Knight Fiction - Rod

Written by Rod’s Master, OT Turel Sorenn

Arcona Forward Position
Valley of the Dark Lords, Korriban
3 Weeks into Korriban Campaign
38 ABY

“Hey Rod, I think Turel is looking for you in the command center,” Rhiann stated in a matter of fact tone as she poked her head through a tent flap.

Jedi Hunter Nicholas “Rod” Roddell began to hastily assemble his blaster rifle which he had been performing maintenance on. The rest of his combat gear was neatly arrayed on a cot, all freshly oiled, cleaned and ready for the next mission. “I’ll be right there.”
Satisfied, Rhiann removed her head from the tent and returned to her business.

The Sith quickly assembled his gear and rushed to the pre-fab structure that constituted the Arconan command center. The past few weeks had been rough, but nothing he couldn’t handle. As he traversed the camp he saw the same dirty, tired faces on soldier and Dark Jedi alike. Beneath all the dirt and fatigue however, was a fire, a fire inside the heart of all who called the Shadow Clan home. That fire drove them forward; it drove them to do more they ever thought possible. Rod felt that fire of common purpose inside his own chest. He would give his all for the Clan, and he knew every other Arconan would in turn.

Rod remembered something his Master had once tried to teach him, “Arcona draws its strength from the unity of the whole, not individual heroes.” It didn’t really make sense until they took the field against the Rebels led by Taldryan. When one faces a Clan which Dark Prophets and Grand Masters call home, the strength and unity of the whole is all you have. And judging from the recent loyalist victories, all one needed.

The Jedi Hunter arrived at the command center to find the man who was both his Master and Quaestor waiting for him outside, arms folded with an impatient look on his scarred face. “It’s not like you to be late Rod.”

“I’m sorry Master, I didn’t know you were looking for me until Rhiann came by my-”

Turel raised a hand to cut his apprentice off. “I’m just messing with you, you’re actually right on time.” For all his competence as a swordsman and commander of ground troops, Turel’s sometimes peculiar sense of humor didn’t alway set right with Rod’s military ingrained sensibilities.

Though, Rod knew how to give as good as he got. “At least you didn’t oversleep this time Master.”

“Hey! That was only that one time.” The Obelisk smiled at his apprentice. “You’re getting quicker with the quips, if I didn’t know any better I’d say I’m rubbing off on you.” He patted Rod on the back. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

The Sith dutifully followed his Master and found the command center to be awfully still. Rod could feel all eyes on him as his took his customary place toward the back of the briefing area. Why did everyone keep looking at him then try to pass it off like they weren’t? He began to suspect his Master was up to something, but in the middle of a war council briefing? Marick, Mako and the House summits were all present with Legorii, Cethgus and Celevon joining in via holo. Turel assumed his place at the front of the room, to the right of Mako, as Quaestor of Qel-Droma.

A hush fell over the room when Marick stepped forward to speak. “Before I call the War Council to order, I believe Turel had a matter that required my attention.”

The Quaestor bowed in deference to the Shadow Lord, “Indeed I do Lord Marick.” A smile came across the Templar’s face as he turned to face the briefing room audience. “Jedi Hunter Roddell would you please come forward.”

Now the entire room was staring at Rod. All he needed was a spotlight on him to complete the moment. Still clueless, the Sith quickly moved to his Master’s side. “As you command, Master.”

Turel placed his hand on Rod’s shoulder, “Good, now kneel.”

“Excuse me?”

The Quaestor cocked an eyebrow and whispered, “Don’t make this weird, kid.”

A lightbulb went off. “Oh. Ohhhh.” Turel nodded with a smile as Rod got down on one knee.

In the lights of the briefing room, Rod noticed that his Master had polished his Pride armor for the first time in weeks. “My lord Consul, with the consent of the Rollmaster I present my apprentice, Jedi Hunter Roddell. He has acquitted himself through this campaign with all the skill, courage and loyalty of a Knight of the Shadow Clan. He has completed his Knighthood trials on the field of battle and-” The Templar looked down on his apprentice, his face beaming with pride. “There is little more I can teach him.”

Marick nodded solemnly before turning to Mako, “Rollmaster, has this apprentice completed his trials to your satisfaction?”

“He has, my Lord. It is as his Master has said.”

“Then let him take his place as a Knight of Arcona.” The Shadow Lord proclaimed as he gestured for Turel to proceed.

“Rod, I will say before the assembled Summit and these witnesses that I have probably learned as much from you as you did from me. You are one of the bravest and most honorable men I have known and you have changed my perceptions of the Sith order. I can only hope I have taught you a thing or two about not underestimating Jedi…or your elders.” A few chuckles emanated from the crowd. “But in all seriousness, though we walk different paths we are both warriors and sons of the Shadow Clan. Today I lose an apprentice but gain a brother.”

Turel ignited his azure saber and brought to Rod’s left shoulder. “By the right of the Serpentine Throne.” He brought the saber to his right shoulder. “By the will of the unified Force.” The Templar brought the saber back to the left shoulder. “I dub you Knight of the Shadow Clan.” He deactivated the saber. “Arise brother and be recognized.” The room erupted with applause.

Rod stood up and gave a bow to Marick. The Shadow Lord responded with, “Arise Knight and carry my wrath to our enemies.”

Turel leaned in and whispered “I think that’s your cue to go back to your seat.”

“Oh. Thanks Master.”

“You don’t have to call me that anymore, but you do owe me a drink when we get back to Ol’val.”

Rod made his way back to his customary place in the briefing room, receiving a barrage of hand shakes and pats on the back. Marick motioned for the room to be silent again. “Let it not be said that our Qel-Droman Quaestor doesn’t have a flair for the dramatic.” Laughter erupted in the room.

“You are too kind, my Lord.”

“With that concluded, I call this war council to order. We have a war to win.”

“ARCONA INVICTA!” the assembled war council cried in unison, including a newly christened Knight.