A shuttle from Korriban entered the gravitational field of the imposing Sith warship. Its only passenger remained unmoved by the sight, for it was one that he had seen many times before. The fear in his heart never subsided, and even now the bottled-up instinct to run or hide did not change his perception of the situation. He was here to either be judged worthy of apprenticeship or be cast aside. If he were lucky, Decimus would kill him on the spot before the stinging commentary of Miltiades had the chance to haunt him to the grave.
Miltiades would already have his information as well as all the commendations from his masters throughout his nine-year rise at the Academy. A perfect student, some would say. But in the back of his mind Rath'arr already knew that a perfect 'student' was unsubstantial. He trained in an overly-aggressive form of Niman, secretly studying the mastery of Exar Kun extensively. His eager integration of the Force into live combat earned him the ire of many of his colleagues. He knew Decimus would despise him, if not for being a runt then for his closeness to the Force.
He had disappointed his family once already by being born. Only now did his body catch up, through some twisted hand of fate guiding him to this point in life. His future was for House Bellerophon to decide. Should he even prove worthy of being an apprentice to begin with, he only had either the cold perfectionism of Miltiades or the avalanche of Decimus' anger to look forward to.
He exited the craft with a facade of confidence in his pace. As he neared what could be his final destination, Rath'arr did not look forward to what was behind those doors at all. Yet still, he waited for the signal to enter.