Once upon a time in a Galaxy far, far away…
Almania. Centuries prior the planet was alive, vibrant, the host of an interstellar empire. Ruled by the Je’har, it was driven ever forward by the upper caste, with a deep seated ambition for slavery until it’s collapse. A brutal civil war between the upper class and the very slaves upon who’s back the planet rose to prominence. Eventual collapse gave way to being little more than a world raided by pirates, thieves and ironically slavers themselves. In the age of the Empire, Almania was forgotten. Lost to the sands of time, until the fall of Palpatine and his regime.
History is a fickle thing and those who do not heed its call are doomed to suffer it’s repeat. So too then did the Empire meet the same fate as the Old Republic before it. Gone was the law and order of the Galactic Senate. Gone was the reign of fear and oppression of the Galactic Emperor. In its place was a time of Warlords. Any self-styled ruler proclaimed themselves the new leader of the broken Empire. Dolph Kueller had been one such.
A man of logic and reason, Satal studied at the foot of a great Master in hiding for many years. Believing as he did that History was truly the key to unlocking his Destiny from the chains of Fate, Satal had dedicated himself to being a Historian. His thirst for knowledge, for the secrets and history of the Jedi, lead him to unearthing many secret tomes of his great Master. Fearing at any moment their discovery would lead to a similar fate of all the rest of those who bore the name Jedi, Satal delved deep into the history of the Sith, not out of a thirst for power but a quest to learn how he might break the cycle. As many know, fear is but a step down the path to darkness…
Decades later the once meak Jedi, Setal, who could barely snuff out a candle with the Force, as his master looked on, stood upon a great star-destroyer. Purveying the portion of the galaxy known then as the “New Imperium.” Barak had been a grand taskmaster, his lessons learned well. The Imperium was built on the foundations of the New Order, Palpatine’s grand vision, but it’s vision was vastly different. With an intent of never repeating the miss-steps of the past, the newly self-christened Emperor Dolph Kueller (an homage to a fallen hero of his homeworld), sought to rebuild the galaxy.
Like all Sith before him, he harbored a great feat of the Jedi, it was not a fear for his life but a fear that their vision of the Force would be the undoing of Life itself. Unlike many of those Warlords and the Emperor himself, Dolph never sought to end the Jedi order but to change their minds. Open them to the reality of their wrongness. The Inquisition, a tool forged by Vader, would be the fulcrum of changing the Jedi forever. Training his disciplines, sending them out into the Galaxy, to kill only those that could not be turned.
Ultimately, as many who live long enough to become the villain learn, he was unable to accomplish that goal. His Imperium failed to conquer the Galaxy. His Inquisitors largely failed to bring lasting change to the Jedi. The success he achieved came not as the leader of the Empire reborn, but in achieving what no other Sith of his age could even dream of. Balance. A life of great order, pleasure, love and even a hint of true happiness.
The New Imperium became a relic. Losing ground to the reconstituted New Republic, until the Imperial Remnant as a whole signed a treaty (surrender). Such as it was that the remaining Imperium vessels withdrew to a single star system. It’s leader, a man no longer consumed by a quest for the knowledge of the past, would become equally consumed by his quest for the future. If the Sith was to survive, it needed a new way forward. A break to the cycle. For ages untold the Sith would ultimately fail, because the thirst for power itself caused them to feast upon their own deficiency. They would rise and fall like the tides of the sea. Achieving only momentary victory, before falling upon the sword of selfish defeat.
Kyla Mim. Her visage had come to him in a vision. Later he would recognize it as a vision given to him by her late husband’s insanity. A summons from her own mind, calling out to him for help. Their bond was not some tale of love long destined, but one forged in the fires of the Darkside. Cold forge hammering of a metal that would be everlasting. Their trials many, first her’s, then his. Kyla had to become a Lord in her own right, taught never to trust, never to show weakness and to always secure that which she held most dear. Only for it to be taken away, time and time again, until her grip was simply too strong for anyone to pry it from her. His trials had been much the opposite. Forced to prove himself for the first time since Master Barak’s ego-shattering lessons, he’d prostrated himself in repeated effort to show his faith, his love and finally his trustworthiness.
Almania was rebuilt. Not as the seat of a new Empire, but as the symbol of a cycle being broken. Here they would find a home. Leave behind the vessels of the past, quite literally and embrace the designs of the future; a son and daughter. Elaysia, soon to be joined by Anwyn. The Children of the Sith, raised with an eye toward overcoming the hurdles of past failings. Trained in the arts of the Dark, with respect toward the choices of the Light.
Twenty long years. Each one happier than the previous. A new order had taken root, not just in the life of Dolph Kueller, but the Galaxy itself. As time passed them by, the power in the universes shifted with those sands of time. Ever aware of them, he’d realized the success of the goal to break the cycle when he’d never felt a need to be part of those shifting powers. Finally his thirst for power had been equalized, balanced by a singular desire for his future with Her.
What’s the saying? All good things must come to an end.
Morning on Almania is unlike most other worlds, as the sky there is reddened by it’s dwarf star. Rebuilt as the capital city is, a great deal of the planet still remains in ruins. A lack of robust production facility, leaves the red sky mostly clear even at the height of the day. Allowing the most crystal clear view of the space above. Dolph loved to meditate in the gardens. His time as a formal teacher had been passed on, left to the future and their mother. With every passing year, removed from the politics of the world, he had found himself moving further from hatred and loathing, towards a much more insidious form of the darkness; selfish love. Or so the Jedi might have you believe.
On that morning peace was dissolved in an instance. Long ago the super star-destroyer had been a gift to him by a dear friend. Valiya’s chief lieutenant, another self-styled imperial, but one of great tactical skill and measure, Admiral Nora’a. It remained with him even in retirement, a statement to the others: Leave us alone and we shall do the same. That warning was meaningless to the First Order and as demonstration of such it became the first shot of a new conflict. One such Warlord had finally risen above the others, accomplishing what Dolph Kueller could not, in uniting the former Empire into something more than a remnant. He’d done so not through peace or manipulation, but a demonstration of power. Once more fear would rule the galaxy, once more the cycle began anew. Only this time Dolph Kueller was a would-be Emperor that could not be left to challenge, even if the only challenge would be in defiance of not joining their Order.
It had come without warning, the destruction of the vaunted vessel. So much history wiped away with a single blast from a weapon that could crack a planet. The death, the destruction, enough to shock even the most grizzled warrior. Though the Imperium was not the force it had been, it was still a force to be reckoned with. One that was constantly tooled to be at the call of those who might inherit it’s legacy. The fleet had acted as it should. Alarms were sounding across the planet. Soldiers rushing to stations.
“Report,” his voice was deep, filled with the power that could only be fueled by anger, but sounded impossibly calm.
Admiral Caste had been with the Imperium since the beginning. Even now he wears the white of a Grand Admiral, to honor those who had come and fallen before him. That his voice would answer the call is surprising, as he should have been on the bridge of the vessel that is no more. “M’lord, the attack was staged from micro-jumps that skimmed past our detection grid. It shouldn’t be possible, but it is reality. As luck would have it, I was aboard the Night Tremor conducting inspects. We’ve mobilized the home defense fleet and signaled to the expeditionary fleet for reinforcement.”
In the years of service one thing has always been clear with Caste; It is never what he says, but what he doesn’t that you must pay attention to. If he’s called for reinforcements then the situation is already more dire than one might think in the opening stage of a battle.
It took no more than a single report to put the man in motion. He’d found them training. Elaysia’s eyes telling him that she knew most of what he’d said before he did so. As always Kyla was ready and his son was spoiling for a fight.
“Caste has the remaining vessels blockading them, but it will not hold. The weapon they used on the Knightmare means that their formation must be too tight to prohibit landers …” He’d trailed off, but she knew. They both did. “… we must secure the …”
“I’m not going. We all felt it. We’re under attack, let’s fight back…”
Anwyn’s voice is full of fire. You wouldn’t need to know him to understand right away that his determination is matched by a deep seeded impatience with being held back by his parents. You could also see from a mile away the look upon his face when his Father’s hands emerge from beneath the gold embroidered robes with lightsabers. He will get his wish this day.
The battle of Stonia was not a prolonged one. Commander Snoke had sent his best, but those Death Troopers are not powered by the Darkside of the Force. Nor have they trained, unendingly, for decades in it’s secrets. Imperium forces alone would never have withstood the assault, but led by the family of Sith fighting with a unity that inspired shock and awe, they quickly established a perimeter. It provided them with only a moment to catch their breath.
“…see? I’ve told you we should have been out there…”
The boy’s voice, his admonishing of his sister, is brought to a halt before the celebration of victory can even begin. In the sky above them another light has flickered out of existence. Not even enough rubble remains of another Star-Destroyer to create a satisfying planet fall of debris. Not a moment later Kueller and Mim made eye contact. Unlike Anwyn they’ve grown attuned to the force in ways their children do not yet understand. They can feel the blight of the darkside on another, in this moment it is others plural and it is coming ever closer.
“You must go,” their son is about to object, when emerald eyes fall upon him in daring him to defy this.
So too had Mim seemingly been about to object. Her silence had been bought with a touch, a kiss that he would not have dared even offer when last they faced dire straits such as this. In that kiss is a promise and a destination. Kyla the great Sith Lord of never trusting a situation. Plans upon plans. A fall back point should this exact thing ever happen. Her clairvoyance would save them all. That was the promise.
What came next was unlike anything the city of Stonia had seen. In another time, another place, Dolph had been revered for his ability to fight. To fight and win, time and time again. Those who had come against him and fallen, the likes of Ulic, Luke, Yorr and countless others. Yet, those lightsabers had been put down two decades ago. Now he and the remaining Inquisitors are going to go off to do battle against the forces of Darkness that are coming for them.
The assault from orbit reintensifies then. New Order forces seek to provide cover to the vessel that brings the Knights of Ren to Almania. Dolph’s forces meet them just beyond the city gates. Six of them, twelve Inquisitors and Dolph Kueller to oppose them. In older days this would be much less of a fight then it becomes. A handful of miles separates Dolph and Kyla, but they fight as one even still. It is perhaps only that bond that fuels Satal’s fight against the Knights. One by one, his Inquisitors fall prey to a cult of Sith marauders. Reminding Kueller of those days on ‘Deep Space Resort’ when he and his Inquisitors fought with the same tactics.
His fight is not an easy one, but surrender is simply not a word he bothered to learn. The end is, as it always has been, inevitable. How many times had he told his wife that he would die for her? A truth she’d had no reason to believe, as he cheated death time and time again. The man put power, his own selfish code above everything else so often, that when paired with how often he’d escaped the impossible she simply never had reason to believe. Today that promise was put to the test.
Ground was given inch by inch, but he was soon fighting with but a pair of his most trusted against all of their number. The line was the space port. No further could they retreat or they would be given the ground they fought to protect for the children’s escape. So too was Kyla Mim battling her way to the venerable Darkest Knight. He would give her the time she needed. He would not allow his complacency to cost him the legacy of the future.
By the time it was simply Ren and Satal facing one another, the Knights stood watch as their leader faced yet another Warlord. They looked upon Kueller and did not see some impossible foe that took on scores of Jedi after the Fall, but a man who was out of his league, out of practice and unwilling to lose his glorious palace. They weren’t the only one seeing it. How had Anwyn gotten there? When had he escaped his mother, for escape would have been the only way he got here while the fire of Kyla burned so bright in his mind.
The storm that consumed Stonia was born of the look in that boy’s eyes. Weakness. His son saw him as weak, believed him about to fail and was willing to die to help what he believed to be a broken Father. That look had consumed him, body and soul. Until it blistered outwards in all directions. Raven hair and golden robes being consumed in the arching torrent of the force cascading through everything and everyone. Except that tiny little point, in the eye of the storm, where the Knight called Ren sought to end the would-be Warlord’s era for good.
It is the lifeblood of Stonia that fueled the storm that would consume it, but it was the life of that solitary Knight that would preserve a promise. The Darkest Knight’s ion engines left a blaze across the crimson sky. Racing away from the destruction unleashed by the very person that rebuilt this world. The look in his son’s eyes was different then. Awestruck. The force was alive all around him at the command of his Father, the man he believed weak. That look was good enough that Satal accepted that he would keep one of his promises after all; He would die for her.