A Meal

Turns out he had a kitchen staff. He requested a meal for three and ventured to a finely furnished dining hall.

Sitting down at the head of the table, his liaison sat to his left and her father to his right. Varryn needed information, but knew he had to be careful in the method he gathered it.

"So, is there anything else pertinent for me to know, Sable? I never meant to give the impression I had no interest in helping the people I am responsible for. If nothing else my superiors wouldn't be pleased."

Sable had seemed suspicious for the first part of his words, but seemed to cede his point regarding the second.

"The bad harvest has left many farmers without jobs. We're currently working on a solution to the problem, but there isn't a clear choice."

"Do you have a problem or a dilemma."

"What?", she questioned.

"A problem has a solution, often many, and can be dealt with with a singular course of action. A dilemma has multiple paths that are equally unfortunate, and requires more attention. Is the unemployment crisis a problem in need of a solution or a dilemma needing a decision."

Sable still seemed weirded out by his line of questioning, but her father was not, the older man was now staring at him very intensely.

Armand spoke for his daughter, "A dilemma of the highest order. If we give them new jobs, there won't be enough workers for the next harvest. But we don't have the resources to support them when they aren't providing to the community. The most obvious choice is to reassign them anyway, and hope we can figure out the labor when we get to the next harvest, but then they still have to have an education for whatever assignment and that is also something we can scarcely afford."

Varryn pondered the situation. He would just throw money at the community to see if that solved the problem, but money was a very quick way to breed corruption, and being tied to the empire was not likely desirable to the small world.

"…what if I could solve the root problem for you." Varryn spoke ponderously.

"Oh?", Armand turned more to him.

Without speaking further, Varryn reached out with the force and lifted the silverware from the table. It was more difficult than he thought it would be but the desired results came forth anyway. They had both seen his lightsabers, they new what he was to a point, but knowing a thing and seeing a thing are very different.

"I…might, emphasis on might, be able to coerce some of the crop into defending itself. It's not exactly in my field of study though it has been done in the past."

Slowly, Armand's face of shock and awe turned into a brilliant shit eating grin.

"I don't think I ever properly welcomed you, my lord. Welcome to Cazadore."

——

Varryn didn't know why he offered to help these people he didn't know, it clearly wasn't in the Host's interest and while he wasn't personally opposed to it, he had no reason to besides kindness…but it had felt right, like something was judging him, some external force-oh.

"Oh shit. Wait-holy shit that's a…huh."

He'd had a long time to think about the force when he wasn't in control. To experience it, let it flow in and around his soul, but he'd never really felt the practical connection one needed while in a body. Everything was very conceptual. His souls didn't sleep, but he'd see visions of things in the past. The force was not new to him, but this aspect of it was unfamiliar. He had a guiding hand, something to tell him when a path was right or wrong. Wasn't that beautiful, if not also horrifying to a point.

He sat on the edge of his bed, deciding to turn his attention to something else he'd been thinking about. His sabers felt heavy in his hands as he analyzed them.

From the moment he felt the dark side of the force by association with the host, he knew it was not for him. The power left you without agency, corrupting and fracturing your spirit until you became nothing more than a tool. The "light" side, which was the force in its natural state as far as he could tell, guided you, but it couldn't command you.

What furthered his unwillingness to touch the dark side was the sabers. They felt awful to hold, like a battered child they were only filled with hurt and rage. The Host had chosen an old fashioned way of making sabers, corrupting crystals until they bled crimson.

Going to his desk, he pulled out the repair kit for the sabers and began the process of pulling them apart. When he was done, he held both crystals in his hand and sunk into the force. He let is presence wrap around the crystals, cradling them. In the physical world they hovered above his hands and in the projection of the force they were all consumed by his presence.

He felt them lash out, the crystals were chaotic and wild. They pushed against him, violent rage permeating their very atoms. In response, he let their rage into himself, let it poor in…and back out. He allowed himself to be a conduit for their rage to be dispersed into the living force. As the rage funnels from them, he let the force fill in the gaps, and slowly but surely, the crystals began to heal.

When all was said and done, two beautiful white stones were left in his palms.

Varryn smiled.

——-

A/N

Shorter chapter. Anything you guys want to see in the story? Put it in the comments.