**Chapter 711: Reckoning and Respite**
**Scene 1**
**Annihilator, Private Office**
**En Route to Coruscant**
**Dagon POV**
I sat alone in my private office aboard the *Annihilator*, the massive ship humming steadily through hyperspace. The lights were dimmed, casting long shadows across the reinforced walls. A half-empty glass of Corellian whiskey rested on the desk beside a stack of encrypted datapads.
*Well, good news first.*
The information gathered from the Prophets during our raid on Dromund Kaas had been handed over to Republic Intelligence and the ISB. A thorough investigation, using every scrap of data we recovered, led to over twenty arrests in the Senate and thirty more across various sectors of the Grand Army. These were the hard-core Sith followers — the ones who knew Palpatine's true identity as Darth Sidious.
It was partial good news. Palpatine no longer had any reliable fallbacks for his alter ego. He was now forced to play along and keep me as Supreme Commander of the Republic, at least for the time being. His influence had been crippled in a single stroke.
*Second piece of news.*
We publicly announced that Count Dooku was the Sith Lord Darth Tyrannus, and that his Master was Darth Sidious. The revelation was broadcast across every major news network and neutral system. It was a mix of truth and propaganda — the Sith were indeed still active, pulling strings behind both the Republic and the Confederacy. The announcement left the CIS Senate in chaos, questioning Dooku's leadership. The main backers — the corporate powers — were rattled, but still loyal for now.
*Now the bad news.*
Every Jedi and officer who went missing at Mygeeto was dead. The recordings we recovered confirmed it. It had been too late to save them — they had been experimented on, broken, and turned into weapons. Their deaths would cause problems for the Order, but the footage had been released. The galaxy now knew the true face of the enemy.
Mon Cala had fully defected to the CIS. Luckily, I had pulled most of our fleet out beforehand with hidden orders. The objective now was simple and brutal: take Mygeeto, then Cato Neimoidia, then Umbara, then Mon Cala. After that, everything else. And it was only Month 9, Week 3 of the war.
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. *Oh well.*
I also needed to contact Raith Sienar about the bet with Kuat. I wondered how he was doing.
**Scene 2**
**Lianna, Sienar Family Estate**
**Private Bedroom**
**Raith Sienar POV**
The lights in the master bedroom were low and warm, casting a golden glow over the elegant, minimalist décor that defined Sienar taste. Raith Sienar stood near the large viewport overlooking the Lianna night sky, his shirt already discarded, revealing the lean, toned physique of a man who spent as much time in engineering bays as he did in boardrooms.
Jasmil — his wife, his partner, his greatest source of peace in these chaotic times — approached from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her fingers traced slow, teasing patterns across his chest as she pressed her body against his back. She was wearing nothing but a thin silk robe that barely reached mid-thigh, the fabric whispering against her skin with every movement.
"You've been working too hard again," she murmured, her lips brushing the back of his neck. "The war doesn't stop just because you need rest."
Raith turned in her arms, pulling her close. His hands slid down her back, resting on the curve of her hips. "The war never stops. But right now… I don't want to think about it."
Jasmil smiled, a soft, knowing smile that always made his heart race. She rose onto her toes and kissed him deeply, her tongue dancing with his in a slow, sensual rhythm. Raith groaned into her mouth, one hand tangling in her hair while the other slipped beneath the silk robe, caressing the smooth skin of her back.
She broke the kiss just enough to whisper against his lips, "Then let me help you forget."
Jasmil pushed him gently backward until the back of his legs hit the large bed. Raith sat down, pulling her with him so she straddled his lap. The robe fell open, revealing her bare body beneath. He leaned in, kissing the hollow of her throat, then lower, trailing his lips across her collarbone and down to the swell of her breasts. Jasmil sighed softly, arching into his touch as his hands explored her curves with familiar reverence.
She reached between them, undoing his belt with practiced ease. Her fingers wrapped around his hardening length, stroking him slowly, teasingly. Raith groaned, his head falling back as pleasure coursed through him.
"Jasmil…" he breathed, voice rough with need.
She smiled, pushing him down onto his back. The silk robe slipped off her shoulders completely as she positioned herself above him. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered herself onto him, taking him inside her with a shared moan of pleasure. They moved together in a perfect rhythm — slow at first, savoring every sensation, then gradually faster, more urgent.
Raith's hands gripped her hips, guiding her as she rode him, her breasts bouncing with each movement. Jasmil leaned forward, kissing him fiercely as their bodies pressed together, skin against skin, hearts racing in unison. The room filled with the sounds of their lovemaking — soft gasps, moans, and the rhythmic creak of the bed.
When they reached their peak, it was together — Jasmil crying out his name as she clenched around him, Raith burying himself deep inside her with a guttural groan. They clung to each other afterward, breathing hard, bodies glistening with sweat.
Jasmil rested her head on his chest, tracing lazy circles on his skin. "I love you," she whispered.
Raith kissed the top of her head, holding her close. "I love you more."
For a little while, the war felt very far away.