jaim approaches her warily, remaining some distance away so as not to crowd her. 

"Are you alright, stranger?" He asks. 

She holds position for a moment, making it clear that she's not accepting his presence quite so readily as he might want, before stepping aside to let the metal woman with her address him in an entirely unfamiliar language.

He stays exactly where he is, turning his attention to the other being when they speak.

He doesn't understand a word.

Well, that complicates things. Still, he has a translation runestone. He activates it with a touch of illusion mana.

"Can you understand me?" He asks. 

"-yes sir," she replies, startled, and then signs to her companion: He's not speaking Basic, but I can understand him.

"For honesty's sake, I should tell you I can understand you when you sign as well. This runestone allows me to understand any language spoken, signed, or written within hearing or sight." 

"Thank you, sir." She relays this as well, and her companion nods and signs to him, one-handed: situation report?

"You are near the border of the Kingdom of Cialin and the Arming Empire. This is part of the warfront - the battle you apparently materialised into was between our forces - those of the Cialin military - and the Imperials. You killed the most powerful mage among them, and they were already tiring from the running battle between them and Prince Ilek's patrol, so this action sent them into retreat. Thank you for that, by the way.

"How did you get here?" 

Teleported. Different universe. She considers for a moment: can't repeat it.

He pauses, unprepared for these statements. 

"Ah. I'm not sure we will be able to help you get back, either. Perhaps a very powerful Space mage might manage it, but those are in short supply." 

He pauses again, "Welcome to Cialin, I suppose." 

The way she shifts when he suggests sending her back, away and guarding, suggests that it's probably quite a bad idea to try it.

Well, he supposes there's no reason to go looking for a Space Master, then. 

One of the soldiers comes up to him briefly, telling him something in another, untranslated language. He nods after a moment and she leaves again.

"My people require the attention of more skilled healers than those we have with us. Would you mind coming back to the fort with us? You have my word you will not be harmed or detained." 

Sure.

So they go. 

Their horses have scattered, eventually to return to the fort on their own as they were trained. Instead they must walk back, an hour long hike through the forest with injured comrades and prisoners. 

Jaim spends most of the walk cycling between the injured, plying them with life mana to keep them stable until they get to the healers at the fort. One of his elites, Istaim, walks a distance away from the strangers, close enough to hear if they call but far enough not to crowd them. 

She pauses to take the sword from the mage's corpse before they leave, handling it telekinetically rather than touching it at all. She keeps an eye on the group as they walk, and once or twice points out someone whose injuries need more attention than they're getting.

They're grateful for the pointers. Some of the other soldiers look unhappy when she takes the Blade, but, well, if it likes her enough to bond with her she's welcome to it, in Jaim's opinion. 

The fort is in a light depression at the top of a tall hill, walled in rune-marked stone. The wards, set to passively sense those who pass them, shimmer lightly as they pass. 

Some healers are waiting when they arrive. They quickly usher those carrying injured towards the infirmary. Lightly injured prisoners are likewise ushered further into another part of the fort. 

Jaim beckons the strangers to follow him, waving off Istaim to get some rest. 

"I should inform the Commander of what happened out there," he says, "Would you prefer to wait somewhere else while I do so, or come along?" 

Based on how the human-appearing one has been acting, he's not sure the crowded Command Center would appeal to her.

We'll come.

So he leads them to command. 

The place is a hive of activity, clerks busily going through records and maps and other papers, messengers flitting in and out to talk to the Fort Commander and the Captain in charge of patrols. 

On Jaim's entrance the Commander looks up, her face lighting up with relief, "General Jaim! I'm glad to see you are safe. Is Prince Ilek-?"

"He's fine," Jaim assures her. Ilek, having followed them, steps in at this moment, giving proof to Jaim's words. 

He goes on to explain the details of the battle as he knows them, before turning back to his guests. 

"This is Commander Coen of Fort Kiat," he introduces her, "Prince Ilek of Cialin," he gestures to the teen. "I am Jaim, General of the Cialin Border Forces." 

She's tenser in the crowd, as he suspected, though she doesn't let it affect much; she keeps the sword close and angled to avoid potentially threatening anyone, and the metal woman stays close as well, just a step behind her.

She nods at the introduction and gestures to her companion to reply to it: "This is Sith apprentice Deskyl, sir."

Coen nods, "A pleasure," she says, neutrally. Ilek just nods.

Jaim translates, adding "From me as well.

"Do you have any ideas as to your plans from here? Cialin is used to taking in refugees, but I suspect you may have some different needs to what is usual for the refugees we usually take in. For one, you will need to learn at least one of the common languages." 

Recon, she signs. Recovery.

    Yes ma'am. "Deskyl will need to know more about the situation here before she makes any plans, sir. Her needs are similar to a standard human, but she's recovering from an attack by another Sith and will need extra sleep, and a private place for it; I'll need a charger, but she can make one for me given some basic supplies. I learn languages very quickly; if you have a dictionary available I can learn this one in less than an hour."

Jaim nods, "I can get you a dictionary, a room to rest in, and meals to recover with. If you let me know what supplies you need, I should be able to source them for you, within reason. As for learning more about the world, I expect that will be easier once you know the language, but would be willing to give you some explanations as well." 

Good. War context.

    "Thank you, sir. Deskyl would like to know more about the war you're fighting, please."

He nods, turning to the table taking up the center of the room. He motions down at it, "This is a map of the continent, Cian. It depicts current territory, as of this year. The nation to the west is Cialin, this one. To the east, the Arming Empire, which rules a significant fraction of the rest of the world. 

"The current war began roughly 30 years ago, when the Empire began invading the remaining few lands between us. They quickly surrendered or otherwise fell, and within 5 years they were eating away at our borders. Their army is overwhelming - we have on average much better mages, but in the towns and cities Imperial training in combat is manditory for those capable, the majority of their soldiers have been training since childhood. We have lost a great deal of territory over the last 24 years."

He makes a line across the map to illustrate this; the former borders left Cialin with well over half of the continent. Currently they control just under a third of it.

"We have allies - the Southern Isles, a matriarchal coalition of allied islands who are also fighting off invasion, and the city-state Sanctuary, which depends on us for much of their food, but is the most advanced city in the world, and allows our most talented mages and scholars to learn at their Academy. 

"We're not actually certain why the Emperor turned to war. Before the point of the war's start he seemed entirely focused on peace, research, and reform."

Strange. Diplomacy?

    "Have you been in diplomatic contact with him at all, sir?"

"Some attempts were made towards diplomacy with the Empire, by other realms, near the beginning of the war. The only terms the Empire will accept are surrender. The Emperor is himself does not really bother with the details of the war, leaving that to his niece the Princess Shera and his generals. There is no way to contact him which would not come across as an attack." 

She nods. Strategic situation?

"Locally? The fight you appeared in was the tail end of an ambush on a patrol led by Prince Ilek. I believe it was likely a small strategic force, meant to kill him while he was away from the fort. This is the closest fort to the border in this area, but we haven't seen any sign of a larger force coming our way. Most of the active fighting is farther north at the moment. 

"As for farther afield, we have forces in the Southern Isles, as well as all along our border. As I said, most active fighting has been happening along the northern coast. We haven't lost any territory so far this year, and likely won't before the northern campaign ends. It's autumn now, so I expect we'll see more fighting in this area soon." 

She nods. I don't expect a tyrant to tolerate me, so you have a Sith, once I'm recovered. Only the one, though. Deployment - she shrugs. You have some time to figure it out.

He blinks. Frankly he hadn't quite expected her to immediately offer to fight for them - or perhaps at all. He's not going to argue, however - he'd seen her fight. It was very impressive, even more-so given that she is apparently in less than full health. 

He is mildly concerned about what his fa-the King will think of her. And what she might do in response. It sounds like a problem to think on later, however.

"I'm sure your assistance will be very valuable wherever you end up deployed," he says, "But yes, we can decide that later." 

He glances at the Artefact, still held in her telekinetic grip, "Do you intend to bond with the Blade?" He asks, and then, "-Do you have Artefacts, where you're from?" 

We don't. I doubt he's a better weapon than my lightsaber, though.

He smiles, "Perhaps not," he agrees, recalling how she'd cut through the Artefact using that blade, "Artefacts are primarily used for mana enhancement, aside from their use as weapons. More than that, in my opinion, is their value as companions." He pats the Bow on his back. "I'm sure he won't mind being used less for combat than your other blade, if you make the attempt, assuming he agrees to bond with you at all." 

She nods. I'll discuss it with him.

He nods in return, "Would you like that room now?" He offers, glancing over at the Commander. She looks up from the report she's only half-reading at the question, watching for Deskyl's answer - or Jaim's translation of it, at any rate.

If there's nothing else pressing.

So he nods at the Commander, and she motions for one of the messengers, telling her to inform the servants to air out another of the visitor's rooms. 

"It should take roughly half an hour," Jaim tells Deskyl, "I can show you the mess hall in the meantime, or else see if those materials you need are on hand." 

Good.

She explains the supplies she needs on the way to the mess hall, or tries to; it seems that she's from a culture with much more advanced metalworking and chemistry, and technology too far beyond that to even translate very well. Fortunately, her survival training covered the situation, and she knows how to make a basic version of what she needs out of materials they have.

He can get her everything she needs to make the basic version, yes. He almost wishes she'd appeared in Sanctuary; he knows some people who would be fascinated by what she knows. 

The area around the mess is fairly crowded, lunch having just been set out. Most of the diners are eating outside, enjoying the early autumn sun. He leads the two of them down a path cleared between tables and into the building. 

The food likely looks a little different to what she's used to, but not inedible. Jaim fills up a plate and makes himself a cup of tea using hot water from a rune-inscribed barrel and his own tin of leaves. 

"Tea?" He offers, taking a sip of his own. 

The silver woman puts together a plate - just one, with small portions of everything - as they follow Jaim through the line.

Yes, thank you.

He fixes her a cup, setting it on the plate the silver woman is carrying. 

He pulls aside a messenger who has just finished his meal on the way to the upper table, asking him to give the clerks his request for the list of materials the visitors had asked for. As the young man heads in the direction of the command center, he takes a seat and starts in on his food. 

"Is the food suitable?" He asks after he's had a few bites.

She's working her way through the plate when he looks up, taking a bite of each thing and giving her companion a number and a word or two for each - sometimes an obvious description, sometimes something odd but evocative. It's fine, yes.

He smiles, addressing her companion, "You can't eat?" He asks her. 

"I apologise if it's rude to ask but, you didn't give a name earlier, do you have a name or title you prefer?" 

"Yes sir, I'm a robot, I'm not biological. My name is DZ-twelve-Q."

His expression becomes complicated at the word 'robot'. The runestone translates it as something like an enchanted automaton, yet non-magical. Words with no translation sometimes do that, though names and titles like the word Sith usually don't. 

The fact that the runestone interacts with her means she's a person, despite the translation, so-

"DZ-twelve-Q," he repeats, slowly. It comes out of his mouth a little clumsily, but he has experience with words from other cultures, so he expects he will be able to say it correctly soon enough. 

 "You're - Apprentice Deskyl's assistant? Companion?" He glances at the young woman as well. 

She's watching him carefully. My assistant. It may be safest for you to treat her as my daughter.

He nods, "Of course," he says. Based on her reaction he suspects many people have not, historically. He doubts she'll have that specific problem around here - mostly people will be confused by the silver woman. Automatons are not well known.

Once they finish their food, Jaim leads the two back to the Command Center, aquiring a key for Deskyl's room from a clerk, which he hands over immediately, and from there up to the second floor where the visitors quarters are. His and Ilek's rooms are here as well. 

He motions to the door one down from his, and across from Ilek's, "That's yours," he says. "Someone should have brought the supplies you asked for - and the dictionary, and likely some other reading material, given your request for information." 

Good. And then to DZ: Explain -

    "It's very important that Deskyl not be disturbed while she's asleep, sir - she's likely to wake up disoriented and may be violent if she's startled."

He nods seriously, "So long as you lock the door, no one should disturb you," he tells them. "The servants know not to enter locked quarters." 

"Will knocking be a problem as well? I can leave a note on the door as a warning if so." 

Deskyl shakes her head. 

    "No, sir - she'll be deaf most of the time until she recovers completely."

He nods, "Alright, then no one should bother you. Anyone knocking will just leave after a time if they don't get an answer. If anyone does break into your room, I expect they'd deserve any injury you did them." 

Yes. -schedule-

    "When will you expect to see us next, sir?"

"Ilek and I will be leaving for the fort I command - Fort Helen - in five days. You needn't leave the room before then - if they followed my instructions, the servants should have left food in stasis for you, along with some non-perishable items, so you won't even need to leave to eat." 

Very good.

    "Thank you, sir."

They go in, then, and Deskyl takes a moment to look around the room before settling crosslegged on the bed to make telepathic contact with the Blade.

It's a very simple room: queen sized bed, small sitting area consisting of a loveseat and chair, a desk and chair, a cleared area near the window for indoor excercises and meditation, and a door to a small bathroom. The bathroom contains a sink, a shower, and a toilet, all with running water. The colour theme is white and brown, with touches of green. 

The Blade seems to perk up, turning his attention to her when she reaches for him.  

Curiosity, he sends, sticking to empathic communication, about the non-mana utilising connection. 

Stranger, she sends. Displaced. New. Curiosity.

Interest! Not Mana? He sends, Stranger displaced, Elf? (This one is a concept, including in it the meaning: a long-lived human-looking species, with leaf-shaped ears and vividly coloured eyes. The Blade does this accidentally, and doesn't expect it to get through.) Apologetic. 

She sends amused, calm acceptance, and confidence that he can't hurt her. Not Mana, not Elf. Sith - powerful, passionate, wild; a type of human, staggeringly rare.

Surprise! 

And then, You can hear my words, and speak in return? He asks. 

Yes. -there's a chance I won't be able to stop, if we do very much of it, but we're fine for now. Is there anything you urgently need?

He sends amused appreciation, Not urgently, he sends. Underneath his amusement, however, is a sense of age, and ancient lonliness. He has been alone for millenia, with only rare bright spots of companionship, rarely close enough to allow him to actually speak with his wielders.

All right.

I don't think I'm interested in a new weapon, but that has nothing to do with whether I can talk to you. I might not have much time for it, though. How much do you know of what's been going on?

Little, he sends back, My last wielder was only barely acceptable - our connection was tenuous, and we could only trade emotions at most. I gather there is a great deal of fighting going on, however. 

She sends the impression of a nod. There's a war. Your wielder was on the empire's side; they're conquering the world, or at least this part of it, and not telling anyone why. We're with the main opposing force right now; they seem reasonable enough, and I don't expect to get along with that sort of tyrant, so I'm planning on supporting them, once I'm recovered from the situation that sent me here - I might be able to win the war for them, if they can deploy me usefully enough, but I expect to be busy with it.

War never does end, He muses, But at the very least it often brings interesting people together, He adds. Conversation is more than I have had in a long time. If you don't wish to attempt a bond, I would be pleased with that alone. Without mana, I am not certain I could be of much use to you, in any case. Using more than a small amount of my own outside of my form requires drawing on my partner's pool. 

I don't object to that, if you still want it knowing the details of the situation - some of my abilities are powered by emotion, especially rage, and if I'm using them very much, that will affect my mood even outside of battle. I can hold about half a dozen conversations before my telepathy fixes on you - I'll be able to hear you all the time, in a range that will increase with time, unless I'm distracted or purposely looking away, and I expect you'll be able to hear me the same way unless I'm purposely not sending to you. If we stick to empathy I can stop anytime.

An obvious alternative - or parallel project - would be to help you find a new person to bond with - I can read minds in general, not just of telepaths, so if you can tell me what you're looking for I can screen people for you.

That sounds like a bond, of the highest level - I have had only one before. He pauses, uncertain, Perhaps I could give you an idea of what I need, in a bond-partner, and if you find one before we reach that point, I could bond with them. And if not, a sense of 'oh, well', Some danger is not worse than the loneliness I have endured. Too, being part of something new and interesting appeals. Perhaps we will find we suit, if we give it time. 

I have no reason to think we'll stop being able to hear each other if you find someone else. The main question there is whether you want to put up with a Sith's moodiness.

Amusement, I have known moodiness, in my time, he sends, thinking back wistfully to a principled young firebrand who wielded him once, I shall take care to step lightly, but I do not fear a risen temper. Truly, I do not fear much. 

He pauses, Traditionally, when bonding, the Artefact and wielder trade a summary of their self. Not their memories, but their personality, their essence, that which drives them. The closer the two partners match, the closer they may bond. Near enough, and the partners may reach the point of mind speech, but only those so close in their souls as to be one person may find each others' mind where ever they go. 

I would be more than satisfied with the former relationship, He adds. The chance of the latter is too unlikely to bother with, in truth. 

All right. If I'm trying to affix the telepathy it should only take one try; I do want to sleep first, though. For your bond - she sends a sense of herself, first, stubborn and self-assured in the kindness she values so much, confident in her strength and ability to affect the world while well aware that it's not unbounded, that there are larger threats to be avoided or finessed rather than met head-on - committed to doing the good she can, even as she knows that she has to pick her battles wisely and be careful not to overextend herself or prioritize the present over the future. Interpersonally, she runs very empathetic and a little possessive, having a strong sense of who is hers and who is not and a strong drive to protect and look after the former, above and beyond the good treatment she wants for everyone. He's not in the former category yet, precisely; she likes him, but her approach so far has had more to do with her feelings about how to treat a captured enemy or rescued prisoner, someone who she has responsibilities toward, but only temporarily, while they're in her power.

The Blade takes this in, all she shares with him of her being. He sends back his appreciation - of her character, and her willingness to allow his request - and then -

First, power, as all Artefacts at first, greater than most, and strange in its possible uselessness to her. 

He is principled, desiring to be used to help, rather than harm. His full strength is most available in defense of that which his wielder loves, for a Blade such as him is meant to protect. 

He is curious. He wants to know the stories of the world, to hear, through his wielder, the music of its people. Some of his greatest matches have been musicians, poets, storytellers. He spends much of his time, when not asleep, composing melodies for himself, and listening to the music of the earth below, and the veil above. He is proud of his knowledge, and knows he holds in his mind history long forgotten by all in this world.

Last, that great loneliness, as she has already felt. Yet, beyond that, and older still, an ancient anger, carefully controlled, directed only where he chooses. This is a being who has had eons to perfect his control, to temper his reactions and gentle his words. He has come a long way since the bloodthirst of his first years, from the Blade for warriors to one for scholars. 

-He likes her, he adds, beyond the standard summary he has always sent. Appreciates her desire to be kind, her ruthlessness in defense of what is hers. He thinks they could get along quite well, if she desires it. 

She's delighted to learn that he's a poet, empathizes with his loneliness, admires his learned restraint. I think so too. I'd very much like to keep you. There's a distinct sense that she considers him an equal, though, that she values him for his potential as a friend and guide.

 You need to know that I'm injured, right now - I'm using the Force to seem not to be, but it's temporary. I won't remember any of this after I've slept.

He is pleased she agrees.

Perhaps we should wait to finalise any bond until afterwards, then. I would not wish to cause your future self alarm. 

Yeah.

Is there anything else you want to know? She turns her attention to the Force affect bolstering her, judging its stability. I have about forty minutes, but I should spend some of it explaining you to my companion.

I believe I am satisfied, for now. He pauses, Though. Are we somewhere safe? I may be able to keep some sort of watch. I cannot sense actively, lacking uncoloured mana, or a bond to allow coloured sensing, but I can sense passively - any combat occurring within roughly 50 meters of my physical form is very obvious. I am also able to glow, and could alert your companion in this way if this should occur. 

We're in a fort on the border; I'd expect fighting to start farther away than that, and it'll wake me up if it does - I have passive empathy out to about half a mile, 800 meters. I might be able to learn to produce mana once I'm recovered, though, and the main bottleneck on my abilities is my attention.

I suppose that is everything, then. Rest well.

See you soon.

She talks briefly to DZ, explaining the new member of their party, takes a quick shower, and goes to sleep.

Roughly mid-morning the next day, a large group practically radiating hostile intent creeps up on the fort. No one inside is alarmed.

Deskyl wakes as soon as they enter her range, and takes just a moment orient herself and alert DZ - incoming hostiles, twenty approaching, reinforcements, that way, tell command - before dashing out of the room.

The group is midway between their reinforcements and the ward when she appears, leaping over the wall and landing in a momentary crouch before standing to look in their direction and light her 'saber.

There's some people on the wall who are very concerned by this action! They go on alert, but hesistate to pull the alarm yet.

The enemy is invisible, and unnoticeable - covered in a cloak of illusion mana, carefully tricking the minds of any who look their way into thinking they aren't there. The cloak is being held up by a person in the middle of the group, assisted by her Artefact - a Book, one of the rarer types, though more common among Illusion-aligned ones. 

When she lands before them, they halt, uncertain. As far as they know, no one should have been able to notice them coming - except maybe a very powerful sensor who was actively sensing in their direction for some reason. 

The way she's looking straight at them is hard to deny, however. The Book wielder lets the cloak drop off of most of the others, keeping it up only over herself and two more, carrying something large and heavy, who attempt a retreat back to the reinforcements. Two of the mages revealed begin incanting spells, preparing to face her in combat, while the others turn their attention towards erecting some defenses. 

This must be a different force than the ones who attacked the day before, given how much they're underestimating her. 

(At the appearance of the enemies, the wall guards decide they should perhaps pull the alarm bells after all.)

Whatever that is, if it's valuable enough to retreat with, she wants it.

She zooms toward the group, 'saber guarding, planning on leaping over them.

Well, they knew she could sense them, but they'd rather hoped the others would stop her from coming after them. Out of options, Book mage drops the cloak, turning to attack her with a wave of Illusion magic, incanting a second tier illusion spell meant to get inside her head and make her fears appear before her.

The other two mages pick up the pace. Between them they carry a large box of light-eating-black metal, carved with barely glowing runes which still manage to stand out on their background like stars against the night sky. 

Behind her, someone on the walls sends a fire spell crashing into the enemy mages. Their hastily erected defenses weather it, barely, and then they begin returning fire, and frantically erecting more. 

Her defenses against this new magic are imperfect, and the spell takes, but her training holds; she ignores the suddenly-appearing Sith, her danger sense assuring her that she's not about to be attacked. The book mage, on the other hand, goes down quickly, and she continues on to the retreating pair.

Their speed increases to a sprint, but it's not enough. One drops the box, trying to turn and face her. The other staggers without his support, dropping the box on the ground and falling half on top of it. 

The reinforcements have noticed something went wrong. They begin advancing up the hill, mages in the second rank raising floating rocks to catch any spells coming their way. Not that this will be their problem. 

There's well over a hundred of them, enough that even a nonmagical force would represent at least a small threat; she'll complete her objective and retreat, for now. She goes for the box, letting its carriers attack or retreat as they prefer.

Neither wants to attack, exactly. She absolutely destroyed the Illusion mage, and neither of them is an Artefact wielder. Both scramble out of her way when she moves. 

The box is very heavy, and Will Not Be Moved by magic. Any attempt to do so just does not work. 

(The mages behind her are still holding out mostly by virtue of having retreated deep inside a hastily made stone bunker. The soldiers on the walls are keeping them under fire while they wait for a decision to be made by command about whether they should sally out and attack, or hunker down and wait the enemy out.)

Unpleasant. She takes a moment to consider the problem - she could lift the box herself, probably, boosting her strength rather than moving it directly, but without being able to use the Force to steady it, she'll be very vulnerable getting it back to the fortress. She could put something under it and levitate that, but she doesn't have anything to hand, and finding something and setting it up will take too long. She could stand her ground, but she's flagging fast; even a battle that she'd attempt most days sounds distinctly unappealing today, with only this much indication of its importance.

With no way to get it back to the fort, and the decision made not to defend it here, her options are to leave it for the enemy, or destroy it. It's not a hard decision; she slashes at the box with her 'saber.

Once her saber cuts through a rune, the glowing ceases, the box realeasing a wave of force just strong enough to tug at her clothes. The two enemy soldiers, still retreating from her towards the rest of their forces, look horrified at its destruction. 

Oh, she can probably pick it up now - the runes might still be of interest, even with it disabled.

She heads back for the fort.

The box will be moved, now. 

The wards are on aggressive mode, but without mana they don't read her as a threat to be dealt with. She can reach the fort and be over the walls without any interference. 

Once she gets inside, she will find Jaim coordinating preparations for a sally from just inside the gate, his elites arrayed around him. He glances up when he sees her. 

"I apologise for the interruption of your rest," he says, "If I had known we were to be attacked, I would have warned you. Thank you for alerting us, however, and sending your companion to tell us the details."

No trouble. She drops the box off to the side. Plans?

He glances at the box, taking in the runes covering it with a darkening expression, "Damn," he mutters. He looks back to her, "That's a wardbreaker - they must have planned to drain our wards and use the power to break our walls. We would have been defenseless, caught completely off guard." He shakes his head. 

"How rested are you? Those reinforcements down the hill would be enough to severely wound us if they had broken inside the walls, but with the wards still up and the walls strong we can handle this like a siege, if we choose. My elites and I intend to go out and break that bunker quickly, before they can reinforce it more, to keep them from camping so close to our walls. After that I think we will just call for reinforcements from the nearest fort and wait them out. 

"You are welcome to join us in breaking the bunker, or not - DZ-Twelve-Q returned to your rooms after she warned us, with one of my elites to guard the door, if you would prefer to return to resting." She is his guest, after all, not a soldier under his command. And frankly, he's not sure orders would be the way to go with her anyways. 

Can't sleep with enemies so close; I'll come.

He nods, and waves up to the gatehouse above, where the mechanism to open the gates is. Slowly, they crack open just enough to let out two at a time. 

Istaim, his lieutenant, walks out beside him, both prepared for the possibility of enemy fire the moment they emerge. The mages in the bunker are being kept busy by the Cialin, however - a distraction working as planned. 

When the group gets within twenty meters, the bunker mages finally notice them, some turning to attack them instead of defending from the soldiers on the walls. It's too late by then, however - the elites have already called up and cast the first of a series of second-tier elemental attacks, directing them at the walls. Jaim enhances some water magic through the Nomad's Bow, spinning together an ice spear which he sends through the nearest mage. 

Deskyl is close behind him, staying with the group; she helps with the walls, pulling them down telekinetically, and keeps an eye out for escaping mages.

Two do so, crawling out of opposite sides of the failing bunker. Jaim aims for one of them, drawing back the Bowstring and forming an arrow of ice to fire at them. It takes them through the throat, sending them crashing back against the bunker, pinned. 

She goes for the other, running rather than leaping but still moving very quickly.

The mage can't keep up with that speed. She turns to fight, terrified, lifting the Rod in her hands - this is the only other Artefact with a mind among the advance group. The Rod draws on her partner's magic to power a freecasting, pulling up a wall of stone between them to protect her. This mage must have been the one most responsible for the bunker. 

Deskyl leaps to the top of the wall and pauses there to pull the Rod from the mage's hands, tossing it aside, and then lifts the mage herself, gently holding her jaw closed with another tendril of the Force.

She struggles, panicked, and reaches out with a thread, jutting into the ground to shoot out a stone to throw at her attacker in desperation. It doesn't move with much force - freecasting often trades power for speed. 

The pressure at the mage's jaw falls away as her captor swats the stone aside, and then reappears at her arm to break it before returning to her mouth.

She shrieks in pain, muffled by being unable to open her mouth, and falls limp, giving in. 

The bunker is destroyed, most of the mages holding it dead. The Cialin are streaming back into the fort, trying to get back inside before the Imperials can get close enough to attack. 

Jaim pauses, Istaim hovering at his shoulder, waiting for her to follow. 

Prisoner? she signs, as she approaches.

He nods, "We have cells," he says, "the walls are carved with mana suppressants, to keep prisoners from escaping." He eyes the break, "I can have a healer splint that, as well - we usually prefer not to leave prisoners with crippling injuries, if possible."

He waves her and her captive in ahead of him, and then the doors close behind them. 

"Good work," he calls out to his elites, loitering around the gates, patching injuries, shaking themselves out and wiping sweat and blood out of their eyes, "Check in with the healers if you were injured," he says, "And get some rest. It'll be a bit over a day before the reinforcements from Fort Inir get here." 

Fine, she replies to the suggestion of healing the captured mage, and goes where she's directed, keeping an eye on the fort's surroundings. With the woman settled, she checks in with DZ, is surprised to find the Blade in the room as well, and, having received a quick explanation of Artifacts from the droid, goes out again to pick up the ones discarded on the field, dropping them off next to the wardbreaker in two trips.

Jaim rushes off to join the Commander in powering up the mirror so they can contact the capitol and the nearest fort. The damn thing's huge and incredibly difficult to transport, but they're invaluable for situations like these. 

The enemy reinforcements stop on a short plateau part way up the hill, digging in and setting up fortifications.

Someone calls Jaim back when they notice her leaving the first Artefact near the wardbreaker. He leaves the Commander to finish the report in order to find Deskyl to ask about them. 

She's just bringing the second set back when he finds her, the Book and two others, and seems tired, slow to react and grudging in her movements. She sets the Artefacts down before signing to him: salvage, of the four set on the ground; person, of the Book and the Rod, unclaimed and claimed respectively. I'll talk to them later.

He nods, "We can move all of the simple Artefacts to a storage room in the CC, if that would be acceptable, along with the wardbreaker. Rest assured no one will attempt to claim any of them before you wake." 

I only claim these, she gestures at the Rod and Book again.

He nods, "Very well. I'm sure someone will find the others useful." He pauses, "Thank you, again. I know you are still recovering. Yet, your actions likely saved a great many of the people under my command." 

She shrugs, Sith, and turns to go.

Yes, he supposes, not that he knows the meaning of the word. 

He sends for someone to move the Artefacts and the ruined wardbreaker, and then makes his way back to Command. 

DZ is outside when he next leaves, sitting quietly and watching people come and go.

He pauses when he sees her. 

"Do you need anything, DZ-Twelve-Q?" He asks, concerned, "You or your companion?" 

It's entirely possible she just wished to come out to observe, but Apprentice Deskyl did seem very protective of her.

"No sir, but I thought you might have some questions for me."

He smiles, "Nothing that couldn't have waited," he says, "But - well, first, are the accomodations satisfactory? Aside from the surprise wake up." 

"Yes sir. Deskyl will want somewhere to practice her swordwork when she's more recovered, but it's not urgent."

He nods, "There are training fields," he says, gesturing towards the opposite end of the fort from the gates. 

"With the attack, it's likely we'll be delayed in leaving for Fort Helen. Has the abrupt wake-up and battle caused any extra damage? I am entirely willing to tailor my travel plans around how long she should be resting, given they have already changed." 

"I expect it has, sir, but it's hard to know, and I don't know how long it will take her to recover even in the best case - a few weeks, at least."

He hums, "I expect they can get along without me that long. Helen's farther in than most - the enemy would have to pass quite a few fortifications to reach it." 

"Most of the topics I wish to discuss - questions about her abilities, her preferred combat style - might be better discussed with your companion in person, once she recovers. In the meantime..." He hums, "If you are at loose ends, I would welcome a summary of your skills, and preferred work. If not, well, you are welcome to wander the fort, though I would reccomend remaining more than twenty meters in from the walls, for your safety, if they should rush us. My people are a fair bit too busy to assign you a guide at the moment, but we should reach a lull within a few hours - I myself would not mind offering a tour then." 

"Yes sir. My kind of robot is meant to serve individual Sith, and Deskyl will expect me to be in the room when she wakes, but if you have any work that doesn't need any particular skill and that won't interfere with that, I can do it - robots are better than humans at detail work and things that need extended focus, especially math, and at remembering details of things we experience."

Serve, hm? That's concerning, but Deskyl at least seems to trear her companion as a person of her own, so perhaps this is not a worse parallel of the automaton situation. 

"I expect the clerks would appreciate your assistance, in that case - this would keep you close to Apprentice Deskyl's rooms, as well." 

"Yes sir."

"I'm afraid I must be off," he adds, offering a short bow, "The commander knows you - simply speak with her and she will introduce you to the head clerk." He turns to go, then pauses, turning back, "If you need anything at all, DZ-Twelve-Q, don't hesitate to ask. You and Deskyl have saved us a great deal of grief, and I am very grateful." 

"Yes sir. I'll let master Deskyl know."

She goes to talk to the commander.

He gains a complicated expression again, at the word 'master', but continues on his way. Something to bring up later.

The clerks are more than pleased to accept her help. The military runs on paperwork. In the current situation one might say it is sprinting, and the paperwork must keep pace.

She is, as it turns out, every bit as good at filling out forms and doing math as her master is at fighting, though she does insist on doing the work in Deskyl's room.

That's fine with them, they can collect any she finishes with from a tray outside the door. 

Jaim knocks gently a bit after dinner time, offering to give her that tour.

She hesitates very noticeably when he asks. "I'd rather finish the paperwork, if that's all right, sir."

He nods, "Of course. Just knock on my door if you change your mind - my room is just down the hall, there," he motions to it, stepping back. 

"Have a good evening," he bids her. 

"Good evening, sir."

Deskyl sleeps through the rest of the day and night, and wakes up only slightly late the next morning. DZ brings her up to speed on everything while she eats, and then she meditates to make contact with the Blade again. Hello?

Hello, he sends in return. I have felt much agitation within my range while you slept. Is everything well? 

She did mention that she would have no memory of their last conversation when she woke, so perhaps he should have started some other way, but his concern prompts him to ask. 

We were attacked yesterday. It would have been very bad if I hadn't been here, apparently - they had a wardbreaker.

Dangerous items, those, he agrees. All is well, then? 

He pauses, I take it your companion filled you in on what we discussed the last time we spoke? 

Most of it. I don't think either of us has a good understanding of what Artefacts are.

Perhaps I could explain our creation, he offers, Most would not - the method has been forgotten, and most of us do not want it remembered. But you have no mana, so you could not do it, and it must be done willingly.

It's not very safe to assume that I can't learn to do things, she sends, amused.

He hums, his form glowing lightly, Perhaps not. Still, I do not think you would do it for any but the most dire reasons - indeed most would not. I would ask you not to tell others, if I am to tell you, unless in, again, most dire circumstances.

That I can do.

We are made through sacrifice, he begins, Willing, of a human or an elf. The humans are rarer - less willing to give their limited lives to the ritual, while elves only preform it once they tire, or in greatest need. 

I mentioned, earlier, though you may not have passed it on, that we are most compatible with those who are so much like us we might as well be one. This relationship also exists between ourselves and our makers. They die, and they leave behind an Artefact with their personality, their mana affinity - elves may only use two colours - but not their memory. 

Huh.

Coercible, I assume. - I won't. Most Sith would.

The feeling of a nod, The elven council did so, for a time, He agrees. I did not think you would, based on the summary of self you sent me. 

You lose something of yourself when you think of people as material like that. Her tone is dark, certain, weary; this isn't an abstraction or hypothetical to her.

Tell me more about Artefacts?

Grim agreement with her first statement, and then, with the delighted air of a scholar asked to explain a topic on which they are knowledgeable, I would be pleased to do so. 

He pauses to gather his thoughts, and then begins, Artefacts are classed in two different ways - Greater or Lesser, Complex or Simple. All Artefacts with minds are Complex, and those without are Simple. Greater Artefacts are made from the souls of elves. Lesser, from the souls of humans. There are other beings in the wide realms, but the method of Artefact creation was never shared with them, and if they ever discovered it on their own, they did not share the results. 

Complex Artefacts are created through willing sacrifice - Simple, through unwilling. He pauses, The existence of Simple Artefacts is horrifying, He adds, It is a perversion of an already terrible practise. 

Is there anything to be done, about the ones that already exist?

Uncertainty, I myself do not know what, exactly, Simple Artefacts are, aside from Artefacts without minds. I do not even know how the ritual differs, exactly, as I have never been bonded to one who observed one. Only learned that the sacrifice must be unwilling from a third party, through my wielder's ears. I know that attempts were made, long ago, by certain elements of the elven people, to sacrifice those unwilling using the usual method. They did not work. 

I have many theories, he admits, As to what they are. They may have uncoloured mana, and that mana renews itself - something which should only be possible for a living soul. Perhaps they contain the souls of those sacrificed, their minds somehow removed. Perhaps they do have minds, which simply cannot be sensed.

My strongest theory is that they are simply partly-formed souls, the same kind as we Complex Artefacts, halted before they could gain a mind.

Perhaps the best thing to do would be to study them, to discover for certain what they are, and if they require help - if they can, in fact, be helped.

And to ensure no more are made, of course. 

Of course.

I don't sense minds in them; that's not a perfect indication, but it's suggestive, especially since yours is obvious. I shouldn't have trouble winning a few in battle to examine; it doesn't sound urgent enough to strain diplomacy with our hosts over, to try to claim the ones they won yesterday.

I should ask if they know of anyone producing Artefacts.

A good plan, he agrees, referring to both her ideas. Simply because I have not encountered any new Artefacts since the breaking of the Seal does not mean someone could not be making them somewhere and keeping them close, he adds.

Will you remember this conversation, next time you wake? He asks. 

Most likely. It depends on how much I exert myself between now and then, and we're besieged but not expecting to be attacked; the enemy knows I'm here, and not much about how to counter me.

Perhaps we should still wait to bond, he suggests, Until you have fully recovered. 

She sends the impression of a shrug. We don't know how long that will be, I haven't been allowed to rest that long before - weeks, a few months maybe before it's completely unnoticeable, if I ever get to that point, and the telepathy will set by then if we're talking regularly at all. And if I do remember this tomorrow I'll mostly keep the memory - at least a sense of it, even if I lose some of the details. 

The impression of a nod, Tomorrow, then, if all goes well. He pauses, You have removed yourself - or been removed - from the situation which caused this? He asks, concerned. 

Yeah. A sigh. I don't know how much I've already told you, and I don't know everything myself - my master - I don't know what he was doing, but he was going to kill me, with it or after - you don't do something like this to a Sith and expect them not to kill you over it if they can. And last time he came for me, I teleported us - I don't remember it, the robot had to tell me. But this is a different universe, the physics are different here, and Sith can't usually teleport at all, I have no idea how I did.

Sympathy, for her pain, and sorrow, for her previous situation. Appreciation, for her strength in weathering it, and her escape.

Then, Fascinating, His mental voice gives the impression of a thoughtful hum, The realms I know of all had the same physics, and the same magic. I have never heard of a Sith, before - or, for that matter, a 'robot'. 

She sends a memory of the metal woman, with a sense of deep fondness. My companion. She's very important to me. Robots are - made people, a kind of thinking machine. More darkly: Slavery is common in my home galaxy, and robots were created as an alternative to living slaves. They aren't widely considered people, or allowed to mature to adulthood - she will be. Hopefully she'll grow into being free.

Ah, he muses, Like automatons, but with minds? Automatons were a creation of the Dwarves - a secretive race from another realm. As far as I know they did not have minds, and could only preform a limited set of tasks, but it is analogous. 

He feels a kind of weary outrage at the notion of these robots being slaves, It is often thus, that those who are different and seen as lesser become property to the powerful. The elves treated humans this way, once, before the great uprising. 

I am glad your companion is safe from it. 

Nod.

That might be why I never escaped before, if I've been capable of teleporting all this time - I promised her that, that it'd be both of us or neither. And I stand by the decision.

Oh, but he does like this one. 

As it should be, he agrees. 

She seems a little startled, and it takes a moment for her to catch her balance again. It's going to take some getting used to, having someone who agrees with me on that.

The impression of a smile, and a shrug, The point of a warrior is to protect, he asserts, The point of a promise, to keep it. 

I could hardly do less. I'd be dead without her, by now.

Of course, he agrees, That is what it is, to become entwined with someone in such a situation. 

He pauses, But we have left the original topic. What else did you wish to know about Artefacts?

I'm most interested in practicalities - I don't actually know what a bond is, yet.

A tie, between the mana pool of the Artefact and that of the wielder, he explains first of all, Through the bond, the wielder may direct their mana through thr Artefact's pool, enhancing it. The Artefact may use the mana of the wielder, as well, though only our two colours - types - in the case of elven-derived Greater Artefacts. 

The bond allows communication, between the two beings, as well. It is theoretically possible to bond non-Artefact persons together this way, he adds, but it requires a high level of compatibility and willingness on both parts. 

He pauses, Our forms are meant to contain our souls and mana, and without the connection to a wielder to break that barrier, we cannot extend ourselves outside them. 

She nods. What does that mean in practical terms? Just the mana use?

We must draw on them - even just the slightest amount - to do anything more than sense, glow, and speak to or harm those touching or bound to us. 

And with a bond?

You mean, what would the result be if we were to bond? He asks after a moment, I suppose I would be unable to affect the world as when unbonded. Perhaps you might be able to use my mana, however. My affinities are Fire and Water - when I cast myself I often use Lightning and Ice, which are second tier abilities of those colours. Thus the name which was given me, the Blade of Storms, and my own preference - Stormsinger.

Pretty.

It sounds like you might be able to use the Force, through me; it's similar to mana, a little.

Interest! This is the power you have? I suppose it is my turn to be educated now. What manner of power is this 'force'?

It's related to my powers, yeah. The universe itself is alive, just a little, in a way that's not very much like us singular entities at all - it's not clear if it's not sentient at all, or if it's just so different that we can't comprehend that it is, but it doesn't seem aware of us exactly; it doesn't have opinions on things we do except in very simple direct ways. Most people can't sense it at all, but those of us who can can influence it, in various ways - untrained Force-sensitives are luckier, stronger, sturdier, longer lived, more intuitive. With training we can do more, and learn to do more again - there's not much I'd guarantee that a Force-sensitive can't do, given long enough to figure it out. Telekinesis and emotion-sensing are the easiest things to learn, and various simple defensive techniques. There are a few other skills that are universal among Sith - Force-sensitives with the kind of training I have - and we generally pick a specialty to focus on after that. I'm a sensory specialist, with a particular focus on maintaining passive techniques.

Curious. I have never heard of such a thing. Some of the techniques you mentioned can be done with mana - telekinesis is a very basic Space ability, and one can sense using any kind of mana, though the things they sense are directed by the type. 

How rare are these Force-sensitives? I would have expected the elves, at least, to notice them. 

Incredibly rare. My home galaxy has technology that allows many more people to live on a planet - a few hundred million times more, I'd estimate - and it's still rare to find more than one potential Sith on a planet at a time.

I suppose if there would only ever have been a few handfuls in history they might not have been noted, he reasons. 

Elves are immortal, but slow to have children. It was considered odd, last I knew, to have them before one had lived a few centuries, if not a millenia or two. They are most often infertile until they complete their wanderings, and gain the urge to return home.

It's very possible for an untrained Force-sensitive to never notice it themselves, if they aren't found, she agrees.

Sith aren't immortal, but we live much longer than Forceblind humans - it's not very clear whether more powerful Sith live longer or just that they're less likely to die in battle, but there's a lot of variance. I can reasonably expect to live three centuries, though, here where there's not much to threaten me, and five would only be a little surprising. Our emperor seems to be immortal, but that might not be - self-contained - it's possible for Sith to drain life force from others, but the technique itself isn't widely known.

Artefact wielders as well - those wielding ones like myself, that is. Being bound to an elven soul lengthens the lifespan of a human. There is only so far we can stretch it, however. An extra 300 years, at most. I could not say whether this would grant you more life, or not. It is possible the Force already does for you what we do for our wielders. 

This life-drain sounds... unsettling. 

What sort of person is this Emperor, to do such a thing?

The kind to be the emperor of the Sith, she sighs. I haven't explained us yet, I guess - I'm not really sure where to start. I'm not typical at all.

Part of it is how we use the Force; there are neutral techniques, collaborative with it, and light side, which Sith don't learn, and dark side, which are - stronger, and allow us more control of the details of what we're doing, but they're powered by negative emotion, and amplify it. Rage, hatred - it's not unmanageable if you try, but we're not encouraged to try, we're encouraged to be strong. And that's the real problem. Sith society - we don't have laws. We have a few traditions, but that's all. The only way to stop a Sith from doing what they want is to threaten them, and the only thing that can threaten a Sith is a stronger Sith.

It seems a near miracle that any society at all could be built out of such a system, he sends after a moment of thought. A society motivated only by self-interest, or so it sounds. What is to stop a powerful enough Sith from simply killing all the others, leaving them unchallenged? Why do they choose to teach the use of their abilities at all? Those traditions you mentioned?

Any Sith who keeps apprentices can expect to be killed by one eventually. Some care more about other things than that - leaving a legacy, or accomplishing something that they can't do alone, or just - having someone else around who's not completely cowed. Some think they can beat the odds. Some have bigger problems and need the power boost. Sometimes it's more complicated - it was for my master. Some of us don't get individual training at all - there's an academy, and then graduates get assignments from higher ranking Sith that they might not ever meet.

The Sith powerful enough to kill the rest of us - that's the emperor. We're useful, is why he keeps us around. The step below that is the Dark Council, and there are twelve of them; they might be able to kill him all together - I don't know - but then they'd have to figure out how to divide the empire, and none of them is sure enough that they'd win that fight too.

A careful balancing act, he notes, Yes, I see now. In what way are your people useful to this Emperor? Aside from as entertainment, perhaps, if he is that powerful. 

Having underlings is a kind of power; Sith do understand delegating, and command - we're trained as commanders, all of us. And he wants to conquer the galaxy, which is too big a project to do alone - the inner parts are controlled by the Republic and protected by Jedi, the other kind of Force-user; they're individually weaker than Sith but much better at working together.

Aaah, yes, that explains it quite neatly. 

What of these Jedi you mentioned? Weaker, but more cooperative. What do they do differently?

I've never met one, I've only heard about them secondhand, and Sith don't learn light-side techniques - occasionally a Jedi will fall to the Sith, and they lose the capability to do them when they gain the ability to use the dark side. I do know that light side techniques depend on lack of emotion, though - they're powered purely by the Force, while we have the extra power of our emotions to draw on. 

Culturally - they don't run their republic; they have their own planet, but they answer to the Forceblind governments of the others when they're there, and to the centralized government. They do work closely with it, but they're not in power there. They don't tend to lead troops; they fight in squads of their own and often answer to Forceblind generals. They do have some sort of master/apprentice structure, but only one apprentice at a time, and it doesn't seem to be a permanent relationship like it is for Sith.

They do attack us on sight, but that's mutual, I don't know that it says much about their general philosophy. They were open enough to dealing with us to try diplomacy at the start of the war; it went badly for them.

Lack of emotion, He muses. Is this a life philosophy they follow, as yours follow strength and emotion?

It seems to be. The advice for tempting one to fall is based on that.

Disturbed, To live without emotion... Control is important, but how could a living being not feel? It seems unnatural. 

Perhaps some other kind of being could manage it. I would not be myself without my emotions. To live without passion seems hardly any better than death. 

I know. There's plenty bad about being a Sith, but the alternative -

There's nothing we can do about it, though.

Agreement, Best to focus on what we can do. 

Which for you I suppose is to focus on healing. As for me, amusement, I suppose I shall go back to composing my latest piece.

She sends a nod. I have more Artefacts to talk to, the two from yesterday's battle. I could loop you in, I can do three-way telepathy, but it'd be a bit of an exertion today. I can relay questions, though. To our hosts, too.

Hm, you needn't loop me in if it would be straining. I would be more than willing to offer advice and information should they prove less cooperative than I, however. 

I may be interested in speaking to our hosts at some point - I am quite curious how human society has progressed since I last had the chance to examine it - but it can wait until a more opportune moment. 

I mostly intend to explain the situation and ask what they'd like to do - one's wielder is dead, and I'll give her the opportunity to look at the options here through my senses, and stay with us if she likes that better than any of her bonding prospects here. The other's is captured; I'm not sure what he'll want, given that I'm unwilling to reunite them unless his wielder defects - I'm not planning on talking to her until tomorrow when I'm fresh.

Hm, unless the wielder is a truly bad match that one is unlikely to be cooperative, he warns her. 

I expect there's not much he can do to me; there's no harm in trying. I suppose I should find out what the usual approach to handling prisoners is here before I decide what I'll do with them in the long term.

Agreement, That does seem wise, yes. 

I'll wait to talk to him until I have a firmer plan, I think. I'll let you know how it goes with the other one.

I will look forward to it, he agrees. 

Tomorrow, then. And with some luck I'll be able to introduce you to everyone.

Anticipation, It will be interesting to be able to speak with more than one person at a time! 

I'm sure. Soon.

Yes. He offers her his gratitude and appreciation for her company, and then his attention turns to other things. 

She drops the connection, updates DZ, and goes to find the Book.

Hello, she sends.

Startlement, Who speaks? 

The Sith. I have powers that are unique in this world, including telepathy.

Unique - you are the one who killed my Tania? There is some hostility to her mental tone, though she mostly feels weary. 

Why do you speak to me?

I am, she acknowledges. It wasn't personal; there's a war. I'm here to offer you the opportunity to see my allies through my senses, to see if any of them would be acceptable to you as a wielder, and to find out what you want to do, if you don't want any of them.

Muted anger, weary understanding. 

I would appreciate time to grieve, she says, after a long moment. But if your telepathy allows you to evaluate potential wielders, I may take you up on the offer in time. She pauses again, If none are suited, I would like to be returned to Tania's daughter, if possible, she adds. 

Understandable. Do you have any questions for me, while I have the connection?

What happened to her body? She pauses, Never mind, I doubt it is what she would want either way. No, thank you for asking. Please give me a few days before you contact me next. 

Sigh. I might be able to arrange it, if you know what she would have preferred.

She restrains herself from making a caustic comment. She was of Kiyin. Her people burn their dead, and return the ashes to the place of their birth to be released. It would not be a simple task. Kiyin was among the first nations conquered in this most recent war. There is still much Imperial oversight there. 

I expect to outlive the war, one way or the other; I might not be able to do it quickly, but I'll try.

I'll leave you be for now; I'll want to know anything you can tell me about how to return you to her family, when we speak again.

She offers a whisper of surprised gratitude, and then turns her attention inward. 

And Deskyl breaks the connection.

She's got DZ with her when she goes looking for Jaim, at lunchtime.

He is eating in the mess hall, surrounded by a mass of papers. When they come in he is attempting to dab away a drop of stew with a bit of un-wound arm wrap. 

He glances up, "Ah, DZ-Twelve-Q, Apprentice Deskyl. What can I do for you? Did you wish to speak with your prisoner?" 

You can call her DZ, Deskyl signs, sitting down across from him. I'll want to talk to the prisoner soon, but I'd like to know more about how you usually handle prisoners here first.

He nods at the permission to use a nickname, glancing at the silver woman to make sure. 

"Our prisoner policy? Well, the cells here are actually meant as temporary ones. When we have prisoners we inform central command in the capital and they send someone to collect them and bring them to the prison in Koanitok. 

"Fort cells are kept clean, the prisoners fed decent meals three times a day, and allowed out to a small courtyard in the center of the building once a day wearing mana-suppression cuffs while the cell is cleaned. I believe this is roughly the way of things in Kianitok as well." 

He pauses, "We have some success in turning captives, particularly those from the recently conquered territories - which is a fair percentage of them, on the Cialin front. Many fight only because they fear for their families. We have forces whose only duty is to smuggle those families to Cialin or Sanctuary. It is more than worth it for the power an Artefact wielder can bring to our forces, and for the good-will it affords us in some parts of enemy territory.

"It does, however, mean that Imperial commanders often push their soldiers to victory or death." 

DZ doesn't react perceptibly to Deskyl's offer or Jaim's glance; she doesn't seem to object, at least.

Deskyl nods. I can default to capture in the future, for Artefact wielders or some subset of them. You keep them in those conditions indefinitely if they don't turn?

He sighs, "You may be over-estimating the number we manage to capture. The Imperial propoganda machine is very good, and fear of their commanders does much of what that does not. Furthermore, we are very much outnumbered, and often have little choice but to aim to kill. Yesterday's battle was fairly typical, for the number of captives it netted us.

"Those we do capture we keep until they turn or attempt to escape. Escape attempts are grounds for execution. Historically some have been returned to the Empire, as well, during hostage exchanges. Those mostly involve high-status prisoners, none of which we have had recently." 

I understand that capture is more difficult than killing. Sith have the problem for different reasons, but it's not unfamiliar.

He nods, "The truly tragic thing is - many of them would have fought alongside us, if we had only succeeded in defending them from the Empire," he murmurs, "I have no idea how many of my mother's people I have killed with my own hands." 

He shakes his head, "Apologies. Why did you wish to know? Unless it was simply concern or curiosity about your prisoner, I suppose." 

Mark that, she signs to DZ.

    Yes ma'am.

Partly that, partly to make sure we won't be working at cross purposes, partly to know what I can reasonably offer, if I want to, when I talk to her.

I don't think I can supervise wielders with their Artefacts yet, but I can pass messages between them, if you don't expect that to cause problems.

Hm, he wonders what she's marking?

"I doubt it would," he agrees, regarding the last question. 

"As for what you can offer her - we'll send a retrieval squad for her loved ones, if she indicates willingness to defect. She needn't fight, either, if she does so - merely remain in Cialin or Sanctuary territory, and not offer aid to Imperial forces. She and her family would be refugees, and entitled to citizenship in Sanctuary, where she could receive more training in magic, as well, if she chose." 

That sounds like more than enough. Thank you.

What are your usual policies about captured Artefacts? Sith tradition is that we inherit the property of those we defeat.

"Unbonded ones are offered to those who defeated their previous wielders first. If they have no luck, the rest of the military has a chance next - we tour them around to each fort and allow anyone interested to give it a try. Usually someone compatible is found eventually. If not, they go to the vaults in Sanctuary." 

The Nomad was one of those destined for the vaults, if he hadn't taken the dare to steal them and attempted the bond. 

"Ones whose wielders still live will not rebond while this is true. Or, at least, none I have heard of has ever done so." 

Nod. That's more or less what I intend to do with the Book, when she's ready. She'd like to be returned to her last wielder's family after the war if she doesn't find anyone before that, though.

He nods, "More than reasonable. Family inheritance is common for Artefacts." He looks down at his paperwork, then back up at Deskyl, "Did you wish to talk to the prisoner, now? I would welcome the distraction from this mess," he says. 

Headshake. Tomorrow, most likely, I want to be fresh for it. I can answer any questions you might have for me now, though.

He has some questions, mostly about her combat capabilities, when she's at 100%, her preferences when it comes to what targets she is pointed at, her abilities in the field of command. 

Her combat capabilities are quite impressive, between the telekinesis, the sword that can cut through anything, the precognition-based danger sense, and the wide-ranging awareness of the field of battle. Her only ranged attack is the lightning, though, which she prefers to use sparingly because of its side effects, and her defenses are much weaker when it comes to protecting people besides herself. She has some training but no experience in command, and expects the cultural difference to be a problem if she has to do much leading. Strategically - ideally she'll have enough of an idea of their priorities to make her own decisions on the battlefield, though she's aware that that isn't always possible; they can handle it case by case when it's not.

Are you able to talk to your Artefact? We may be able to coordinate telepathically via them.

He pays close attention to her description, humming as he hits upon a possible solution - one that could fix the problem of the King or Lord Tain gaining an interest in her, as well. 

"That could be quite useful, yes," he agrees, "Unfortunately we are not quite there yet. Trading images is the next step down - I expect we'll get there soon enough. In the meantime, simple messages could likely be passed that way, if the Nomad is willing."  

"I have come up with a possibility of where to place you. As a general, I have what are called elites - a personal retinue of warriors who answer to me alone. They needn't follow the orders of the officials of the regular army, though they may of course take directions if it seems prudent to them. They needn't be recruited from the army - indeed most of mine are not - and may leave at any time if they choose. It is the most versatile position in Cialin's forces, and I suspect might suit you well. Though, of course, we may wish to know each other better before you felt comfortable under my command. There are other generals, and other options, if we turn out to be incompatible." 

She goes very still, tense, when he suggests that it would suit her.

    Sir-

Hush.

It's essentially unheard of, for Sith to take orders from non-Sith.

He stills with her, uncertain where he went wrong until she explains. Partially, at any rate, given that she cut off whatever DZ was going to say. 

"Ah. My apologies, then. There are other possibilities, if that one would not... work." The last word is awkwardly casual, and causes him to make a strange expression.

There are other options, but they vastly increase the chances of her meeting the King, which sounds like a disaster in the making, and frankly Gael is not ready to go through with a coup yet. 

She nods, spends a moment thinking, signs carefully. I'm flexible enough to consider the appearance of it, if there's a grave enough reason to do so. Attempting it in fact would be... unwise. Unsafe, for you.

He nods, "I expected as much. I never intended for it to be in fact." He pauses, frowning lightly at their surroundings, noting a particular pair of soldiers carefully pretending not to pay attention to them. Then, hiding his hands such that no one but the two across from him can see them, he awkwardly signs, Location compromised, speak later. 

"Would you like that tour I offered DZ yesterday? I have the time." 

Yes, thank you.

So he gathers up his papers, sticks them in a satchel meant for that purpose, and leads the way out of the mess hall. 

A brief tour ensues, during which he shows them to the parts of the fort they might find useful - the training fields, the cells, the infirmary, the kitchens, the weapons storage - and eventually they end up in a wide open, empty training field with a number of rocks in the middle. He sits on one.

"Alright, I should notice anyone trying to listen in here - and I expect you would as well, likely sooner. I should explain the political situation in this kingdom, so that you understand the limitations I am working under and what it is I am trying to avoid." 

Yes, she nods.

"Well, first, some information you likely would learn soon enough simply through paying attention to gossip," he nods to DZ, "I was born Jael Tian, and was until the age of 20 - 6 years ago - the Crown Prince of Cialin. I was disowned partly due to my own carelessness, partly due to my own intention, partly due to the King's spite and anger at my disobedience, and partly due to the machinations of a powerful noble - Lord Tain Anit. Grandfather to my three younger brothers. 

"My brother Gael is heir, now - a state of affairs which I am more than happy with. I expect I would make a passable King, but it would drive me mad, and Gael will be a far better one."

He is entirely honest about this - he both supports and loves all of his brothers with his whole heart, and is all too pleased to have escaped the possibility of rule. 

I had wondered about that - I can sense blood-relatedness, among other things. It's good that you've arranged to have a situation that suits you.

He huffs a laugh, "It would have suited me more to remain a part of my family, among other things, but this is perhaps better than other alternatives. Without Tain's interference I would have been disinherited for bonding an Artefact - rulers and heirs cannot be bonded in Cialin - but I would have remained a Tian." 

He sighs, "What worries me is that King Rael may attempt to control you, should he have the opportunity. Your abilities - those I have seen thus far - are such that I doubt he would succeed - if nothing else I doubt he could keep you somewhere you did not want to be kept. But his expectation of obedience among his people - those fighting for Cialin, especially - means he might easily choose to demand you leave the realm, particularly if Tain recommends - which he would, fearing any influence he imagines I might have over you."

Talking about Rael always makes him tired - he was a better man once, when he was young. But he has changed so much, become harder, colder, more driven to see victory at any cost. The man he was began to die with Jaim's mother, the Queen Ilan-yel, and finally died in truth when Jael died in name.

She goes still again, but more contemplative, this time, without the tension.

He's right to be worried, but not about that.

His mouth twists wryly, "Even if the King were to be taken out of the picture, Gael remains too young to rule without a regent. The regent would be Tain, at this time, or one of his fellows among the Traditionalists, should he also happen to vanish." 

Sith tradition is that we inherit the holdings of those we defeat, as long as we can defend them, unless and until we choose to give them away.

He hums, "I expect you would need to kill a great deal of the nobility to manage that. Likely some of the ptiesthood, as well, which would turn many of the people against you.

"As well, the instability caused would likely allow the Empire a great advantage. Much of the military is loyal to Rael, and would resist in his name." 

She nods. I could make it known that I intend to pass the throne to Gael, assuming I agree that he's a good choice for it. Or I could leave; it would be convenient to have more of the world free of the empire, but it's not my highest priority. Possibly there's an option I haven't noticed, as well.

He looks away for a moment, considering. Then he turns back, "I am not certain the first would work. Gael would seem either weak or in league with you, both of which would see the Traditionalists oppose him. And I agree it would be a shame to lose your aid in this war." He sighs, rubbing his forehead, "We have been planning to demand Rael step down should the war end. He is not an intolerable war King, though his civilian policies leave much to be desired. Most of our funds are spent on the military, arming and armouring and supplying, leaving necessary civilian infrastructure to fall by the wayside. I can't even say he is wrong to do so, given our enemy. What is wrong is the fact that he would love nothing more than to conquer the rest of the world, should we defeat the Empire by some miracle. 

"The presence of the Empire prevents us from acting, and will continue to do so until and unless the King becomes much worse. We simply cannot afford to incite a civil war between the forces loyal to me, and those loyal to Rael, while the war goes on." 

He pauses, and then adds, "Frankly we would rather not incite a civil war at all. If we could arrange Rael to step down and order a Progressive noble take the regency... Well, that would be ideal." But it would never happen. 

She considers this.

Subterfuge, then.

What do the traditionalists want? Are they loyal to the man, or to his policies?

"The Traditionalists are loyal to the way things have been. They believe the nobility are inherently worth more than commoners, that Cialin natives are superior to those from elsewhere, and that those who take same-sex partners are sick, among other things. They are effectively led by Lord Tain, as he has much influence with both the faction and with King Rael. They are made up primarily of the nobility and rich merchants. 

"Rael himself has a following most often referred to as the Loyalist faction. They follow him either because they agree with his policies or because he is King. Most are also in agreement with the Traditionalists, and may effectively belong to both factions, though Rael himself does not believe any but the first of those examples I gave. The Loyalists make up half of the military, and include some nobles and many of the commoners who don't care for politics.

"The Progressives follow myself and Gael, and make up the rest of the military, some few nobles, mostly the youth, and a significant portion of the civilian population. We wish to change Cialin to ensure better rights for the citizens - education, shelter, food - and freedoms - sexuality, religion, culture."

She considers this, too.

Love, bring me the Blade, please, he should be here for this.

    Yes ma'am. DZ goes.

Stormsinger notes her approaching when she enters his sensing field - the particular flavour of the electricity within her form is quite distinctive. Curious, he pokes around for a mana pool to make contact with and, finding none, he waits patiently for Deskyl to make contact. 

(Jaim also waits patiently, after he takes a moment to remember which Artefact she means - the Blade from the ambush.)

I'll need a moment, she signs to Jaim when DZ comes into view again, and closes her eyes to meditate, hands open for DZ to hand the blade to her when she gets there.

Hello again. There's a situation, politically; I expect we'd both rather you have input into how I solve it. May I affix the telepathy?

Of course, he agrees. 

She sends a nod, and then breaks the connection; when it comes back, a moment later, he has access to her senses - not hearing, and her eyes are closed, but touch, smell, her awareness of her body and of the bodies and minds around her, the sense of their biology nearly as detailed as her awareness of herself at close range, a sense of all the body's systems, what they're doing, any inefficiencies or damage, fading out to a simple sense of general health and then merely presence, while her awareness of their minds is limited to a sense of their emotional states, but fades much more slowly, and she can't sense DZ's mind at all.

She gives him a moment to sort through it all, focused on the need to bring him up to speed on the discussion at hand but aware of the importance of waiting, first.

He is very surprised, and more than a little overwhelmed, by the influx of sensations. It has been over one hundred years since he last had a sufficient connection to a wielder to use any of their senses, and he has never been able to sense many of the things she does. He supposes a mage adept enough Life and Mind would be able to sense this when actively doing so, but it is an entirely new experience for him. 

He takes some time to adjust, and then sends her his thanks for her patience, This is the Force, then? He asks, then sends his wry self-recrimination, Not the time for my curiosity on the subject, I suppose. What is this political situation?

The king here is an asshole, too, turns out - he'd be trying to take over the world himself, if the empire didn't have him contained. His people aren't coming out well for it, either - regressive social policies and failure to maintain infrastructure, at minimum. I'm speaking to the disowned ex crown prince, currently a general, right now - she indicates him - and he doesn't want the throne, but agrees that his sire shouldn't have it; there's a plan to put one of his half-brothers on it if we win the war, but it's likely that my presence will interfere with that. The half-brother's grandfather is politically powerful, too, and he and enough of the nobles agree with the king's policies that I'd leave quite a power gap, killing enough of them to solve the problem; I'm looking for a more subtle solution.

He considers all she's told him, An assassination, subtle enough to leave no clues as to the culprit? He suggests, though that would not solve the problem of the politically powerful grandfather.

And then, in the interest of exploring all possibilities, You are able to sense minds. Are you capable of influencing them? Though he clearly finds the idea somewhat distasteful, it is worth considering. 

She's not enthusiastic either, but that doesn't mean it's not an option. I'd have to learn the language first. Or risk damaging him, by the other method, and I don't have much experience at that one.

Let us set that idea aside, then, until you learn the language. He pauses, deep in thought. 

Could you ask him, meaning the general, What could be done to cause the war to end sooner?

I expect if he knows he'd be doing it - he might not have told me if there's some way for me to, though, yet. I'll ask. She pauses before opening her eyes, to give him an opportunity to brace himself, and tries not to look around too much at first.

Thank you for waiting, she signs, keeping her hands out of her line of sight for the moment. We'd like to know if you have any ideas for how to end the war sooner.

He returns the paperwork he'd been reading while she was busy to his satchel, "Hm," he thinks, "There are a few options I have thought of before, all impossible for various reasons, but they could use reevaluation given your appearance.

"First is the Rebellion, I suppose," he begins, "The leader is nephew to the Emperor - by his late sister, though not her husband, which is something they care about in the Empire. Despite that he is the most legitimate heir by their laws, if he were legitimised, and not leading an underground rebellion against his uncle. They have a significant presence all over the Empire, and we have contacts with them - they help us smuggle families out of Imperial territory - but they haven't attempted to take any Imperial territory for fear of attracting the full might of the Imperial army to their relatively small fighting force. If they had the resources to make the attempt, and could be convinced to do so, the additional warfront could eat up enough of the Empire's attention to allow the existing ones to begin pushing back - particularly if they managed to take some amount of the Imperial Heartland." 

Sounds promising, she signs, and then to Stormsinger: I bet I could do that, and then swing back through afterward if need be - the extra legibility should help keep things stable, especially if I let them attack first.

Yes, he agrees, A sound plan. And we can investigate the Empire at the same time, to ensure we are not being misled in some way.

It's hard to lie to a Sith, but I do want to check, yes.

What else? she signs.

"Killing the Emperor himself," he admits, "Thought that would be a much more short term solution. As I mentioned, the Emperor's illegitimate nephew is the closest thing he has to a legitimate heir. This is because the Empire is exclusively agnatic in inheritance - only men may rule. If this were not the case, the Emperor's legitimate niece, Princess Shera Arming, would be his heir. 

"He had a daughter, at one point, as well," he adds, "But she was sickly, and was never presented to the court. The Imperial Family are carriers of the mana sickness, an inherited disease which causes extreme sensitivity to mana. Those born with the disease invariably die within, at most, a few years of their birth. Adult carriers often have trouble getting pregnancies to term, as the unborn will fail in the womb from exposure to their own mother's mana." 

He pauses, coming back to his point, "At any rate, if the Emperor were to die at this point, the Empire would face a succession crisis. Some number of distant cousins would likely make the attempt to take the throne, but I would be willing to bet that the eventual winner would be Princess Shera. It would take her time, both to win and to consolidate her position given the sexism rampant in the Imperial Nobility, enough to deal with our own crisis, but, well. The Princess Shera at the helm of the Empire, once she had it properly under control, would be far more terrifyingly effective than it is under Emperor Reginald." 

I don't object to efficiency, as long as her goals are acceptable.

    Shera is in charge of the emperor's army, ma'am.

She nods. I expect I'll object to her goals, then. And I'd rather gut the nobility there than here, but it's never a very reliable approach. What else?

He nods at DZ's words, "She would at the very least continue the war as he has done, but more likely she would change their policies to make them even more efficient at conquering." 

"The last idea I have had is attempting to learn what exactly turned the Emperor to war in the first place, and if anything can be done to return his priorities to what they were before. I don't know that this would be possible, not knowing his reasons, but it would be the most peaceful option, if it could be done." 

Nod. Do you know what kinds of defenses he has?

"Some," he nods, "I know he has a force of elite guards, each bearing a highly compatible Artefact. I do not know whether they guard him at all times, but they are always at his side in public. 

"The wards around the Palace are extremely extensive. They allow no living or minded being inside without authorisation. 

"The only other places he spends time at are a pair of pre-Seal ruins, both in the Heartlands - one stands on the peak of Mount Chec, above the Imperial Capital. The other is remote, within an area called the Deadlands. Both are well guarded, and he will have his guard with him in both locations." 

I expect I can make that work - I can read humans' minds, too, at a decent range, it's just that Forceblind humans can't hear me. I expect I can figure out how to get past the wards given a little time. The main problem is that I wouldn't be able to take DZ with me.

He nods, "A combination of the first and third idea, perhaps?" He suggests. "Meet with the Rebellion, such that you can use their safe houses, which would allow her to wait somewhere safe, yet close by. Discover what it is that turned the Emperor to war, and if it seems unsolveable, assist the Rebellion in drawing the Imperial army's attention." 

Sounds good. What does that mean in the immediate term?

"You require more time to recuperate, yes? You are more than welcome to use the rooms here to regain some measure of your full strength. Since we last spoke I have spoken with the Commander about the length of my stay here, and we have decided between us that my brother and I will leave in three weeks. At that time, if we follow this plan, you could leave with us, and we would take a detour to meet with one of my contacts from the Rebellion on the way back to Fort Helen." 

Nod. I'll be ready.

(Jaim nods)

Stormsinger stirs, offering concern, You will not be at full strength then, will you? He asks. 

Close, though. Enough that I won't hurt myself pushing it, I expect, and that's the important part.

Acknowledgement, and agreement, Yes, that is true enough. And perhaps there may be more time once you reach these Heartlands. Finding a way through the wards will take time, if that is the method you choose, and I doubt he leaves very often, if you choose to wait for him to do so. 

"I should return to the Command Center," Jaim says, standing. "You have my gratitude, for listening to me." 

I appreciate the information, she nods. Feel free to come find me if you'd like to talk again.

He nods in reply, offers DZ a nod as well, and then leaves them be. 

Deskyl sits for a minute, just resting, idly watching the fort go about its business, before turning her attention back to her responsibilities.

How's your battery doing, Love?

    Low but not dangerously low, ma'am, I have two or three days of charge.

All right. I want to get that corpse taken care of, and we'll see how I feel after - wait until tomorrow, probably.

Telepathically: Do you want to sit this one out? It's probably going to be pretty gross.

Nothing I haven't seen before, I'm sure, he sends in return, Though I would not mind the chance not to repeat the experience, with your senses on top, he admits. 

Entirely reasonable. Do you mind DZ carrying you, by the way? Not that I expect it to come up much. She heads back toward the room.

Your companion? Not at all, he tells her, She is quite interesting to my senses - I can feel her approaching at the very limit of them, as the movement of electricity within her is unlike anything I have felt before.

I expect so - it's not exactly like blood for her but that's the closest analog.

It's quite amazing, he muses, Is this a common technology, where you come from? 

Extremely common; we use it for everything. We basically don't use, say, fire, anymore. Or animals, for work or transportation. Even our books and tools are powered by electricity. She sends memories: the environmental control panel from her old quarters, a speeder, a datapad, the inner workings of a lightsaber.

He devours these, metaphorically, his mind lighting up with interest at the lightsaber, and the mention of their books. I expect you know of countless tales, writings, and musics the likes of which I have never heard, he comments. He feels very gleeful at the thought.

DZ moreso than me, for that. She never forgets anything; her memory works the same way as writing something in a book. I'll ask her to recite us something later.

Excitement, That would be lovely!

Artefacts never forget either, he says, We have such long lives, we could forget half of them between wielders, otherwise.

Must be nice. You'll just have to put up with me, I suppose.

I can only suppose more people connected to you having perfect memories can only be helpful? He muses, I certainly won't mind reminding you of things, should you ask. 

He pauses.

The General's Artefact, he mentions. I did not recognise it. It is possible it is simply one of the few I had never seen or heard of, before the seal. Likely, even, as it seemed to be a Greater one, and I find it highly unklikely any elves survived the seal. 

I have less of an excuse to talk to them than I thought I would, but it didn't seem like he'd mind. That should wait, though, probably until the day after tomorrow - I don't want to leave DZ's charger for the last minute, and it's not good to leave the prisoner sitting, either.

All good points, he agrees. He perks up curiously, Might I observe while you work on this 'charger'? 

Of course. I'm actually making a battery - a way to store electricity, basically - she explains the principles involved, sitting in the room for a few minutes after they get there to complete the explanation.

He listens with great interest, Your technology sounds something like the way the great mana machines work. Veins of mana running through various massive runescripts, to create incredible effects. Only, at such a small size it is nearly unbelievable. 

She nods. I'm not going to be able to recreate that, unfortunately. It takes better manufacturing capabilities than they have here, and even if they did, I don't know enough - my survival training was about keeping a team alive until they're rescued, not rebuilding civilization.

I'm going to end up with an ancient style tethered lightsaber, eventually, aren't I. She sends a memory of a photo, displayed on a datapad, of a man wielding a glowing green-bladed weapon with a spiraled cord at the end of the hilt leading to a box at his belt. That's going to really suck.

He considers, Perhaps the Dwarves might be able to help you with that? He suggests, I have no way of knowing how they have progressed since the portals were closed over 3000 years ago, but they were the most advanced of us, then, technologically. 

Still, he sends, That would require reopening the portals, which would be quite the challenge, given the way the humans of this time have spread the necessary Artefacts around the world. 

Sounds worth doing, though, once things are more stable here.

Quite, he agrees, Care would be needed, especially to ensure the human realm is stable enough not to attract the smothering attention of the elves once again.

Sounds like there's a story there.

I mentioned the great uprising briefly, during our second conversation, but did not explain the context, he muses.

Long ago, he begins, When the elven realm of S'Tira discovered the human realm, they found humanity a primitive race, scrabbling in the dirt and pursuing war for what they saw as pointless reasons. With no structured spells humanity made do with freecasting alone, accepting the cost in lives in return for the power of magic. Further, they were so short-lived, even shorter than dwarves, who may live thousands of years in good conditions. These elves believed them to be little more than animals, and incapable of advancing past that status due to the length of their lives, and thus they treated them as such - pushing them into smaller and smaller territories, keeping them as slaves, some even hunting them. 

Eventually the human realm rose up against this treatment, with the help of the dwarves, some of the more sympathetic elven realms, and a number of Artefacts, he feels proud of this, and drove them out of the human realm. 

Humanity is not as primitive as it was then. However, I have no idea as to the state of the politics of the elven realms. If the realm which first subjugated this realm has risen in power again, they would love nothing more than to retake it, and their revenge alongside it.

Well. There's a Sith here, now, they might find that a little more complicated than they're expecting. A portal sounds like a chokepoint; it won't even be hard, necessarily. Especially if she has allies from this war. Sounds like fun, really.

Human-length lifespans are normal, where I come from - it's more common for other species to live longer lives than shorter ones, but the majority have between one and two hundred years. It's better for progress - most species have a period in childhood and young adulthood when they're most easily able to learn new ways of living, and longer-lived species rarely have a proportionally long one.

Interesting, he muses, Elves have a life cycle driven by a set of instincts they call the Callings, he informs her. Each point in their life is driven by one of these Callings, from childhood to ancient weariness. The Learning is first, and lasts up to a thousand years, at which point they begin to feel the Wandering, and leave to explore the realms. This is why nexus worlds, such as the human realm, which are metaphysically close to other realms are seen as so valuable to the elves. 

Their receptiveness to new ideas begins to wane near the end of the Wandering, which can last until the end of their third millenium. To mitigate the chances of their being influenced to sympathy by other races, it is my understanding that the youth of S'Tira were prevented from Wandering out of the realms belonging to that polity. 

That would do it, yeah. Maybe we'll find an opportunity to do something about that, too, if it's still happening.

It would be good to do something about it, he agrees, To be trapped away from any chance of growing and experiencing new things is a terrible state. It is particularly unnatural for elves - that is the entire point of the Wandering, after all. It is only the power of the elven council of S'Tira, and the many millennia which this has gone on, which allows it to continue. 

Well, it's not my highest priority, but if we find ourselves in the way of it. Which we might well.

Amusement, and anticipation, I expect being bonded to you is going to be among the most exciting experiences of my existence, if not the most. 

She giggles. Seems likely. I will want to find a nice corner to settle down in eventually, but it's going to take some doing to get this world in a shape where I feel comfortable with that. And even then there'll be technology to play with. And art; I do sculpture, mostly.

Delight, I might have guessed you were an artist! 

He pauses, Perhaps you should simply not bother keeping a metaphorical eye out for any better match for me. I suspect, if you had mana, we would be close enough only another soul precisely like mine would offer a better one. And that would hardly be as interesting, as it is - I have had such a match before. 

Sounds good to me. I'd have a hard time letting you go, I think. Not that I won't, if you want that.

Oh no, he sends, along with his fondness and appreciation for her, I quite agree.

Gonna make all the other Artefacts jealous.

Amusement, Let them look on in envy, he sends, I will pay them no mind. 

Gosh she likes him a lot.

You know - I've gone back and forth on whether I want to do it, but I think - especially with the robot - I should be able to let you talk and move through me. Directly, I mean, not just passing messages and giving directions. Similarly to how I let my danger sense move me.

A stunned pause, and then a flash of conflicted emotion, including a long supressed resentment, covered over with determined acceptance. Then, after a moment of silence, ...I cannot claim to have never wondered what it would be like to have a form beyond this Blade, to be able to experience the world as my wielders do. I had long accepted it to be impossible... he trails off, uncertain how to continue. 

After a moment, he offers her his feelings on the matter: gratitude-shock-fear-curiosity-expectationofdisappointment-selfrecrimination-worry-longhiddendesire.

This would never be possible for a mana bond, made with our magic, he adds, It was always an impossible dream. 

I worry about my desire for it. When I was newly-made, I might have made foolish demands, and deprived myself of the possibility. Now all I can offer is... I would love nothing more than to interact with the world through you, so long as it would not harm you to allow me to do so. 

It won't hurt me. You could startle me, do something I wouldn't have allowed, but I don't think you will - I don't think you'll want to - and I can take back control any time.

He is still processing this concept to some extent. Mostly, he is relieved she would retain the control to push him out. It does make sense that she would, he realises. 

Part of him is... no, he's not disappointed by it. He would not want to take a form belonging to another, especially not her. He's just wistful, for something beyond his reach.

His true, deepest desire, not diluted by what is possible or repressed by the reality of his situation, is to have his own body. To be an elf, preferably, in more than just soul. Perhaps a body like his creator's. He does not want her body. He wants her to have full control of of her body, and to be able to meet and speak with her as an autonomous person with his own agency. 

No, I would not do anything with your body which you would rather I not, he agrees. No matter if I was the one in control, it would still be your body. 

It would, she affirms. That's one thing I'm fairly sure even Sith can't do, to steal a Force-sensitive's body and leave it alive.

For the other - that I definitely can't promise. But maybe when we find the dwarves I can explain cloning to them.

Good, he says, of her first statement.

Cloning? He asks. 

Simulating a pregnancy with technology, based on the - blood, more or less - of some donor or donors. There's a way to do it where no mind develops in the body, but I'm not sure how hard it is.

And, perhaps, a way to place the mind of an Artefact within instead, he muses. 

The dwarves may be willing to aid us with a project like that, he agrees. I knew of one being, during the rebellion, who was skilled in the making of Automatons, and had plans to experiment with whether they could be made to hold Artefacts and allow us some autonomy. I don't know what became of them, however. 

Something for the to-do list, she nods. I don't actually know much about cloning, but a lot of the time even just knowing for sure that something is possible is enough to make it happen.

Agreement, Enough to give hope, as well, he sends, along with a tangled conflict of hope and reserve. He worries about letting himself hope too much. 

You're going to live forever, love. Even if it's not in my lifetime, someone will eventually figure it out.

Slightly bashful, surprised pleasure at the fond epithet, followed by fondness of his own, and less cautious hope.

Yes, that is so. 

Though the idea that she might not live to see it happen is a sad one. 

Aw. She pats the sword. I expect to have a pretty good run. It's a little sad for her, too, but she's well aware of how much more privileged she is than most people, and much more grateful for what she does have than regretful for what she won't.

Acknowledgement, and agreement, We shall do our best to see you live it to the fullest. Perhaps my age extension will combine with yours to give you even longer.

Would be nice.

Do you want to try moving my body now? I'm not sure if the simplest way will work - if it doesn't, there are other things I can try, but not until I'm recovered - but it might.

Excitement-curiosity-concern, So long as it will not cause you any trouble, I would be more than willing to try. He pauses, I feel I must mention - I have no idea how I will react to this. I expect it may be quite overwhelming, however. You may have to take back control quite quickly. 

Mmhmm. She sends the memory of a hug, old and long-cherished. Giving you control will be something I'm actively doing, at first - I'll get in the habit with time if we do this much - so you don't need to worry about pushing too far at all.

Let me tell the robot what we're up to - she does that, clicking her tongue softly to get her attention. Okay, ready when you are. Her focus shifts, and a new set of possibilities comes to his awareness.

He sort of... curls up, in the sensation of the hug. He's had mental hugs before, but they've been few and far between. 

 Then - 

- !