SithLore

The short journey from the heights of his keep to the miles long causeway that led to the heart of Moraband was eclipsed in utter silence. The regal figure departing the shuttle, alongside a lifeless servant and a once proud slave, led the slow march to the citadel. Great statues lined the walk, belonging to every notable Sith of the era save the man that now traversed this path. Arriving at the vacant, yet still guarded, stronghold the Sovereign bore the last trace of the Dark Lord’s presence. The dagger formed by the three pillars would now rest next to Tormentous’s holocron.

It was unfortunate, but the Jidai Maras had vanished with the Dark Lord alongside his war-mount. The incursion upon Manaan was to be the last moment of unity for the Lord of Torment’s forces and now days had gave way to weeks and months of the powerful figure’s absence. The Lord Sovereign now stood before the vacant Throne of Skulls with fury emanating from his eyes. Silas was sure Tormentous had not fallen that day yet was still flummoxed perhaps even bewildered that his own peerless senses could no longer reach him. Whatever fate had befallen the Dark Lord was beyond even the reach of the Force, for sorcery and the spirits of the departed lacked the insight necessary to discern Tormentous’s location.

“Nil, access the com-channel reserved for our highest ranks and issue this message. Our lord has absconded. In light of this a new focal point must be forged to whom the Sith may unite anew. As High Priest, I, the Lord Sovereign last of the Triumvirate shall wrest the mantle of leadership from these hallowed grounds. Any that may wish to intervene, vie for such a burden themselves, or attempt to disavow my claim may seek me out here at the foot of the throne.” As the assassin swiftly made the necessary preparations to issue the edict a chilling voice broke across Silas’s ears. “The deposed king now seeks a new throne it seems.”

Idaan’s icy amethyst gaze seemed to peer into the Sovereign’s tainted soul. Unsheathing the Irus’s Mirtis the High Priest arrogantly set the blade where the Jidai Maras once rested. Looking out beyond the antechamber Silas gave his reply. “Remind me, just who was it that frittered away that former seat of power?” Thunder sounded in the distant skies overhead, possibly moved by the influence of the Sith Lord. “This is the fate I’ve seen these many cycles yet not in the manner to which I ever considered. Perhaps through this charge your sins may be abated.”

“What you propose may be one possible fate”, a new voice rang out across the chamber with a low growl, “But one that must be earned”. The bone spurs of Sa’ato’s boots clacked softly across the stone floor as he lightly stepped over the threshold and into the dim light, “You are Sovereign in name, but no longer in title, and simply declaring your reign will not make it so”. There was no evident malice in the Neti’s gravelly voice, but the clear intensity of his words were not diluted from behind his freshly-acquired masque. Prior to his entrance, the teacher had been discussing battle tactics with his young, unlikely ward, before a premonition shot up through his equivalent of a spine.

The Force told no lies, and in this case, the psychic anxiety that had quickly overtaken Sa’ato had been well founded. “The cultists are given to hushed conversation- I have heard them whisper of your many exploits”, the Neti continued, taking a few steps closer to the Echani and his mate, “I do no doubt them, and I have great respect for your work as a fellow scholar, High Priest”. The academic paused then, and drew two blades from his belt, one long, one short. He carried on with his remarks, but moved no closer, “I know your powers are many, and that your strength cannot be denied. You are of benefit to the collective knowledge of the Sith-”.

“Which is why”, the Neti added, inclining his head to one side, “I did not dismiss your merits out of hand despite the absurdity of the previous coup, in which I understand you played a significant role”. Sa’ato released a puff of melancholic breath from his pores, and shook his head ever so slightly, “In truth, I would have no qualms in accepting your leadership, were it not for two glaring details-”. Tapping his foot twice, the Neti began to pace neatly along a parallel vector to the glimmering duo, seeming confident or indifferent to the possibility of being attacked without warning, “For one, the Dark Lord lives, or else we would have sensed his passing. This feeble attempt to seize power only evokes the most lurid of weakness-”.

“And secondly”, the retired teacher moved to conclude, coming to a halt and deliberately looking the Sovereign in the eye, “You host a debilitating menagerie of attachments. That woman there, your children, the specter of your kingdom, your people, your honor. Tug on any one of these strings and your strength will fail you- the Dark Side will recognize this folly and leave you to your end”. Now, Sa’ato bent his knees and angled his blades toward the veteran battlemaster, with an ambiguous resolve born of foolhardiness or courage, “I will not pay you further insult than has already registered, or drag out this colloquium. I ask you this one time: step down, and acknowledge the regency of Archon Silvanius in the Dark Lord’s absence”.

Silvanius had been walking outside her masters Citadel, making a mental note of where she wished to start having her own wing of residence added onto the enourmous structure. Seemingly in the past, Lord Tormentous did not seem to appreciate the fact Silvanius had the idea of building her own Citadel elsewhere. The sith apprentice didn't think much of it. But it made her curious as to why he didn't want her far from him. Then again, she didn't wish to be far off anyhow while her plans were being made to help the mandolorian. So the closer she stayed, the better it was for them both. In the end, she didn't even bother fighting for the idea. She would remain on moraband with her master for the moment.

Warv, her nexu growled lowly, catching sight of the High Priest and his companion in the distance approaching the building entryway before disappearing through the heavy wide doors. The creatures rat like tail lashing, fur ruffled in irritation from whatever he was sensing.

"Calm Warv..."
She rested her hand on the nexu's head, scratching him comfortingly for a moment before quietly following the Echani from a distance. Silvanius knew her pet had caught onto something even before she could. All animals had a high sensitivity onto peoples intentions before any living being could. And so the sith apprentice knew that from her nexu's reaction that something was up. Which was to be expected anyhow as the sith apprentice had already confirmed from the Echani himself while he remained as Silas for a brief period of time on a mission, that he was untrustworthy.

Quietly she quickened her pace as she passed the statues and up the steps like a silver/grey feline hunting their prey. Silvanius took a moment to make sure the Priest was far enough ahead before entering her masters home. The massassi guarding the entrance opened the doors as she motioned for them to let her and her nexu in. Normally she would have left Warv behind, but something told her in the back of her mind to keep her nexu by her side. He was large enough now to protect her, but still not big enough to ride. And in that moment, Silvanius knew she might need her pets protection.

"What are you up too?" She thought as she narrowed her blue gaze at the shadow fading from the high priest figure heading down another corridor towards the throne room. Before moving forward, she felt Sa'ato's presence in the force lingering nearby as well in the Citadel, as well as some others among the sith on moraband.
"I don't like this feeling..."
Silvanius brows furrowed in concern at the fact she was picking up something major was occurring within the throne room. The force felt heavy within her mind, warning her to proceed with caution at to whatever laid ahead.

The thrones entryway doors were wide open, the sound of the Neti scholars voice could be heard faintly along with his footsteps approaching the echani echoing out into the hallway, from which she hid at a nearby corner as she overheard their conversation. Her nexu quietly stood behind her awaiting for his owner to move along.

“What you propose may be one possible fate, but one that must be earned. You are Sovereign in name, but no longer in title, and simply declaring your reign will not make it so."

Silvanius listened on to Sa'ato's word's, realization coming to her at what was happening. The high priest was attempting to take her masters throne in his absence, and despite the fact Silvanius didn't care for Tormentous all that much, she did care about her master maintaining his position as Sith Lord. "That no good serpent...figures." she thought.
Already knowing Silas betrayed Jacobi, now the High Priest was betraying her Master Lord Tormentous, the young sith apprentice remained still as the Neti confronted him.

Listening on, It hadn't surprised Silvanius to hear Sa'ato would follow The Priest if he had become Sith Lord. Any sith would follow the successor of the throne once they have been defeated. Its just the way things were. But she agreed with the retired Scholar that what the High Priest was doing was indeed cowardly. If her Master was to be dethroned, he would have to face Tormentous head on in battle like the late War-Bringer had. Otherwise they were not fit to rule over the sith.
And the young sith already knew about the key points of the High Priest past, yet Silvanius hadn't considered his family and previous status, everything he had, could possibly still be used against him and seen as a weakness if he were to rule.

“I will not pay you further insult than has already registered, or drag out this colloquium. I ask you this one time: step down, and acknowledge the regency of Archon Silvanius in the Dark Lord’s absence”.

Hearing that, the young sith smiled over Sa'ato's loyalty before unclipping her weapon, gripping the hilt of her lightspear tightly. Glancing down at her pet Nexu, she motioned with her head for him to follow her. Now was the time to show them this young girl from Tibrin was not as weak as she seemed. Especially in the absence of the Sith Lord.

Yes she may have not been the strongest sith...but she held a warriors spirit like her Master and the Mandolorian. She wouldn't back down and allow the High Priest to take the throne. Not as long as her master was alive.

Swiftly but with a confident stride, Silvanius turned the corner, entering through the throneroom doors. Surprisingly enough, the sith apprentice was pissed off at the fact the Priest was trying to overrule her master, anger rising within as she stopped a good distance away. Igniting her silver blade, Warv, her nexu, partially crouched beside her. The creatures gaze set solely upon the high priest with a low growl emanating from Silvanius beast as she motioned with her hand to hold him back from attacking.

"It's not yours to take."
Silvanius let the comment hang in the air briefly before continuing.
"And it never will be for as long as my master Lord Tormentous lives on."
The young sith knew that her master could live for centuries before being dethroned. And even if he met his demise...she had a feeling he would pursue to claim the throne back even in death.
"You know the rules. You must kill my master for the throne. Only then do you have the right to rule."

This accursed planet. The sands red from millennia of blood spilled upon it. The Chief had a feeling that there would be another slaking today, or maybe that was just the dominating pressure of a million departed Sith spirits screaming in her ear. Each one, still wailing in grief at its own demise, unable to let go for years that numbered in the thousands. It touched every soul that walked these blooded sands, even those that were not sensitive to the Force. Even Emic, whose bloodlust was usually tempered with friendship, looked upon her Rattataki lieutenant with anger, hungering to take that sweet pale neck, wring the life from it, and drink it deep until it was empty.

For her part, Luce seemed to feel that pressure too, though it touched her with fear. She could keep a lid on it far better than Emic could, though, even if the King of Kings was burrowing into her with those bright red irises.

They departed from the ship without a word, trudging through the Valley of the Dark Lords toward their destination. It was only under the statue of Marka Ragnos that the Chief stopped. Looking up toward this monster, she spoke for the first time since they entered orbit. “Do you remember that night we spent getting drunk in the trenches on Begamore?”

Luce pondered. “Yes, I do.”

Emic looked down at her boot, kicking dust from side to side, as if attempting to dig something up that always rested just beneath the surface. “Can you tell me what you remember?”

The lieutenant looked with concern at her commander, who continued her quiet journey toward the Citadel while waiting for a response. “I guess the only thing I remember is telling a story to you, I forget which one. The thing that sticks with me is how you watched with rapt attention as I told it, as if you were entranced by something.”

“I was.”

Luce tilted her head, in an approximation of surprise, but tempered by her station. “Why do you ask?”

Emic turned to look back at Luce, lingering for a quarter of a second, before snapping herself away. Every instant spent looking at that face was another that pulled her to rip it off. Luce saw that her Chief’s eyes were bloodshot and irritated by salt. Emic just sighed and took her next step forward. “Just trying to remember why I like you.”

Luce couldn’t help but agree, that this world had an effect on one. She could only think that those already immersed in the dark side found it liberating or invigorating, to be on a planet that seemed to pulse and grow with every evil thought.

It was half a second before the Citadel was in front of them, surprisingly the Massassi honor guard, clad in their resplendent armor, did not attempt to direct them from their course. It was only Emic’s stopping before them that prevented their entrance.

“Wait outside, lieutenant.”

“Why?”

Emic cringed at the questioning of orders. “If I had asked you to follow me in, you wouldn’t have argued. Why now?”

“Because you shouldn’t suffer it alone.”

Emic could only shake her head.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” Luce said, not a taunt, but a plea.

“I’ve faced down Dark Lords before. I can handle a pretender,” replied the Zabrak. “You’re what concerns me.” Emic took a deep breath. “The Sith take. They take all they can. They’ve taken a lot from me already, and if they take much more, they’ll end up taking what makes me different from them.” She then took the great step inside that tower of death. “Just wait outside, Luce.”

Good soldiers follow orders. Luce was a good soldier. Emic was a good killer.

The ascent was quiet, nary a cultic chant graced the ears of the King of Kings. Her own footsteps were her only company. It was then she let the anger wash over her. She would need to wear the Sith mantle were she to survive this encounter. Anger makes one stalwart. Fury is the greatest weapon. The Sith understood that much.

She entered to the sight of three, one unfamiliar, two familiar. She heard their words. Silvanius threatening the claim of the weirdo she didn’t know. After the young pup finished her declarations, Emic stood at her side. “According to your own rules, she’s right. The Dark Lord will come back, and you have to be ready for that. I don’t think you are. Nor do I care.” Emic hissed her words. For someone who worked for the Sith, she hated them greatly. There was only pointless craving behind every Sith’s golden eyes. They killed everything that gave them vision beyond themselves. She looked to the Priest. “I don’t know you. I wonder, do you know me? Do any of you?”

She stepped closer to the Priest, seeing the Echani in him. "I wonder, is there anything Echani left under that skin, child of Eshan, or have you cast off your heritage just to covet what Tormentous has? Do you have anything beyond just grabbing at whatever power you can?” She grew to a low shout. “What makes you any better, any different, than that thing I used to call Jacobi Wylcott?”

She then snapped to the young Silvanius. “And you, pet. Are you going to grow a damn spine, spread your wings, or do anything at all besides keep the seat warm for Tormentous when he finally gets back? Are you going to become your own being?”

“So,” Emic concluded, shooting one final, spiteful glance at both the Pet and the Priest, before retiring to the corner of the room to spectate them killing each other. “That’s the way I see it. Whichever one of you wins, the Sith Empire loses. Feel free to prove me wrong, but seeing as it’s not a problem you can torture and kill your way out of, I doubt you’ll have what it takes.”

For the past few days, or even weeks, she wasn't sure of the time anymore. Aliclair's time within the Darkness had left her mind in a scramble, so she couldn't tell day from night anymore. But, from the time spent, she'd been tailing around the Priest, Silas Karn, in his endeavors. Than, he made a move. She still wore her combat slave attire, but at least, now she had a scaled cloak of sorts to feel more comfortable in her skin, to cover everything from the shoulders down. As Silas' ship landed down, and he stepped off to enter a large spirling building, Ali came to the conclusion this is where the Dark Lord Tormentous lived. It was her sense, something telling her. Plus, why would her leash holder be here? It didn't take long for her to figure out.

As the slavened Padawan followed, she ended it when she entered the Throne Room, feeling an intense amount of energy... it made her crippled for a second, then she blinked out of her stasis with a small head shake. She raised an eyebrow as Silas Karn spoke, thinking if it was a question for her to answer or rhetorical. But, of course it wasn't toward her so she stayed silent, until another voice cut in. Ali turned to face the new voice, taking a few steps back then to the side to allow the two to converse back and forth about their Sithy traditions. Even if she didn't like them, she respected tradition. She'd walk for a while, spectating then began to think of her own home, and her own family. Her bloodline... That sort of living was simple; the next offspring or kin to Royalty would assume the throne. But the Sith Empire was built on many many deaths and manipulation. Of course murder would be the way to the Top. Her eyes shot to the entrance of the Throne Room hearing a Lightsaber igniting, her instinct rising to draw her own weapon but restrained from taking action. Then a second, someone she knew well; Kita 'Silvanius'. Her mood turned sour; of course. Squinting, her mind began to turn. An empty throne, no one's sitting in it. Her eyebrow quirked, something ignited.

"She's right, you know."

A voice spoke up, Ali's. She wasn't addressed to speak, but she felt she had to due to a Leaderless kingdom. And she, of all, understood that anything with a Throne needed to be filled.

"I apologize, I know I don't have permission to speak. But, as a Blueblood myself, if a throne sits empty for too long, a Kingdom falls. Even if the Kingdom shouldn't exist... Lord Tormentous seems to be, uhm... unreliable. To leave his subjects like this. Silvanius isn't going to take the throne. She respects the Dark Lord too much. As much as I wouldn't mind seeing this carnage nonexistent, I'm here. And now what? It's not tradition, no. Cowardice? I guess it depends on who looks at it. Technically, Silvanius is next in line, since Sith apprentices are supposed to be the right hand of the current Lord, no?" Ali said, walking up and standing in an open spot next to Silas. "But. You hasn't stepped up." She added, looking toward the silver attired Acolyte. "Is it not the 'Sith Way' to take advantage of an empty throne? Or, is there another reason why?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. Ali wasn't trying to be insidious or ill-willed, but she felt the need to prod at her, considering the only reason she's with the Sith is to save Jacobi. "Silas has decided to step up. I see no reason to deny it. I'm not doing this out of spite. I can't help but to understand where he's coming from, even if there's other reasons." She finished, taking a moment to look up at Silas then taking a step back.

Looking out at the small gathering decrying Silas’s claim Idaan looked to the Sovereign. “It seems your popularity with subordinates holds true. Regardless what this Zabrak says holds merit. You cannot afford to simply slay the detractors until only supplicants remain.” With a degree of hatred in her voice Idaan added, “Surely the ‘Sovereign’ requires subjects to maintain such a title?” A hollow metallic interjection followed, “My Lord I could fetch a muzzle to properly adorn the former queen.” A wide grin coursed the countenance of the Sovereign as he waved of Nil’s suggestion.

With masterful control Silas slowly began to channel the powerful emotions that were being projected towards him (Feed on Darkside). Slowly walking toward the crowd Silas began to address their concerns. “First and foremost Master Sa’ato, what was once Eshan is unrecoverable.” Shooting a vengeful glance back to Idaan after he spoke the Sovereign gave short pause before continuing. “At this point less effort would be required to start a new elsewhere than to undo what has been done by the empire. As for family I believe you’ve arrived at a misconception. Echani always were a different breed.” A venomous smile broke across Silas’s face.

“They were granted ever advantage in life that was ever withheld from me. Should they cross me it would be with immense pride that I would take up my sword against them. In fact, from what I have heard my first born may be poised to deal a significant blow to our holdings if they are allowed to go uncontested.” Those born human were likely at a loss to Silas’s thinking if not outright dismissive believing it bravado or lies. Yet such cruelty was a mere byproduct of a divergent heritage, one that no longer existed. “As to the Lady Idaan, well it’s complicated…” The Sovereign’s words dripped with hatred, for it had been in his absence that Eshan had surrendered to the empire and it was Idaan who had facilitated that exchange.

The snake then turned to face Silvanius while still addressing the professor. “Silvanius remains the future for the Sith. However this is not the galactic empire, and there is no such coddling position as being held in regency until one is strong enough to stand up for themselves.” Despite his control the volume of power the Sovereign had gathered could now be felt by the group as he pushed this gathering forward. “To those that believe Tormentous to yet live and are content to await his return. Foolish. If even ‘I’ cannot sense him nor the specters under my command reach him then it is time to move on.

Should the Lord of Torment find his way back that will be a concern for me to address and will not involve any of you. As any such guidelines regarding leadership…” The Sovereign began to cackle with a haughty, vile, tone. “Oh my dear Silvanius, there has ever only been one truth amidst the Sith. The strongest shall rule, and as of this moment. I am by far the most powerful!” Intent on debilitating the totality of those that had gathered, the former battlemaster’s eyes lost their sapphire hue as he peered a fragment of time.

This act was concealed by the magnificent obsidian helm which bore the embossed crown that echoed his nobility. The Sovereign saw the effectiveness of his choice only marred by a singular outlier yet there was another… It was then that Silas’s latest subordinate arrived actually denouncing those already assembled before him. This emergence recalled the mind of the High Priest to the present. Aliclair gave the Sovereign the opportunity to perhaps persuade with the pen rather than the sword.

‘One chance, and only one. If they attempt to deny me further this clash has but one outcome,’ Silas mused in his fury. Walking back up to the throne the Sovereign removed his helmet and sat it down upon the right arm rest. Looking out at the group he spoke to Silvanius. “I understand your reluctance to part with your master’s memory. Your loyalty is however a weakness, one he exploited as it left no opportunity for another Warvanus. With your supplication to the Dark Lord he had an apprentice that could never truly succeed him as they could never truly raise arms against him.” The Sovereign spoke with the finesse of the greatest of orators as the snake truly loved to indulge his self in such manipulations. “Your place at my side will lack this weakness and some day with your own strength…” Silas gave a knowing glare to Sa’ato.

“You will strike me down and cast me out from your order.” Looking to Emic the Sovereign continued, “I know of you for I am well informed. However, I’ve yet to see the proper induction within the Sith for you to truly have a say here this day. Tread lightly for this matter will conclude with or without your affirmation.” Next, Silas returned his gaze to the one individual bold enough to bear arms against him. “You know none of you are prepared to take the reins. Moreover, with your resources and mine one of us would have found him by now. Lay down your weapons and I will grant you my former title and keep. High Priest and Left Hand of the Dark Lord. With Silvanius remaining as the direct apprentice to the Dark Lord, there will be stability at the height of our ranks.”

Finally, the Sovereign turned to the lone voice in support of his efforts. “I’ve underestimated you. We may need to revisit your incarceration.” Finished speaking to each member individually the Sovereign’s pristine sapphire eyes gleamed as he placed his hands together. “So, do we have an accord?” With that the High Priest opened the domain of the Sith’s true might within his own body (Sith Sorcery). While no visible change occurred the haunting voices of the ancient Sith tongue began to reverberate from his profane armor. Wresting hold of his helmet the Sovereign was prepared for either affirmation or defiance.

Sa’ato’s bone helm betrayed no hint of his meditations while the former king said his peace. Slowly however, the professor’s head inclined several centimeters. His body vibrated, and finally shook with enthusiasm as a fit of guttural, hoarse laughter burst out from beneath his mask. “Such a sense of clarity in one so ‘young’”, the academic crowed while his rumbling cackle subsided, “I cannot argue against your logic, Lord”. Without a second thought, the retired teacher casually sheathed his weapons, and took a single step to further indicate his short-lived challenge was at end.

“Would that some of my students had possessed your boldness”, Sa’ato continued in address to the would-be darth, turning his head slightly to the side to petition the greater assembly, “A civil war now will make our meager holdings even more vulnerable. More importantly, a loss of the Sith heartland would mean pausing my research. That is something I have no intention of doing”. Loosening the tense, fibrous osteoblasts of his neck and shoulders, the professor crossed his arms, and concluded, “Submission to the Sovereign differs little from our obedience of the Dark Lord. If and when he returns, the matter of who has the right to rule will be made clear-”.

The Neti paused briefly, eyeing Silvanius with genuine curiosity, “Until then, our order will persist on as usual, unless someone wishes to stake their claim now?”.

Silvanius turned at Emic as she entered the throne room, her nexu remaining by her side protectively. The sith apprentice had been surprised at the fact the Zabrak agreed that what the priest was attempting to do was wrong, despite the fact she herself wasn't a force user. However, her hate for the sith empire alone was clear as her tone dropped like venom at the Echani. Silvanius didn't understand why this was exactly. Especially since she had been in the Sith for so long. Perhaps she had been sucked into this life like she had? No option really to escape? The Sith apprentice couldn't be sure and let the questions go for now. There was more important things to focus on.

Emic had proceeded to question Silas, only then to learn in her questioning that Emic knew Jacobi. But it was obvious from her question alone that she was unaware Jacobi was still alive and that Tormentous was now in charge over him. Kita figured this was for the best. The less people who knew, the better it was. However once Emic turned towards Silvanius with her own questions and observations, the Sith apprentice had found herself in a unusual and worriesome position. The questions given by emic made Silvanius appear as though she were nothing more then a mere puppet. And this had infuriated her.

"Who said I wasn't my own being!?" She yelled back defensively. "Just because I wait for Lord Tormentous, doesn't mean I'm not my own person with my own thoughts and decisions. You don't know everything about me. Just like I don't know everything about you." She countered.

The questioning didn't seem to end as Emic sat by and unexpectedly Aliclair had spoken her own thoughts on the matter of her Masters absence. Kita hadn't known the padawan was a princess. And Silvanius felt it was true their was a possibility the Sith empire could fall if a leader didn't step up to the throne at some point.
Silvanius isn't going to take the throne. She respects the Dark Lord too much. As much as I wouldn't mind seeing this carnage nonexistent, I'm here. And now what? It's not tradition, no. Cowardice? I guess it depends on who looks at it. Technically, Silvanius is next in line, since Sith apprentices are supposed to be the right hand of the current Lord, no?"

Silvanius glared at the padawan as she stood next to the high priest.
"But. You haven't stepped up. Is it not the 'Sith Way' to take advantage of an empty throne? Or, is there another reason why?"

The Sith apprentice knew then that Aliclair knew something was up. Why Silvanius hadn't bothered taking the throne.
"She couldn't have found out...could she? And if so...how?" It hadn't occurred to her that Silas had possibly said something about Jacobi and Kita's connection while the padawan was being surveillanced under him.

It was hard keeping back the panic Silvanius felt. She was determined to get it under control. Yet it was almost impossible...so instead she masked it by talking her way with logic on the matter.

"My REASON for not taking the throne is not because I don't want it." She replied furiously. To Silvanius this could have been true at some point in the future. However it was far in the distance. And not a easy task. "But its because I know I'm not ready for it." Silvanius knew this to be true. No one could deny she hadn't been in the Sith for very long, so why would she attempt to take the throne right now? Especially if she had to fight other Sith who may have attempted to claim it from her? She could fight for her apprenticeship against another apprentice. But she couldn't fight another powerful sith yet to keep and aim at being the next Dark Lord.

For now Kita had purposely been holding herself back from such ambitious desires to focus on her private mission. But obviously taking the safest route to get that done was becoming a risk for her plans to fail. Especially now as it was causing suspicions and or questions among her comrades.

She pointed her saber at Ali in frustration, but didn't dare aim for her with it. "I haven't been Lord Tormentous's apprentice for very long. Much like you hadn't been Kenobi's for very long. Am I right?" She didn't allow Ali to answer back, but continued onwards knowing that remark would hit the padawan. Setting down her blade, she continued.

"No apprentice goes to take their masters position unless they know for certain they could take it and handle the responsibilities it entails along with strength to take down their enemies. This applies in both the Sith and in a way with the Jedi as well...or am I wrong?"
Kita had the idea that even the Jedi's padwans wouldn't step up in a higher position either unless they were ready.
Out of everyone, Silvanius hadn't expected Aliclair to side with a sith as she finished her claim that the Priest should take the Throne.

Glaring at Silas, Silvanius didn't dismiss what the echani said as she stood quietly, listening intently. In the back of her mind she did agree with the Priest. The sith apprentice felt deep within herself she was mean't to lead the Sith one day...even though she never expected herself falling into the darkness after being whisked away from her home. But there she was. Giving up the thought of escaping and instead training under the Dark Lord Tormentous himself while attempting to help the mandolorian she fell in love with. But even now that seemed to be changing.

Now the snake had already been repeating what Silvanius already knew and said to Ali and Emic. The strongest did rule the sith. And currently...Silvanius knew she was not even at par with the High Priest to hold her own. He had the nerve to tell them all...including her, to let the hope of her masters return go and follow him.

She imagined striking down the Priest with her saber. His lifes blood spilling out as his head rolled across the cold stone floor. Another skull for the throne. Silvanius honestly felt she could do it without a care in the world...but she knew it was best to hold off. Instead she decided to be patient and instead start planning for vengence. To strike her enemy down when he least expected it.

In that very second as the High Priest walked over setting his helmet on her masters throne, Warv her nexu growled lowly at the Echani as he sensed the anger in Silvanius rise towards his arrogance of such a bold move.
Keeping her gaze on Silas, her brow twitched in frustration as he went on.

“I understand your reluctance to part with your master’s memory. Your loyalty is however a weakness, one he exploited as it left no opportunity for another Warvanus. With your supplication to the Dark Lord he had an apprentice that could never truly succeed him as they could never truly raise arms against him. Your place at my side will lack this weakness and some day with your own strength…You will strike me down and cast me out from your order.”

The Silver clad apprentice never considered her loyalty a weakness. If anything it was her strength. But No. It was Jacobi holding her back. Not Tormentous. But she wouldn't voice that fact to Silas or in front of the sith. Instead she went along with what the Echani said.
Smirking at the High Priest evily as she stroked her nexu's head.
"I'd look forward to that day." She replied coldly. Her tone carried a hint of amusement at the thought. Her mind still set on running her blade through him but remained in hand at guard should he strike her.

Silvanius mind was already turning at thoughts of her next plan. But she was going to need help.
Looking at Sa'ato, she wasnt surprised to hear the position as the next High Priest go to the Neti. Silvanius knew to keep her rank within the sith as his apprentice and giving Sa'ato the title of High Priest was his bargaining chip to them both, in order to flawlessly win his seat on the Throne of Skulls.

“Submission to the Sovereign differs little from our obedience of the Dark Lord. If and when he returns, the matter of who has the right to rule will be made clear."
She met the Neti's curious gaze steadily.
“Until then, our order will persist on as usual, unless someone wishes to stake their claim now?”

Considering the facts, Silvanius deactivated her saber before clipping it to her belt. Crossing her arms across her chest, she turned back to look at the Echani, her blue gaze like two daggers aiming straight on. She did not waver or attempt to hide the fury she felt in admitting defeat. To be giving in made Kita realize she never noticed she held a certain trait. Pride.
And today it bothered her. She had no choice but to give in to survive. For Silvanius knew it would be foolish to go against Silas now.

Instead of saying anything, she remained silent. Her action alone was enough to make clear that Silas had won.
Silvanius was going to have to wait it out and pray her TRUE Master returned soon and kick the snakes ass to the next galaxy...

However, I’ve yet to see the proper induction within the Sith for you to truly have a say here this day. Tread lightly for this matter will conclude with or without your affirmation.

No, this pretender was wrong. The Sith was a path for all, and to succeed meant to break your chains. She was the superior in battle of any Sith save a few, could kill any Sith given the time. In this way, she was more justified in being here than the dregs among the Sith Order, opportunistically swiping at any meager power they could shove between their slavering lips. She was better than them, more Sith than they were. She had every right to be here.

Unless…

How could she have been so stupid?

There was no path for someone who did not feel the Force to succeed in the Sith. It was all a fiction, sold to her by monsters who just wanted to use her. They saw her as insignificant since she had no magic powers. Every Sith she could kill, every blubbering Sith Lord she won a battle for: all of them outranked her, since they could choke people without touching them.

Why? Wasn't it far more impressive that she could stand toe-to-toe with someone who can shoot lightning from their hands and control minds, even though she can't do those things? And should she not, by the Sith's own doctrine, be in these upper echelons that met now?

A lie. A pyramid scheme. If it was a lie to her, then it was a lie to everyone who kills and dies for the Sith Empire. There would be no greatness. There would be no liberation. Not for her people, not for aliens, not for anyone in the galaxy who didn't meet their arbitrary definition of ‘worthy’. And if it was all a lie, designed to keep the Sith fat on the deeds of their betters, to kill everything they feared for simple avarice, to wipe out planets and species just to keep their fragile hold, then they were the biggest threat in this galaxy. Worse still, they played Emic for a fool. For that, they had to be exterminated. Every last one.

They would come to regret having the gall to exist in Emic’s galaxy. When she laid down for her final rest, she would be buried with the skulls of ten thousand Sith. She would make a grand hoard that dwarfed the Skull Throne, and she would not stop growing it until the Sith were erased from the galaxy, no lightsaber bled red, and only dust remained where Moraband used to be.

She felt no battle frenzy. Simply the desire to wash this scum from her boot. She would come back, clad in thunder and raining red mist. “As you say, my lord,” she said, and walked out the door to the room.

When the Seldom Quiet, that blood-soaked beast, rose in her view, along with that supplicant she just moments ago called her friend.

“Well, you came back so I guess it went well,” the Rattataki jested.

Emic could only scowl, as she drew her pistol and placed it cold against Luce’s chest. “Wait here, lieutenant.”

“Emic, I don’t understand,” Luce stammered.

“Good.” Emic stepped without further word onto the assault craft’s ramp, and closed it behind her.

As it lifted, the stress of realization, and the tears of betrayal began raining forth from the woman. “Emic! Wait! It’s not too late-- come back! Please, Emic!”

“I’m going to kill you, Emic!” she screamed to an empty sky, eyes bloodshot. “I trusted you! I hate you! I hate you!”

Her mind wondered for a brief second but than Silas spoke to her, and she turned her attention toward him, and even if it was small, a small bit of joy and hope glistened in her opalescent optics. No more chains and cold cells, she'd taken a moment to rub her scarred wrists. Than Silvanius spoke up, retorting at the crimson-skinned Zabrak, which called Ali's eyebrow to quirk. She wondered did the Acolyte really did? She watched her features shift in all sorts of emotions, and Ali could sense Kita began to buckle. Even if it was for a moment. Ali braved a small smile and chuckle; a power-hungry being could achieve plenty.

"Wrong, to some extent. Those who desire power will go through many lengths. I've seen some brutal things, just because those who wanted my Father's crown. Those would relish in an opportunity like this." she said before looking to the side when her Master's name was mentioned. Her brow's furrowed sadly, fists clenching under her cloak to fight tears. It was obvious she missed him, missed his presents and just... him. "There's nothing wrong with waiting to take the Throne. But, when you're holding it empty for someone who may never return. It's blinding loyalty. You have to think of the future of the Empire, which Silas is doing. She ended, turning to the side so she didn't have to face Silvanius and Master Sa'ato anymore. It was clear who side she was on. Ali felt like, in a way, had betrayed Kita, since it was her who allowed the enslavened freedom by pairing her with Silas. But, there wasn't a way for her to be on the Acolyte's side.