Faction Sith Order | Money

[Drazen Lutris]

Thorogood Apartments, Penthouse 15
Terminus
902 ABY

Today was to be a day of communication, of diplomacy, of cold hard creds. Drazen's contemporaries in the Assembly had been posturing lately, scrambling for power. Some had moved on the SIBC, others on newly formed ministries like the woefully named 'Order', and more still made back room alliances benefitting them and their own heirs. Drazen loved it, personally, but one thing he had to make sure was that the future of the Sith Order benefited what was most important.​

​

Him.​

​

That was, of course, for him to accomplish. Everyone else simply needed to made to agree. And such, he called an impromptu diplomatic ensemble in one of his various Penthouses aboard Terminus. It was a 'Assembly Committee on the Establishment of Free Trade Ports" officially, unofficially it was a gathering of the most ruthless capitalistic cutthroats this side of the Corellian Run. Today they were to investigate, consider, and eventually decide on what worlds should be made 'Free Ports' for trade in the Sith Order, especially as the Blackwall was reinforced by its growing navy.​

​

As the various members trickled in, Drazen motioned for them to be guided in by his 'servants'. Genetically modified things, they were barely sentient, but damned were they good at taking orders. He smiled as the representatives found their seats, each finding a glass of wine poured for them soon after, meanwhile confectionaries and assorted snacks were given as needed.​

​

"Come, come. We deserve at least a little treat while we work to benefit trillions.", he said as he moved to drink from his own wine.​

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Dress
Tag: Quinn Varanin Drazen Lutris | OPEN

Of all the fancy lords and ladies to step out of their landspeeders, Anathemous perhaps looked the most out of place.

Though the dress princess Varanin had bought her was fine indeed, it's tight confines and black silks did little to hide the warrior-sorceress' muscled and marble figure which strained her sleeves, nor the broadness of her shoulders beneath bladed pauldrons. She was a soldier more than a politician, though no less used to the carrion feeders she'd no doubt dine with this day.

So what was the witchblade doing here exactly?

She knew that war was a business, and that is exactly why she'd come to present a case for her planet, Echnos, a great tech hub which supplied Gerwald Lechner 's legion, the mighty Second.

Truth be told, she needed the boon this could provide her city. With her supposed "allies" having broken their pact and left the empire shortly before the formation of The Blackwall, she'd lost the business of a few middling lords. Alone it was no trouble, but with the wall having cut her off, Saryn Zambrano 's rule over Canto Bight, a combined effort on Anathemous' part, was her only source of income beyond the mainland empire's borders, and she needed the world to see that Echnos was still a valuable city to ally oneself to.

It was thankful then that The Empress' daughter, Quinn Varanin had joined her in this.

Not only because the echani carried a great deal of prestige with her, but because Anathemous always felt calmer in her secret love's presence.

"What do you know of Lord Lutris?" she whispered, pulling back her golden curls.

"...frak... I need to attend more of these meetings. So many nobles to keep track of."

"Come, come. We deserve at least a little treat while we work to benefit trillions."

Anathemous glanced at the Arkanian, then the wine, covertly poking a blackened nail into the red liquid.

Only when the witch's claw did not change color did she sample the drink.

"It's safe... be honest, am I being paranoid again?"

​

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Drazen Lutris Kaila Irons
​

As it had been her Revitalization Act that had even created the possibility of the free trade zones, carving out some exceptions to the Blackwall, it was only appropriate that Taeli herself attend this little committee meeting that Drazen was hosting on Terminus. Between her own corporate interests with Aurora Industries, and those of the corporations and organizations she enjoyed close relations with, she had a vision for what the free trade zones could be developed into. Her initial plan had called for four sectors within the Empire to be developed this way, all of them along the Corellian Run oddly enough, and she was likely to push for that plan to continue.

Her arrival would be quiet as she was led to the conference meeting, giving Kaila and Quinn each a respectful nod in greeting and a small smile to Drazen. She had assisted him in gaining his seat and today would hopefully see that patronage continued. She would ignore the wine on offer as expected of one who didn't partake of mind-altering substances, watching with amusement as Darth Anathemous seemed to test it for any harmful substances.

 

[Darth Morta]

​

Tags: Drazen Lutris Kaila Irons Taeli Raaf

Darth Morta had been very concerned about The Blackwall's development and trade restrictions from outside the Empire, her domain Krayiss II was outside of the main area of the order's influence and was more reliant on trade. Even worse was that Krayiss II was a developing economy on the galactic scale being cut off from what little trade it got from within the Stygian Caldera and leaking in through the Hypergate at Florum was nowhere near enough to keep the world afloat. The moment that word of this meeting had reached her ears she had departed her world and made the trip across the literal galaxy to be here.

Morta took her seat at the table and politely sipped the wine that was laid in front of her, using the force to detox herself from both the alcohol and any potential poisons, just drinking to enjoy the flavour. She ignored the food and deeply wished that she hadn't been so internally focused and let the kind of connections that playing the game of politics brought.

She planned to propose Krayiss II on the basis that the Caldera gave access to a variety of worlds, as well as a method of exporting the culture of the so-called Holy Worlds to the outside galaxy to prime them for eventual Sith rule.

 

[Kebos]

Kebos sparked a lighter and held it up to his cigarra hanging from his lips. He rode in the back of a luxury airspeeder alongside his best men and a driver he recently hired. Young kid. Was looking to make a name for himself under the up and coming crime lord Kebos. They pulled up to Thorogood Apartments, landing in the airspeeder lot. Kebos was not one for valet parking. Especially when he was already paying his driver. The doors to the airspeeder were automatic, opening at the press of a button by the driver. Kebos stepped out and was soon followed behind by his lieutenants.

"Stay here, kid. I'll call when it's time to go." Kebos stated. The driver gave him a nod before Kebos walked towards the apartments. It was a nice spot. Definitely a bit more high end than he was used to on his side of Terminus. The elevator ride up was silent. The music was either out or the building decided against it. Either way, Kebos liked the silence. It allowed him to get in the right mindset for what was to come as he continuously pulled from his cigarra. The elevator dinged as they reached the penthouse suites floor. The small entourage exited the elevator once the doors parted. Kebos looked down the hall to his left, then to the right. "This way." he said as he pointed to his right, cigarra burning between his fingers. As Kebos approached the door, it's sensors picked him up before opening before him.

The penthouse was just as he imagined. Very lavish and clad in luxury. What won't the Sith do in order to make a statement? Kebos felt right at home despite his less than luxurious background. Places like this were where he was meant to be. "Nice spot. Can't wait to have 10 of these across the galaxy." Kebos said. A servant approached Kebos, holding an empty glass before him. Kebos reached out for it and, before he could say anything, the glass was filled with a dark red wine. "Guess I'll take my seat then. Y'all can make your way to the lounge." Kebos said to his entourage. The two goons seperated from Kebos who walked towards the meeting area and took his seat. As he looked around, he realized Drazen was the only other male present. Not counting the servants. Then again, who could really tell what they were anyway? The table was mostly occupied by woman at the moment. Kebos let off a smirk. These were powerful people for sure and he was now sharing drink and words with them. He's come a long way and he knows it.

"How many more we expecting?" Kebos spoke out loud, facing Drazen as to direct the question towards him. He noticed a plate of fruit and grabbed a couple kingberries and started popping them into his mouth one bye one, thoroughly enjoying the sweet natural treats.

Drazen Lutris | Taeli Raaf | Darth Morta | Kaila Irons ​

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Thorogood Apartments, Terminus
Drazen Lutris | Taeli Raaf | Darth Morta | Kaila Irons | Kebos
Wearing
​

Another day, another political hoop to jump through. This time, which two systems of the Empire will be deemed worthy of an exception to the Blackwall? There were many possible candidates, many Sith who wanted their world designated a Trade Port. But there could only be two. So it was that they had all hurried to this luxurious penthouse on Terminus to plead their cases, to cash in their favours, and to make trades.

Madelyn filed in with the others, taking her seat and accepting the proffered wine, respectfully sipping from the flute and even sampling one of the confectioneries. It was an interesting choice of venue and catering for a meeting that would define the Sith's trade policy for the near future at least, but the Sith were eccentric as a rule, and perhaps Drazen was a man driven by the urge to be hospitable. Madelyn could oblige him that, especially if it put her in his good books as the Chair of this committee.

Madelyn's gaze flitted around the room, taking stock of those who had put their hand up for this council and throw their lot in. So far, they were all self-interested Sith. That was no surprise to her. They all had their little fiefdoms to tend and grow. An opportunity to enrich their world and cut off all others was hard to ignore. Usually, such a makeup of attendees would be something Madelyn considered an advantage.

In the old Empire, Imperial administrators were afforded a level of trust that was not granted to ambitious Sith. Madelyn could collect internal power and influence over the majority of the Empire's populace merely by being below the attention of the superior class. The whole time she had served and risen through the ranks of the Sith-Imperials, Madelyn had never been seen as a threat by her masters, so when it came time to decide who might run this or manage that, they had always seemed to settle on Madelyn. Dutiful, loyal Madelyn.

But that was an age ago now. Before the schism, before fracture and civil war. Were her ilk so easily trusted these days? Madelyn doubted it.

Madelyn glanced to the empty chair beside her. She had left Allyson to hang up their coats, leaning in to the whole 'Ministerial aide' persona while also taking the chance to rub in her superiority. She would be along soon though, monitoring the behaviour of the gathered Sith and passing it along to Madelyn. A keen observer with connections reaching far into the Sith, she was proving a useful person to have on her side.

"How many more we expecting?"

"Good question." said Madelyn, also turning her gaze to Drazen. "And how is this to be decided? We all make our nominations and what... Vote?"

 

[Serina Calis]

Money.
Location: Terminus
Objective: Ensure critical future investments, establish ability to influence domestic Sith affairs.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Drazen Lutris Taeli Raaf Darth Morta Kebos Madelyn Lowe Kaila Irons

Never has isolation brought so much opportunity.
​

The doors opened not with grandeur, but with the soundless ease of inevitability. No trumpets, no proclamations—just the subtle shift in air, as though the room itself exhaled to make space for her.

She walked like prophecy.

The flowing steps of her arrival did not compete for attention—they commanded it. Every inch of her form was a sculpted contradiction, a design of elegance and danger interwoven like the finest of assassin's lace. Her long cape whispered against the floor behind her, the faintly glowing magenta and violet lining catching the low light of the penthouse chamber like distant lightning flickering beneath stormclouds. The armored bodice hugged her form with mechanical precision, the newly stylized heart upon her chest pulsing faintly with dark energy—less a symbol of affection than a warning: beware what lies within.

From beneath the deep, angular hood, golden blonde hair spilled in waves down her shoulders, glimmering like sunfire turned to silk. The soft luminance clashed against the sharp, calculated geometry of her attire—beauty made weapon. Her gauntlets and sleeves, etched with ancient runes and living circuitry, moved with a quiet elegance as she placed one hand over the other at her waist.

She said nothing as she entered. She did not need to.

The new upstart, the Governor handed a throne made of space and potential, she was the black sheep, the dark horse.

The voice that could be...

Swayed.

Her presence was its own kind of speech: the echo of forgotten empires, the allure of forbidden knowledge, the weight of sins yet to be committed. It was the same presence that once made senators falter mid-sentence, that turned Jedi uncertain, that lured the ambitious and damned the cautious. The air around her carried the faintest shimmer, not of heat, but of promise. The kind of promise that unravels kingdoms from within.

As she reached the gathering, she allowed her eyes—piercing, cerulean, twin knives sheathed in velvet—to drift across the room. She observed everything: the posturing, the smugness, the masks worn with pride and desperation alike. Her gaze passed over Taeli's reserved elegance, Madelyn's steeled pragmatism, Morta's frustrated ambition, Kebos' barely restrained hunger for more. All of them powerful. All of them with worlds, fleets, positions, syndicates or corporations.

All of them terrified of losing what they had.

She had nothing. And that made her free.

No planet. No armada. No ministry. Just a name whispered behind doors. A shadow spoken of only by those who understood that the greatest power was not what could be pointed at or quantified—but what could not be traced at all. She was a Dark Jedi, unburdened by the rituals of Sith dogma or the bureaucracy of titles. A heretic by some standards. A vanguard by others.

She reached her seat with unhurried grace, and as she lowered herself into it—hands still folded, posture perfect—the room seemed to subtly reorient. Not toward her, no, that would have been obvious. Instead, as though the center of gravity had simply shifted, just enough that every gaze, every tension, every unspoken strategy now had to account for her.

She looked to Drazen last.

Her lips parted, and the faintest curl of a smirk appeared, conspiratorial and elegant, like a dagger slipped between ribs while whispering an apology. She did not thank him for the invitation. That would suggest she was a guest.

She was not a guest.

She was inevitable.

Her voice, when it came, was velvet and poison, a voice tuned to disarm and enrapture in equal measure. Controlled. Calculated. Low, but unmistakably clear.

"Such a fine gathering of empire-makers. I had wondered whether the future would be decided in a chamber of fire… but velvet and marble seem to do just as well."

She leaned back slightly, letting the light catch the subtle glow of her bodice, her arms relaxed and her expression unreadable save for that same, knowing smile.

"Please, Continue."

Let them posture. Let them play. Let them decide which of their worlds deserved a blessing from the Sith Order. Serina would not fight them for crumbs.

She would poison the loaf.

And by the end of this meeting, they wouldn't even remember handing her the knife.

OOC NOTE:
Serina at this point is officially the new Govender of Polis Massa, I know some of you might be a little confused as to why she is here, that is the reason she is here. I can't wait to dig into this thread, enjoy!

 

[Ivalyn Yvarro]

Ivalyn Yvarro stepped through the opulent halls of the Thorogood Apartments. Her expression a portrait of composed resolve, carefully measured yet quietly commanding. Her Belisarius Guard, elite soldiers from the Janissary, flanked her in discipline formation. They created a barrier between her any everyone else.

This impromptu assembly, while an opportunity to speak for the Commonwealth. Had, unironically, arrived at the most inopportune time with seven Commonwealth worlds cut off from the rest of the nation. Trapped behind the enigmatic Blackwall and leaving her nation in the grip of such uncertainty.

The thought alone gnawed at her deeply, but duty demanded her presence. Kelora Priestly, the High Basileous urged her here, insisted upon it. Kelora would man the trenches alone, leading the crisis from the Commonwealth's own Boğazları Sector capital Samovar. The city of Qashira had become the High Basileous' command hub for the crisis. Meanwhile, Ivalyn was here in this opulent apartment to negotiate for the worlds trapped behind the Blackwall.

The penthouse exuded an air of calcuated grandeur, an intentional display she was sure of it. It was an intentional display of wealth masquerading as restraint. Every polished surface and gilded trim spoke not merely of power, but of a man determined to make certain no one questioned that he held it. Drazen Lutris' reach was unmistakable. As Ivalyn crossed the threshold, her gaze swept the room, taking quiet inventory of those assembled — faces marked by curiosity, calculation, and in some cases, barely concealed arrogance.

Among them, only two faces were familiar. Taeli Raaf — her grandmother's wife and a trusted, if complicated, presence in the Sith Order. A tenuous connection perhaps, but one Ivalyn trusted enough to consider an ally, however fragile that trust may be. The second face belonged to Madelyn Lowe , a living legend of the First Order's past, now a tangible presence in the room. Her history alone made her an uncertain factor — yet in a room filled with strangers, two familiar faces were better than none. If nothing else, it was a foundation — however thin — to build upon.

Everyone else here was unfamiliar to her, strangers.

In truth, she would have far preferred to attend this meeting remotely, where she could remain at the heart of the Commonwealth's response efforts. Her ministers needed her, and time — her most precious commodity — was slipping away. Yet, she had endured enough in her station to know that some battles were waged not on war-torn fields, but in rooms like this — where influence, ambition, and ego played as much a role as strategy and steel.

Now all that remained was to ensure that the outcome of the day's negotiations laid in the Commonwealth's favor.

Serina Calis | Darth Morta | Kebos | Drazen Lutris | Kaila Irons | Quinn Varanin ​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Madelyn Lowe //: Taeli Raaf //:
//: Thorogood Apartments //:
//: Attire //:

When they arrived, Allyson suddenly found herself burdened with checking in their coats. The gesture was too seamless as if Madelyn had done it countless times before. Meanwhile, the Corellian stood there, momentarily dumbfounded, watching as the Minister waltzed into the main room without a second glance. Madelyn vanished into a sea of high-ranking officials and Sith power moguls.

Allyson could've sworn she caught a glint in Madelyn's emerald eye before disappearing. This was planned. Madelyn's quiet reminder to Allyson's station is under her.

With a breath through her nose, Allyson moved to the coat check, quickly handing off both jackets. The attendant took them and placed Madelyn's coat neatly over hers, which was an innocent gesture meant to save space. But it made Allyson's lip curl into a sharp smirk.

"Oh, could you switch that?" she asked, tilting her head. The attendant blinked, clearly confused about why something so minor warranted a request. "Uh… sure?"

"Thanks."

She watched as her worn leather jacket draped over Madelyn's high-end designer coat. The scent of aged whiskey and soft leather would cling to it now. Allyson almost laughed as a subtle reminder for the Minister, imagining the brief flicker of irritation that would cross the Minister's face when she caught that scent later and thought of her.

Allyson adjusted the uniform collar, letting it fall comfortably into place around her neck. She was thankful she could change from her uniform at the Kainite summit. The other one was stiff and too official for the scoundrel. This new one was Allyson's official uniform but without rank. There was no cover tonight; it was just Allyson Locke, an aide to the Minister of Order.

As she stepped into the main room, her cybernetic eye flicked across the gathering, sweeping each face with practiced efficiency. Each one had a dossier compiled by her for Madelyn. The data scrolled instantly across her field of vision, and within moments, a subtle vibration buzzed against the Minister's black comm device: sweep complete.

And just in case, she'd run a secondary security scan. Sith events were always precarious. Being here "just" as an aide didn't mean she could let her guard down.

With her duties momentarily settled, Allyson moved through the crowd, weaving effortlessly until she found her place beside Madelyn. The Minister was mid-conversation, so Allyson didn't interrupt. She sat beside her, her shoulders angled slightly and her posture unreadable.

A glance around the room. Familiar faces. One in particular caught the Corellian's attention, Taeli. Their eyes met, and Allyson blinked, pulse spiking ever so slightly. Of course, she was here. It should've been expected, but something about the moment made her feel exposed. Allyson gave the dark counselor a small wave before her gaze quickly moved away toward Madelyn while trying to not look as uncomfortable as she felt.

At least the Commonweath has arrived, Taeli should be distracted with Ivalyn Yvarro than with her.

Spoiler: Tags

Darth Morta Serina Calis Kebos Kaila Irons Quinn Varanin

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Kaila Irons //:
//: Thorogood Apartments //:
//: Attire //:

Political gatherings were not events the Echani typically attended. Nevertheless, she understood that if she aspired to wield greater influence within the Empire, she would have to immerse herself in its political and social arenas. Tonight, however, her role was evident. She was here as Kaila's support, a reassuring presence to help the Governor navigate the tensions of politics. Beyond emotional support, she would subtly guide the Vahla through the identities and backgrounds of the evening's notable attendees.

She stayed close to the Governor of Echnos, observing the woman with quiet admiration. In Quinn's eyes, Kaila was undoubtedly the evening's star and would do her best to support her tonight.

Her hands clasped gracefully behind her back while she listened to Kaila. Tonight, her dress was simple, as the cream lace of the sleeves seamlessly blended with her ivory skin. It gave the young Princess the delicate appearance of a vintage doll. The only vibrant accent was the striking red of her lips. It was an everyday look for the Echani, especially when she was trying to blend in with the crowd. She wanted their eyes on her Governor.

Quinn observed Kaila inspect the wine, an action familiar from past events and perhaps unnecessarily cautious poison that didn't seem like Drazen's preferred method. Still, Quinn wouldn't dismiss any possibility. Gently, she looped her arm through Kaila's, a subtle yet telling gesture that revealed Quinn's lacking desire to keep their relationship hidden. Her affections became more evident, even as she attempted to maintain composure.

Her gaze flickered toward the Arkanian as Kaila quietly inquired about her sentiments toward him. Quinn briefly recalled her mother's unpleasant encounters with her brother-in-law. It only reinforced her discomfort. Peering back at Kaila from the corner of her eye, she offered the faint, practiced smile she reserved for those she disliked.

"I'm indifferent to the man," Quinn whispered softly, carefully masking her disdain for Drazen. She doubted he held any particular regard or even recognition towards her. "He represents what happens when ambition goes unchecked." The Princess shrugged dismissively as she rolled her eyes.

"Still," Quinn continued, offering Kaila a supportive squeeze on her arm, "this event presents an opportunity for you. Drazen holds considerable influence within the Empire. As much as I dislike him, it's advantageous for you to win his favor."

Quinn released Kaila's arm and reached for the wine the Governor had approved, taking a measured sip as she observed the new arrivals. Her brows lifted slightly at the entrance of the Commonwealth delegation. "I'm surprised the Commonwealth decided to attend," she whispered before pausing. "Given the abrupt way their nation was divided by the Blackwall, perhaps it makes sense after all."

Her attention briefly shifted toward her Master, Taeli Raaf, and she acknowledged the woman with a subtle nod before turning back to Kaila. Quinn's face softened, offering reassurance: "You'll do wonderfully. Remember, you belong here just as much as anyone else in this room."

 

[Ukvax the Gilded]

Ukvax the Gilded and everybody else here.

The Blackwall.​

The Geonosians of what remained of Stalgasin Hive's off-world presence, had been pressured by the Blackwall. But he was not here to advocate for his own planet - such a move was political suicide. Such a move, at best, threatened his own rulership, threatened his people. And he could afford such matters. To this end, the Stalgasin Hive had not come here to endorse its own affairs. No, by securing political partnerships, by ensuring that its allies could formulate their growth, and that the alliances between the Stalgasin Hive, the Sith Order, and its vassal states, were maintained, Stalgasin Hive benefited from such endeavors. The clack of a cane could be heard softly thwapping against the ground. Thick-lidded eyes peered at the collection of Sith as he made his way into the room alongside his protocol droid; a translator model that served him faithfully from his youth. Obsidian-spackled armor of bronze, silver, and gold was accompanied with jewelry and his diadem.

But for now, as the aging Geonosian took his seat, he chattered in his alien tongue, motioning over the droid to stand next to him. Those who understood Geonosian likely understood it as...

[UNDERSTOOD GEONOSIAN]: "Come here, droid."

And with that, the Geonosian Archduke turned his gaze upon the many, regal atmosphere not disrupted by the hand reaching up to stroke his fleshy beard. A look of contemplation, surely. Then, thus began his commentary.

[GEONOSIAN]: "Ahuyek-soyek-ge-haeh-hah, mrrrrrrrit'wrrrrrik, vrrrrrrit-gaeyeh-geeeerrrr. Maeh-mae-krrrrrrrt! Soyuek-soyek-koyeuk."

The droid turned to tilt its head at the Archduke, whose bangle-bearing arm motioned it on; a confirmation of its words motioned in wordless silence.

The droid shifted to face them all, before speaking.

[BASIC]: "His Eminence, Archduke Ukvax of Stalgasin Hive, wishes to broach the subject of the Free Trade Zones, as well as the Blackwall. His Eminence believes that the Blackwall, while fine for border security and to ensure the enemies of the Sith Order and its allies do not easily breach through it, believes that the restriction of trade is... problematic. Not untenable - but rather it promotes a culture of stagnation, of security in its efforts. To this end, the Stalgasin Hive officially offers a three-fold proposal."

A pause, as the Geonosian Archduke chittered on.

[GEONOSIAN]: "Hueyuk-mrrrrrrrik'he-haeh-heh."

The droid nodded, and continued on.

[BASIC]: "First, he believes the most suitable free trade zones, as designated by strategic importance, would be that of Madelyn Lowe 's world, as well as that of Ivalyn Yvarro 's Commonwealth. Both are suitably established to produce industrial needs, and by placing greater emphasis on their importance, as well as... suitably-fitting attention to their affairs, this could enable greater cohesion within the greater whole. Likewise, the Geonosians of Stalgasin Hive, provided by His Eminence, believes half a billion per these worlds could be diverted from the industrial efforts of Stalgasin Hive onto these zones of influence. This will also allow the Sith Order and these states to further coordinate the production of industry. Of course, Geonosian Industries will work in concerted cohesion with these polities to ensure productivity is maintained."

A pause, and then a nod to indicate continuation.

[BASIC]: "Second, the Archduke, His Eminence, believes that by reinforcing the Blackwall with a flexible array of usable routes, non-looping, that trade could still be maintained, while avoiding a consistent route for enemy forces to take. Such security measures, understandably, need to go to the Sith Order for maintenance; it is a productive endeavor, however, to ensure that Sith space is maintaining not only operational security, but a flow of tribute to its ever-continuing prosperity."

A final nod from the Archduke.

A final continuation from the droid.

[BASIC]: "His Eminence, of his third point in this discussion, but just as essential, believes that the Blackwall lacks certain security measures - namely, if an enemy were to penetrate and force open a breach for sustained periods of time. Even the most rigid defensive lines fail - this is why, instead of resorting to mere reinforcement, that the idea of an elastic Blackwall containment line could be constructed by Stalgasin Hive. An endeavor, perhaps, but one that could be implemented by the usage of drone starships utilizing the Blackwall's own security measures. To move in where the breach is, once forces have been contained or have assumed their penetration into Sith space is unstoppable - and then to cut off their forces. Depriving both their logistics lines of communications, but also severing any attempt to reinforce them. And with the use of flexible, modular subfleets of Blackwall starships, this would effectively serve to plug any gaps within the breach until more permanent replacement can be given."

A pause, as the Archduke chattered.

[GEONOSIAN]: "Hueeeeeeek-mrrrrriw'he-haeh-heh."

The droid nodded, and then continued. The Archduke could be seen wincing briefly from the sheer amount of Dark Side presence within the room.

[BASIC]: "However, the Archduke believes that with the official support of these planets, in cohesion with increased attention from the Sith Order, and Geonosian engineers and labour, that such an endeavor is possible. Of course... fitting tribute will be needed, and to this end, Stalgasin Hive requests strategic fortress-foundries onto one world of the Commonwealth as well as Madelyn Lowe 's world, as to ensure that the Geonosians' labor pool is carried out easily. If any are opposed, or have suggestions as well as corrections, the Archduke is willing to hear such arguments in full as to ensure a complete and utter cohesive policy is adopted."

A nod, as the Geonosian Archduke awaited their plans and goals. He figured that setting the discussion now in this way, could lead to certain political benefits - not only for himself, but for those he wishes to cultivate as allies. A risky proposal - but when is entreating with the Sith and their allies not a risk?

He awaits their response with a firm patience.

 

[Drazen Lutris]

Drazen saw more than people knew. He saw Kaila Irons test his wine for poison, like he would debase himself so low. He'd much prefer setting a bomb under the table - and nobody had checked there yet, had they? He saw Taeli Raaf give him a knowing look, to which he returned. He had even seen Darth Morta cleanse herself, of all things, of the alcohol. For a man with one eye, Drazen had a remarkable prowess in seeing things.​

​

So when he saw Kebos , Madelyn Lowe , Serina Calis , Ivalyn Yvarro , Allyson Locke , Quinn Varanin , and Ukvax the Gilded , he quietly acknowledged that this was to be something all the more interesting than he expected. So many faces, all of them at the mercy of the bomb under the table. Assuming it was there. Nobody had checked yet.​

​

Eventually people broke into proposals and questsions, so Drazen let them speak before nodding with a frown.​

​

"Something like that. And yet to be determined - all depends on the interest in economic policy.", unsaid, but generally a historically dull affair.​

​

"And listen uh... Mr. Hive Guy...", Drazen said with a lazy look over to him.​

​

"One, the trade zones are about infrastructure not capacity. Two, the Blackwall is meant to limit trade as much as anything else - if it were up to Empyrean, we'd probably have no trade at all. Three, the Blackwall has a fleet.", he said, counting off the points on his fingers.​

​

"And four, there is very little chance the Empire relies on you or your bugs for all that without you ending up dead sooner than later. Nether be, I'll kill you myself if you try to dominate our industry with your own loyal bugs.", he said with a harsh laugh.​

​

"While that is up to uh... them," he motioned to Madelyn Lowe and Ivalyn Yvarro "- you're way off scope. I'm here to talk about what worlds trade with worlds outside of the Blackwall. We can trade within our borders all day, but the worlds we pick need to be tightly watched. I've already been told that the SIBC won't allow easy trade - so whatever world gets the gig, they're going to be overwhelmed with foreign security. For that reason alone, I don't think it should be Terminus.", he said lifting his hands as though to make himself clean of the situation.​

​

"But it could still be Terminus. We are the most advantageously positioned.", he continued with a grin.​

​

"That said - the worlds will be given certain privileges. They will be allowed contact with the outside world, trade will flow through them albeit with certain tariffs and customs. Information, however, will be very tightly monitored to prevent... lapses... in security. The world will also be monitored by a Blackwall fleet at all times to prevent overt smuggling. Need I say more?", he finished, looking around the table.​

​

"The point is, yes trade is good, and yes the world in question will become rich - but you're going to lose a lot of control in your own territory.", he said with a shrug.​

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Drazen Lutris Ivalyn Yvarro Madelyn Lowe Allyson Locke Kaila Irons Quinn Varanin Kebos Darth Morta Serina Calis
​

To say the gathering was turning into quite the... eclectic group of individuals would be an understatement. There were those she expected, governors and officials, but a few beings that had joined this meeting were not expected. The Dark Jedi that had been running around on the periphery of their activities, some unknown individual, and a Geonosian. The Dark Jedi, Serina if she remembered her name right from the reports from Woostri and the incident on that prison, was predictably projecting too much confidence in their arrival and trying to show herself in command as she took her seat. She had seen such displays before and it almost earned one of, according to her wife, the patented Raaf eyebrow raise or eyeroll. But not quite.

It would likely come in time.

A quiet thought, even as the Geonosian brought forward a first proposal, would slip into Quinn's mind. "Not entirely unchecked, but close. He owes Terminus to me."

Still as she listened further and further to what the Archduke was proposing, and she would glance over towards Ivalyn and Madelyn, the eyebrow began to rise as she processed what he was saying. She didn't particularly like the Blackwall policy, constraining as it was for growth across the spectrum, and such barriers never really stopped security threats from slipping in or out. Autarky and information stagnation were anathema to her, and she had chalked up Empyrean's desire to make the Blackwall in the first place as another example of apathy towards his subjects while he busied himself with the greater project.

Drazen would beat her to a rebuttal to a Geonosian, but it at least cracked the ice for the discussion to begin.

"While the proposal is... sweeping in scope, Lord Lutris is right that it would be up to Ivalyn, and the ruler of the Commonwealth High Basileus Priestly, to approve any sort of Geonosian activity within the Commonwealth and that,, as of present, the Blackwall is reinforced enough between the designated ships and the stormseeds creating it in the first place," she remarked.

"But thank you, Archduke, for starting the discussion before us. I would believe the logical place to begin is in the four development zones created as the first phase of the Revitalization Act. Typhojem, if you wouldn't mind." A map of Sith territory would appear, highlighting the Subterrel Sector, the Anoat Sector, the Kallea Sector, and the Grumani Sector. Oddly enough, two of those sectors would benefit Drazen or Ivalyn with Terminus in the Kallea and most of the worlds from the Commonwealth in the Anoat, although her crown project was further west with Najarka.

"We should create a western port of egress and an eastern port of egress as least," she would add.

 

[Serina Calis]

Money.
Location: Terminus
Objective: Ensure critical future investments, establish ability to influence domestic Sith affairs.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Drazen Lutris Taeli Raaf Darth Morta Kebos Madelyn Lowe Kaila Irons Ukvax the Gilded Ivalyn Yvarro Quinn Varanin Allyson Locke

Never has isolation brought so much opportunity.
​

Serina watched them.

One by one, the power players of this sordid little empire spilled into Drazen Lutris 's penthouse, cloaked in pride and veiled in calculation. The wine flowed. Voices gathered like a tide. And amid the polished opulence of the Thorogood Apartments, it became very clear that this would be no ordinary meeting. The tension wasn't spoken—it pulsed. Like a storm behind stained glass.

She sat back in her chair, posture sculpted and perfect, glowing bodice humming faintly beneath her cape, and let herself observe.

The Commonwealth woman— Ivalyn Yvarro . Young. Commanding presence. That much was clear. Her entrance was regal, as if she didn't need to prove herself because her uniform did it for her. Serina didn't recognize her by name, but she recognized the posture: duty worn like iron. A sovereign, or something close to it. And yet… the tension behind her eyes told another story. Something fractured, something urgent and pressed against time. A crack beneath the diamond. Serina would remember that.

Allyson Locke , by contrast, was a familiar itch. A constant temptation. A riddle made flesh. Serina had once considered her a prize to be claimed, like all others she saw potential in. Now? She wasn't so sure. The woman moved with practiced grace, subtle, sharp. There was a time Serina had taken pride in unraveling people like her. But now, watching Allyson slide into place beside Madelyn Lowe , something in her twisted. Not from jealousy—never that. But from the slow realization that Allyson… chose where she belonged. And that place seemed to be beside Madelyn now. The little gestures, the shared space, the way the Corellian subtly mirrored the Minister's posture. Allyson, Serina inferred, was vastly more clever and intelligent than Serina could possibly know.

And perhaps Serina had been too slow.

She gave Allyson the faintest smile when their eyes met—soft, haunting, and distant. Let her wonder what it meant.

Quinn Varanin , by contrast, earned no such complexity. Serina regarded her with neutrality—more an echo of memory than present engagement. Once, her presence would have made Serina ache. Now, it was simply a reminder of another path untaken. The softness in Quinn's gaze made Serina look away—not out of weakness, but out of disinterest. There was no room for nostalgia anymore. She had governance now. An appointment. A world.

She was no longer that girl. She was corruption incarnate.

And then, the Ukvax the Gilded . The ever-gleaming beetle, full of theater and posturing, adorned with baubles like a child playing war. Yet unlike the others, his presence comforted her. Because Serina knew Ukvax. Had spoken with him. She knew his need for relevance, the way his self-worth was measured in alliances and industrial quotas. He was not foolish. But he could be maneuvered. Bent, if not broken. A potential client, perhaps. A patron. Or just another pawn in prettier armor. She'd play the long game with him. She always did.

And so, the room buzzed with motion. With imperial bravado and the hollow declarations of order. Taeli Raaf now gestured at sectors. Maps were conjured. Economic policy laid like offerings on an altar. And Madelyn, ever the quiet kingmaker, plotted in silence, her Corellian aide breathing in lockstep beside her.

Serina waited. Let them all take the stage first. Let them fill the air with politics and power projection. She had no grand ministry. No world—at least in eyes-yet. No fleet, no retinue. Just the ghost of a reputation, the rumors of dark rituals, and the shape of her name whispered on lips too afraid to speak it louder.

But that was the thing about shadows.

Eventually, they consume the room.

And so she rose—not slowly, not with theatrics, but with precision. She placed one hand lightly on the surface of the table, her eyes tracing over the map Taeli had summoned. The glow of her armor reflected subtly in the polished surface beneath her fingertips. When she spoke, her voice was velvet and blade—no poetry, no obfuscation. Just truth, delivered like a dagger between the ribs.

"I will not waste your time."

Her eyes drifted to each face. Ivalyn. Madelyn and Allyson. Drazen. Taeli. Ukvax, and the lesser players in between. She wanted them to hear her. Not just listen. Hear her.

"I am here because I intend to join this Committee as more than a guest. My governorship over Polis Massa was confirmed this cycle. I now possess legitimate authority over a world within our borders, one with high-volume research infrastructure, deep-space listening stations, and the dark horse of the Hydian Way. No standing army. No insurgency. Just silence, stars, and signal."

She let that hang in the air, her tone unwavering.

"I do not expect Polis Massa to become a Free Port overnight. That would be inefficient. It is not yet designed for trade logistics—but it can be. And more importantly... it can be monitored. Isolated. Made clean."

She slowly sat back down, her tone lowering, threading with just a hint of amusement.

"Now, some of you may think me unqualified to speak on economic policy. And you would be correct. I do not pretend to understand the minutiae of tariffs or cargo tonnage. Reicher Vax had under his employ fourteen of the best economic advisors money and fear can acquire. They have spent the last three weeks compiling models, projections, and structural adjustments required to make Polis Massa a viable secondary Free Port within six months."

She tapped a datapad at her hip, the glowing screen displaying stacked bars of economic throughput, refinery capacity, and potential output. She did not shove it forward. Merely showed it.

"And unlike your planets, mine is empty."

She smiled—slow, suggestive, a serpent uncurling.

"No nobles to appease. No cultural institutions to protect. No resistance cells buried in my bedchambers. It's sterile, clinical. And entirely mine. Which makes it controllable. Isn't that what the Blackwall was always meant to preserve?"

Her eyes flicked to Drazen.

"I am not asking for privilege. I am offering opportunity. A world to test new systems. Information filters. Surveillance protocols. A proving ground for containment. If you want to risk trade corruption on Terminus or any other such 'established' world—go ahead. But if you want a world where nothing escapes without permission…"

She let the sentence trail off, then took a glass of wine she had not touched until now, and sipped.

"I have every intention of making Polis Massa indispensable to the Empire."

Her eyes finally returned to Madelyn and Allyson.

"And I will earn my place here. With blood, coin, or devotion. Whatever it takes."

She leaned back, her fingers tapping once against the datapad.

 

[Kaila Irons]

Wearing: Dress
Tag: Quinn Varanin Taeli Raaf Drazen Lutris Ukvax the Gilded Serina Calis
Other: Kebos Ivalyn Yvarro Madelyn Lowe Allyson Locke Darth Morta

She afforded herself a faint yet genuine smile.

If anything it was subdued, battled, as Kaila tried to hide her affections for the echani with whom she had served upon the battlefield and so much more. But she was losing that battle more and more each day, and as she leaned in to exchange whispers with the princess, she had to wonder what difference remained between victory and defeat.

It seemed the princess was of a similar mind, as the pair looped arms.

"...our cover is slipping... my lady..."

The corner of her lip rose a little more than intended as the pair exchanged sidelong glances. Nevertheless, they had a job to do, alas.

"Still," Quinn continued, offering Kaila a supportive squeeze on her arm, "this event presents an opportunity for you. Drazen holds considerable influence within the Empire. As much as I dislike him, it's advantageous for you to win his favor."

"Yes, I suppose that's true. Truth be told I would have preferred to meet with The Emperor, but he'll do."

Even if her secretive meeting with Darth Empyrean had been... tense.

Tense and insightful.

"I'm surprised the Commonwealth decided to attend," she whispered before pausing. "Given the abrupt way their nation was divided by the Blackwall, perhaps it makes sense after all."

"The commonwealth? The Yvarro family's powerbase, isn't it? I met with Fiolette Yvarro once, taught me some things that won me a few naval victories. She was very... direct, bit of a welcome change actually. Seems a shame to alienate their stock."

Perhaps there was some advantage in supporting them now? A favor to cache in with a dark councilor's family.

Speak of the devil, she spied Taeli Raaf , returning the nod with a respectful incline of her chin before sipping her wine, glad to see a familiar face.

Quinn's face softened, offering reassurance: "You'll do wonderfully. Remember, you belong here just as much as anyone else in this room."

"Perhaps more so than some." she hid her wry expression behind the glass.

There were a few arrivals who she did not recognize as having seats on the assembly, and though she veiled the sentiment in humor, it made her anxious. There was too much at stake, for Echnos, for the entire empire even, and too many unknown variables.

"I'll do my best," she took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"Lords, ladies. I am of mind with Darth Arcanix of course, securing the east and west would allow us to cover much ground. The commonwealth controls a portion of the West, And If I remember correctly, could reconnect the empire to the Hydian way."

"To say nothing of reestablishing contact with outer commonwealth—with Sith Imperial—worlds."

Darth Anathemous leaned forward against the holo-table, gazing at the map a moment.

"That leaves the east, or perhaps, North-east."

She then pointed towards Echnos.

"Echnos sits right on the border and relies on it's tech industry as it's only export, and imports just about everything, as it is a barren wasteland. That makes the populace entirely dependent on the Sith to survive, and loyal as any Geonosian. The moon would reconnect us to the Rimma Trade route and ease it's ability to continue supplying the Second Legion, Sluis Van, and the Seswenna shipyards, as it has since we crushed the Alliance there."

"Furthermore I've nationalized all corporate interests on world. All influence in the city is quite domestic, and efforts are being made to increase the presence of our Eternalist church, serving for the greater good of the wider empire."


"...And unlike the asteroids of the south... We have the industry to begin today."

​

 

[Darth Morta]

Darth Morta took another sip of the wine and purified her body again as the liquid reached her stomach. She wanted her head completely clear for this meeting. Seeing the Geonosian Archduke, whom, thanks to their previous dealings, she hoped to find an ally in, be verbally dissected, she quickly stepped back from that option. She did feel it would be only fair to step in and offer assistance, but that would be political suicide at the moment, and she'd have to find another way to support him later.

Darth Morta listened to the first proposals, she had little concern for the squabbling for power within the main body of the empire. But not a single freeport had been suggested within the Stygian Caldera, which had been a bastion of Kainite power until recently. Idly, she wondered if that factional association had been part of why it had been ignored, internally or otherwise.

"I have an additional world to propose," Darth Morta spoke up as the moment allowed. "My own planet of Krayiss II would make an ideal port to give all of us access to the galactic north and the ability to extract riches and exert influence."

Tags: Quinn Varanin Taeli Raaf Drazen Lutris Ukvax the Gilded Serina Calis Kebos Ivalyn Yvarro Madelyn Lowe Allyson Locke Kaila Irons

 

[Ivalyn Yvarro]

Quinn Varanin | Allyson Locke | Madelyn Lowe | Ukvax the Gilded | Kebos​

Ivalyn observed the rooms occupants with a composed demeanor, poised as though carved from marble while the room shifted and stirred. She had long learned that stillness could be far more commanding than movement, a lesson inherited from her mother. The flick of her gaze, measured and deliberate, tracked the Geonosian as he spoke with an appalling lack of consideration. Her fingers twitched slightly against her sleeve, the only outward sign of displeasure.

Before she could interject, Drazen Lutris addressed the matter, his intervention both timely and appreciated. As the discussions unfolded, Ivalyn's attention was drawn to her grandmother's wife, Taeli Raaf . Whose measured contributions provided a semblance of order amidst the burgeoning discourse. She noted the presence of Serina Calis , whose insights, though less familiar, added a layer of depth to the conversation. Kaila Irons ' remarks, delivered with a certain assertiveness, did not escape her notice either.

When the moment was right, Ivalyn shifted ever so slightly in her seat. Not hurriedly, not anxiously, no her movements were precise and deliberate, designed to draw attention without demanding it. With the room momentarily hushed, albeit, a moment as Darth Morta spoke. Ivalyn's jaw tightened subtly, a flicker of displeasure crossing her features momentarily.

Ivalyn's voice cultured and poised, carried the refined cadence reminiscent of Avalonia's aristocracy. A realm Minister Lowe was no doubt familiar with. Yet, her tone underscored by urgency befitting the gravity of the situation.

"Esteemed colleagues," she began, her tone measured, "I must express my gratitude for the swift attention given to the matters at hand. However, I find it imperative to clarify that the Commonwealth's position and interests are best articulated by its appointed representatives. While I appreciate the enthusiasm displayed, I would kindly request that any statements made on our behalf be coordinated through proper channels to avoid any potential misunderstandings."

Ivalyn allowed her gaze to sweep the room, ensuring her words resonated with all present. Her fingers smoothed an invisible crease from her sleeve, as she continued, her tone sharpening just slightly, enough to suggest authority.

"Furthermore, in light of the current crisis affecting several of our worlds, it is paramount that our discussions remain focused and expedient. The challenges we face are formidable, and our collective response will undoubtedly shape the future of our respective domains."

Ivalyn listened as Governor Calis spoke of the emptiness of her realm, listened as Governor Irons spoke of her realm. An idea formed in her mind but she wanted to hear what Minister Lowe had to say.

With that, Ivalyn inclined her head slightly, signaling both respect and a return to the floor for further discourse. Her Belisarius Guard remained steadfast, a silent reminder of the Commonwealth's enduring presence and resolve.

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Thorogood Apartments, Terminus​

Drazen Lutris | Taeli Raaf | Darth Morta | Kaila Irons | Kebos | Allyson Locke | Serina Calis | Ivalyn Yvarro
Wearing
​

Madelyn would be lying if she said she wasn't surprised by the translated contribution of the Archduke of Stalgasin Hive. It seemed that this council did not merely consist of Governors and Alliance officials, but also various Galactic power brokers seeking to further their influence in a Sith Order that overnight had transformed into one of the most secretive and isolationist polities in the entire Galaxy. Figures like Ukvax the Gilded and Kebos seemed to have realised that that isolation represented a unique opportunity to corner the market. Madelyn did not approve of that, even if she did appreciate the vote of confidence from the foreign ruler. His support towards Madelyn and Ivalyn's choices would be beneficial, should this debate come to a vote. Still, she shared a glance with Taeli and Ivalyn both.

Her eyes flicked to Allyson Locke , taking her place beside Madelyn, who extended a delicate hand to receive the dossiers the agent had prepared on the other attendees. She skimmed them, eventually looking back to Allyson more deliberately, when she caught her eye, Madelyn gave her an approving nod. She'd done good work, per usual.

Madelyn was saved from having to step in early by Drazen. His dressing-down of the Geonosian official was not enjoyable to watch, but it did at least open the floor to more productive conversation, beginning with Drazen's own suggestion: Terminus, the world on which they had all gathered, thrown out as if the man did not care much at all about its inclusion. Madelyn knew better. Lady Raaf's suggestion for an eastern and western port was self-interested too, but it was at least sensible and concialiatory. Better yet, it benefitted Madelyn's interests too. Most pleasing, and Madelyn hadn't even had to open her mouth yet.

Madelyn considered the worlds on offer as the nominations rolled in, silently scribbling notes and nodding along, waiting for the right time to contribute.

Terminus was well placed, but, it was a regional capital in its own right. Harder to contain 'lapses', as Drazen had so aptly put. Then there was Serina's nomination. While she recognised the potential of Governor Calis' system, noting its adjacency to Terminus, it was a simple fact that Polis Massa is not ready to accept the burden of being a trade port. Madelyn suspected Serina knew that too.

Echnos, on the other hand, was a viable and attractive option. Madelyn wouldn't admit that openly. Darth Anathemous was not her ally. Ivalyn and Taeli were. Even if her world made sense and was perhaps the best place of all of them, Madelyn couldn't throw her weight behind it, not without some material benefit. It was a shame, really, Echnos would make a wonderful trade port. Maybe it still could, if some sort of concession was reached.

Krayiss Two was an interesting proposition as well. A trade world in the Stygian Caldera would be beneficial both to the Empire writ large, and to the interests of Madelyn's allies and sponsors within the Kainate. If she didn't get exactly what she wanted, it would make for a good backup.

Eventually, eyes turned to her, waiting for her to make her nominations. Madelyn cleared her throat, her voice quiet, level and smooth.

"I support Lady Arcanix's proposal for a western and eastern port." said Madelyn finally. "The Ison Corridor is the obvious choice in the west. My preference would be for Varonat, but Bespin and Hoth are also suitable." Anoat itself was glaringly not included, but Darth Nefaron was not here, so as she saw it, his world was not on offer. The Ison Corridor was not just Madelyn's homeland, it was also under the control of pliable Imperial Governors, rather than ambitious, meddling Sith. It would be easier to shape to suit the needs of the Empire, allies like Taeli and Ivalyn, and Madelyn herself.

"As for the eastern reaches, I would prefer to hear some more specific nominations before making a decision."

 

[Ivalyn Yvarro]

Drazen Lutris | Madelyn Lowe | Taeli Raaf | Kaila Irons | Serina Calis | Allyson Locke | Quinn Varanin | Kebos​

Ivalyn remained still for a breath longer than necessary, her hands folded neatly in her lap, the quiet strength of her posture speaking louder than any outward display. She had listened—politely, attentively—to each of the speakers, her expression never betraying more than what she wished to reveal. But now, the time for silence had passed.

With composed elegance, she inclined her head toward Minister Lowe, acknowledging the thoughtful remarks of the seasoned stateswoman. "Thank you, Minister," she said softly, with the practiced warmth of a stateswoman who understood both diplomacy and restraint.

Her gaze swept briefly across the gathered figures, her voice lifting just slightly as she addressed the wider assembly.

"My support," she began again, "rests with Lady Arcanix's proposal." A subtle pause gave the weight of that alliance time to settle. "It is sensible. Thorough. And most importantly, rooted in a forward-looking strategy that recognizes the essential truth that economic resilience must be paired with strategic consolidation."

There was no overt flourish to her words, but there didn't need to be. The crisp enunciation, the deliberate pacing, the iron beneath the velvet—this was where she thrived.

"And in regard to the Eastern Reach," Ivalyn said, glancing toward Governor Irons, "my support would be with Echnos. The Commonwealth has long valued strength and stability at the periphery of our collective holdings, and I believe Echnos is well-positioned to uphold both."

Her voice grew quieter then, but no less firm.

"That said, I must speak candidly. As many of you now know, the Blackwall continues to isolate seven of my systems. Until such time as this obstruction is lifted, and the Commonwealth is once again whole, my government will remain focused on the unification and internal stability of our people. Once that has been assured, we will be prepared to lend further support to our partners—militarily, administratively, and economically—wherever the Empire requires."

A pause. She folded her hands once more and offered the faintest incline of her head, not a bow but a signal of closure.

"I trust this body will find that a reasonable and honourable course."

With that, she returned to silence, allowing the chamber to absorb her words. Her presence, however, remained unmistakable: deliberate, principled, and unwavering.

 

[Serina Calis]

Money.
Location: Terminus
Objective: Ensure critical future investments, establish ability to influence domestic Sith affairs.
Allies: ???
Opposing Force: ???
Tags: Drazen Lutris Taeli Raaf Darth Morta Kebos Madelyn Lowe Kaila Irons Ukvax the Gilded Ivalyn Yvarro Quinn Varanin Allyson Locke

Never has isolation brought so much opportunity.
​

Spoiler: Serina's Internal Machinations (LONG)

Serina sat with her legs elegantly crossed, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her untouched wine glass, and allowed the chaos of imperial politics to unfold around her like a slow-burning opera. She said nothing. She needed to say nothing. Because for the first time, perhaps in her life, she had the profound satisfaction of knowing a secret that no one else in the room did.

No one knew why she was truly here.

And that was delicious.

There was the room itself. Its temperature. Its scent. The flow of air and dominance and performance. Serina could feel it. Everyone here was trying to prove they belonged. To prove they could contribute. Even her.

Especially her.

And yet… none of them had any idea why she was really here.

They thought she was grasping.
That she wanted recognition.
That she had come to posture—to dress herself in crimson and shadows and speak like someone who belonged.

But that was the most exquisite part of it all, wasn't it? Watching them guess. Watching them presume.

They saw the blade on the table and thought that was the danger.

They didn't see the poison in the wine.

Not even Taeli suspected.
Not Madelyn, sharp-eyed and slow-tongued as she was.
Not Ivalyn, with her perfect diction and clenched hands.

None of them realized that Serina Calis did not come here to place Polis Massa forward as some noble candidate for trade and prosperity. The notion was a farce—an act performed with elegance, yes, but with the intentional absurdity of a lover whispering promises into someone else's bed.

Polis Massa was never meant to handle trade.

It was meant to intercept it.

Her appointment—quiet, unannounced, still fresh with the scent of parchment and legacy—had never been about development. It had always been about access. Because Drazen, for all his cynicism and flair, had told them the truth early:

"...the worlds we pick need to be tightly watched."
"...foreign security."
"...information... very tightly monitored to prevent lapses."

Those were not words of economic expansion. Those were the words of a jailer.

To make a world a Free Port was not to free it—it was to shackle it with protocols, surveillance, fleet presence, restricted access to databanks, mandatory audits, hyperlane manifests, and foreign overseers. A trade port was a choke point—one designed to make sure nothing got in or out unless the Sith Order allowed it. It was the Blackwall… made flesh.

That was the secret.

And that was her angle.

If she could slide Polis Massa into that arrangement—if she could convince them to let her world become a nexus of information control and regulated trade—then she would be inside the Blackwall. Not just metaphorically. Literally.

And once inside?

She would do what she always did.

She would corrupt.

Not in the crude sense—not in the way smugglers or spice dealers operated. No, Serina was far more precise than that. She would twist the Blackwall's surveillance protocols into her own silent lattice of control. She would insert language into tariff logs, reroute automated customs signals, replicate transponder codes with slight imperfections too subtle for anyone but her to trace. Her advisors, her technocrats, her growing circle of experts in manipulation, law, and economics—they would stitch invisible patterns through the bureaucracy until nothing moved without her knowing.

Her metaphorical tendrils would slither across the Blackwall—slow, elegant, inevitable.

One data port at a time.
One shipping lane at a time.
One whisper in a manifest room, one backdoor into a communications array.

She would be everywhere and nowhere.

And in time, when the moment came—when her hand curled just right around the system—she would be able to close her fist.

And with it, hold the entire Sith Empire economically hostage.

If they wanted credits to flow, they would have to come to her.
If they wanted ships to pass, ports to clear, colonies to eat, they would have to bow—whether they knew they were bowing or not.

The trap wouldn't even feel like one. That was the brilliance.

She would give them the illusion of stability—of safety—of a woman playing nice, governing her dead little asteroid with discipline and ambition. They'd think her loyal.

Some might even think her useful.

And then, when they needed to breathe, they would find their lungs belonged to her.

Not through armies.
Not through fear.
But through dependence.

She didn't want power in the way the others did. Power was easy. Crude. Loud.

She wanted ownership.

So as she watched them—Raaf, Lowe, Yvarro, Irons, Ukvax, all so proud of their little proposals and projections—she allowed herself the faintest smile.

Not one of cruelty.
Not one of superiority.

But of anticipation.

The kind of smile a serpent wears, not when it strikes, but when the prey first steps inside the garden.

And then, quietly, she lifted her glass and took a slow sip. The wine was dry, complex, with the faintest hint of bitterness clinging to the back of her tongue.

A fitting taste, for what was to come.

She said nothing.

Because they would understand her soon enough.

The glass made the softest sound as Serina set it down, the crystal ringing faintly against the surface of the obsidian-black table. For a non-existent heartbeat, the room still churned in its polite chaos—more proposals, more counterpoints, more posturing from those who had long since grown drunk on their own influence.

But then she rose.

She did not ask to speak. She did not clear her throat. She stood, and like a dark star drawing the eye of every lesser body in orbit, the room began to quiet. The movement was smooth, seamless—her cape cascading behind her in silken waves of violet and ink, her armor humming softly with its faint crimson glow. The stylized crest on her bodice gleamed like the exposed heart of some mythic beast, as if pulsing in time with the moment.

Her hands folded gently at her waist. No datapad, no notes, no visual aid. Just her—and her voice.

It was measured, silken. Laced with practiced warmth and latent command, spoken with the precision of someone who had studied not merely how people spoke, but why they listened.

"Forgive me," she said, voice quiet but unmistakably clear, "but I believe we are all circling a very large, very obvious omission."

Her blue eyes drifted across the chamber, not with accusation, but with the amused indulgence of a woman watching a table full of tacticians forget that wars are not won with maps.

"There are, at this very moment, no Free Ports."

She let that sit. Let them hear it. Not just the words, but the absurdity. The ambition. The risk.

"The Blackwall is barely older than this calendar cycle. It is a work of monstrous scale and immeasurable intent. It is a curtain we have drawn across half the galaxy, a defiant declaration that we—we—decide what comes in and what does not. What is allowed to speak, to trade, to breathe."

Her voice dipped slightly, a darker note bleeding in beneath the silken veneer.

"And we have yet to test it. Not once. Not properly."

She turned now, walking a slow arc around her seat, one finger trailing along the tabletop as if she were drawing lines in sand.

"Some of you speak as though the system is already operational. As though it functions like a sealed vault, without flaw or weakness. You nominate your worlds based on infrastructure, industry, and strategic placement. You assume the same customs officers who failed to keep Anti-Force weapons off Susefvi will now preserve the sanctity of our border. You assume that this time… you will not be robbed blind."

"That we will not have another rebellion on our hands."

She smiled then, faint and slow, and stopped walking.

"You are wrong."

And now, her voice gained weight. Heat. Purpose.

"I do not speak here as an economist. I have advisors—brilliant, ruthless minds who have whispered to me every projection, every model, every ratio of cost and return. I understand the logistics, just as well as any of you. But it is not logistics that will make or break these Free Ports. It is corruption."

She said the word like a lover's name.

"Not mere bribery. Not petty theft. I am talking about cancer. The kind that spreads behind closed doors. The kind that does not announce itself with missing cargo, but with an unregistered code slithering past a sensor array. With a fleet of clean ships that just happen to disappear off the logs. With information, the most precious cargo of all, bleeding from one port to a thousand enemies."

She looked directly at Drazen now. Not with challenge—but with recognition.

"You warned us yourself. A Free Port will not be free. It will be watched. Guarded. Surveyed. What you're building is not a port—it is a threshold. A point of control. And you will need to prove it works, before you ever dare to build another."

Now she turned, addressing the room again with the elegance of a lecturer, the seduction of a confidante.

"And that is why I propose—no, insist—that Polis Massa serve as our proof of concept."

She lifted her chin slightly.

"It is remote. Barren. It has no population centers to compromise, no cultural inertia to fight. It is already a vault by design, sealed away from the galaxy, its few inhabitants loyal by necessity. Its infrastructure is narrow, but adaptable. Its listening posts, full and modular, are still functional and easily upgradable. Its local economy is incredibly small—meaning any growth will be measurable, controlled, and isolated. There is no media. No tourism. No politics."

Her lip curled, just slightly, into the shadow of a smile.

"And, most importantly… it is mine."

A pause. She let the word hang in the air like perfume.

"And I am very good," she added, tone low and honeyed, "at corruption."

She let that sit. Let them wonder if it was a threat. Or a confession. Or an invitation.

"I know how it moves. How it breathes. I know the scent it leaves in a room hours after the deal is struck. I have studied it, lived among it, been it. And because of that, I know how to trap it. I know how to turn it on itself. I can take the things you fear most—the data leaks, the gray markets, the internal sabotage—and wrap them in velvet. I can let them bloom inside Polis Massa under watchful eyes, not because I will stop them… but because I will curate them."

She leaned forward slightly, placing both hands on the table now, her gaze sharp enough to carve through steel.

"We need a proving ground. A place where failure does not bring down entire sectors. A place where, when the first protocol fails, when the first rogue vessel slips through, we do not lose face. We learn. We adapt."

She softened again, as though drawing a curtain over her own sharpness.

"If you select a economic hub, Echnos as a prime example—if you rush into this with ego and haste—you will hand the underworld your blueprints. And when they learn how to beat one port… they will beat all of them. I believe Kebos can speak to that from experience."

Another pause. Then, very softly:

"But if you begin with Polis Massa… they will never see the knife coming."

She returned to her seat slowly, and when she sat, it was with the poise of a queen on a throne no one else had seen yet.

She picked up her glass again, no longer sipping—merely holding it, letting the scent of dark fruit and aged spice bloom beneath her breath.

"I have no illusions that I will win your favor tonight. Many of you do not know me. Some of you dislike what you do know."

A faint smile ghosted her lips.

"But you know me now."

And then she went silent again, reclining just enough to suggest she was content to wait. She had spoken. Not for approval.

For inevitability.