Chapter 30: Aftermath“I, Master Gray Marc-Andr Drevifv, attest my allegiance to and so swear that Kazic Ovarug is Kage of the Vhal’Dan.” With that he bowed deferentially, the last of Anson’s former Jedi to do so. It was an enormous victory.
And a stunning loss.
True, Kazic’s forces had tripled…but of the over 5,000 Vhal’Dan Jedi the Order had numbered before the Civil War, Kazic could only claim 783 now. And even if the most liberal of estimates were to be believed, Anson had no more than 300 Jedi among his ranks…
And the military fatalities had been catastrophic: all told, over 2 million had perished over the course of the war. It didn’t matter to Kazic if they were from Anson’s forces or his own, he lamented the death of every
person regardless of allegiance.
But it was the civilian losses that staggered Kazic. Even at conservative estimates, there had been over a million confirmed civilian casualties since the war began, mostly centered in Vhal’Ulhadv. The once-magnificent skyline that bespoke of technological wonder and beauty was encircled with a halo of smoke, ruin, and—at least within the influence of the repulsor fields—detritus. Many of the tall spires that had rivaled the surrounding mountains were much shorter…if they had not collapsed altogether. The entire cityscape that had been a marvel of Galtea could have instead belonged in a Nar Shadda or Taris slum.
Had the Vhal’Dan Order stayed on Galtea, Vhal’Ulhadv might’ve been resurrected. But with the metaphysical backwash of the Lus’phor Thought Bomb…within a handful of years, ALL Force-sensitives would abandon the planet, damning the once-beautiful capital city to the ruins it would become 600 years in the future…
But the fighting had not been confined to the city proper.
The surrounding countryside, from the Cthodral Mountains to Lake Olucem’m, had been completely devastated by both Force powers as well as conventional artillery. Mountain peaks that had reached kilometers into the blue skies had been reduced by a third. And of Lake Olucem’m…
The blue crystal waters of the enormous lake were now brown, choked with dirt, sludge, and debris. And, invariably, the bodies of those that rescuers had been unable to reach. It was truly a paradise lost.
All of this occupied Kazic’s thoughts despite the gravity of the ceremonies. Even as the reality of Galtea’s future—or rather, that of the Vhal’Dan Order—wouldn’t be known for a couple of months, the enormity of the endeavor to reconstruct and heal the damage done threatened to overwhelm the Anzat Kage.
And he hadn’t even considered the fact that Anson and his followers were still at large, much less what he intended for them…
Suddenly, he felt pressure in his mind. Kazic almost smiled. Saani. Their connection was as strong as ever. Stronger to be honest. In fact, ever since her resurrection her presence in the Force felt stronger, more potent: she’d always been just below Kazic, now…now she was as powerful as Anson, or close enough not to make a difference. But that wasn’t all…
Saani had always been a beautiful woman, courtesy of her Twi’lek heritage. But as the days had progressed, she seemed to look…younger. No, not “seemed;” she
did look younger. Where before she’d appeared to be in her 30s, now she could easily pass for a young woman in her 20s. Her
early 20s. Out of the corner of his eye, a wry grin curved the corner of her lips.
…My Kanp’a… Leave it to her to help keep him on track.
Mentally squaring his shoulders, Kazic sobered, focusing at the task at hand.
“I accept and bond you into my service and absolve you of all past trespasses.” Came Kazic’s reply. With that done, he’d formally vindicated all of the defecting Jedi and welcomed them back into the Vhal’Dan with them having officially recognizing Kazic as Kage. And while the tradition was intended to inaugurate solidarity, peace, and reconciliation, there was nevertheless an undercurrent of unease.
Since the inception of the Order 400 years prior, there had never been anything like the hostilities of the Civil War. Indeed, even prior to Black Rikard uniting the seven Clans, there had been Clan disputes that had broken out in skirmishes but nothing remotely close to the severity of the Civil War.
And it was that weight that Kazic alone tried to shoulder. He was responsible; he would make it right. Already he had plans in motion to make amends. And the most important reparation that he had to make was to Anson…his brother. Kazic wanted to rend his hair and rage towards the heavens. He should’ve been more receptive, done something—
anything—else instead of the War. But he could not.
What was in the past was said and done. And he still had a responsibility as Kage. That helped to buoy him. That…and Saani’s reassuring comfort. And as all of the Vhal’Dan gathered recited the Code, Kazic felt his spirits if not rising, then strengthened.
“
Flowing through all, there is balance
There is no peace without passion to create
There is no passion without peace to guide
Knowledge stagnates without the strength to act
Power blinds without the serenity to see
There is freedom in life
There is purpose in death
The Force is all things and I am the Force”
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Exhausted, Kazic collapsed on the couch in the Atrium of the Kage’s Suite. Following her husband’s example, Saani kicked off her boots, sitting beside him as she tucked her feet beneath her. With expert hands, her fingers began to kneed into the Anzat’s shoulders and neck, aggressively attacking the knotted muscles in both. Worries, laments, and intents evaporated under Saani’s ministrations.
“…By the Maker that feels good,
Kanp’a…” Kazic mumbled, allowing himself to finally relax. Saani chuckled, nuzzling her nose in his neck. “…and that feels even better.”
Sudden motion momentarily surprised Kazic as Saani jumped up from the couch to straddle him, fiercely kissing her husband. Her hands moved from his neck to the sides of his face, one of them deftly unknotting his
statim, releasing his topknot.
Between kisses Saani purred. “I love your hair,
K’ompo.”
His hands roamed her body while he felt his blood quicken. “And I love you,
Kanp’a.” His hands gently stroked her lekku as he returned each fervent kiss in kind. Very soon, there was nothing between them, each wrapped in the other’s arms with an intimacy that transcended the physical. Joined by body, mind, and the Force, the shared inferno that they both felt was as wonderful as it was passionate.
Moreso, truth be told. Since Ari had brought Saani back, their lovemaking had become more frequent, more intense. More…aggressive. Indeed, the last time Saani had forcefully nipped her husband’s neck, drawing blood. It had only served to enflame Kazic more.
And as they lay together upon the couch both spent, the responsibilities and concerns of life were blissfully lightyears away.
And closer than they thought.
<<<<< >>>>>
Anson remained fully submerged within the bacta tank for more than a week while medical droids helped to carefully rebuild his body. The damage while extensive could be undone. At least physically.
Mentally was another matter altogether. The backwash of the Thought Bomb had taken Anson’s convictions and intensified them into fervent zealotry. Of course, this had not been helped by Kazic’s decision to include those “shadows,” one of which had soundly beaten him. He still was unsure how… But one thing was certain:
Kazic was to blame.
For Anson, this also included those…those cowardly deserters that had defected. Anson’s fingers balled into fists, the corded muscles in his neck standing taunt. They too were to blame… No; worse he admitted.
At least the Anzat had been constant.
The bacta infiltrated his body, making micro-repairs on the cellular level. Soon enough, he would be healthy again. But the bacta could not touch Anson’s mind.
And to him, Kazic and ALL of his Jedi—no,
everyone who was aligned with him—were traitors. Not just to Anson but the entire Vhal’Dan Order. It was they who were responsible for this devastation, they who were murderers. He knew it. Every dead Jedi, all of the military casualties, and the civilian fatalities…he thought of every one. After all, during his time in the bacta tank, Anson had had little to do but think…and reflect. And he knew…
Anson remembered when Arkady had come to him while he’d been imprisoned accusing him of relinquishing the Arbiter’s Codes to access the Vhal’Dan’s Force artifacts…or giving it to…someone. But Arkady had been wrong; Anson would
never betray his oaths to the Vhal’Dan. Only one person had done that. Anson scowled.
Kazic.
He had motive, opportunity. Kazic. He’d been on Lus’phor just prior to it exploding so he’d obviously had the time to set the Bomb. Kazic. And he’d known that the Pretiosum Kyber Mines were accessible; after all, hadn’t he been the one to try to seal them? Kazic. And he’d brought those murdering black-armored monsters.
Kazic.
Anson’s paranoia burned through his mind and back again around and in itself, transgressions both imagined and real reinforcing and blurring the facts and the suppositions until one became indistinguishable from another.
He kept repeating the Anzat’s name, reciting it like a litany. And within that singular train of thought, Anson’s mind now knew beyond a doubt that he’d been wrong to fortify the Order against all foreign threats…only. He’d been mistaken in thinking that no danger could possibly come from within. But he knew better now.
And when his followers finally came to remove Anson from the tank and bring him up to speed, he absorbed all the information, storing it for future retrieval with one, immutable thought pervading his mind.
It wasn’t just Kazic that needed to be destroyed but in fact ALL of his people. And only he knew how to accomplish such…
<<<<< >>>>>
Two weeks later, the Thought Bomb backwash symptoms first began to appear amongst all of the Forceusers on Galtea. It didn’t take long to pinpoint the origin of misfortunes but one and all the Vhal’Dan were at a loss at how to counter the effects.
That wasn’t to say that possible hypotheses weren’t tried, tested, rejected, and revised but after almost a month, there was no solution in sight.
And the symptoms kept getting worse and more severe.
Kazic knew that the Vhal’Dan would be better served if whole, now more than ever. So during the interim, he’d cast a wide net, broadcasting his desires and intent to end hostilities and bring solidarity to the Order. To that end, he tried everything—even via the Force—to contact Anson.
But for that first month, he’d been unsuccessful. Not that Anson or his followers weren’t listening; rather, they were carrying out the orders of their Kage, preparing, waiting.
Until…
Almost two months after the Lus’phor Holocaust, Kazic was sitting in the Kage’s Office of the Vhal’Ulhadv Temple when he finally received the contact from Anson that he’d so anticipated. And as the two spoke, Kazic’s dread took a new turn as he listened to his former brother.
And if Kazic could have broke out in a cold sweat, he would’ve done so now…