The Knight, Death, and the Devil

Chapter 4: At First Sight

They say that a day of hard work leads to a good night's sleep. That might be true in the usual cases, but Torin's peculiar brand of exhaustion led to a long, restless night of endless tossing and turning. The battle, the prison camp, the torture aboard his abductor's ship, nearly dying at the hands of an assassin—all of those moments played over and over in his mind, in the dream world as well as the waking one. He'd been through more than most people would in their entire lives, and sleep seemed far too mundane and peaceful for someone with the life he'd been thrown into a few days prior.

When he awoke, he was in the same bedroom that he had been led into by a guard the night before. It was such a simple thing, to wake up in an actual bed in the same room he had fallen asleep in, but he was content to count the small blessings given recent events. Balmorra's sun shone brightly outside the window next to his bedside, having taken the place of the moon that had illuminated his room with its ghostly light when sleep had first overtaken him.

Sitting up and groggily looking about, he took stock of his surroundings—something he had failed to do in last night's state of total exhaustion. A single door opposite him led out of the room, and a small table sat at the foot of his bed. On top of it was folded a set of clothes. He stood to his feet and looked at the ratty garments he had been wearing since the battle, and gave them a sniff, then recoiled.

Ugh.

He picked up the clothes on the table and examined them. A dark grey tunic and pants, similar in style to the one worn by the apprentice he'd seen butchered the night before. Looking down, he noticed a pair of boots under the table as well. Torin began pulling off his clothes, tossing them into the corner of the room and putting on the fresh outfit. He tucked his pants into his boots, then walked over to the window and looked outward.

Birds flew overhead blue-domed buildings, greeting the morning. He envied them and their simple problems. Though, come to think of it, his problems were actually pretty simple as well—unfortunately, that didn't make them any easier to solve.

A gentle knock came at the bedroom door, and it slid open. A red-faced woman in a simple off-white tunic stood in the doorway. For a moment Torin thought he'd have to endure the suffocating presence of another Sith—then he noticed the pair of fleshy horns protruding from the back of her head, as well as the twin head-tails draped over her shoulders. They were white, with jagged blue stripes that ran over their length. Her face was similarly marked with two patches of white skin around brilliant blue eyes. He knew what Togruta looked like, but he'd never actually seen one in real life before. As his eyes traveled down the fleshy tendrils hanging from her head, he noticed the plate of food in her hand. Without thinking he leapt at her, grabbing at the plate. She yelped, dropping it and spilling the food to the floor.

She crouched down and flipped the plate back upright.

"Sorry!" Torin knelt on the rug and began picking up fruit and bits of meat, piling it onto the plate. He noticed that her hands had stopped moving and he tilted his head up to look at her. She was staring at him like an animal caught in a cruiser's headlights, mouth agape.

"...What?" He wondered, looking from side to side uneasily.

She cleared her throat and shook her head, then resumed cleaning up the food. "Nothing, my lord. My apologies."

My lord?

So she was a servant—or a slave, like him. Why was she addressing him so respectfully? Had Vathamma told her staff that Torin was her apprentice?

The pair rose to their feet and the Togruta stared downward obediently, plate in hand. Despite never having seen one of her kind before, she was the first living being he'd felt some degree of kinship with since his arrival on Balmorra. Like him, she clearly didn't want to be here. Eyeing the mess on the platter, Torin snatched a green fruit off of it and brushed it on his shirt.