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Chapter Seven

Corevi pushed back a thick lock of black hair from his piercing green eyes. It didn’t help much, the view before him still swam in a drunken haze. In one smooth fluid movement he threw back the last of his Lomin Ale before carelessly pushing back in his chair and awkwardly rising. Swaying a bit as he found his footing, he glared at the other Sabacc players at the table. “Yous all are cheetin’,” he slurred drunkenly pointing a wavering finger at the lot of them.

A heavyset woman with thick layers of makeup on her face glared at him. “Well Corevi, how else do you expect us to win.” She frowned as she put her nickstick between her lips once more, “I mean you always seem to know when we’re bluffing, when we’re not, and if you can beat us!” Her eyes, plastered with the artificial eyelashes narrowed, “If you didn’t have that sister of yours-“

Corevi lunged at her, “I’ll make you pay for that remark!” He managed to slap her across the face before the rest of the Sabacc players grabbed a hold of his arms. “Let me go! Now,” he bellowed, his face was flushed with rage. A brief struggle ensued, but Corevi managed to pull his arms out of his attackers’ grasp. Standing back he drew the trisaber that he always wore. It was a traditional weapon of the old Chandrillan aristocracy with three deadly edges complete with a current of energy running through the durasteel; in the hands of an accomplished fighter it was death to any opponent.

The group drew back; they had seen what the man could do with this weapon. “Now wait a second, Lord Corevi,” the woman used his proper title, hoping to mollify his anger. She laughed nervously as he advanced on her; “It-it was just a joke sir. Really, nothin’ more than that.” She backed into a wall and stared down the blade of the trisaber that was now pointed at her neck. The electricity made her skin tingle and she looked fearfully to the crowd that was just watching the scene unfold.

“Lord Corevi.” A voice from the door made the enraged man divert his attention from his prey. There were several officers of the local police force standing with their hands on their blasters. “Sir, could we have a word with you?”

Hesitating for a moment, Corevi looked at the woman and then back at the men. He drew in a breath, trying to resolve his anger before turning to the men. Scowling at them he sheathed his blade, “What do you want?”

The leader of the group motioned for him to step outside, “Please sir, we need to talk privately.”

Corevi frowned, but he was curious as to what they had to say. Once outside he stood with his hands planted on his hips. He only swayed a bit from the lingering effects of alcohol.

“Sir, we’ve been instructed to disarm you.” The man looked terrified at such a suggestion, but he held out his hands dutifully.

“And who has instructed you to do so?” He glared at the men.

“Th-the Lady Lusankya sir.”

Corevi held his breath at the mention of his sister. What did she want with him now? Reluctantly he handed over his trisaber, and the blaster he had strapped to his hip.

“Fine, what did she want?”

“Your presence at your home sir.”

“That’s all? She sent all of you here to get me, when she could have simply called me on the comm?” Corevi was shouting at the terrified men. “This had better be good.”

They motioned for Corevi to step into their speeder. He did so and they sped off, toward the Lusankya estate.

Creator: Jedi Girl of Corellia (Sarah)

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