You enter the dungeon via turbolift, hundreds of feet below the surface of Antei, down into the deepest depths of the Codei Prison. As you step out of the lift, the first thing you notice is the heat—a sweltering, miserable heat generated by the molten lava that both powers and protects the prison. The walls shine in the flickering light, the moisture dripping slowly downwards to create creeping tendrils of moss on the dark stone.

The second thing you notice are the chains dangling from the ceiling. Massive, twisted strands of black metal ending in a pair of stone manacles, hanging roughly seven feet in the air—high enough to make just standing in them a torture in itself. You know the chains and manacles have been forged with Sith Alchemy. They were constructed to prevent even an Elder from accessing the Force. Those bound by the black chains would be utterly helpless. Escape would be impossible.

The room is rectangular, seemingly carved out of solidified magma, and roughly the size of a small transport. Against each wall stands immaculate, durasteel tables covered with sharp, ugly instruments used for torture and interrogation. You can sense a myriad of deadly machines hidden just out of sight underneath the tables, waiting to administer both drugs and pain. Splashes of blood, having long-dried into the bedrock, remain as evidence of those who had suffered here before. Echoes of their ghastly screams seem to reverberate around the dungeon, sending shivers down your spine.

The doors of the turbolift close with a soft whoosh, cutting off your only escape. You stand in the dungeon of the Codei Prison—the inescapable hell for enemies of the Brotherhood—and you are not alone.

Andrelious examined the dungeon with horror. He had heard rumours of what a terrible place it was, but nothing could have prepared him for the sights he was now seeing. Just the idea of being strung up in this room was enough to fill the Warlord with a strong sense of dread.

At least I know why none of the clans have attempted rebellion recently. Just show a Consul this room and you have a loyal vassal for life, the Rollmaster thought as he took a swig of Corellian Brandy from his hip-flask. The warming liquid quelled the sense of foreboding a little, but not entirely. The room still scared the Sith immensely.

I’ve seen enough. Time to go.

As the ex-Imperial pushed the turbolift’s call button, he was surprised at the speed that it returned to the dungeon. His surprise only grew when the doors slid open. Inside was Nikola Valtiere, the newly appointed Quaestor of Qel-Droma.

“You really do not want to see this room, Quaestor.” Andrelious stated simply.

Valtiere frowned.

“And why is that, Rollmaster? No doubt you’ve got some sort of trick up your sleeve. Your kind always do,” the Warrior replied harshly.

“Come on, Valtiere. Do you really think I would come as far as Antei to get rid of you? And on the ground, for that matter? You and I are pilots. If I wanted to eliminate you, I’d have been challenging you to a 1-on-1 in space. Much less messy, don’t you think?” Inahj answered, genuinely hurt that one he considered an ally was accusing him of subterfuge.

“I suppose you think I was born yesterday. I remember how you were when you were my Commander back in Void. Always looking for a way to remove Socorra and Scelestus. I’m sorry, Andrelious. You’re an excellent pilot, but you’re not quite so good at deception. I assume it was you who forged the communique?” Valtiere hissed.

“Given I received one as well, do you think that’s likely? I guessed this was some sort of trap. Just I decided I was going to come and deal with whoever it was that was trying to trap me.” Andrelious spat.

The Qel-Droma Quaestor barged past Andrelious, offering no further answers. He studied the room much like his compatriot had done. He was examining the suspended manacles, only inches above his head, when he noticed the Warlord had followed him, and was barring his way back to the turbolift.

“I am sorry, Valtiere. But your distrust leaves me with little choice. As much as this message we both received was clearly the fabrication of a third party, you clearly think it was something to do with me. I don’t take too kindly to accusations of treachery. It’s a shame. You were going to make an excellent Quaestor,” Andrelious stated aggressively. The shorter human reached for his silver hilted lightsaber, bringing its crimson blade into existence with a sharp snap-hiss.

The former slave wasted no time in grabbing his own lightsaber, immediately defending against an initial attack from the irritated Inahj.

The Warlord was much shorter than his opponent, but his reputation and skills had ensured that it had been many years since anyone had dared make light of his relative lack of height. His attacks were not easy to handle, each one testing different areas of Valtiere’s defences, allowing little room for counter-attacks among the flurry of varied strikes. The Qel-Droman found himself relying on the Force to predict his fellow Arconan’s movements, listening carefully to each and every warning that it screamed at him.

“We fought side-by-side, Nikola! And you repaid me with distrust!” Andrelious yelled as he tried to break past the Quaestor’s steadfast defences.

“This day was always going to come! You never keep an ally for long!” Valtiere retorted.

Inahj continued to angrily probe his new enemy’s defences, sure that each blow brought him a little closer to finding a breakthrough. The Warrior, however, kept on determinedly blocking everything that was thrown at him. The chains that he had previously been examining before things had turned ugly remained firmly lodged in the back of his mind. As he was so tall for a Human, they would only be inches from his grasp. And yet, they were well above the much smaller Andrelious’s head. With a gigantic leap, the Force helping to launch him further into the air, Valtiere grabbed onto the chains, swinging away from the Rollmaster. As the chains carried the Quaestor towards the far end of the dungeon, he released his grasp, dropping gracefully to the floor, now well out of the reach of his opponent’s blade. Valtiere noticed that during his journey away from danger that the Force-sapping properties of the chains had prevented him from forseeing Inahj’s own plans. In his haste to escape the duel, that fact had eluded him.

The Warlord, though caught off guard by the unorthodoxy of his opponent’s latest move, had armed himself with his blaster during Valtiere’s ‘flight’. With a smirk he fired three shots right at the Warrior, knowing that the taller Human would have little more than a split-second to react and deflect the blaster bolts away. As he did so, Andrelious made the most of the opportunity, and attacked with the Force, a small bolt of electricity surging from his right hand. The attack was well-aimed, clearly planned in tandem with the use of the blaster. Valtiere desperately moved his lightsaber upwards, but was too slow. The electricity fizzled into the Quaestor’s upper torso, blistering the skin and coming dangerously close to damaging his lungs.

“An impressive attempt, Valtiere. Now let’s see if you have anything else up your sleeve.” Andrelious taunted.

Valtiere didn't respond to the older Arconan's jibe, the searing pain of the lightning spreading through his chest. His heart was heavy, one of the few Dark Jedi he could come close to respecting had finally shown his true colours. Petty jealousy and egomania had gotten to the middle-aged man. Obviously, he was using the Force to cloud Valtiere's mind, but he was above that. He could see through Inahj, the fake attempts to call off the fight as it had started.

The pain was causing fury to build, white hot pressure behind Valtiere's eyes. He rushed forward, Force power coursing through him, faster than he should be able to move at such a size. Inahj was very proficient with his weapon. He had to fight without centre, not let Inahj fall back into his known skills, keep him off guard. He kept pushing, attacks so fast the glow of the lightsaber wove a pattern in the air. The fury kept him going, the betrayal hot in his blood.

Andrelious took a faltering step back.

Andrelious' face screwed up in anger at the affront of being forced to give ground. Being forced to stand back before such a whelp of a man. He had taught him everything he knew! They had been the premier pilots of Arcona, respected colleagues in forging the new Arcona, and now this? His free hand whipped out, electricity arcing between his fingertips and the metal right hand of Valtiere. It spasmed, the lightsaber within dropping to the ground, orange blade snapping off as it fell. Now, it was a chunk of dead metal on Valtiere's shoulder. Inahj smiled as he attacked, thrusting towards Valtiere as his eyes followed his errant weapon.

The smile soured as Valtiere dodged the lethal blow, rolling expertly to pick up his lightsaber in his free left hand. In his haste to rip his foe's throat out with his incandescent blade, he had forgotten Valtiere's honed skills at precognition. He advanced forward warily, both hands on his weapon, as Valtiere's prosthetic clanged to the floor. Valtiere was breathing heavily, Inahj was glad to see, the boy was a sprinter, not an endurance fighter like himself. If he let Valtiere batter himself against his defences, he could pick apart his foe slowly and brutally. They circled slowly now, like prize-fighters before a title bout.

Valtiere was leaning oddly, getting used to a new centre of gravity. The chains groaned overhead, swinging in the disturbed air.

Inahj leapt forward, using his years of experience fighting Force users to grab the advantage, weakening Valtiere's connection to the Force. The blade scored along Valtiere's arm, his precognition only warning him a split second before the strike came. He smiled as he heard the Quaestor hiss in pain, his own strike forced off track as he dodged to the side. He hopped away, confusion marking his face for a split second. He should have sensed it earlier, and was confused why he hadn't. Inahj capitalised on that moment.

Valtiere's blade leapt up as he angled his lightsaber, Andrelious' sliding off and away. With a twist of the wrist, Valtiere pushed Andrelious' weapon aside, nicking the shorter man's shoulder. He moved back, slicing, making use of his reach to keep Inahj away. Their blades clashed with explosions of light and sound, Andrelious' skill showing through as he expertly turned away Valtiere's attacks. Blood slowly trickled down Inahj's uniform as he fought, the wound refusing to clot as quickly as it should, the pain throbbing dully through his shoulder. As he continued, his arm became heavier and heavier, his attacks slowing. He broke off, touching fingers to the wound, inspecting the blood. Not good.

Inahj winced at the sight of his own blood. Keeping his lightsaber pointed menacingly at his opponent, he called upon the Force to undo the wound that Valtiere had inflicted, stemming the blood flow almost as quickly as it had begun.

“It is time to end this game,” the Warlord hissed. Rather than approach his opponent, Andrelious stood his ground, waiting patiently for the younger Human to attack.

Valtiere was not to be fooled: he knew the Rollmaster’s plan. Many times had he seen Andrelious use his superior stamina to compensate for his fairly poor agility. The Qel-Droman Quaestor also stubbornly refused to move, creating a bitter stalemate between two nominal allies.

A unexpected clatter from the area of the turbolift attracted Valtiere’s attention. The sound of the lift car got closer and closer. The Warrior reckoned that the pair had about thirty seconds. Andrelious remained focused solely on his opponent, apparently unbothered by the imminent arrival.

“It appears we’re about to be joined by a third party, Quaestor,” the ex-Imperial stated coolly.

The Qel-Droman was amazed at how calm the man before him was. From what he understood of the way Codei Prison worked, being caught in the dungeon without the proper clearance was usually enough to warrant a severe punishment, most likely being incarcerated and eventually executed, often in this very room. And yet, Inahj simply appeared not to care.

“Don’t be a fool, Andrelious! If we’re caught down here, neither of us will make it back to the Dajorra System!” Valtiere barked,

“You’re right. Here’s what we do. You’re faster than I am. Get into position near the doors, and be ready to hit whoever comes out. I’ll provide fire support with my blasters. Expect a difficult fight. We’ll settle our own score later. For now, we fight for Arcona.” Inahj ordered.

Valtiere nodded in agreement, and moved into position as instructed. Since his elevation to Quaestor he was now considered in equal standing to the Rollmaster, but his gut was telling him that this was not a time to remind the older Human of this fact. Now was a time for action.

Andrelious started to head towards the cover position, still watching his fellow Arconan closely. As the Warrior readied himself, Inahj ducked behind a table, readying one of his E-11s.

The turbolift’s whirring continued, but appeared to be getting no louder. Valtiere waited for the doors to hiss open, ready for whatever or whoever was inside. Still the only Force imprint he could sense was that of Inahj. The Warrior did not dare to take his eyes away from the doors for even a split-second, knowing that such a lapse in concentration could doom both he and his rekindled ally to a very unpleasant fate.

It was at that moment that the Qel-Droman felt the cold press of a metallic item on the back of his neck.

With a snap-hiss, Andrelious activated the newer of his two lightsabers. The crimson blade buzzed straight into life, severing Valtiere’s wind pipe and vocal cords. The Qel-Droman collapsed to the ground, his lungs rapidly emptying of air. The Warlord had deliberately angled his blade in a way that avoided instantly killing his opponent, ensuring a slower and more painful death.

As the Quaestor’s life continued to ebb slowly away, Andrelious moved towards the turbolift. Pushing its call button, he turned around to regard the fallen Warrior.

“Some strategic expert you turned out to be!” the Warlord sneered, slightly surprised that using the Force to fool his opponent had worked. The turbolift arrived seconds later. Inahj immediately boarded it, leaving Valtiere to his fate.