The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!
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06.09.2012 , 06:51 PM |
Like the first, only player character is Rogan't, represented by Rochester:
One of Darth Yt'klor's many slaves bowed before Lord Naught. The man was bent at the waist, his hands upon his knees, with eyes fixed to the floor. The position looked incredibly uncomfortable. Briefly Broan considered allowing the slave to stand, but stopped himself. The last slave to have done so had been quite severely chastised, in spite of Broan's protests. Instead he simply read the note. It appeared to be a set of brief instructions, telling him to attend a popular holodrama before having a meal at restaurant.
"And Lord Vizloch instructed you to give me this, did she?"
"Indeed, my Lord." Broan nodded. The slave left in silence, making sure to close the door and reactivate the lock. He sighed and re-read the note. He had a vague inkling of why Lord Vizloch would have sent him such a message, but could not fathom her reasoning for it. Setting the slide aside, Lord Naught attempted to return to his work. It was difficult for him to concentrate, not least because of this strange request. Since his arrival in Darth Yt'klor's service a little over a month ago he had not once set foot outside the mansion. He had barely been out of his room. A Jedi should have been able to deal with such isolation, but Broan had never been an exemplary Jedi. Leaving the treatise on Inner Peace: The Hypocrisy of the Jedi's use of Knowledge and Wisdom for a moment, he read the note again. The holodrama was apparently a classic in Imperial space. That was all there was on the drama: 'a classic' and the names of the director and chief actors. Broan cringed at the thought. He had heard of Imperial dramas before and they did not come with a good reputation. Surely Lord Vizloch knew his misgivings. Had she done this out of spite or an attempt to make him more like a Sith?
The last item of the note struck him as particularly unusual. There was a dress code. In essence he was being directed to wear something respectable and comfortable. Perhaps, he thought in mild horror, this was how Sith courtship was handled. Lord Vizloch was married, though. Broan ran his hands over his head, thinking it over. How exactly did Sith women conduct their private business? Sith themselves were famed for their vices, it would not be beyond them to have affairs. He did not have much of a choice in the matter. He could possibly dissuade her over dinner, he had been quite the diplomat when working within the Republic.
He checked the note one last time. The date and time were for two days hence. He had time to prepare. Set on this course he returned to the treatise. Not five minutes later he was fast asleep.
"Sir?" Lieutenant Windthorpe knocked gently at the door frame. Captain Gorse was engrossed in a report and did not turn as he waved Rochester in. He placed a slide down on the captain's desk so that it could be read. "My presence has been requested in Kaas City, again. Lord Vizloch wishes to speak with me."
Captain Gorse sighed and picked up the small slide. He looked over the information once, then tossed it back on the desk.
"Looks to me like she's setting you up on a date. Your mother should stop meddling in your affairs. Sith or not, you're a grown man." He casually leant back in his chair and propped his feet on the edge of the desk. Though his demeanour now was dismissive, he was a model Imperial when around Sith.
"Unlike my father, she acts in my best interests, hard as that is to believe." Rochester retrieved the small slide and hide it away in his jacket.
"Aren't you engaged to that cousin of yours? Lord..." Captain Gorse waved his hands around, indicating for Rochester to continue.
"Stion'n, sir. My second cousin though marriage, I might add. Nothing official has been arranged, I believe she is trying to keep her options open." He rolled his shoulders to ease the tension in his back. There was a reason why Lord Stion'n had not agreed immediately; a reason Captain Gorse was privy to, but not very tactful about.
"You're not as dumb as you look, Lieutenant."
"That's not... that's..." Rochester sighed. "May I please have my leave, sir?" Captain Gorse snorted, nodding. There was nothing that he could say, neither were in a position to deny the request.
The night arrived and Lord Naught was nervous. He had not spoken to or seen Lord Vizloch in the days leading up and he was beginning to forget his arguments as the hour drew near. He was stood in the hall of the theatre, trying not to fidget. Mirialin were rare enough in the Empire and here was a Sith, wearing the braids of a Jedi, all on his own.
"R--? Lieutenant Windthorpe." Broan smiled slightly, completely discarding his worries.
Probably a bit... very... crap. I'm half asleep and wrote it entirely whilst half asleep. Don't ask me what's going on, I don't even know.