Forbidden Hero: A Star Wars Tragedy

Chapter 1

~ appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak ~

The Royal Palace precinct had been my home for as long as I could remember. So belonging to a very proud military family, it was no surprise that my future was with the Royal Guards. Yet that future that had once seemed, so curtain had changed.

It seemed as if the whole galaxy was glued to the holonet as the Supreme Chancellor declared himself Emperor of the New Galactic Empire. With the clone troopers already stationed on Mizra, our Senator had returned to the homeworld, and I was summoned to the Palace to meet with our King. What had I just witnessed in the battle? Can we trust this new formation of the Galactic Government?  I knew my duty; there was only one way to answer such questions. Our culture was formed on tradition and law; one such law was absolute candour, especially in relaying an account of events. However, it was loyalty to the throne of Mizra that had kept prevailed against the ancient foes.

The light reflected off Queen Evani's pure Aurodium Kosknonsk as she turned to the King. The look she gave her husband can only be described as bleak. I had said everything, in every detail of what the clone troopers had done in the waning hours of battle, how they had gunned down Ifonia, how I had taken her Lightsaber in trying to make it look as if I approved of her death. They knew everything including the mysterious man who gave the order. "Spinka, your hour of trial has come," King Byrne said as he ushered me to stand. "We must play a dangerous game. From what you have relayed to us of this 'empire', I can not in good faith stand with it. But we must place you within its ranks. You will be indispensable to them; you will give them every reason to believe you are loyal to Palpatine's new Empire, but you will keep me apprised of everything." 

It was decided. With a nod, I agreed to join the Empire. As it turned out, my place within the Empire's ranks was the price for Imperial 'Membership' (Occupation). As I stood in front of the mirror in my bathroom, I felt the pangs of sadness at the thought of never wearing my Aurodium plated Mizra Quadanium Armar again. My mother stood behind me with the crisp white uniform of the Senatorial Guard. Honestly, my heart sank. I had worked hard, and this I knew was a demotion in rank.

My mother's pearly white hair was covered in the traditional matrimonial shroud and braided into a crown. Her deep brown eyes held apprehension but also reassurance. "I thought we could go to the temple together, perhaps request a blessing for your future service." She said as she placed the uniform on the table.

"I am to be a spy, to be a mole within. It goes against everything we believe in." Looking into her eyes, I reached into my underskirt and pulled out the lightsabre I retrieved. Placing it into her hands, I looked back up. "I told the troopers it was a souvenir." My voice quivered with pain at the memory that I couldn't erase from my mind. "Ifonia died for the Republic, and they just left her to rot. I want to give her a proper Mizra burial."

Nodding, my mother knew what needed to be done. She was the chief mistress in the Queen's Bedchamber. So her services were often required to 'clean the sheets', as they say. But tradition also dictated that only the mortuary guard could deal with death.

Her connection with the mortuary guard and friendship with Mizra's High Priestess meant we spent the remainder of the night carefully stalking the moors to the place of the final battle. The ground was littered in shut-down separatist droids, and the afternoon rain meant we were up to our knees in thick mud.

We were close, somehow I could feel it. I could hear the garbled noises of what sounded like a probe droid. "Get down." My mother whispered as she dropped to the ground. Unsheathing her sabre, she was ready to fight whatever was out there.