I stand beside the high-backed chair, standing as a silent sentinel as the Thief King held court. The lightsaber handle hangs heavy on my hilt, my hand hovering over the thin grey tube, ready to draw it if need be. The words of the peasantry drone like a Tanith bee, every word mingling with the next in an incomprehensible buzz. I stare out over the crowd, watching for any sign of suspicious activity. I close my eyes, casting out with my mind. I can feel everyone’s energy, radiating faintly like a light from a bulb. Moran chuckles quietly, holding up his hand.