[IRW Aylhr] Penumbra - SD242502.02 - Summoned by a Shadow Pt 3 - Riov Rhae'go tr'Neyl

A Mission Post by Riov Rhaego tr'Neyl
Mission: Penumbra
Location: Pardek Estate, Ch'Rihan
Timeline: 2 Weeks Previous

[Pardek Estate, Ch'Rihan]

Rhae'go let out a slow breath, fingers tapping once against the table before stilling. His gaze remained locked on hers, searching, wary.

"A pattern," he echoed, his voice measured. "I see a name erased and a death left unanswered."

He picked up the fallen cup, setting it back on the table with quiet precision. "You regret that I believe you abandoned me," he said, his tone even. "But you've never regretted what was done." His eyes flickered, not with anger, but something closer to resignation. "So, tell me, Grandmother. Where does the pattern lead?"

Jhu watched him in silence, her expression unreadable, though something in her gaze sharpened at his words. The tension in the air was thick, laced with things neither of them would say outright.
She traced the rim of her cup with one finger, as if considering how much to reveal. Then, with the slow deliberation of someone accustomed to choosing every word with care, she spoke.

"To a truth that has been buried as deeply as your mother's name," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "One that some would kill to keep hidden."

She reached for a slice of ryllh fruit, breaking it apart with her fingers, the juice staining her skin. "You think I summon you to settle old wounds," she continued, glancing up at him. "I do not. I summon you because you are walking toward the same abyss that swallowed your mother."

Jhu let the silence settle, then set the fruit down, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Tell me, kuoku, what do you truly know of Senator Chavek tr'Parneas?"

The bitterness within him dulled as the conversation shifted toward business.

"I've read his file. He shares your clan, Zorek." The name left a bitter taste on his tongue, and he couldn't stop the brief flicker of distaste that crossed his face. The same clan whose members his mother had been accused of killing.

Reaching out, he took a piece of the fruit his grandmother had sliced, pressing it between his fingers before slipping it into his mouth. The burst of tart juice grounded him, giving him a moment to collect his thoughts.

"But I don't think that connection has anything to do with his death," he continued after swallowing. "What interests me more is what he was looking into before he was killed. He had his lieutenants digging- researching something, chasing leads. Stolen technology, possibly smuggled across the Neutral Zone. Whatever it was, it disturbed him enough to burn through significant resources trying to uncover the truth.

He leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable.

"I plan to visit his office and investigate this information further."

Jhu listened, her expression impassive, though the slightest shift in her gaze betrayed her interest. She took her time, reaching for her cup and taking a slow sip before responding.

"A wasted effort," she murmured, setting the cup down with deliberate precision. "His office will be empty- sterilized, swept clean of anything worth finding. If the Senate truly wished to uncover the reason for his death, they would not have sent you."

Her fingers drummed lightly against the table before she picked up another piece of fruit, turning it between her fingers. "Stolen technology," she mused. "A dangerous game. One that has cost many their lives."

She flicked a glance toward him. "You are looking in the right place, kuoku, but you are looking in the wrong way."

Breaking the fruit apart, she let its juices stain her fingers, watching them absorb into her skin. "Tell me, did your file say what else he was doing on Eternity? Or did it simply tell you that he happened to be there when he was killed?"

Her gaze met his again, piercing. "Because I do not believe in coincidences. And neither should you."

Rhae'go took a slow, deliberate breath and let her insult pass. She was always testing him, always prodding for weaknesses.

"Of course, his office will have been sanitized," he admitted, his tone measured. "But thoroughness is always a question. Assumptions are dangerous. If the Senator had any real understanding of our Empire's inner workings, he may have left something behind, intentionally or otherwise."

He plucked another slice of ryllh from the plate and tossed it into his mouth, this time chewing with little thought before swallowing.

"The real problem," he continued, voice darkening, "is that no one knew he was on Eternity. At least, no one in the Senate. His subordinates and family believed he was visiting his sons grave. But perhaps he was doing something more- digging into his concerns himself." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Either way, until Aylhr reaches Eternity and we can investigate properly, this is all just speculation."

Leaning back, he fixed his grandmother with a hard stare.

"You don't believe in coincidences?" His voice turned sharp, cutting. "You spent years wielding your political power to frame my mother's death as treachery—an assassination against your precious allies. You erased her name from history, exhausted your influence to bury the truth. And now you expect me to take your words at face value?"

He let the accusation hang in the air between them, the weight of it settling like a blade poised over the table.

Jhu met his glare with unwavering calm, not so much as a flicker of emotion betraying her thoughts. If his accusation wounded her, she did not show it. Instead, she reached for her napkin and dabbed at her fingers, unhurried, precise, as if she were merely entertaining an impudent courtier rather than her own flesh and blood.

"You mistake necessity for choice, kuoku," she said, folding the cloth neatly before setting it aside. "The truth was not mine to bury, it was already entombed before I laid a hand upon it."

She exhaled softly, tapping one finger against the table as though considering how much to say. "Your mother's death was a convenience for many. Her guilt? A fabrication that required little effort to sustain because it suited the right people at the right time."

Her gaze sharpened, and for the first time, there was something harder beneath it, not just calculation, but something close to anger. Not at his words, but at the reality they both knew.

"But tell me, hvei'khenn," she said, her voice soft yet cutting, "if I had fought that tide, if I had torn down the walls and declared your mother innocent, do you truly believe you would be alive now? That your name would have been allowed to exist at all?"

She let the question settle, the weight of it heavy between them.

"You think I sought to erase her," she continued, voice quieter now, more measured. "But I did what was necessary to ensure that when the time came, someone could remember."

Jhu leaned back slightly, studying him. "And now, you are here. And I am asking you if you are willing to see past your own bitterness long enough to understand that your presence in this matter is not happenstance. If Parneas was digging into something, he was not the first. And he will not be the last to die for it."

She lifted her cup once more, took a slow sip, then set it down with a deliberate finality.

"So, Leih tr'Neyl," she said, meeting his gaze with quiet expectation. "What will you do with that knowledge?"

At last, he let the tension drain from his shoulders, releasing the hold it had over him. For once, she had been direct- spoken the truth they both knew but he had refused to acknowledge. As much as it enraged him, as much as he despised her for tarnishing his mother's honor after her death, there was no deception in her words.

Exile had likely been the only thing that kept him alive. Stripped of significance, cast far enough from the political battlefield, he had become too much trouble to kill. In that, his grandmother had been right- she had saved him. And that was precisely why part of him hated her.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and unbroken, before he finally spoke.

"I will find out who was behind the Senator's death. And if they were involved in my mother's…" His voice tapered off, the flicker of hatred in his eyes saying what words did not.

When he continued, his tone was colder, quieter- lethal.

"They will beg for a death far quicker than the one I will grant them."

Jhu t'Pardek watched him carefully, the barest flicker of something- approval, resignation, or perhaps amusement- ghosting across her features before she reached for her cup once more. She did not comment on his hatred, nor did she chastise his vow of vengeance. She simply accepted it, as inevitable as the turning of the stars.

"Good," she murmured, swirling the dark liquid before taking a measured sip. "I would expect nothing less."

She set the cup down with deliberate precision, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "But be mindful, hvei'khenn. A storm does not care what it destroys, and neither do those who stand to lose everything should you uncover what they have buried."

Her gaze sharpened, the steel beneath her careful poise pressing through. "You will not be hunting fools. You will be hunting those who have shaped the Empire with the blood of others, who have spent decades ensuring that men like you do not live long enough to ask the wrong questions."

She leaned forward slightly, her voice dipping lower, each word weighted. "They will see you coming, Rhae'go. And they will not hesitate."

For the first time, something colder, something dangerously close to genuine concern flickered beneath her carefully maintained mask. Not for the investigation. Not for the truth. For him.

Then, as if retreating from that rare moment of openness, Jhu t'Pardek exhaled lightly, reaching for another piece of fruit. She sliced into it, the blade sliding effortlessly through the flesh.

"I will not stop you," she said, voice returning to its usual smooth detachment. "But I will caution you." She set the knife down, meeting his gaze. "If you mean to walk this path, do not do so as a hvei'khenn. Do not charge into the storm thinking your fury alone will see you through."

She picked up a slice of fruit, turning it between her fingers before placing it on his side of the table. "Eat, kuoku. You will need your strength."

Rhae'go reached for the fruit but hesitated, his hand hovering over the table. His gaze flicked to his grandmother, unreadable, before he finally spoke- his voice quiet, edged with something unreadable.

"And if they succeed… will you mourn me? Or simply erase me, as you did her?"

Jhu t'Pardek's fingers stilled against the porcelain of her cup. For a moment, the orchard was silent, save for the rustling of the leaves in the night breeze. She did not answer immediately, nor did she flinch at the weight of his question. Instead, she regarded him with the same calculating gaze she had always worn- the one that saw too much, revealed too little.

Then, ever so slightly, her lips curved, not a smile, not amusement, but something colder, something resigned.

"If they succeed," she said, her voice soft but carrying the weight of steel beneath it, "there will be nothing left to erase."

She picked up her knife again, slicing another piece of fruit with quiet precision. "But mourn?" She exhaled softly, shaking her head. "Hvei'khenn, you mistake me for someone who has the luxury of grief."

Jhu slid the blade through the fruit once more, her movements slow, deliberate. "The dead are not mourned in the halls of power. They are studied. Their failures dissected, their missteps cataloged, their deaths made useful." She lifted the knife, the edge catching the lamplight. "If they succeed in taking you, Rhae'go, I will not mourn you. I will make certain that you are the last they ever dare to strike."

She set the blade down with finality, her gaze locking onto his. "Do not make me prove that promise."

The wind stirred between them, cool against the warmth of the orchard. Jhu reached for another slice of ryllh but did not look at him as she spoke again. "Galan is waiting. You will leave before the dawn."

There was nothing else to be said.

The meeting was over.

Rhae'go stood, pushing his chair back with measured calm. He looked at her one last time, searching for something he knew he would not find. Then, without another word, he turned and made his way back through the orchard, toward the waiting flitter that would take him back to the tangled web of secrets and dangers waiting beyond these quiet lands.

Jhu did not watch him leave. Instead, she plucked a piece of fruit from the table and took a slow, thoughtful bite, the bitterness lingering long after he had gone.

[End]

Hvei'khenn (n.) – Rihannsu for "thunderstorm" In the context of Jhu t'Pardek's interactions with Rhae'go tr'Neyl, hvei'khenn is used metaphorically to describe his nature- turbulent, intense, and potentially destructive if left unchecked.

Rhae'go tr'Neyl
Leih
IRW Aylhr

&

Jhu t'Pardek
Praetor & Chair of the Continuing Committee
Romulan Star Empire

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