The letter

A letter finds its way to the hands of Wallace McGreggor by way of a messenger. It is officialy sealed and its deliverer is granted pass, so as to present it by hand and bear witness that Wallace has received it. It bears an Old Seal, Wallace faintly recognizes. One of antiquity that is no longer used in any part of this world. Yet...its of Shevinian origin and only a few days of age. Is this a jest?

Sir Wallace McGreggor of Queribus and Albigan,
Pray ye excuse this sole instructions, as it be not meant to offend the. Do not dismiss this carrier, as this soul must bear witness to thy knowledge of this letter. May none other than thy eyes gaze upon this"

Sir Wallace Mcgreggor of Queribus and Albigan,
I pray these times hast quickened the knowledge that the eldest born to the Houses of Shevina have been revealed by thy Lord Fathers, the existaces of long parted souls, lost to the Unknown Regions. I speak of a one (not too forgotten, I pray) House, in the records of the olds, kept secure in secret from the knowledge of the Jedi. This House hast not fallen as it was trecherosly been recorded by the old Republic/Jedi Orders. The one such stricken House of Zarkan has not been felled like the diseased oak as reported by the Jedi Records of the Ol' Republics. The House of Zarkan still stands and is rooted deep on an outer sister world. This' The Unknown Regions that eye speaketh of.

Sir Wallace McGreggor of Queribus and Albigan, what I speaketh of and hast brought forth, I pray ye haveth knowledge of. Thy messenger that stands before ye is the Son of Jerrid Tremor Zarkan, son of Jerrid Gail Zarkan, son of Jerrid Bekine Zarkan, son of Jerrid Niethan Zarkan,...(so on, and so on)..........son of Jerrid Hasqak Zarkan who's House and lands were beseached by the Republic/Jedi at the Valleys of The True Mountains after the Battles of True Churches.

The overwhelming conquering Jedi, hadst not extinguished these Houses which one amongst them was the House of Zarkan. They taketh thy peoples, displaced them, and abandoned us, with the hope that we shalt have perished and forever be destroyed. All knowledge of the Houses were stricken and lost and would never be found and unite as a force again, as was their scheme.

I prayeth this not be true, and thy elders have not forgotten their brethren's that shed their blood to stave off their religion, but kept it deep in thy souls as to the hour the Jedi in their arrogance have been blinded themselves to think that what they hast thrown away hast been forever lost.

The ages of separation from our brethren's has been too long. There are the many that hath grown weak and have cut their roots and hath left our World. The Great Purging of the weak and unfaithful has been complete. These wretched souls are no brethren to us any longer and are to be seen dead upon our gaze.

We who are true and remained rooted have withstood the wicked breath of the Empire. We have forged a new bond in blood, with the many who stand strong and faithful to our forefathers Houses. We haveth a common enemy. I speaketh the name Palpatine the Dark. Cursed be his soul and that of the trecherous Jedi that hast ruled before him. The Great House of Zarkan ruling all the Houses of The Unknown Regions seeks to serve under the House of Gavin McGreggor of Queribus and Albigan.

We will not die or be extinguished until the Great House Courasant of The Empire has been felled and burned in the bowels of hell. It shall be destroyed... Never to rise again.

Your Servant,
Jerrid Syn Zarkan
House of Zarkan

I pray ye burn this letter upon reading. The act will be, evidence of thy knowledge of all this to be true, to thy servant..

So it was that Jerrid, was looking into Wallace McGreggor's eyes as he read this...Standing at a distant, as not to be of any threat and far enough not to glimp the content of the letter. For he was acting out the role, of bearing witness.

After a first glance through the letter the lord looked up intriguedly. If this was no jest, and the gendar would not believe anybody to be insolent enough to play jokes on him at this very place, then the bearer of this letter was a representative of one of the long lost houses - a living myth. Carefully Wallace read the whole text.. once.. and a second time. This was nothing to trifle with.

Finally he looked at the messenger. A heir of the Zarkan. Could it be true ? Wallace looked him up and down. So many times he had wondered whether the old secret was to be taken seriously - too ruthless .. almost unconceivable was what the jedi had once done to his people.. in an effort to 'protect the galaxy'.

Alas, was this not always their excuse ? Everytime they acted absolutely inhuman it was 'for the galaxy's sake'. But by now, under the Emperor they had met their fate. '..And we have a new enemy to fight, another one who is not caring for our rights - but they will all have to learn to in time.'

So this young man was a true Zarkan ? A descendant to the one and faithful Jerrid Hasqak Zarkan who's House and lands were beset by the Jedi ages and ages ago ? He indeed looked somehow different from the local people and the gendar had never seen him before. Furtheron it was very unlikely that anybody could have come by this secret unauthorized.

"Come over here, young one" ,the older man addressed him after a while. "I would have burned this note thou shalt know.. but alas i never carry a lighter." A cunny smile flew over his face as he noticed the handsome young man's short confusion. He would believe him for the first.. might he be the one he states to or not. A man who knew of such secrets was estimable at any rate.

"I bet thou hast had an exhausting journey" ,with these words the gendar lead him across the courtyard and to a private chamber. Only after he had closed the door behind the two of them he continued.

"Welcome to Monsegor, Jerrid Syn.. Zarkan" ,the older man looked at him. Was this fascination, disbelief, mistrust ? Jerrid could not read Wallace' expression but he felt the noble was not yet convinced of his descent. "Tell me about thyne world."

Jerrid had been presented to this noble as the one he seeked. He looked much younger than what he expected, for the words of the people made him out to be of a much more mature stature. He had facial hair and a long straight mane. There was great posture and also a commoner air about him... no ..more of self-assurance, but without arrogance. Yes, this one, was of noble blood. Wallace was eyeing Jerrid as he read the letter. Jerrid felt a sweat coming on him, as the minutes passing seemed like hours. Wallace was apearing to be reading it over. "Good ", thought Jerrid. "He must know of some of the facts", or he'd be in a compromising position by now.....

Wallace had called over to him. Looking as calm to Jerrid as when the sealed letter was placed in his hand, he put it away in his inside breast pocket. Jerrid had known not to speak in the open. Somehow he felt Wallace taking a lead to talk elsewhere. He lowered a nod with his head and followed Wallace. Followed, more in a sense....of being lead from behind. Wallace was leading, but was keeping him on his right and was slightly...strategically, behind Jerrid. (This Jerrid expected, as it was an advantage that Wallace wasn't going to give another opponent) “Just, so’, thought Jerrid.

Then he noticed the man in the courtyard approaching them. Wallace gave him a hand signal, and the man disappeared quickly into a doorway. Wallace took notice to Jerrid eyeing this, but continued to lead him to their destination. As they came to an open double doorway, Wallace gestured him to enter. Jerrid stepped inside and slowly turned to Wallace....To see him still facing him, but now pulling the two doors close behind him. Wallace walked around him, so as to have Jerrid's back at the doors.

With a slight smile, Wallace welcomed him to his House and addressed Jerrid by name. This was a good sign.......and as thus this took some tension off this younger man. When asked of his home world, Jerrid knew it was not small talk that Wallace wanted to hear first. He knew that this lord was wondering...why he had been seeked out and not his father. For as the letter stated. If he knew or didn't know yet, surely his father would. This Jerrid knew must be explained first. Jerrid kept his head lower than McGreggor's, but level enough for him to see his eyes, if he was telling the truth. Speaking with an older cut of the tongue he started.

"My lord, I mean no disrespect to thee, thy House and thy Father. I don't fancy to say I know much about thy history, thyself or thy Father. I was instructed by my Father, Jerid Tremor Zarkan of the House of Zarkan to first seek if the House of McGreggor still stood strong and rooted deep on Sheia (Mother Earth - Shevina). I was blessed to find it so. Now, as my Father hast tell me, I must commit my sword onto thee and serve thy House.

Jerrid sensed Wallace saw he had no sword with him to pledge, and felt a little embarrassed. But Wallace was still giving him this moment and so he continued. "I beg not to disrespect thy Father, in thy House, Lord McGreggor. But I...... A small knock came from behind Jerrid. His neck hairs shot up and he gazed into Wallace's eyes. Wallace gave him a smile and ordered, "Enter"...

Jerrid felt the doors open behind him and a figure coming around him.....A servant girl brought a tray with pints of ale and some staple. Seeing her Lord was with audience she quickly set the tray down next to Wallace and left...closing the doors once more. Wallace had never taken his eyes off Jerrid and was now reaching for a pint (again with his left) and extended it, in offering to Jerrid. "Go on".

Reaching slowly for the pint and holding it in front of him, he continued. " My Lord, I was afraid I would not of gotten so many words out, before my life expired before your Father." Saying this, he saw McGreggors smile getting a little broader for a moment.

"I was to believe thy Noble Father has no patience or interest with off worlders or new comers." And thus it went to the amusement of Wallace to hear of such things this young man had started to talk about. "Please....drink and quench your thirst", McGreggor gestured, "and continue".

And so Jerrid explained the letter he wrote, his knowledge of Kilia's history and of the Houses that hadn't been spoken of, in ages. Houses only the few Nobles had known of their once existences. The Jedi's hand in all this, the bloody feudal wars fought on Kilia 4, the rise of the Great House of Zarkan above all others and the vulnerability they had placed themselves when they finally found the peace that Shevina had longed for in their own long histories of war....and The Empire beckoning to rape this world also.

Jerrid sensed a rage building up in Wallace and nearly stopped his tale, but Wallace kept silent and gestured him on.... ...And as the sun had set hours ago, and their thirst quenched by ales, Jerrid continued as neither of them, were growing tired of the tale, or of telling it...

....Wallace could see the dawn rising now and this young man before him was exhausted...as much as he. There would be more time later to continue. He heard a lot of revelations, that as far as he knew, he was the only one his Father had revealed this to.

He'd have to sort this out.... confirm some details.....He’d have to keep Jerrid here for now. He had some matters to clear up...but now it was also clear that Jerrid needed rest. For now, he would have to order...ask him, not to leave the chambers, until he returned. He had this feeling about him.....

And so he did. Jerrid just smiled, he was much too tired to only think of raising any objection.

Wallace, after he had seen to the young man's accomodation, but stepped out into the chilly morning. He was exhausted ..indeed. The last days had been long, full of work and the meeting of old friends. Preparations for the midsummer tournament were in full swing and Wallace had the ambition to see to it that this event would become an exceptional one.

The McGreggors had not arranged a tournament for a good while, so they had a lot to catch up on in the way of public festivities and flawless preparations were of outstanding importance. Still even this most important event almost paled into insignificance beside... there was no time to lose and sleep would there be enough after death - too excited was he to find rest by now.

Realizing the courtyard was deserted and no casual glance would take offence he nimbly ran up the flight of steps leading to the upper floor of the donjon, the stronghold's main residential building which held the clan's archives as well.

It was late morning as the door was suddenly pushed open vigorously. Gavin. Wallace instinctively straightened under his father's glance as he put away the quill.

It seemed nothing had changed during all these years. The young noble had set off in search of adventure and knowledge, he had gained an understanding of the living force.. he had improved his skills to a remarkable extend and did get to know wondrous worlds under his master's lead - still the most striking.. exposures.. always seemed to catch him around Othala. Or how else should one describe the realization the own father was a dark lord.. a kind of archdruid like of the ould myths ?

Gavin McGreggor had once and for the first time lowered his cover a few days ago; revealed his true presence to his only son after his offspring seemed mature enough to assess the implications and significance of such disclosure and it was only then when the scales had finally been falling from the the young ones eyes. How could he have been so blind ?

Power was radiating from the old Earl like heat from a steadily burning stake. It was considerable in it's mightiness - exceeding a lot of what Wallace had perceived before but the truly remarkable about it was that it was unlike the flames the noble had sensed within most other sith he had encountered during the years;

Not burning like tinder, flaring, flashing, suddenly leaping up to halfway controlled eruptions while rapidly consuming itself.. no - this fire was of another quality. It was a power that in it's stolidness would break stone and steel - slowly, but inexorable; the persistent flame of seasoned oakwood.. hard to ignite, hard to extinguish.. lasting and reliable.

Still even this fire was consuming and only the richness of the century old fuel, the ennobled legacy of the McGreggor enabled such process of efficient combustion; economical and unrelenting as nature herself. So this at last was what made Gavin a man of that timber.. he was more than just himself.

Wallace immediately got up to bow for the Earl. He would do it instinctively, like all the others did, for the man who had just entered was the sovereign of these lands. Being his son did not change anything about that and his glance was by no means easier to bear with the awareness he might be scanning your soul.

Still by now this was nothing more than a feeling a shadow of childhood days; in fact the Earl of Queribus was no longer able to read the young one for the protection of his own mind was a virtue Wallace had perfected above most other force-enhanced abilities. If Gavin had doubted his son's ability to keep his dark secret he had never granted him thus revelation, this was what Wallace knew for sure.

The bond that linked him to his father was stronger than even the deep connection that had developed between himself and his respected master, Lord Jas - for these art the bonds of blood. Yes, there were few things, if any, to surpass the bonds of blood. In spite of all that his father had never been to him. In spite of every effort young Wallace would undertake to gain his recognition and.. affection. Inspite of all the bitterness that showed in Gavin's eyes when he deemed his self unobserved.. during the dawn.

Even Lord Jas, a strict and demanding man, had at long last shown more recognition than his own father and that indeed said a great deal.

"Thou hast got to know more about the root... of the matter." Apparently not bare all interest he glanced over what Wallace had entitled 'the revelations of Jerrid' before he raised an eyebrow. "So he truly is a Zarkan, this young lad. Very well.. Thou shalt present him to me by tonight."

"Otherwise see to it that he settles down a bit. I but shall put these notes aside for thee, so thou canst unconcernedly obey the call of duty."

"Very good, my lord." Well, what else was there to say ? The Earl had spoken.

Wallace left the chamber shortly after to apply hisself to the tasks that had yet been left undone. It was not easy to to stop his self from yawning during this day still the excitement that had seized hold of him with Jerrid's tales to kept him awake.

There were still a lot of things he intended to ask the young man.. and something within seemed to resonate in sympathy for his genuine nature. The few hours they had spent together had strangely enough been sufficient to evoke a feeling closeness within the young noble so he indeed caught his self sunk in thought several times during the completion of his work and finally had to call his self to order - for a warrior must avoid carelessness in all things.

At the insistence of Wallace, Jerrid agreed to stay at Monsegor. At least till matters… details, were traightened out.

As both men stepped out into the morning chill, Jerrid noticed Wallace was actually leading him. The courtyard was now lit by the dawn’s early light, and they came upon the man that Jerrid noticed here yesterday. Again, Wallace gestured to the man, and he responded with a bow. It was apparent this man was a servant of the court.

Jerrid was still following Wallace from behind. This was a good sign. Wallace was indicating he trusted Jerrid at his back. Or, Wallace was just as exhausted and tired as Jerrid, and a blade to the back would have been a welcomed rest.

As they approached at what were the guest chambers (at the right of the central courtyard), Wallace seemed to look around first, then opened the door. They both stepped in and the room automatically lit to a low luminescent.

Jerrid realized when he saw the accommodations, that he hadn’t slept for two days. How could he have – without knowing if he’d be taken seriously and believed or not? This Old World may not even want a Zarkan anymore.

But now a load had been somewhat lifted. He had accomplished one part of what had taken him two years to prepare since he left Kilia 4. It did go well, thus far, he thought so… maybe… yes. He couldn’t think straight, as he was feeling the relief and stress of his lack of sleep. He turned to say something to Wallace, but was stopped. Wallace gestured with a finger on his lip to ..Shut up (and rest). Jerrid couldn’t disagree with that.

Before Wallace closed the door on his way out he asked, “Are your belongings here Jerrid?” “All what’s on the mare, my Lord”, answered the tired Jerrid. “I’m expecting a chest of my keeps by Harvest”. “I’ll have the belongings, brought to you later. Now rest,” ordered Wallace. And with that, he closed the door behind him.

His boots couln’t come off fast enough. He hit the bed as is. Sleep…Drifting between consciousness and sleep.. as exhaustion ofter does to you.. Dreams… Dreams of Kilia 4… Childhood dreams… Two boys chasing dragons… More dreams… New Lords… Floating ships in the nighttime skies…a father’s grief… More dreams…training with a blade… a father’s sword… bloody hands joined as one… ..a knocking..

A knock at the door… Jerrid opened his eyes. A minute passed. The knock came again. He was awake now and got up from the bed. He still had his clothes on. Opening the door to bright light, he saw a servant girl, from yesterday, at the door. He looked at her curiously.

“Forgive me, my lord… I would of waited here till ye answered me to enter. I meant not for thee, a guest of my Lord’s House to open the door’, she explained with her head low.

“No.. Please, enter’, said Jerrid as he stepped aside. As she passed him with a tray, he looked himself over. His condition was a mess. Leaving the tray on a small table, she made her way out again without a word. Jerrid closed the door and was making his way towards the table, when another knock was heard. He nearly went for it, then decided to do as Shevinians do, in Shevina. “Enter”.

The servant man from the courtyard opened the door and entered. “Good day, my lord”, he bowed to Jerrid. He was carrying Jerrid’s saddlebags and another larger bag… not of his. He placed them on the large chest at the foot of the bed. As he turned to face Jerrid, he said, “My lord, thee can call upon thy services at any time.” He bowed in respect and Jerrid nodded back. The servant then turned and exited, closing the door behind him.

Ok… His bags were here. But, what’s with the other? As he approached the foot of the bed, he recognized it as a garment bag. ‘Who’s clothes?…”, he wondered. He carefully opened it to find fine gentleman’s attire. He lifted one out and took a look at it. It was dawning on him… “Lord Wallace.” He had inquired about his belongings…

These apparently were his fine clothes at one point. Yes… Wallace was maybe 10 years older now, but these must have been worn by him when… well… been, not as tall.

This was definitely a good sign. A Lord would not dress a man he believed was lying to him. So… it was a relief, and he could… be not so tense. Jerrid put the clothes down and laid his back on the bed again. Yes… he’d wash up and change out of these two day old clothes, but more rest… another hour of peace, he needed. It was still morning, and he needed to clear his mind…

The sun had passed zenith and cast a patch of warm light into the courtyard... as Jerrid woke up in his chilly chamber. He was bright and cheerful after some more hours of decent sleep and by now was eager for action; curious what the next days would bring...

Freshening up Jerrid let the previous hours of their meeting parade before hisself. All in all it appeared to be an auspicious beginning, however he had not yet met the Earl and this sudden realization made him feel slighty uncomfortable. Although Lord Wallace had smiled upon the fears Jerrid had expressed in context with Gavin McGreggor, the Earl of Queribus and Albigan he had still refrained from comment - a fact that would not relief the peculiar uneasyness that crept into Jerrid's heart when it came to the old sovereign.

There but was something else to disturb his actual wellbeing, namely an explicit rumble from his physical center that even shook him out of his brooding and made him put on the 'new' clothes more quickly. They were fitting fine - though it was an unfamiliar feeling to wear the black velvet attire that seemed so completely different from what he had seen the Lord wearing by yesterday. Had he been wrong in his first guess ? On the other hand.. what other possibility was there ? However, slowly the Kilian became impatient - he would not want to stay at his quarters til nightfall but he would not want to disregard the Lord's request as well.

Alas, at least he would not need to starve in here for the covered tray the maid had brought earlier this day was filled with palatable, natural food - fresh bread and a good piece of ham as well as a jug of a strange, sharp smelling liquid that seemed to be a kind of herbal infusion.

Jerrid & Wallace