A Day for a Knight

[Halajiin Rabeak]

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.