PROLOGUE
Sedratis, over twenty years ago
MR-V had seen his master furious before. In fact, it was pretty much a daily occurrence. When he wasn’t the target of the Dowager’s verbal attacks, it was usually one of her servants or her guests. No one was ever safe from her fury; concepts such as etiquette and human decency were the first to go as soon as Sareth Valrisa had been scorned. It was perhaps because of this behavior that visits from guests had become less frequent and her pool of lustful suitors had dried up, though her track record of dead husbands may have also been a deciding factor in that latter regard.
Today, MR-V wasn’t sure whom or what was the current subject of the Dowager’s rage, as none of her sentient servants were present in the room and she had yet to take notice of his presence. She sat on her knees upon her massive bed, back facing him, as she grabbed fistfuls of her golden hair. The elaborate dress she wore was disheveled and torn, making it look as if she had just survived an encounter with a nexu cat. She released a shriek of agony as she tore bunches of hair from her scalp before pounding the mattress with her fists, blood leaking from where she had pulled her hair. MR-V’s programming dictated that he come to the aid of his ailing master, yet something took over him and prevented him from taking any further steps into the room. All he could do was watch as the Dowager continued to wreak havoc on herself.
“Useless!” she screeched, digging her long nails into the mattress in an attempt to tear it open. “Absolutely useless! None of the children — not a single one! — has the gift I’m looking for!”
MR-V processed these words in an attempt to determine who the Dowager was referring to. He could only deduce that she was referring to her own children, of which she had borne six. As far as he knew, all six of them were in good health and being cared for by their respective families; he knew not of this “gift” that his master was referring to or why she was so distraught over her children lacking it.
Her scalp still bleeding, the Dowager grabbed her head and fell face-first onto the bed, her body trembling as she sobbed into the mattress. “Seventh one… I still need a seventh one. The Charge Matrica requires it.”
MR-V ran the phrase through his processor but was unable to procure any results from his database. He briefly considered questioning his master right then and there but thought better of it when she suddenly shot up into a sitting position once more, her back still turned to him.
“Yes,” she murmured, her rage suddenly swept away. “Yes, that’s it. I can find someone who already has the gift. Someone that is strong with the gift. But who…?”
It only took the Dowager less than a minute to ponder this question. Then she started to giggle, wrapping a finger around her golden hair as she tittered like a little girl.
“Oh. Oh, yes. That would be absolutely wonderful.”
As MR-V struggled to comprehend his master’s external musings, she slowly turned around to finally look at him, blue eyes gleaming in the darkness of the bedroom.
“Oh, Marv. I didn’t realize you were there.”
“Mistress,” MR-V said tentatively. “Is everything all right? You appear to be injured.”
“Everything is fine now, Marv.” He had never heard her speak so softly, so kindly towards him. She slowly came down from the bed and started to walk towards him, her torn dress hanging loosely from her body. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
“But… your scalp, mistress. You are bleeding.”
“Not anymore,” she said, even as blood continued to trickle down the side of her head. She reached behind MR-V’s large bulbous head and he felt her hand fall over his deactivation switch.
“You require medical attention,” he tried to say.
“Everything is fine now,” she repeated. “Everything is going to be just fine.”
She pulled the switch and MR-V knew no more.
STAR WARS: VERGENCE
Book III: The Seventh Heir
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