Star Wars_ The Old Republic_ Revan - Drew Karpyshyn [6]
“We’re here, my lord,” Sechel said as the vehicle touched down.
They were in a large courtyard. High stone walls stood to the north and south. The east end was open to the street; the west was bordered by what Scourge assumed was Darth Nyriss’s stronghold. In many ways the building resembled the Emperor’s citadel, though on a significantly smaller scale. The architectural similarities were more than just an homage to the Emperor. Like his citadel, this building would serve both as Nyriss’s dwelling and as a fortress she could fall back to in times of trouble, and it had been designed to be simultaneously ornate, imposing, and easily defensible.
The courtyard itself was populated by half a dozen large statues, each several meters wide at the base and easily twice as tall as Scourge. The two largest depicted humanoids in Sith robes—a male and a female. They stood with their arms raised slightly forward, their hands palms up. The man’s face was hidden by a hood—the common depiction of the Emperor. The woman had her hood thrown back to reveal fierce Sith features; if the sculptor’s work was accurate, Scourge knew this was his first glimpse of what Darth Nyriss actually looked like.
The other statues were abstract pieces, though each incorporated Nyriss’s household emblem—a four-pointed star inside a wide circle. The ground was covered with fine white pebbles. A rare type of lichen that thrived in the gloom of Dromund Kaas had been planted in decorative patterns throughout the stone, the faint purple glow providing a ghostly illumination. A smooth path of finished stone led from the massive double doors that marked the entrance to the stronghold, through the center of the courtyard, and out to the small landing pad where their speeder had touched down.
Sechel scrambled out of the vehicle and raced around to open the exit hatch on the other side for his passenger. Scourge stepped out of the speeder and into the rain, which had lessened only slightly during their journey.
“This way, my lord,” Sechel said, heading down the path.
Scourge followed him, fully expecting the doors to swing wide at their approach. To his surprise, the entrance remained sealed. Sechel didn’t seem taken aback, however. Instead, he turned to the small holoscreen on the side and pressed the call button.
A flickering image materialized on the holoscreen—a human male of about forty. He appeared to be wearing the standard uniform of an Imperial security officer, and Scourge surmised he was the head of Nyriss’s personal guard.
“Our guest has arrived, Murtog,” Sechel explained, nodding in Scourge’s direction.
“Did you verify his identity?” Murtog asked.
“W-what are you talking about?” Sechel stammered.
“How do we know this is the real Lord Scourge? How do we know this isn’t another assassin?”
The questions seemed to catch Sechel completely off guard.
“I don’t … I mean, he seems to be … uh, that is …”
“I’m not letting him in until I have proof,” Murtog declared.
Sechel glanced back over his shoulder at Lord Scourge, his expression a mix of humiliation and fear. Then he leaned in close to the holocomm and, in a low voice, said, “This is completely inappropriate. You’ve overstepped your authority!”
“I’m the security chief,” Murtog reminded him. “This is completely within my authority. Just give me five minutes to confirm everything’s on the up-and-up.”
Scourge stepped forward, grabbing Sechel by the shoulder and yanking him aside.
“You dare insult me by making me wait out in the rain like some beggar?” he spat at the screen. “I am a guest! Darth Nyriss herself invited me!”
Murtog barked out a sharp laugh. “You might want to check your facts on that.”
The holoscreen clicked off abruptly. Scourge turned around to find Sechel cowering against the wall.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” he said. “Murtog has become somewhat paranoid since—”
Scourge cut him off. “What did he mean when he told me to check my facts? Was I invited by Darth Nyriss, or not?”
“You were. Of course you were. Sort