#estimate this to be 125k+ by the time we're done

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

~~ Chapter 6: Pickles and Ice cream ~~

Read the prequel on Ao3, links at the bottom. Updates Tuesdays.

When Dryden had gotten a holocall ping at three in the morning, he knows there was only one person it could be. His organization, as a whole, knew not to interrupt his beauty sleep unless the consequences of waiting until morning were in the 'millions of credits' range, and that just didn't happen on a tight ship like his. With rare exception, of course.

So he dutifully gets up, puts on his nubian cashmere robe -the long one with the embossed gray lilies, not the short black number with cranes- and sends a servant to go fetch him caf. Then, he answers. 

"My lord," he smiles at the hooded holo form sleepily, "how may I be of service?" 

"Vos. Listen carefully: My Enemies have decided to try a new track. They have unleashed some kind of spell or device which-"

As soon as he hears 'my enemies', capital M, capital E, Dryden knows to get comfortable.

The sith lord starts in on one of his legendary rants, with all the effortless panache of a born thespian. Maul paces in the tight space allotted by the holocomm, throwing his entire body into the little performance. Facial expressions that tell entire stories. Sweeping gestures with fists and- ah, he’s grown out his claws. Lovely.

"-these… instances vary in length and frequency. The lack of discernible pattern tells me that-"

One of the staff drops off his caffuccino with extra whip and cinnamon, and the head of the Crimson Dawn sips on it while learning a fair amount about a variety of things. Who Darth Maul suspects is doing this, what they might be using to do it, when it started, where the technique might have come from, why they might be doing this, and how poorly holoprojections capture the infernal yellow glow of his eyes when Maul is pissed .

The complete story just isn't possible via holocall. A shame… his sith is ever so entrancing when furious.

"-so now you understand what we must be looking for. I suspect the line of Darth Morpic might have texts which-"

He's still going. Dryden snuggles with his caf and waits for his moment. 

"-then you will have to bring whatever resources you find here to me, on Dathomir. I will ensure the temple's defenses do not… impede you, also-"

Still going.

"-renovations to that area are a work in progress. Do not land on the east side of the cliffs. Leaving is not an option or I would-"

His caf is gone, but the moment is here. Opportunity sings to him. He stands to meet the zabrak’s energy, gesturing grandly with his empty caf mug.

"My lord, please! It would be an honor to visit your home, bringing you aid." Stage secured, Dryden sets a hand to his breast, leaning in toward the holoprojector's camera. "My collection of esoteric references is nowhere near as extensive as yours must be, but I will begin combing it immediately."

Maul looks pleased. Or, no, he looks faintly murderous, but he’s just blinked the way he does when something has pleased him. Dryden smiles, indulgent, and sweetly promises, "I will also have a team begin checking the usual auctions and private collections for additional resources. Whoever has dared to inconvenience us like this is very quickly going to discover the error of their ways, yes?"

By 'discover' he means 'die for', and by 'error' he means 'interrupting his business and keeping Maul away'. How dare they? His sith is a necessary feature to Dryden's routine. To the Dawn itself. 

Working under sithless conditions would be, well, possible , of course. Allowing their criminal empire to fall over such a loss would be inexcusably negligent on his part. No, the Dawn would come regardless of Maul’s involvement, but operating without his cold-blooded, yellow-eyed warlock would be so much more… unsatisfying. Dull. Dreary. 

Untenable!

"Very good," Maul says, haughty. "I will expect you."

"Of course," he simpers, bowing slightly.

Maul scowls and hangs up.

Dryden grins at the inactive holocomm. Dathomir! Finally, his patience is beginning to pay off. What knowledge, what power, a planet of such repute might hold. With the demise of the witches the only thing left to guard Dathomir’s secrets is the planet itself, and… well. If any one being is capable of protecting the wisdom of an entire culture, perhaps it is Lord Maul. 

But, oh, he has come to understand the sith like no other, earning more of him with each conversation. Maul could be a truly formidable obstacle, if he chose to be, between Dathomir's lost arts and the rest of the galaxy. But, with time, he will not be to Dryden Vos. 

Flushed with victory, the crime lord wanders to the small archive he has onboard, still in his night clothes. Most of his collection is on an unnamed ice moon in a vault -not on a ship that could get scuttled if his luck soured- but there were a few things here that might provide either answers, or something to whet the appetite. At least until more robust materials could be found. 

He makes a call to the caretakers on his private moon base, and sends them digging. Then, the near-human starts in on trawling the materials onboard.

"Fear not, my dear ," he tells the quiet stacks, "I shall find us answers."

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