A Day for a Knight

Halajiin Rabeak stared at his reflection in the mirror, scarcely recognizing the man who looked back at him. There, in full-length mirror-image, stood a hard-eyed, perfectly-poised Nehantite, dressed in the crisp, imposing blue and black uniform of an Imperial Knight.

It was not the first time he had donned the uniform, while not possessing the rank. One had been given to him so that he might appear more official while standing at the Empress's side after the events on Pallantides, as it would not do for an envoy from the Alliance to see the supreme leader of the Empire guarded by a mere cadet. But this time it felt different. The uniform was tailored to him in bespoke fashion, not hastily altered to fit for the sake of pageantry. Hal needed not ask how they got his measurements, as he recalled having been fitted for a custom flight suit on account of his species, but the uniform he wore now suggested further refinement upon those specifications.

He was to be knighted. Or, more appropriately, Kyle Rayner was to be knighted, whether he wanted it or not. Over a year had passed under the roof and wtchful eye of the Imperial Citadel, his every action and movement monitored and scrutinized for a trace of deception. Over a year and they were none the wiser that a Jedi Knight lived among them, plotting escape and scheeming sabotage all the while. Equally goofy and obedient, Hal had walked a fine line of acceptability while maintaining a mildly disruptive personality among the cadets. But levity had been calculated, while obedience was tempered with restraint. It had been made clear early on that Kyle Rayner preferred not to kill, and desired a more positive, or at least less destructive, outcome whenever possible. Empathy and an expression of goodwill - while maintaining order and Imperial standards - had defined Kyle Rayner's approach to his training as Hal could not find himself a good enough actor to truly become cruel and merciless.

And it had been good enough. Some would say he was being promoted because the instructors were sick of him, some would say it was for displays of valiant action in the field, while others would say it was all a show, and that he was already an Imperial Knight who had been put among the cadets as a plant, a spy to test their loyalty and intentions. To Hal, all were as likely as the others, but he felt he had earned his new rank. Earned the rank of Knight.

Again.

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth at the thought, only to fade away again, maintaining his persona as Kyle Rayner as he oiled and combed his headfur into a perfect part and sway. He, Halajiin Rabeak, a Nehantite who had been forced on the Jedi over a century earlier, and had still managed the rank of Knight, was about to become the first person in history to receive the rank of Knight from the Empire as well. A double-knight double-agent. If he were a piece on a holochess board, Hal imagined that should allow him to move in any direction he wanted.

But this was not holochess, and he knew he had to stick to the moves dictated for him. Freedom would come soon enough, but it had to end in checkmate instead of a forefeit. Today was another move, planned and taken with weighted risk, but it was a move which needed to move the game ahead, trading a pawn for a knight. And, as a knight, he would need to be armed. A paw strayed to his hip where he could feel the clip for a lightsaber, and in that moment he imagined being handed his own saber back, the one which had been confiscated from him upon his capture on Phindarr. The odds of getting it back - albet with a white crystal instead of his favored red - were low, but it was still technically possible.

For now, though, he would have to wait. Wait in the silent, ever-monitored seclusion of his own private room, to be officially summoned. Pink eyes drifted to the bank of windows he had enjoyed, and he watched as the city passed its day, unaware of the important day Hal had ahead of him, or how things would change soon, if he got his way. A glance back to the mirror set his base natures into motion.

Mmm, I do love a man in uniform.

Oh good Garfife, that's us, you dolt! His higher reasoning minded him.

Yeah, don't care. We're still hot.

Sweet dinkum, just shut it. I need to concentrate, today.

"If your quite done looking at yourself, you are expected in the great hall."

Alexia stood in the doorway, just outside of the mirror's reflection. It had been some time since she had been to the core, and even longer since she had been face to face with Kyle Rayner. He had changed much since then. His uniform was better filled out and he stood with a confidence that was more than just false bravado and ego inflating a cadet uniform. It would be a very attractive quality if not for the feeling that, even after all this time and his many trials and accolades, that Kyle still did not feel like he belonged. There has always been something off about him. Alexia knew she was in position to judge. She knew that she had come from a very dark place herself. She wore that sin on her face.

"I didn't fly halfway across the galaxy to watch you prance about and waste everyone's time."

She stepped right up on him and grabbed his shoulders to pull him taller, grabbing his chin and lifting until it was level, dusting off his shoulder and straightening the hang of his chestplate. Turning him around she did the same from behind; adjusting the straps for his armor and making sure his robes were pulled through correctly. As she adjusted his shoulders once again she caught sight of herself in the reflection. Her eyes had deep bags under them, her hair looked unhealthy, and her skin was paler than she remembered. Her armor was scuffed and damaged beneath the layers of polish that made it shine like the sun. Her robes hung loosely like they were two sizes too big. The scars along her mouth looked deeper, darker. Uglier.

Looking away was the easiest remedy.

"You ready?"

"Hey, woah, that's tight!" Hal complained as Chew Toy Barbie manhandled him, though he did have to admit he looked better afterward. A final drift of his comb through his oiled headfur set everything in place, and he nodded. "Yeah, I'm ready." Following Alexia's lead, he proceeded out into the hallway, toward the turbolifts.

Since he had been at the Citadel, Hal had seen no knighting ceremonies take place, so he did not know what to expect. The simple act of not knowing filled him with equal parts worry and anticipation. Would the cadets be assembled to witness the event? Or was it just with available Knights and senior command? Was there an oath he was supposed to know and recite? Some sort of test he would need to pass? Things were easier, in the Jedi Order. You simply got told you were a Knight, and that was about it.

Or at least that had been all that was done for him. A few of his friends had neat ceremonies held, but Hal just got stopped in a hallway, told he was a knight, and that was it. Deep down, his ego hoped for a much more grand event for the knighting of Kyle Rayner.

As the turbolift doors open, Hal stepped inside, and held the door button for Alexia, and waited for them to close before speaking. "So, is there anything I should know? Anything I'm supposed to do? I've not witnessed an Imperial Knighting ceremony before. I'm kind of winging it, here."

"The ceremony is quite grand. All available Knights are summoned to participate. It's good for morale. If it wasn't for these ceremonies then most of us would not know there was any new blood at all. It's a dangerous galaxy out there, Raynar. Even for a Imperial Knight. Not all of us are made of the same stuff, and some don't make it. Not every Knight can be like Knight Vissica. For your sake, you better try. We have a big target on our heads. Our enemies would love nothing more than to kill or capture one of us."

Alexia remembered reading the reports, the destruction of the Bravant with Knight Wendale on board, and the Byblos incident that claimed Crom. Seemingly random, freak incidents separated by months of time and yet they may have featured the same attackers. Someone was gunning for blue robes, that much was known. For someone on the front like like Alexia, it certainly felt like she had to watch her back for more enemies that the ones she already had in front. As if the rebellion and cultists weren't enough to deal with already.

"Your part is minor. You stand there and are appointed by the Knight-General. It's very reminiscent of what I imagine such a ceremony would have looked like within the Temple of the Jedi. Sabre to each shoulder, rise, and all that. You'll do fine. Just keep your mouth shut and no wise cracks. Everyone will be watching."

She lead him down the hallway and to a set of large double doors. They both knew the grand hall was on the other side, and two army officers in full dress uniform stood tall at either side.

"Last chance to drop out, Cadet."

"And let you keep calling me 'Cadet'?" Hal snarked. "Not likely. Let's do this."

It was to be a ceremony, then, and in the grand hall, no less! The Empire was pulling out all the stops for the knighting of Kyle Rayner, it seemed, and Hal was determined that they get their money's worth out of it. A cursory ping of the other side of the doors though the Force confirmed Alexia's story, the hall was filled with bodies, most standing at, or near attention. A sharp beat of a drum brought any slackers into shape.

The doors clicked and swung open slowly, revealing the magnitude of military theatrics sprawling before him. Every Cadet, most of the Knights, the training staff, and other Imperial officers were gathered, along with a few influential politicians or other important people to the Empire. Hal scanned the crowd, watching for familiar faces, before turning his attention dead ahead and starting his careful, precise walk down the blue and black carpet laid out before him, toward a dais at the opposite end of the hall.

We're getting knighted. Properly knighted! His brain did backflips of excitement.

Yeah, knighted by the enemy. Keep yourself under control, his base natures tempered his mind's passion.

To be knighted would mean a greater amount of freedom. It also meant that his ruse had worked; the Empire honestly believed he was Kyle Rayner, and had no clue as to his true identity. However, there would come new responsibilities, and new expectations which might make his cover more difficult to keep up. But whatever the situation, he was to be a Knight, and would also receive his own lightsaber, today. In the depths of his heart, he hoped that Knight General Atrapes would find it fitting to re-issue him with the saber he had been captured with, albeit with the Empire's signature white blade.

It would be a measure of trust to be returned the very weapon he had been captured holding, but Hal didn't know if the Empire's trust in him would reach that far. What he did know what that Cadet Redsun was probably going out of his mind with jealousy at the moment. Hal tried not to smile when he thought of that.

Vissica stood with the assembled Knights, turned back to watch the approach of the candidate. The Selonian's armor had been cleaned and oiled, gleaming for a change from its usual austere presentation. Small coal eyes betrayed no emotion as always, masking the Selonian's expression from most humanoid analogue. Her whiskers held slightly aloft, she scrutinized the Nehantite carefully as she always did before.

As the doors swung open and all she could do was tense, close her eyes, and prepare herself as best she could before opening them again and stepping out alongside Kyle. She had made this journey several times, both during her own very different ceremony back at the very beginning of all this, and many times since with various recruits, and war criminals being marched to their executions. Same crowds, same faces watching silently, and her forced to play the role of the errand boy for Atrapes. She could see him, all the way at the other send of the Grand Hall. Standing on his little dais like a small time king of his own miniature kingdom. She had no doubts he felt that way about himself.

As per tradition, at the halfway point, she turned and left the recruit to make the rest of the way on his own. It was supposed to be symbolic about how the Knights took care of their own, but ultimately it was up to them as individuals to complete their journeys. Or something like that. She couldn't remember half of the self serving things that came out of Atrapes mouth. The Knights had changed a lot since those first days when they were first constructed to replace the retired Inquisition. They had all changed a lot. They had Baastain and Vissica now to impress a different kind of morality into the ranks. It wasn't just a bunch of Inquisitors in new robes anymore.

Moving to the sideline, Alexia joined the assembled ranks and watched as Kyle continued his walk. Alone.

Hal's step faltered, but only for a moment as Alexia pivoted away from his side. He'd received no instruction to follow, and Atrapes stood at the other end of the hall, so he presumed he had to continue on, while wondering just why he had been left to continue alone.

In the Jedi, a Master would accompany his or her Padawan to the knighting dais, as a show of faith and trust in them, to display that no matter what, the Jedi would be there for each other. Had Alexia turned off as she was not his master? Who was his master, really? Vissica, since she had been the one to capture him, and go on missions with him? Or did the Imperial Knights follow such a structure? He'd certainly seen what appeared that structure among other knights and cadets, yet it had never seemed to apply to himself. Perhaps he would walk alone as he had, in effect, walked alone through the Knight Cadet program, while eyes were constantly upon him.

His new boots gleamed with their perfect polish as he walked, tail swaying behind himself as he carried on in proud, military march up to the dais. In as much sense as a Nehantite could have been made an Imperial, Hal appeared as such, save for a final nod to his own traditions just before mounting the stairs. A calculated risk, he told himself, but one which could be played off for sake of custom. Pausing, he stepped back, dipping his upper body and spreading his arms wide, lifting up a bit behind himself as he dipped into a Nehantite full court bow, his pose perfect, then elevated to a stand once more. A nod to his own culture, his own individuality - mildly reminding the other cadets that one could still be an individual - masked as a show of sincere respect for the Knight-General upon his psuedo-throne.

Straightening his armor, Hal then climbed the steps, and dropped to one knee, bowing before Atrapes as he had seen padawans do before a member of the Jedi Council, so long ago. What he did not see was his own old lightsaber, but he saw no new one either, so there was still the chance that it could be returned to him, simply being out of sight.

Atrapes was indeed seated on a throne, a solid black and thoroughly uncomfortable looking affair set to the left of the center of the raised platform that Hal ascended. The man himself was silent and unmoving, watching the Nehantite with cold, almost lifeless eyes. Behind the Knight-General and his throne was a pitch darkness, framed by huge hanging banners featuring the Imperial Gear.

Unlike Rayner, or the rest of the Knights, Atrapes was not resplendently attired; in fact, he wore what undoubtedly was battle armour. It was shined and cleaned, of course, but there were pitted marks and gouges carved into the breast plate, and little marks where shrapnel had embedded in the legs and arms and in fact all over.

"Stand, Kyle Rayner," Atrapes said finally, and waited for the alien to comply. He then stood himself, and put his hand on Rayner's shoulder. His hand was cold. "Despite yourself, you have been judged to be worthy of the title of Knight of the Imperial Throne. Your talents and abilities will be used to defend and secure the Empress and her Empire and its citizens from its enemies. You will strike down her foes. You will enforce her laws and orders. Do this, knowing that you are not alone.

"You will do this shoulder to shoulder with your fellows, your brothers and sisters, fellow Knights all. You will defend us and be defended; bleed with us and watch us bleed for you; you shall command us, and also be commanded. You will glory in victory or suffer in defeat with us. All you do will be repaid in kind: loyalty for loyalty, bravery for bravery, until the end. We are yours, and you are ours."

As he spoke, the room lightened. Sky blue banners featuring the Imperial Gear in white became visible along the side of the Hall as lights blazed beneath them, and they fluttered gently in a wind that seemed almost ethereal.

"Despite yourself, you have been judged to be worthy of the title of Knight of the Imperial Throne."

The words played to a wicked smile within Hal's mind. If they knew. Oh, but if they only knew just how accurate that statement truly was. Halajiin Rabeak, a Jedi Knight. Knight of the Republic, at that, being knighted to the Imperial Throne? One couldn't get more despite themselves for such an achievement. But more to the point, being knighted, with full ceremony, was an achievement for Hal - one he did not receive with his time in the Jedi Order. Instead, his master passed him in the hall and told him, "Oh, you're a Knight now. We're done, I've got a new padawan," and that was it. Not even a "Good job," or "Congratulations," or anything. So, as Hal rose, pride rose with him. He could not help his tailtip from flicking happily as he stared Atrapes in the face, though he managed to keep his expression stoic, as the Knight General demanded.

As Atrapes' hand slid from his shoulder, Hal raised his fist and placed it over his heart. "I will serve as a Knight to the best of my ability," he stated. The conviction behind his words was palpable. "By the Force, you have my word."