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"Acolyte Vel," he confirmed with a glance. "Acolyte Zuukamano."
He appraised each youth, attending to them with satisfied nods of approval before returning his attentions forward.
Caedes remained unmoving, his gaze coming to rest on Grand Admiral Marlon Sularen
and carrying with it all the quiet condescension of one observing an insect flailing against the boot. And how very like a Grand Admiral, he thought to himself, amused, reacting to statecraft with a full frontal assault. Did he not see the gift he unwittingly offered the Diarchy in his descent? With every accusation, every attempted rhetorical flourish, the Diarchs were handed a golden opportunity—to meet his challenge head-on, to dismantle his arguments or else prove them impotent, to sway the undecided and address their fears, and to emerge stronger for it.
I listen to the thankfully short speeches given by the two. It was the first time that I had heard Diarch Rellik
's voice and seen him in person. It would be interesting to have a conversation with him at some point in the future. But not today, it seems. More posturing is made as Marlon Sularen
presses his argument. What he says in response to Diarch Reign
's speech and that of his brother is the same old arguments that have been expressed in the Galaxy for centuries. More often than not it had been Force Wizards in the heart of it on both sides and given that most of the Galaxy is filled with them; it does not surprise me that those arguments continue their deadly cycle.
I am glad that New Cov is not a part of it. I am glad that I am not a Force Wizard either. There is much to deal with outside of their wars. Someone had to keep some economies going, after all. There was more to the Galaxy than war.
Listening to Mister Dashiell, I nod my head in agreement. Inclining my head towards him slightly, I speak quietly; "I feel the same way in regards to it's probable length. However there is to be a meeting upstairs in a separate conference room. Given the trade embargo, we probably should not be around high members of the Dark Empire. Shall we take our drinks up there and wait? If this posturing goes for too long, then there is a good chance that the meeting will be postponed and we can return to our respective home worlds."
To be expected the crowds of cheering citizens and the stoic response of allies were interrupted by dissent. Rellik had been pondering the reactions of the Galaxy at large for some time. The Warlord of the Dark Empire was to be the first. The first man to rise against their dreams. So in response Reign in his typical stature of strength showed his resolve.
Rellik watched the two square off. Admiring that a mere man would rise up to stand in his conviction. His intentions seemed storied in nature. Responding to the fact that many have come and gone within their shared history. One thing in particular stood out to the Diarch among his speech.
that only they can end the cycle of violence, that only they can fix the problems of the galaxy, that they can bring great prosperity to those who follow them and that every one who does not comply or see things their way is merely an obstacle that must be removed, an enemy that must be dismantled.
Rellik knew this situation would come around but hoped it would be heard upon willing ears. As the two men squared off he would put the back of his hand on each of their chests and gently push them apart. "We do not assume we can do it ourselves or only under our guidance. We do not expect you to know all of our ways immediately but we are open to giving you understanding, before giving you the blade." He would share a small glance with his brother before continuing.
"As I stated before, this would not be possible without YOUR strength. I can see it within you. I admire it, and welcome it. You stand with conviction and the means to defend those beliefs. I ask you what do you want. To have Lords that will always be above you. Always have more power than you no matter how many men salute you upon the battlefield. Here force users and those who are not are treated not upon their individual power but in their dream to find stability for all. What is a warlord to the Emperor.
Within the Diarchy, we are the explosion that created this vision with a bang but if better leaders were to appear and share our vision we would defer to them. We have divisions, checks and balances among us. All members of the High-council to the lowest citizen can be heard here, they can have their problems addressed as if it were the mightiest sword against us. Here, you are my equal. We are but the figure heads for the combined effort of us all. Our Army, Navy, Brotherhood, Intelligence, Chancellorate and hopefully one day - the rest of the galaxy together.
Rellik would lower his hands off of the two men and look at them both sincerely. Placing his hands behind his back in a display of comfort and peace.
The Diarch believed that Sularen was a warrior, a fine one at that and hoped to play to his nature. "We are men of war as well, we know that order and chaos are not perfect. Freedom gives way to corruption and total control leads to rebellion. We only seek to balance the scale. Why wait for another species such as the Yuuzhan to invade? How long until you are an old man and your value is depleted. Why not lead the greatest armada the galaxy has ever known?"
Rellik would begin to walk away to speak to other guests. "Enjoy the bar and company my friend. For if you choose to meet us upon the field of battle, I will honor you as an equal and not hold back."
The Diarch would disappear into the crowd to converse with others and celebrate with his citizens and other politicians/legends who might wish to question him about their beliefs.
The shambling guard continued on for some time, marching forward with a steadfast determination bordering on pathological obsession. Glazed over eyes barely took in anything other than what was directly in front of them, the color draining from their face with every step as their bodily functions continued to fail one after the other. Ahead, a door, one that opened at their approach and closed behind them.
Within was one of the Crucible's many surveillance stations, used to monitor the various security systems spread throughout the academy complex. A wall of holoscreens dominated the far end of the room, with a station set up before them where the security officers could keep an eye on everything that transpired in the Crucible. With so many guests being allowed inside the Crucible, security was of the highest priority with the entire facility patrolled and monitored by guardsmen.
Comparatively, it would not take many to monitor the security feeds, and more manpower was needed on the actual floor itself. One security officer and a junior cadet were currently on duty at this station, their attentions so firmly affixed on the feeds that they were slow to register their station being breached. It was the cadet who first became aware of their third wheel, rising from her seat and turning to face the guard as he marched forward, one step at a time.
"You're supposed to be on duty, we don't need any help here." When the guard didn't answer, the cadet's brow furrowed in confusion. The senior officer had now turned as well, suspicion knit across his aged features. "Hold it right there, son, I'm going to need some identification." But the guard kept moving, hand unsteadily pulling the service dagger from its sheath at his hip. The senior officer started to reach for his blaster, but in the blink of an eye the shambling guard moved too quick for the older man's senses to register.
All that came next was a sharp pain stretching out from his throat, his next words a wet mess of syllables. He fell back onto the console, blood now flowing like a waterfall down the front of his uniform. Hands fumbled for his blaster, his fingers weren't working properly. The cadet didn't even have time to scream before the guard pressed himself upon her, blade rising and falling in even, methodical motions. Animated by some dark frenzy, the guard never once stopped in his butchery. He stabbed so wildly that his blade glanced off of his victim and bit deep into the flesh of his leg, his own blood mingling with that of hers.
A blaster shot rang through the air, a smoldering crater widening in the shambling guard's back straight through to the other side. Another shot, but the guard kept butchering. The cadet wasn't even recognizable anymore, she wasn't even a person.
She was just meat.
Finally registering the blaster shots, the guard turned caked in gore. Blade glistening red, he fell upon the senior officer with the same meticulous savagery. When he'd finished his grisly work, he dropped the blade onto the floor and fell over the console. Writhing within him, the centipedal creature wormed its way free of his flesh. It dug into the metal and wiring of the console, biomechanical appendages latching onto important components and organically interfacing with the inorganic circuitry.
Darth Imperius apparent attention was on the flocks of spectators, dignitaries and servants that filled the place with their presences, celebrating the rise of a new nation as if it was not the preset to war and destruction. Decadence and denial were common among the self-righteous and naïve, especially when they entered the stage for the first time.
The Wrath responded diplomatically. It was indeed very reasonable for a Dark Councillor to pursue diplomacy, even if here it meant to provide a counterweight to the presence of a Tsis'kaar one. The Sith Empire, even if showing unity outwardly, was far from a united and cohesive force.
"Indeed. My history on this world dates back a long time and it's new owners have a certain base interest of mine. Even if politics outside the Empire are temporary at best."
He finished while he saw the Diarchs, the dual rulers of this new realm, ascend the stage and prepare to give their grand speeches.
He listened. Listened until they finished.
If it would be in his nature, he would laugh out loud. It was precisely as he expected it to be and deluded by a naïve noble cause that was nothing but a declaration of war to those in the room, sooner or later. Alliances might be forged, but the ancient Zakuulan knew that nothing was eternal. Especially not when one wanted to bring peace, stability and prosperity to the Galaxy to go on adventures. It was ridiculous to listen to. The casualness of how the war which was coming was given a waiver, was almost funny.
Then Marlon Sularen
spoke up. Their meeting on Zakuul was a while ago now and he had fought him as part of the Maw, but he held his determination and capability in some regard, even he sold to the wrong bidder. And what he stated, so bluntly, was right. But it was hardly reasonable to do it here and now. On the other hand, what good would diplomacy do you if you were de facto at war already?
"I believe the Galactic North has its long desired peace turned to war. Stability and order will have to wait until the realities of the Galaxy have been settled. The realities of nature."
"The Dark Empire is a beast led by false idols, the Diarchy appears to be a child with an army and fleet. Let them devour each other. Both will be pitched in a two front war while our Legions can march straight into the Core."
"We simply need to seize the opportunity and get rid of any disturbing factions and factors within our ranks."
His words did not lose any of its deliberate tone and pace to the Wolf, but they were only hushes of whispers to anyone in their direct vicinity who could hope to listen in. The pale visage was unmoved, his black eyes stared at the stage while his mouth moved but no real sound which came there, matched what those who looked, would see.
Walking side by side with Councilor Shan, he had appreciated the man's presence and his enthusiasm towards the Diarchy's agenda. In the eyes of Diarch Reign who was obviously a commander of charisma, he was relying on Shan and Damos to facilitate the less flattering aspects of galactic politics. Parties and grandeur were only half the game when it came to participating in galactic affairs. Scheming and collusion were also important skills to learn, especially when you were a little fish in the sea in what many would call the galaxy. Above all though, hospitality was of the utmost importance, especially when discussing something as stressful and daunting as politics. Damos figured it would be best to tend to those at the ceremony who were planning on showing up as a display of goodwill.
"The role of host is something I haven't played for some time, Councilor." He said in response to his colleague. "Honestly it's a good change in routine. I've been looking at requisition orders and manifests these past few months I almost forgot what social interaction looked like."
A bad joke, mostly said to vent his frustration for being uninvolved with other members of the council. Although he was aware that the Diarchs appreciated his efforts, he needed to get out of the office for his own sanity.
"I admit... The thought of hosting a conference with some of the galaxy's as you say, suspicious figures is something I think you and I are familiar with in one way or another. Such is the life of an imperial." He sighed.
"With that in mind, I believe it appropriate that I head to the procession and welcome our guests, help yourself to some refreshments councilor. Hopefully after all this long night we can have a more informal gathering." Damos smiled and patted the councilor on the back before walking out the conference center to the ceremony. A VIP elevator was reversed for guests and high-ranking personnel as an accommodation. It was protected by droid guards to prevent anyone without authorization from accessing the more private areas. The elevator ride was quite journey and to make the journey less bland, riders could get a view of the city as they were on the elevator. The ride would end as the view of the city was replaced by a black wall, slowing down until the elevator came to a stop.
The door opened and Damos was bombarded with conversation. He walked onto the floor and asked a servant droid if he could be directed to the table of Liin Terallo
and Judah Dashiell
. Navigating through the crowded floor was a bit of a chore, especially when the organics moved faster than the servant droids. But in due time, Damos had presented himself to his esteemed guests.
"Director Terrallo, Mister Dashiell. I am Councillor Damos Vakaro. I hope the celebrations have been to your liking."
The Diarch Reign's speech spoke of security through authority, and Ova knew that this was a reference to him and his potential. It was Ova's job to live up to that potential; to bring wealth and resources back to Dantooine, and then to all other planets touched by generational war. Ova enthusiastically clapped in response to the Diarch Reign's speech. Ova resolved, at that very moment, that the Jedi's lies would be revealed, and the Sith's anger would be quelled.
He would go home with a brand new understanding: that the Jedi, too, had caused unbelievable pain and hardship. Ova remembered his childhood tours through the Jedi Enclave Museum. The Jedi had told him through holocrons that the Sith "felt angry", and that this was the path that "led to the dark side". The Jedi propaganda effectively established the Sith as an evil and conquering force on Dantooine. It was a shallow belief indeed.
But this was not what Ova saw here today.
What Ova saw around him was not anger, but pain and disappointment. Ova realized all at once that the Jedi had lied to him. The Jedi, Ova thought, told the Sith that they had no right to feel angry, no right to feel pain or grief. From Ova's perspective of loyalty and respect and truthfulness, this was an unimaginable crime. This revelation – that the Jedi both provoked the Sith to anger, and then also expected them to expel their anger - instantaneously shattered the positive image of the Jedi that had been carefully cultivated inside of Ova. Ova experienced many interactions with Galactic Alliance types, but they weren't intergalactic do-gooders and philanthropists, as they portrayed. Their hands were filthy, bleeding with the hands of the Sith and Mandalorian worlds that they, too, had conquered.
Then, Diarch Rellik spoke. He, too, was right. The Jedi dogma hadn't solved Dantooine's problems by ignoring them, and the Sith dogma merely made the Dantari people more efficient at creating more war. Ova's wealth would not protect him from the Jedi for long. The Diarchy was the only authority that would protect Dantooine – not the Trade Federation, not the Sith Empire, and certainly not the Jedi.
Ova's new goal was to crush the people who had enabled the pirates on Dantooine in the first place: the ones who allowed Cord Starfall, Kaljak the Pirate, and his worst enemies to survive.
The Jedi.
Ova exerted so much pressure on his wine glass that he nearly shattered it. As he did so, he released whispers of the force. Force users would easily recognize this as the awakening anger of a possible Sith. Trayze, the Sith Acolyte seated at the same table as Ova, would certainly feel his anger.
Grenz, ever perceptual, turned to Ova and asked him, "Are you okay?" Grenz didn't notice the force energy, but rather, that Ova was gripping his glass with so much pressure that he nearly broke it.
"I'm fine", Ova said quietly in a low and steady voice, putting down wine glass. "It was a moving speech. It made me realize—I have a lot of work to do, to be a good Governor." Again, his anger tingled through the force like an echo, allowing force users to hear it… "What did you think of it?", he said to nobody in particular.
Then, a strange man empire emerged from behind the Diarch to give his own speech. Ova instantly recognized the man from the Holonews as one of the most wanted men in the entire Diarchy: an Admiral for a dangerous and Dark Empire. The man was well-known on Dantooine as someone that had destroyed multiple worlds and thought nothing of it.
He waited for a response to the question to buy time. Ova watched the other Acolyte that he had met, Gavin Kel, take off, and Ova knew that he had to go too.
Ova rose. He rose before he said anything. He shook his head. Then, realizing that what he did wasn't socially appropriate. Ova looked at Trayze, Grenz, and the others at the table, thinking on his feet.
"To the Diarchs!" He said, raising his glass.
Ova took a sip, waited for the others to toast, and then took a small sip from the glass. He patted Trayze gently on the shoulder, offering him a business card. As Ova touched Trayze Tesar
, he unintentionally sent even more delicious dark force energy into the atmosphere, which the Acolyte would surely detect. This time, it was anger and fear. Ova headed straight for the stage without another word. Grenz followed him.
[...]
Ova made his way to the stage to speak with Rellik and Reign. He waited patiently to shake the mens' hands and thank them for the festivities. The whole time, he could feel himself shaking. He was going to show this Admiral, this genocider, what he thought of him.
First, Ova spoke with Diarch Reign
. "Diarch Reign. I wanted to tell you that the speech was a pleasure." What followed was small talk, really – how is business, how is Bastion. Ova shook a few hands and handed out a few business cards. It was quite banal. Ova did not want to take up too much of Reign's time. He did a lot of listening and observing. He tried to calm himself, but the rage beginning to build up inside of Ova. The Admiral was right over there, just begging for it. Ova hoped that nobody detected his feelings, but he knew that they would.
[...]
Then, Ova spoke with Diarch Rellik
after any conversation he may have had with Diarch Reign. "Diarch Rellik, a pleasure as well. You've given me much to think about."
He leaned in, speaking quietly to Rellik so that the others would not hear. The others would not hear much unless they read lips. "Could you join me privately when you get a moment, Diarch Rellik? It's about what happened on Dantooine…the little faux-pas in the crystal mines…"
Ova then turned to the Admiral Marlon Sularen
, who had given such a derisive, divisive speech in comparison to the uniting speech that Ova perceived from the Diarchs. Ova despised the Dark Empire and everything about them. He saw them as a parasitic force in the galaxy that was intent on stripping Dantooine of everything, and spitting it out, just as the Sith did ages ago. He nodded to the man, getting his attention. He glared at him, exhaling heavily. Ova stood in front of the man, sizing him up. They had a good, long stare-down. Ova's blue eyes penetrated the man's brown eyes.
He knew this degenerate Admiral Marlon Sularen
would introduce himself first. He knew the Admiral would probably have something to quip about Ova, too. Ova would introduce himself, too. "Ova Ziss. Governor of Dantooine". He said nothing else to Marlon Sularen
. He remembered very well the LAST time the Sith had visited Dantooine as he stared into the eyes of this man. Ova wasn't going to talk any sense into this man, but he was going to send a strong message on behalf of his people.
"And you. Well, I have only one thing to say about your little speech." He had an intense impulse, a force impulse even, to punch the man - but thought better of it, as he was surrounded by bodyguards and Sith. Plus, Grenz would probably beat him worse than Marlen could. Ova decided that he wasn't going to ruin this party. But he was going to ruin Admiral Sularen's day.
Ova spat directly at Marlon Sularen's feet.
HAWK PIT-TUH.
He looked up into the man's eyes, savoring the provocation, an expression of pure unadulterated rage from this forty-something-year-old mineral baron. The spit was on the ground just short of Marlon Sularen's boots. Ova savored the reactions of the people around him, many of whom would likely gasp at the level of disrespect that had just been shown. It was the least Ova Ziss could do to the man, the "Admiral" Marlon Sularen, who had destroyed and then forcibly "resettled" so many planets, taking great pride and glee in the grief and chaos that he caused. A little bit of spit, Ova reasoned, wouldn't move this sack of human garbage two centimeters towards empathy. And Ova would gladly take a punch, a push, or a cross word on behalf of Dantooine if it meant showing Marlon Sularen exactly what he thought of him.
Kark this quasar.
"Good day to you all."
Unless someone tried to stop him halfway there, Ova headed for the backroom area, presented his VIP invitation to the guards, and entered without so much as another word, being sure to refill his wine glass before heading inside. Ova would hear the voice of Shan inside. However, as he filed in, he realized that the Admiral may have been following the assembly inside.
They weren't…negotiating with this man…?!
…were they?!
Perhaps there was something in the galaxy that was worse than the Jedi or Sith. Political brainworms.
While she found the situation to become rather heated after the speech made by Diarch Reign
, it surprised the young assistant to the N&Z chairman that the reaction came mainly out of the Sith's corner with notably the Dread wolf Gerwald Lechner
as a representative and ofcourse the Dark Empire, which had been represented by Marlon Sularen
. Though she didn't know why Darth Caedes
was also part of this declaration, finding it somewhat odd, but considering the rumors on how the sith operated, some internal opposition would be expected.
Still, since her boss hadn't arrived yet, Amalia simply got herself a drink from one of the bussboys' trays and scooted over towards Liin Terallo
and Judah Dashiell
, clearly finding more comfort with the faces of people who she either knew or knew from the work she did as the Chairman's personal secretary.
"I really don't like it when tensions get so... tense..." Taking a sip from the glass of wine she had gotten, Amalia looked over towards one of her boss' closest colleagues and the chairman of a company that according to the latest reports was getting quite close to the N&Z in terms of cooperation. "First big event I've been to... got to say... is it always this...stuffy?"
With the arrival of one of the Diarchy's more...approachable figures in the form of Damos Vakaro
, Amalia let out a sigh and turned towards the man with a gentle smile. "I'll be observing these talks as part of my function as Secretary to the Financial Advisor, sir Damos, would this be fine?"
TERTIUS
Looking over the preceedings, the Marquis of Valkan could only slightly panic what his assistant had been looking at, clearly she had yet to understand how to end a communication. While Tertius had ment to go straight to the conference room in order to meet with Shan Pellian
to make sure proper discussions would be made in regards to the budget and permissions for industrial expansion, not to mention the political and diplomatic issues that arrived with the Diarchy's sudden rise to power.
Still, after hearing that speech and knowing who exactly was in that ceremonial hall, made the chairman of the N&Z shiver in his boots. It took him a few counts to reach the doors to the backstage of the ceremonial hall, showing his credentials to the guards present in order to move somewhat unseen towards stage and nudge both Diarch Reign
and Diarch Rellik
with a stretched out hand, hoping to momentarily take their mind off of the current hostile atmosphere created by a few loudmouth individuals in the crowd. Towards Darth Caedes
though, the Marquis made a more courteous nod, knowing that unlike the Diarchs, the Chairman of the N&Z did not have a proper relationship with that man in particular just yet.
Turning towards the guests gathered within the grand hall though, the Marquis simply bowed with immaculate and noble grace, before clearing his throat and turning back towards the two Diarchs. "Diarch Rellik, Diarch Reign... must I inform you that to succeed in your endeavor it is best to avoid straight confrontations for now. Marlon Sularen
is a well-known instigator, do not allow him to get under your skin... it would not be a good sight to the others if you were to be too easily riled up. As for the Sith Delegation, I think His Majesty; King of Korriban is probably also aware that the speech may have been a bit...confrontational, but not necessary too much as of yet.
Letting out a sigh, the Marquis rubbed his fingers against the side of his head, clearly trying to find a solution for the tense atmosphere. "Give Shan Pellian
and Damos Vakaro
the order to invite Gerwald Lechner
and Marlon Sularen
to the conference room as well... I'll see what I can do."
The crowd ebbed and flowed with the intensity of the evening's debates and displays of grandeur. Ivalyn stood with Merryn by her side, a quiet but deliberate presence among the sea of power players and ideologues. The Diarchs had finished their speeches—words that rang with conviction but felt to Ivalyn like overly polished rhetoric, designed to draw applause and little else. She half-listened as Reign and Rellik sparred verbally with Grand Admiral Sularen, each volley of words a clash of ego and ideology that neither seemed willing to concede.
Her eyes roved across the gathering, scanning for familiar faces—or at least faces she could tolerate. Which were becoming far and few between the more she scanned. Half-listening to the theatrics going on around her, the faint noise on comms gave her room to pause, "I epichírisi̱ vrísketai se eksélixi, Concordia. Óles oi pliroforíes tha apothikeftoún gia ta mátia tou Majóra." Came the response, as she moved through the room with Merryn.
"Exairetiká, enimeróste me ótan i epichírisi̱ oloklirotheí."
Instead, her gaze landed on Judah Dashiell, who was engaged in conversation with a group she didn't immediately recognize. It was an opportunity she could not pass up. Dashiell's innovative approach to energy development had impressed her during their recent discussions in the Commonwealth, and she valued his perspective. Turning to Merryn, Ivalyn let her hand lightly brush against her partner's arm.
"Shall we visit with Mr. Dashiell?" she asked, her voice low, though the words carried the weight of a decision already made.
Merryn smiled, a subtle expression that only deepened her quiet confidence. "Lead the way," she replied, falling into step beside Ivalyn as they moved through the throng of dignitaries, corporate magnates, and self-proclaimed galactic saviors.
As they walked, Ivalyn's thoughts returned briefly to the conversation she'd overheard. The Diarchs spoke of unity and balance, yet their vision of the galaxy felt dangerously absolute. It was not unlike the First Order's rhetoric in its prime, though cloaked in different colors and words. Still, she noted the room's reaction—a mixture of admiration, skepticism, and thinly veiled disdain. The galaxy, it seemed, was ever wary of promises that felt too grand to be genuine.
Approaching Dashiell, Ivalyn composed her expression into one of cordial warmth, masking her lingering frustration with the night's theatrics. "Mr. Dashiell," she greeted, her voice cutting cleanly through the ambient noise, "I see you've managed to find the most interesting corner of the room."
Her tone carried a hint of dry humor as she gestured subtly toward the group he was conversing with. "I hope I'm not interrupting, but I thought I'd take advantage of a moment to discuss something of substance amid all the posturing." Her gaze flickered briefly toward the Diarchs and their theatrical display, the faintest hint of an arched brow betraying her opinion. "Grand Vizier Ivalyn Yvarro of the Dosuunian Commonwealth," she introduced herself to the group casually, "and this is my partner, Merryn Sellek
Chief of Operations for Aurora Industries."
Merryn stepped forward slightly, her presence understated but supportive. Together, they presented a united front, one that spoke of measured authority rather than the bombastic declarations that had dominated the evening. Ivalyn waited, poised and attentive, ready to steer the conversation toward something productive.
OBJECTIVE 2 - BACKROOM POLITICS CURRENT MISSION - Low Profiles, Lower Chances to Die
Immediate Goals -
1: DO NOT BE SEEN BY THE BUTCHER
1.1: IF YOU DO, DON'T DIE
TARGETING ACTION(S) - Open Frequency Deep breaths, Trayze, deep breaths. There were frankly too many powerful Sith in one room - especially since said room was literal megaparsecs away from Sith territory. The air was electric, in the unseen ozone that only someone connected to the Force could appreciate - and every fiber of his being was telling him to run. Something was going to happen, something big, loud and bloody. Yet Darth Malum of House Marr
was there, and he wouldn't hear the end of it if he turned tail and ran.
So he stayed, against common sense, as the karking King of Korriban, Darth Caedes
, decided to enter in. Yep. This is fine. This is fine.
Just take some breaths, regroup with Malum, and don't attract attention to yourself, you'll only make things-
It was then that the tension that had silently wound itself since Trayze felt the Shadow enter finally begin to break. Ova Ziss
spat at the feet of Marlon Sularen
.
"...Fuck." Trayze exhaled to nobody in particular. Justifiably done, but Bogan above, conflict for Sith was like ringing the dinner bell for a bunch of acklays - and there were so many big, many limbed, and spiny acklays here!
"Respective homeworlds? Just sending me to bed without dinner Director."
Judah chuckled slightly, gently swirling the high ball glass, letting the ice and whisky circle around. He was more or less thinking if he wanted to join the VIP experience - personally leaning towards no. Despite his now two decades plus in business, posturing and dick measuring contests were never his style.
Just as he was about to respond, they were joined by Councilor Damos Vakaro
and a woman he had never seen before ( Tertius C. Nargath
). Clearly the Councilor was for the Diarchy, as he asked about the current party and dealings they were occuring around them.
"Amusing Councilor. I didn't expect entertainment at this event." He offered a smile to the woman who had joined them, nervous by her own admission. "Typically not this exciting, I normally just experience the arguing at the boardroom table. Not to worry, if things start to go south just stick close."
"Mr. Dashiell," she greeted, her voice cutting cleanly through the ambient noise, "I see you've managed to find the most interesting corner of the room."
"You know me, life of the party. A please to see you once again Grand Vizier Yvarro, Miss Selleck." Continuing on, he went around the small group that had formed, going through introductions. "Assembled today is Director Liin Terallo
of NCBC, Councilor Damos Vakaro
, and I didn't catch your name Miss....?"
"Grand Vizier Yvarro and Miss Selleck are from the Commonweath in the Sith Order." He looked to Ivalyn Yvarro
and Merryn Sellek"I've been trying to convince Director Terallo to set up shop in your borders."
Sending him to bed without dinner? What am I? His mother? I cannot help but chuckle a little and follow that up with another small sip of my wine. The moment to toast the speeches had passed, however they did not ask for it either. So my little faux pas would not be noticed by anyone other than myself.
A gentleman approached and greeted us as he introduced himself. I dip my head in greeting with a polite smile. "Thank you. I wouldn't of missed it. This is my first visit to Bastion, and I must say that it is a unique experience. I don't believe that I've ever been around so many Force Wizards before. They are certainly not common on New Cov." Yet certainly where plenty of Force Wizards are, there is bound to be trouble.
Our little trio grows as another one joins us. I recognize her as Tertius C. Nargath
's assistant. I bow my head to her in greeting. Mister Dashiell responds to her inquiry first, and once he is finished I add in my own commentary. "Yes the board rooms can be quite conflicting in their own right. Although there is less of an audience there. Here there is a large audience and so the theatrics of politics come into play. It is a game that only some have the stomach for. Much like only some people can stomach battle." I myself have never seen war or battle. Even during that one instance when New Cov was attacked, I was whisked away to safety while inside of NCBC's Headquarters.
Our little group soon becomes larger as two more ladies approach us. Mister Dashiell appears to know them for they greet each other as such. It is when she mentions the Commonwealth that the connection is made. I bow my head in greeting and give Mister Dashiell a glance as he brings up the subject of our discussion from moments before. And now he decides to put on the pressure a little bit by bringing the subject to one of their high ranking officials. So I decline such an idea in a polite manner. ""Lovely to meet you. And as I was telling Mister Dashiell, given New Cov's recent history, I am not entirely comfortable with expanding within the borders of a major power. Given the trade embargos that occur, I would hate to find myself needing to evacuate. Not to mention that most of the wars in the Galaxy happen within their borders. Therein lies even more risk. Biomolecules are one of the rarest resources in the Galaxy. I would hate to see a facility of them lost in such a way. However, that is not to say that I am against any business contracts. We are always open to those."
"Oh this is getting good!" Yuria exclaimed quietly.
"Yes Ms. Braay." SD09, her aide and security droid said in a monotonous tone.
"I thought coming out here I'd just be watching some hicks roll around in the mud and play politics but this? It is better than I imagined!" she continued, her eyes widened as the a back and forth between the Warlord and the Diarchs intensified.
"Yes Ms. Braay." the hulking matte black droid offered no change in tone or response.
"Come SD, I've decided I want to see if there is anyone else here this interesting." She said and strode forth into the crowd.
"Yes Ms. Braay." The droid stood completely still for a few seconds before it came to life, shadowing the Kuati from a few steps behind.
With hands clasped behind her back Yuria walked with carefree swagger, swaying side-to-side ever so slightly with each step. She craned her head, taking a moment to stare at each and every guest she walked past, uncaring whether they noticed or not. What people thought of her was irrelevant, she was only here on a fact finding mission.
As she meandered through the courtyard she eyed the small groups that were forming in the room. All dressed in uniforms and finery they had the makings of high society, Yuria guessed patricians, officers and diplomats from all over yonder. Here eyes jumped around between those in the groups before stopping on one man. Neatly dressed in an Admiral's uniform and following behind another officer in white Yuria believed she had found her first 'target.'
"That's him isn't it?"
"I believe so Ms. Braay." SD09 responded. Even with the droids despondent tone Yuria's eyes lit up with devilish intent at the confirmation.
She approached slowly at first with quiet footsteps. Once close enough she walked around from behind Shan Pellian
and into his view, her eyes scrutinized the features of his face and uniform. After a moment of silence she finally spoke.
"You must be Admiral Pellian, of the Pellian family." her arms remained clasped behind her back.
As she stood there the metallic footfalls of her droid could soon became audible as SD09 took up his position behind and to the right of Yuria.
"Presenting Ms. Yuria Braay, representative of Kuat Drive Yards." The droid said. Yuria looked especially pleased with herself as the droid introduced her.
“You are right, both of you.” he said to his financial advisor and brother. “The conflict at Entralla and Muunilinst is still fresh within my mind. All those lives lost, for nothing. I could not keep my mind about me when he spoke. Forgive me.”
Turning to Mr. Ziss, he smiled warmly at the man. He was touched he had come to Reign’s defense, but recognized too the folly of what they had both done.
“While I appreciate the assist Mr. Ziss, as governor, you will have to rise above the petty insults of others. Do not follow me foolishly in conflict, no matter how noble it seems.”
The Diarch shook his head slightly at his own appraisal of himself.
This was when he locked eyes with the King of Korriban. He smirked slightly, acknowledging that while it may not have been the best place for open debate, he was in his own house.
He had hoped the king would join him for these talks as well his apprentices in the wings.
A nod and a grin was Gerwald’s initial reply to the observation made by Imperius. His view was interesting. Let the Galactic North destroy each other. There was just one issue which Gerwald took with the idea.
The Vassal State was between all of it.
It was possible the King of Korriban stood on the stage out of self preservation, but the fact the Diarchy had just put the Sith Order on notice with their speeches was concerning. The speech would either unite those which had once called each other enemy, or it make them the laughingstock of the galaxy. Gerwald was uncertain yet. This was not a game he was used to playing. He only could speculate based on his experience. One thing Gerwald knew for certain was that telling the leaders of other nations to capitulate or be destroyed was not going to win the fledgling movement any friends.
They demanded friendship on their terms, and in the end, those terms were subservience to their ways and methods. The Wolf was not a fool, and would not be so easily blinded by the kind platitudes which attempted to hide the threat behind a veil of niceties.
“We should not be eliminating any among our Order, save those which threaten its existence. Our enemies exist beyond our borders, and that is enough. Perhaps the Diarchy also wishes to march to core. Perhaps they wish to see the Dark Empire dissolved. They could be the enemy of the Empire of the Lost. Where do you think their attention turns when all those enemies are gone?”
Gerwald looked to the stage once more where it seemed the commotion continued. He smirked.
“That man is lucky he did not spit at my feet,” the Dread Wolf observed. “This Diarchy is made of children indeed,” he agreed with Imperius.
The Dread Wolf looked toward the exit. He wondered if he had seen all he needed to in order to form an accurate assessment of this new power. What was happening now could simply be the actions of one individual. It would be beneficial for the Wolf to invite the Diarch to Jutrand. It was rather unfortunate that the events of the day were providing Gerwald with more questions than answers. For the moment he opted to stay and bend the ear of Darth Imperius a touch longer.
Darth Imperius did not forget about the Sith Worlds. But he deemed their fall unlikely, simply down to the fact that it was him and the Kainate that were involved in defending them. He did not know the King of Korriban personally, but seeing him on the stage together with the brother-speakers and leaders, was not making an excellent first impression. He simply despised weakness, acted or not.
Though he was surprised to hear the Wrath's, the Dread Wolf's, opinion on the cleansing of such among their own ranks. Weakness was simply present and it was the breeding ground for complacency, decadence and foolish ambitions by idiotic individuals. And the infighting that was on the brink of civil war as Echnos proved, was not acceptable. The Sith Empire could destroy its enemies. If it would stand united in passion, it stood united in conquest. The Dark Lord expected the Wolf to see that. Weakness was the root of it, upstarts and self-importance the cause.
"The Sith Worlds have a formidable military presence which I intend to, and already am, reinforcing with my own forces who are quite well acquainted with what the forces of 'order' have to offer. They are exposed, but they are also hardly worth the losses to our enemies."
"As for their future, it will end as all realms of order and stability end. In fracture and destruction. The Will of Defiance was broken, its purpose faded when the Maw was destroyed and neither realm, not this upstart, nor the Lost nor the pitiful remnants of the Empire stand with dignity and determination. When these here should be able to bring down the False Emperor, harass the Lost and maybe distract the Alliance - the Galaxy will be in our grasp."
"And if your Korriban royal can secure their commitment to neutrality towards a power that is far removed from their sphere of influence, it further reinforces our standing."
To Darth Imperius, it was not hubris, not optimism or any blinding patriotism. It was farsight, a fact to him. He had waged war far longer than anyone alive, fought in battles uncounted against enemies unnumbered. It was not mere experience, it was knowledge, it was an assessment based on a united and cohesive Sith Empire led by strength. It was what he would see to become reality.
"How would you protect the Sith Worlds, diplomatically or militarily?"
Ova kept up with Reign and the front of the delegation. "My Lord, I-I don't know what came over me just now." He met Diarch Reign's eyes. "It won't happen again." Reign would see fatigue in Ova's eyes, his cheeks and head covered with thick stress lines.
"Let's speak privately at another time, then", Ova said in a low and conclusive voice. "Please, I would like to meet with Admiral Pellian."
Ova Ziss bowed his head before Diarch Reign, showing deference to his words as he followed the assembly of VIPs into the strategy room. Ova trusted his ally and friend, and Ova resolved to tell Reign that he was struggling with dark-sided thoughts. However, this wasn't the time or place. The Sith Order delegates were staring daggers at Ova: his actions, combined with Diarch Reign's strong rebuttal (and Rellik's rebuttal, too), had shut off a route to potential diplomacy with the Dark Empire. The King of Korriban had joined the delegation, and so Ova held back to allow him and the other Sith Lords to address Reign at-length. One Sith Lord in particular stared at Ova with an icy expression - although whether the anger was directed at Ova or Sularen, he could not tell.
Ova realized that his moment of weakness was on display for all, however, he would perhaps get a chance to explain the reasons for his anger when it was his turn to speak at the diplomacy summit.
Something told Ova that he wouldn't need to explain his actions, and that they would speak for themselves. Res ipsum loquitur.
[...]
The diplomatic talks were roaring with activity. Ova perceived that it was, if possible, even busier and louder than the reception party.
The chance came quicker than expected, as Ova realized he was face-to-face with Admiral Shan Pellian
of the Diarchy. It was obvious who Shan was: he stood with discipline and purpose, exactly what Ova expected from a military man with Shan's responsibilities. Ova waited patiently behind a guest, a female-looking cyborg wearing a black overcoat and a re-breather [ Yuria Braay
] . When they made their introductions, Ova stepped in to offer Admiral Pellian a handshake next. "Nice to meet you, Admiral Pellian. I am Ova ZIss, Governor-Elect of Dantooine. You've helped us a lot on our planet. I just wanted to thank you for your help."
He offers a handshake to Yuria Braay
, too. "Ova Ziss. Pleasure to meet you Miss Braay."
Ova waited for an appropriate opening, and then he spoke to Yuria with more than just errant curiosity."Kuat Drive makes a mighty fine ship. How would you feel about getting some of that shipwork into Dantooine's neck of the woods?"
On the literal and figurative cloak-tails of her Master Darth Caedes
, A'Mia arrived to the event with little fanfare directed her way. She preferred that honestly, being shielded in some ways by the power and grandeur of those deemed greater than her. It left her ample room to be a keen observer, which she took full and scrupulous advantage of. The neti did not represent a great upwelling of the Force, nor did she have at her command the innumerable resources or tools as many others gathered that day. She was however cunning and her power often crept quiet, unseen and undetected by even the keenest of senses. So she followed her King up on stage, keeping her outward presence quite demure for a woman of such height and stature.
She too was adorned in silks like living shadow though her garb was not quite so fine as her Lord Master's. A'Mia's long, vine like hair was twisted up atop her head in a locs style up-do which left a few long strands free. Just as Caedes seemed to float, she too moved with ethereal grace and remained just behind him up on the stage. She made no such friendly gestures as her leader did, instead sweeping those large pupil-less eyes across the audience as if drinking in very detail about those gathered here this day. It was a veritable feast for her senses and the unusual woman stood with uncanny stillness. Without the need to respirate and with no musculature typical to near-humans, A'Mia stood like a statue. The only thing that moved were those wide hungry eyes as they drank in everything before them.
Then the speeches began. The Diarchy laid forth their intention.
And A'Mia watched as the Weave lit up, as it tangled and reverberated with possibility.
So many powerful people, so much opportunity contained under one roof.
The air was thick with purpose, with chance, perhaps even with what some might refer to as fate or destiny.
But the neti was a clinician, she was faithless and austere regarding anything which could not be measured, observed, or in some way explained by empirical data. So even as her vision was lit up by the incredible feedback of so many potent motes of existance gathered in one place, the woman was careful not to draw conclusions on visions alone. She would need to gather more data.
Energy built in the room as the Diarchy continued on, a smattering of applause and more than a few murmurs surely. All while a symphony swelled within the botanical woman and her orchid core began to hum with a resonance only she could feel. There was some disturbance, some call to action or perhaps a rebuttal, surely addressed succinctly by the brothers upon the stage.
A disturbance had drawn the woman's attention away however, a great and terrible darkness the likes of which she picked up as an antenna does a radio wave. She was suddenly acutely aware that even more was afoot this night than originclaly expected. A'Mia observed all with unsettling calm and eerie serenity. Even the dramatic shift in the Force did not cause her to lose the calm half smile upon her deceivingly lovely face. She would soon perhaps report all she'd gathered by way of astute observation, but for the time being she remained as her King's shadow and watched on.
"My apologies Sir Dashiell" The young-looking woman nodded as she heard the founder of the Corporate Interests Guild having trouble with her name. "My name is Amalia, personal assistant and secretary to the Marquis of Valkan in his capacity as Chairman of the board of Directors of the Nargath and Zanareth Umbrella Corporation."
Clearly being a bit taken aback, by what she had to witness, the young woman seemed to find her center a bit easier when she had gotten to the point of her visit to begin with. The only reason she had been at the grand stage and the plaza to begin with was the fact that her boss had mentioned not knowing whether or not he could be on time for the preceedings and the inevitable talks that would sprout from it all afterwards.
"I'm only here as a placeholder to my boss," Nodding with a gentle, somewhat neutral smile towards Liin Terallo
the assistant acknowledged her presence and perhaps also the somewhat strange situation in which the Director of N&Z Laboratories was more likely to act as a representative for the NCBC rather than the N&Z as a whole, a status and position Lady Terallo had been in furing the last few larger corporate meetings. "Though I am unsure as to which capacity he will be representing himself in. Given his status within the internal workings of the Diarchy as Chief Financial Advisor and financial backer of the Diarchy..."
TERTIUS
As it begun to look like the situation had at the very least been deescalated a bit, the Marquis of Valkan turned to the people present with a faint smile on his face, utilizing his datapad to strengthen the timbre and reach of his voice when addressing those present. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please enjoy yourselves, these are festivities after all. Do enjoy our Nabooan Berrywine and the Corellian Brandy that we have in store for you..."
Walking away from the stage, the Marquis managed to get behind Ova Ziss
, noticing how he had been reprimanded and praised at the same time by the Diarch Reign
and now he was having a conversation with both the admiral Shan Pellian
and someone he had no clue who they were, but as he came closer to this group of people, the N&Z chairman could hear the mentioning of the Kuat Drive Yards, which sounded rather strange considering he had so many hear making claims as to being the owners and exploiters of that place in the last few months, it was rather confusing.
"So Kuat Driveyards still exists..." The Marquis finally popped up after Mr. Ziss, giving the cyborg lady Yuria Braay
a typical neutral smile, raising his glass of wine to her and the Dantooinian capitalist. "Mr. Ziss... is Dantooine opening itself for some serious industrial expansion, because that could be arranged."
Malum raised a brow at her reply, in both words and act, he had not been sure how Quinn would respond to his challenge, this was not an unexpected one per se, but it could have all too easily ended with him facing a blustering mess, or otherwise, feeling pain at his cheek, his mask ripped off, and a pale if tanned face looking all the more like the colour imparted by his eyes.
Breath passed his lips, as her hands met his chest, perhaps he did not know the Princess of Eshan as well as he had thought, she was bold certainly, but... audacious, he had not expected.
...Not expected he would enjoy her touch there so readily.
"Alas, I was taught when I know what I want, to make my intentions clear, Your Grace," Malum spoke with a voice that was twinged in the smirk hidden by the mask, as he took in her scent, one which seemed so entirely her.
One which, he idly considered, he would not mind having even closer.
A trailing shiver bore down his spine, as her finger trailed along the rim of mask and jaw, as his vision saw only the beautiful face opposite, with emeralds dusted with andalusite staring into the rubies hidden behind his shield... he had certainly not expected this.
He had not expected how much he would enjoy it.
He leaned forward, as she gave him the lead, her words spoken in barest whisper, alighting a fire within him that ironically too could not be quenched, as boldness met bold, audaciousness met audacity, as arms coiled around thin waist, and gently, for meager moment, brought them together once more, as the mask born by the heir to the Lord of Duty, stared down upon the Princess, "Would you so deny me, what is so natural to us both, my dearest Q?" All this was unfamiliar, all this was unexplored territory.
Why not throw one more into the mix?
His arms slinked away from their hold, as the smile came easily upon his lips, there was usually only one place such arms races ended, and as their words left the realm of whispers, and the appropriate propriety returned, he considered her question for a moment, "Trayze of House Marr, though he does not go by the name, Trayze Tesar, he is a high ranking member of Jutrand's constabulary," He spoke with evident pride beaming through his lips.
...It had been too long since he had seen his cousin.
Her smirk found him, as he rolled his eyes, "As Her Grace commands," He teasingly echoed, as he followed suit, only to narrow his eyes, as she stiffened only moments into their flight, following her gaze.
He swallowed the protrusion by his throat.
He had only known the face by pictures, posters, and holovideos, Vesta Zambrano, once claimed Dark Lady of the Sith, ruler of the Maw...
...But it was not.
Because she was dead.
She had died on Exegol, last he had heard, the battle which he had been involved in, but back then... apprentice he had been, even if with cousinal bonds towards those of the heretics of the Maw, he was as much a potential enemy, as the very real enemy of the Alliance boring down upon them.
He had never met the woman that he had seen in Quinn's memories, he never would have the chance, for all that which he imagined that particular Lady Zambrano was.
...This one was not her.
Even if, annoyingly, the tightness he felt at his chest, was held by the precipice of feelings, that he certainly knew were not his. He took a step forward, making himself a makeshift shield, as he felt the vice grip of Quinn upon his arm, swallowing the emotions which fought to tip over, as the tenseness gripped the air with the current of lightning.
Only for her to disappear into the crowds.
Only for Quinn to provide his arm a squeeze, and words spoken with an emotion, that hid more than they revealed.
He turned his gaze back to her, breath hitching, as he saw tears, unshed only by the force of will of the woman before him. His gloved hands found hers, holding them with as much gentleness as he could afford, as he gazed down upon her, "...Are you okay?" He whispered gently, as one hand trailed upwards, the air the border between her face and the glove, as with caution, he wiped the tears from a face too beautiful to be marred by them.
As the speech began behind them.
And he at this moment, could not care less for it.
Even as the voice of the Wolf trailed over his mind, he knew he would need to watch a recording of it at some point in preparation, noticing, the presence of a certain King of Korriban up on the stage with the speaking Diarchs, so it seemed they were as close as his Tsis'Kaar had suspected.
"I look forward to the day, perhaps it is finally time for Bastion to be returned to the Imperial fold."
Diarch Reign
Diarch Rellik
Darth Malum of House Marr
Gavin Vel
managed, a familiar-faced acolyte from Kor'ethyr who bowed as he spoke.
Naamino Zuukamano
similarly remained deferential.
Marlon Sularen
and carrying with it all the quiet condescension of one observing an insect flailing against the boot. And how very like a Grand Admiral, he thought to himself, amused, reacting to statecraft with a full frontal assault. Did he not see the gift he unwittingly offered the Diarchy in his descent? With every accusation, every attempted rhetorical flourish, the Diarchs were handed a golden opportunity—to meet his challenge head-on, to dismantle his arguments or else prove them impotent, to sway the undecided and address their fears, and to emerge stronger for it.
