Session export: [CSP] The Empress New Groove

Elaine wasted no time upon her arrival. She straightened out any wrinkles that lined her crimson, floor length dress and departed from the chauffeur’s transportation, stepping out onto the red carpet on her way to pay her respects to The Empress.

She was quite fond of The Empress as the Firrerreo was like a second master to her. Elaine had learned so much from Rayne in just a short amount, it was only right to contribute in celebrating her new promotion.

Kamjin put his hand up to block the explosion of flashes from the paparazzi. It had been a while since he had been on Seraph and this was the second Emperor…Empress, to follow his time as Emperor yet that didn’t seem to matter to tabloids and Imperial controlled news corp.

“Kamjin! Kamjin! Who are you wearing?” one of the paparazzi screamed out as more flashes erupted from the crowd of holocameras. Kamjin smirked, lowering his hand. While he was wearing a rather nice cloak, under it was his old Sector Admiral’s uniform.

He felt that the occasion demanded something more formal than his new armor and cloak, finally embracing the Secret Order that he had dealings with throughout his military career. Yet, it would be poor form to show up in his regal red armor from his own time as Emperor. This was Rayne’s time and he shouldn’t upstage her.

“Kamjin, is there any truth to the rumor that your son is a Jedi?”

“When will the funds be released from the Imperial Mission that were promised to the survivors of Ragnath?”

“Rumor is that Komilia is working in a bar? Any comments on your daughter’s life choices?”

“Kamjin! Why haven’t we seen your wife and youngest son since the assassination attempt? Is her absence a comment on your politics?”

Kamjin smiled and waved as he walked the red carpet towards the former museum. He paused, threw back his cloak and let the paparazzi snap their holos of his uniform and all it’s various medals, ribbons, and braids. The tugged absent mindedly at the sleeves.

“Kamjin! How do you respond to the allegations that you’re an imposter and the real Kamjin is a Hutt living in the mid-rim?”

Kamjin turned, shooting daggers at the reporter who had asked the question. He had to remind himself quickly that his face shouldn’t betray him as he forced a smile. “Those rumors are as baseless as the old ones of Tarkin blowing up Alderaan,” Kamjin said, laughing. “Clearly I’m a human. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I hear there’s an open bar.”

With that Kamjin took the steps, two at a time, and entered the festivities.

He watched from the shadows. He couldn’t remember the last time he had stepped into the light, been seen beyond those precious few. How many of the clan even knew he was still alive? How many would even care? Would even remember?

Rayne had been forceful, as she always was with his invitation. He had learned long ago that telling her “no” was pointless. He wondered what kind of Empress she would be. He hoped it was better than whatever it was he had been.

The flashing lights along the red carpet continued to flash. He watched one of those who had followed in his footsteps as the Emperor smiled and waved and answered questions.

A conqueror, he thought to himself.

“Kings or pawns… Emperors or fools,” he whispered silently. The man on the red carpet was certainly adept at playing the fool. He wondered if the man had a started to believe the lie himself. It didn’t help the man had been constantly berated with information indicating he was actually a Hutt.

He shook his head having seen enough. The others could enjoy the spotlight. It was the shadows for him.

He walked up a set of back stairs, a staff entrance and used a keycard to open the door, sliding gracefully in as it opened without a sound. He was dressed as all of the staff was. There were a few nods of the “Hello, hurry up, get to work”. None of the staff knew him of course, but he blended in just fine.

He grabbed a serving platter full of some fancy delicacies. With exact proper posture, he held it aloft and made his way through the cluttered mess that was the staff service halls. Before reaching the main hall however, he took a sharp left down another hallway.

He needed to freshen up.

He found a quiet set of restrooms and entered a stall, ripping off the staff outfit to reveal his formal attire.

Mostly black, with hints of greys and lines of gold, it was accented heavily with a deep purple. Funny how an offhand comment from Stana years ago about her favorite color has made its way into being incorporated into nearly every piece of clothing he owned.

He took a deep breath and exited, now clearly a guest, not staff, and walked towards the main hall.

Xen’Mordin Palpatine was making an appearance.

Vincent Brujah sat in the back of a shuttle that had been sent at the behest of Proconsul Korvyn to pick up the Battlelord and bring him to the Gala. He twirled a death stick in between his fingers, stopping to puff on it. His anxiety was palpable. As always, the Sith was dressed in his full battle armor, his helmet sitting next to him in the backseat of the shuttle. The shiny black armor appeared to have been polished for this occasion. Everything seemed right, but still the Sith fidgeted with his death stick.

“I hate these things…” Vincent spoke out.

“You hate everything.” A man seated next to Vincent replied.

Turning to his left, the Sith looked at the other passenger. The man wore a tracksuit and what appeared to be a cardboard mask of a Mandalorian helmet, held in place only by a rubber band and staples.

“A fair point, Jaz, but I especially hate these particular things…”

“What? Free alcohol and food? Dining with the elites?”

Vincent’s eyes rolled nearly out of their sockets.

“You know full well what I mean. I don’t like large groups of people. I especially hate bottom dwelling photographers the likes we’re soon to meet…”

“You mean, you’re soon to meet, right?” Jaz replied.

Brujah shot him an inquisitive gaze.

“You mean you don’t care to join us tonight, Jaz? The invite said I could bring a plus one…”

If Vincent could see past the cardboard mask, he would see the scowl that the Mandalorian returned.

“Like this?!” He interrupted. “Look, when you get my Beskar back, I’ll join all the parties you want me to. Hell, I’ll go in your stead if you like… but not like this.”

A small smirk curled upwards on the right side of the Quaestor’s face.

“Look. Everyone knows you hate large gatherings, but you want to be a Sith Lord, right? Well, you better get used to them if you hope to achieve that goal.”

The sound of sniffing came from the front of the shuttle.

“Is someone smoking back there?! The sign clearly says “NO DEATH STICKS!” the driver shouted as he pointed upward to a sign in between the front and back seats of the shuttle.

Vincent crushed the stick in his gloved hand.

Waving his own hand, Vincent spoke.

“You’ll let it go this time, for such distinguished guests…”

“I’ll let it go this time! For such distinguished guests.” the driver repeated and then turned back around.

The shuttle came to a stop. The cameras began flashing at the windows before the door could even open. Vincent grumbled.

“Just remember, this is supposed to be an enjoyable night, Vincent. If you get through this, we’ll go hunt down a whole colony of Skirton. Once you get my Beskar back, that is.” Jaz said to the Sith as he pulled his helmet over his head and sealed it in place.

“Yeah, yeah… always about the Beskar…” Vincent replied. “You just worry about keeping the Punisher ready to leave when I’m done with this.”

With that, the door to the shuttle opened and Battlelord Vincent Brujah stepped out to a mass of camera flashes and voices that were nearly at a scream to ask questions.

“Brujah! Where did you go for the last 13 years?!”

“Vincent! Is there any truth to the rumor that you were assaulted by a Skirton?”

“Vincent! Take the helmet off! The people of Seraph want to see the face of the Quaestor!”

Turning his attention to the last person that spoke, Vincent replied, waving his hand in the process.

“The people of Seraph want to see you take that camera and stick it up you….”

“VINCENT!!!” A vaguely familiar voice rang out from inside.

Turning, Brujah saw Korvyn peeking out from behind the entrance.

“The alcohol is in here.”

Brujah nodded to acknowledge the Proconsul then turned back to the questioner.

“Well, I’ll let you decide where to stick the camera…” he said as he entered the building.

Elaine turned her head towards Korvyn then gave him a small bow and a soft smile.

“Thank you, Sir.” She replied courteously.

“The venue looks astonishing if I may say.”

NeMo sat next to Tessa Drae in the back of the shuttle. They struck a curious dichotomy. NeMo had dressed in traditionally cut robes that appeared at once monastic and martial. Tessa wore an exquisite black evening gown with long gloves made of the finest silks. She had been so excited for the gala but was presently nervous. She removed a small mirror from her clutch and examined her hair and makeup for the hundredth time during the ride.

“My lady, thine beauty is beyond compare,” he said with a soft smile, “Never hast there been, nor shalt there ever be, a creature more lovely and radiant as thee.”

“I’m just so nervous,” she sighed, “I mean, the Empress is going to be here! We’re not going to meet her, are we?”

NeMo shrugged and took her hand in his, “Aye, ‘tis possible. Think not on such things. This is a night of frivolities and merriment.” He lifted her hand up and gave it a gentle kiss.

Tessa smiled, “Thanks, babe. Just don’t leave me alone. I don’t know anyone here.”

The young couple were drawn from their little moment by dozens of flashing lights as the shuttle slowed and stopped before the red carpet. NeMo looked out the window to see a figure clad in gleaming black armor climb the stairs into the museum and grinned to himself.

An officer opened the door to the shuttle and NeMo was met with a wall of shouts and flashing lights. He revealed in the attention. Glancing back to Tessa with a wink, he stepped out of the shuttle.

“NeMo! Who are you wearing tonight?”

“What’s your opinion on the Chiss incursions?”

“NeMo! Is your vocabulary an affectation or just a bit that’s gone too far?”

Ignoring the questions, NeMo turned and proffered a hand to Tessa as she stepped out and onto the carpet. As Tessa looked up from adjusting the skirt of her gown, the crowd let out a barely audible gasp before erupting into even more frantic shouts and constant flashing lights.

“NeMo! NeMo! Who’s your companion?”

“Who is your date wearing?”

“NeMo! Are you with your wife?”

A broad smile spread across NeMo’s face. He said to Tessa, “’Tis as I said. Thine beauty is beyond compare.”

Tessa laughed nervously, “What do I do?”

“Take mine arm and ignore the rabble. Let us enjoy the party.”

Tessa wrapped her arm around NeMo’s and they walked stately up the stairs to the museum.

Kamjin had noticed the latest ProConsul of Scholae Palatinae standing near the entrance greeting people. He blinked his eyes recognizing Elaine after a moment. It’s true what they say, it’s really hard to recognize people when they clean up. So much of their interactions had been in the heat of one conflict or another yet, here was this young lady dressed like a…lady.

“Hi Elaine,” Kamjin said, casually. “You’re looking like you’d have fit into one of the old Imperial Senate events.” Kamjin leaned in to Korvyn. “So…this open bar. Are we talking drink tickets or just go up and ask for a beverage? I know Thran tightened the purse strings to fund…” he let the sentence hang in the air not sure who was in the know and who wasn’t.

She gave a polite nod of her head to Kamjin.

“You clean up quite nicely yourself,” she gave a quick response to Kamjin’s previous comment towards her.

“Now if you’ll both excuse me,” she gave a small bow and walked further down the crimson pathway, heading towards the bar she heard Korvyn mention.

Kamjin bowed his head gently as Elaine passed before turning back to Korvyn. “What’s your take on the state of the Empire?” Kamjin probed, turning to smile and gesture towards the crowd as a wave of flashes turned to him.

He stepped closer to the Proconsul, putting his arm around the man’s shoulder as he waved, beaming towards the masses.

“Yes, an unfortunate bit of business there,” Kamjin said, though he knew far more than he was letting on. “And tell me of yourself. How are you adjusting to the prestige that comes with being Proconsul?”

For a moment, Kamjin was lost in his memories of the numerous times he had been called upon to serve in the role.

“Oh,” Kamjin said, startled from his memories. “Yes, naturally.”

“Excuse me,” Kamjin said, noticing that the holocameras were starting to linger to long and he didn’t need to stay in the spotlight.

“Eww…I look like a dumpy mailman.” Thran turned slightly in the mirror. “This won’t do. Next.”

“Derc, bubala…this look is all the rage on Coruscant.” His personal stylist rubbed small circles on her temples.

“Well, probably cause that’s where the HQ of the Galactic Mail Service is. That’s why they all dress like frumpy dumpy mailmen! Neeeeeexxxxxxxx…tuh.” he began disrobing again.

“Force help me…Seventeen. on to Eighteen.” She remarked to herself.

She rolled out another drawer. A pressed black suit, with delicate gold embroidery emblazoned across the lapels, sat within. With shirt in hand, he peered into the drawer. His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.

“I don’t know…” He scratched his chin. “Doesn’t really…pop. I gotta pop. I say that all the time. Don’t I?” He turned to the stylist “What do I say all the time?”

She sighed. “You gotta pop…”

“That’s right. I do say that. Popping is a must.” He said.

“Derc, bubala, try it on. The Empress will be fussy with you soon. You must choose something to wear.” The stylist said, physically urging him to dress again.

The Sith Empress was finishing up the way she looked for the party of her ascension. Her long black and gold accented dress hit the floor in an elegant way. She wore a crown with moonstone and a crescent moon jewelry hanging delicately on her forehead amid her long white hair. She really did embody the moon over a dark sky tonight. The Firrerreo had finished her designs that decorated her fingers; the black ink staining her skin that would last for a time. Tattoos never worked on her skin. The ink never took properly since her skin would heal over too quickly for it to remain permanently. She had a look of refinement and appeared more personable than her normal, witchy self. She tucked her lightsaber out of sight inside a pocket in her dress. The Sith Lady almost always carried it with her.

Rayne smiled to herself as her staff fussed over the way she looked. She had to put on appearances tonight so she let them go about their business. Thran would most likely be late as usual.

Don’t keep me waiting too long, she silently spoke on the winds of the Force.

“Alright, how do you feel, my Empress?” the assistant asked as everyone had finished.

“Ready. Notify Korvyn that the Empress is arriving.” she said.

They were close by the venue so Rayne and a few attendants rode in her limousine there. It was sleek, black Senate Limousine, yet illuminated in cyan string lights around the edges of the vehicle to give it an extra flair.

They arrived at their destination without incident. The limousine came to a stop outside the opulent entrance of the museum for the event. A chauffeur reached for the door and opened it after a dramatic pause. Rayne emerged carefully from the vehicle, looking every bit as elegant as she had strived for, as the cameras and lights became a whirlwind of activity around her. Paparazzi yelling every question known to man that just became a constant noise.

Rayne could sense a few familiar beings who were already inside. Elaine was there, Kamjin as well. Xen'mordin was unmistakable and she smiled. Glad he forced himself to come see me, she thought to herself with a soft chuckle. It would do him good to be seen every once in awhile, that hermit.

The Royal Guard of four walked in square formation around her, two in front and two behind, as they walked the red carpet. They followed close but gave her enough space to be seen by all. The elite of the elite were sent to guard their Empress. It was the highest honor to be selected and earn their crimson robes.

They made their way past the entrance and the guards took their positions where they would remain throughout the party, ready at a moment’s notice should they be needed. Not that Rayne couldn’t handle herself, but they were there so she didn’t have to.

Rayne walked to the center of the room, a waiter appeared instantly handing her a glass of champagne.

Sennix’s shuttle eased to a halt, falling in behind a lingering sleek limousine, notably a far more elegant vehicle than the standard VIP transports, that waited at the entrance of the Imperial Gala.

“What’s the delay?”

“Terribly sorry, sir,” the driver said with a tip of his cap. “Look’s like the shuh’le before us just dropped off the Empress ‘erself… And dress’d like one of them fancy Coruscantian Sena’ers… Coruscantan… Coruscanti?…”

Sennix held a hand up, nodding slightly to politely cut him off. “I know what you meant.”

“Oh, uh, yessir,” the driver said with another tip of his cap. “Oh, looks like we’re on, sir!”

At once, the shuttle began a gentle descent to take the place of Lady Rayne’s recently departed limousine.

“‘Ave a good time, sir. And give ‘er Majesty my best!”

“Quite.” Sennix gave a thin smile as the shuttle door opened to the roaring mob of interveiwers and journalists desperate for a story from the Empress as she gracefully climbed polished stairs.

Straightening his uniform, Sennix tucked his cap neatly under his arm as he stepped out onto the red carpet. Cameras turned and voices clamored for attention as the Sith confidently walked down the line, occasionally nodding or waving as he made his way to the door.

Reiden had been picked up by a sleek land speeder, a senate limousine with tinted windows. Clearly the summit was sparing no expense for the evening. He watched the city pass by as they traveled to the destination. He still remembered the days when there were battles in the streets. First with the Meraxis Empire, and later with The Republic of the Force and Elaya, not to mention the civil war that had broken out before the Scholae Empire managed to put an end to it and seized control of the system, culminating with the clan moving to Seraph.

The view he took in was truly a beautiful sight to see. He wished he could see more of it, but these days his time was often spent elsewhere on jobs, or even on Arx, dealing with things for the Voice or the Inquisitorius. Then there was the Envoy Corps now as well. Of course, he still had time to himself and to do the things he enjoyed, but sometimes it was a tough balancing act for his schedule. Which made this party all the better to attend. Then again, it was for Rayne’s ascension to the throne, and he wouldn’t have missed that for anything.

The speeder pulled outside the Imperial Museum of History and the door was opened for him by an attendant. He glanced at the red carpet that led to the entrance and raised an eyebrow. He had never gotten used to such things during his years in service to the clan, but he couldn’t fault them for wanting to put on a show and make things fancy. He stepped out and straightened his uniform, his droid Blitz hovering behind him. The uniform was reminiscent of what Grand Admirals wore under Palpatine’s Empire, but the base color was black, the gold trim and other accents remained the same, however. His was purposely devoid of any medals and bore only a slightly smaller rank plaque. He was never one to go fully in on such things, but he was willing to make concessions to appease those in power.

Part of that would, on similar occasions, include a guard of some sort. That was another thing that he typically went without. Their time was better spent elsewhere, or he would again compromise and take a couple. He had a trusted group of troopers he would request for such duty, but would sometimes use others so as to avoid showing favoritism. Tonight, it was just him, although Blitz could help as well, if need be.

Of course the media had gathered for such an event, and they all clamored for his attention and jockeyed for position, pushing each other out of the way to get a better angle, fighting for some perceived precedent. They shouted questions, took pictures and videos - the shining lights and quick flashes were almost overwhelming. Everyone wanted something. But he paid them little mind, simply smiling and waving to them. He had a role to play, after all.

Apparently they’re not taking any chances tonight, he thought as he eyed the troopers that stood along the carpet.

He gave them a nod and offered a quick salute - he owed them that much for what they did, and out of respect for those he had fought alongside. Besides, he had gravitated more and more to the military over the years and the troopers often would even refer to him by rank, even though he preferred they didn’t. But training was deeply ingrained in them and habits were hard to break. He turned on his heel and walked down the carpet. He spoke quietly to Blitz as he paused briefly at the entrance.

“I want you to stay out of the way near the entrance, got it? Things should be fine here, but I’ll call for you if needed.”

“Understood,” the droid replied, bobbing up and down, almost as if nodding.

With that settled, the pair made their way into the museum at last. He was eager to see what the night held in store.

Not unusual for Kah’ri, the ride to his destination was enjoyed through silent ruminations. With his eyes closed and head resting on the back of the limo’s leather seats, his thoughts wandered around the Summit, his time in service, and what might come of the current administration. His pride always felt a pang every time someone called him ‘Former-Quaestor’ but this was the price he had chosen to pay to pursue his larger goals.

 The immediate awareness that he had arrived preceded his driver’s notification, which Kah’ri ignored. The Imperial Museum of History was magnificent — its architecture was unrivaled in the city. He was anxious to ‘browse’ the art collections. These would have to wait. The most important of all was the abundant presence of holocams. Sensing a chance at spotlight, he straightened his coat and capelet, put on a stoic, ‘above-it-all’ expression and he exited the speeder. The Sith winced as ‘Former Quaestor, Kah’ri Marru of House Acclivis Draco’ boomed over a loudspeaker. Flashes and voices flooded the senses the entire walk in — One could *almost* (but not quite) hear the classical music playing over the overwhelming shouts of holoreporters damanding the Firrerreo’s attention. Naturally, Kah’ri had to stop multiple times to pose for them. Each pose different than the next, his expression remained the only thing unchanged.

 Content with his moment of publicity, Kah’ri made his way up the red steps to where a man stood over the whole affair.

 “Proconsul,” Kah’ri acknowledged, with a courteous bow, “This is lovely. You’ve truly done the Empress a service today.”

<@583854106599489557>

Elaine heard the speakers and the clamor of the paparazzi and scoffed quietly to herself followed by the slight rolling of her eyes.

The paparazzi is insufferable, she thought.

She was annoyed but whether it was because of the people who indulged the holo-photographers or rather her feeling left out and unimportant she could not determine, which made it all the more aggravating.

She could faintly sense several personnel that she had met before and had even been on a few assignments with some of them along with the presence of a few she had never had the opportunity to make acquaintances with.

She passed by a waiter carrying a tray that gently lay five slender glasses with a transparent yet faintly golden hued drink.

“Excuse me,” she voiced.

The servant halted and turned to face the young human. Understanding what she was implying with her expression, he slowly lowered the tray down as Elaine gently grasped the neck of one of the glasses.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course madam,” he said before returning to his duties.

Elaine gently swished the liquid around in the glass and looked at a piece of art that was beside her.

Kamjin had navigated the crowd with the poise and skill of a former Emperor. There was a delicate balance in small-talk. A casual topic that anyone could pick up immediately if they happened to join the chat but not deep enough to hold one’s attention for more than a few minutes.

From the weather, the conquest, the continued devastation on Ragnath were simple enough topics. Kamjin was quick with a quip for the more delicate subjects of the Children of Mortis, the recent cases before the Chamber, what Dacien was doing, and the like.

“Oh, just like my children the CoM needed a firm hand,” he shared with one. “Sorry, I can’t comment on a case,” he’d chide another, with a smile, wink, and a head tilt that could be taken to mean anything and nothing all at once. “The Grand Master and I spoke just the other day. You’ll be impressed in what he’s investing in,” all said with a beaming smile, a well placed hand shake or hand on a shoulder, as he moved steadily towards the bar.

He put a boot on the metal bar running the length of the floor board and, rather undignified, leaned onto the bar.

A beautiful Zabrak woman came up to take his order. Her mocha skin was etched with white tribal tattoos. While many of her species grew out hair around their horns she had opted to shave her head which gave her an otherworldly air, her horned had been kept sharp and crowned her head almost like a tiara. Kamjin, despite his age and complicated marriage, had to mentally force himself not to linger over her supple form and to meet her piercing blue eyes.

“Umm,” he stammered, trying to make quick eye movements to read the name tag on her chest. “Uhh…Sparkle?” The name sounded fake but he wasn’t versed in what Zabrakian names got translated to these days.

“Yes, m’lord?” Her voice was like warm honey over tart fruit and cream.

“Sparkle,” he began again with more confidence. “I’d love the a class of the Maker’s reserve 31…old fashion, please,” he gave a youthful smirk that if his wife had been there would surely have gotten the ground beneath him blown up.

“Of course, m’lord,” Sparkle replied, moving her body like a snake poised to strike she lifted a chilled glass from behind the bar and, with an almost imperceptible wink, turned seductively to grab the bottle on the top shelf.

Kamjin blew out the breath he hadn’t noticed he had been holding and turned to watch the room. His wife was gonna kill him and this time for something deserved and not for being an Imperial.

Vincent brushed past Korvyn at the entrance; not seeming to intentionally snub the Proconsul, but giving him no more of a greeting than a stare through the blood red skull painted on to his helmet and a small nod before passing by. He had already heard the important information.

Drinks and food are in the back

So the back is where he’d go, and hope that he could find a quiet edge of the bar to sit and calm his nerves. His anger was a valuable ally, but tonight was not the time for it. This was for Rayne, and he should do his best to behave, though it was completely against his nature.

He navigated through the crowd and found a seat at the far edge of the bar. It was more crowded than he had hoped for, and he had to wave off questions long enough to survey his surroundings. For now, the Justicar sat at the other side of the bar, bantering with the crowd and the Zabrak bartender, but otherwise, he didn’t recognize many of the faces. He examined the room for what seemed like a long time before Sparkle approached him.

“What’ll ya have, m'lord?” she spoke out.

Paying almost no attention to her, Vincent replied.

“A strong ale. The strongest you have. If it doesn’t taste like a Life Day tree, it’s not strong enough.”

“Of course! Thank you.”

The mention of a drink was enough to focus Kah’ri’s attention on looking for the bar. With little hesitation, the Firrerreo entered and moved to the back of the main hall, noting the figures around the room. Without so much as a glance at anyone but Reiden, Kah’ri approached and signaled the barman.

“A Hutt Horizon — Tall if you would. Also a cider.”

Xen’Mordin was only two drinks deep by the time the new Emperess entered. He was chewing on some skewered meat from some far off world, glazed in something equally exotic as Rayne took as she took her flute of champagne (authentically from the Champagne region of Phranxia, quite expensive).

So far it had been calm. Many new faces trickling in, amongst which appeared the occasional familiar. The former Emperor kept the shadows, and was being kept well enough alone, save for the servants who always seemed to appear at the exact instance he needed one.

At least they haven’t forgotten how to train these guys. He thought to himself. Some aristocratic elite stumbled over, clearly having “pregamed” the festivities.

“Ssssssay didn’ I ssssee you up on Danktooine befores?” The human male slurred his speech.

Xen tilt his head to the side. Portly and short, hair balding with a poor comb-over, horrible fashion sense but expensive. Very expensive.

Yes.

“Why I think you have good man, I do love to frequent a good time,” Xen said turning on the charm. “As do you as I recall.”

Like riding a bike. Xen pat the man on the shoulder, and extended his hand.

“Berc Kast, perhaps you have heard of my much less attractive brother, Derc,” Xen continued shaking the man’s hand while simultaneously lifting his wallet.

“Oh yes young Derc, quite the star,” the man said enthusiastically shaking Xen’s hand. “Do you also act?”

“Occasionally,” Xen mused. “I am the brains of the family however, too much work, not enough hours in the day.”

He gave a slight bow and quickly retreated back towards the bar. He emptied the wallet of all its credits and tossed in in a nearby bin.

Xen strode right up next to the Justicar who still appeared rather red in the face, and slid all the credits towards Sparkle.

“Here is tip dear,” he smiled while she poured another’s drink.

“Another Starshot Runner love?” she said half whispered. Xen nodded. He noticed a familiar face. One he hadn’t seen in quite some time. He gave a slight hand wave of recognition, and leaned in close to Kamjin. “It is quite remarkable how you managed to slide into that human suit. I’d love to get a look at the schematics of how you pull that off.”

After clearing security at the door, Sennix drew a thoughtful breath as he took in the spectacle of the event: The lights, the music, the low echoes of conversation filling the space between each exhibit. The Sith had been no stranger to formal ceremonies, but he had long appreciated how the Empire always had a way of being able to turn formal into regal.

Amidst the political and celebrity presence, Sennix eyed a few more notable patrons gathering at the bar at the far side of the room. The woman behind the bar was practically dancing as she twirled and spun, mixing drinks for her sudden swarm of clientele. “I’m sure she won’t mind one more,” he mused to himself as he slipped through the crowd toward the bar.

Reaching the far edge of the counter, Sennix signaled for the bartender’s attention. “Alderaan Twist, dry.”

Noticing the sudden activity around the parlor, Elaine’s attention diverted from the art in front of her and fixed on the growing crowd.

I suppose I’ll go and see what all the commotion is about. She thought making her way to the corner of the room, seating herself at a table away from the eye of attention while she listened and observed like a probe droid seeking information.

Kamjin had already moved onto his second old fashion, a familiar tingle in his lips let him know the alcohol was beginning to work its magic.

He barely noticed the man who had slid up next to him. He was lost somewhere between being enthralled with Sparkle and trying to focus long enough on anything else to not crash and burn.

“Oh, ya…I found a decent tailor on Arx that was able to let it out a bit,” he said not catching the implications.

“Where did you source the skin?” Xen asked, sipping on his Starshot Runner.

He ran his free hand slightly over Kamjin’s cheek.

“This has to be actual human skin,” He added.

Kamjin shuddered at the touch as he recoiled. “Excuse me,” he said, his eyes focusing on the other man.

“Xen, are you drunk already?” Kamjin knew more about Xen from second hand knowledge and only a few meetings that were focused on the former Emperor’s other talents.

“What are you going on about?”

“Ah there you are. You seemed… distracted.” Xen said. “I was merely commenting on the state of this human shaped body suit you’ve managed to squeeze into. I imagine the slime works as some kind of lubricant?”

He took another sip from his drink. His eyes carefully watch Kamjin’s face, peering in attempt to understand the man better.

Realization washed over Kamjin like a wet blanket. Xen clearly had been reading the tabloids.

Kamjin gave a mirthless laugh. “Let’s not give the tabloids anything more to write about,” he said, tilting his head back to take a longing look at Sparkle who was serving a man in armor at the other end of the bar.

“It’s good to see you out of your lair. However did you convince Thran to give you the night off?”

“Oh I am afraid its far more than just the tabloids. I’ve seen several dozen official documents citing it. Do you have any idea how hard it would be to plant false information in the Inquistorius’ databanks?”

Xen finished his drink, and placed it softly on the bartop. He waved at Sparkle who nodded in acknowledgement.

“As for being out here. Rayne insisted, and given how my lair rather needs her to keep funneling credits my way who am I to say no?”

Kamjin drained his old glass. The comically oversized ice cube barely registered when it touched his lips. He’d have to start pacing himself after this one he’d make a fool of himself.

“I have reason to believe Lord Idris is playing a prank on me. Though, to what end I don’t know,” he said, making a mental note that he prayed he’d remember at the end of the night to put an end to Idris’s childish humor.

“Rayne is good at making sure people come together,” he continued, grabbing the two new drinks of Sparkle. His heart skipping a beat as her finger casually brushed his as he took possession of the glasses.

He offered the more complicated drink to Xen. “How is our little project progressing?”

“I would suspect it goes beyond just Idris at this point. Its practically galactic news at this point,” Xen said with a smile grabbing his drink.

“As for the project it progresses. I’ve drafted some interesting new designs I believe with help with some optimization. I hear there is another… factory, coming online for work. A shipment of prisoners with jobs should have it up and running sometime next week.”

“Yes, we’ve augmented the Covenant to allow us to parole those prisoners of lesser offenses into community service…of a sort,” Kamjin said, swirling the ice cube in his new glass. The amber liquid glinting in the light.

“You know, I was a bit of practical jokester in my youth. I’m sure it’s gotten out of hand but I’ll think of something to bring it back in line,” Kamjin smirked as he sipped his drink.

“Though, on serious matters, there is some competition sniffing around these contracts trying to figure out what is going on to get in on the action. I will handle it, naturally, but you may need to move the operation if they get much closer.”

“That was always a possiblity. We’ve scouted several possible secondary sites that could work well for our purposes. It still can be moved easily enough. That will change soon though,” Xen said swirling his drink in small circle.

Kamjin nodded. A lifetime of plans were coming together and it was uplifting that each of them were managing their parts with the calm, collected, experience of decades of scheming and Imperial management.

However, Kamjin knew he had to get away from the bar. Something was unnaturally captivating when it came to Sparkle. Maybe taking in some of the artifacts on display would clear his head.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said by way of ending the conversation he set off to take in the collection.

Thran pressed his heel into a slim black shoe. His finger teased the soft satin collar, convincing it to lay flat. The streaks of gold shone bright over the black base which they laid upon. He sighed as he panned over his reflection in the mirror.

“I look…” He paused.

“Like a cheap gigolo.” His stylist said under her breath.

“Gooooooood.” He smiled.

He’d always been notoriously difficult in managing his daily look. Special events required even more scrutiny. It could be a tiresome process, but perfection demanded the commitment of time. After a few generous sprays of sandalwood, vetiver, and amber eau de parfum, he was finally set to depart.

He made his way through the stately chateau towards the Grand entrance. A bevy of servants passed him personal effects, which he tucked into various pockets and folds of the suit. Terrance poked his head from the study, where he had been lounging near a roaring fire, he ngyapined in Thran’s direction. A ruffling of his favorite tauntauns hair was the last stage in the departure process.

“I love you, my precious boy. I’ll be back soon.” Thran planted a firm kiss upon Terrance’s snoot.

The door was nigh. He crossed the threshold.

A vehicle waited. A sleek, finely polished speeder sat humming with an electric desire to be at top speed. Siinek, his Kurtzen Manservant, held open the slim door. The pale fleshy alien shut it as Thran nestled into the plush leather seat.

“Make haste, sir. The other guests will be ravenous for your presence by now.” Siinek said in his low whispy voice.

“I shall be the very definition of speed, dear Siinek.” Thran twisted several knobs and depressed a pair of actuators.

A cloud of dust filled the carriage court. The speeder rushed off towards the sea.

“Your drink, mi’lord,” Sparkle said, gently placing a slender glass before Sennix, who returned her charming smile.

“Thank you, darling,” he said, lifting the glass to his lips as he slipped a small taste. “Mmm, delightful.” His soft blue eyes raised to meet hers as he slid a few extra credits across the counter.

“A pleasure, my lord,” she said, emphasizing the “my” as she pocketed the money before slipping away to tend to the other patrons.

Sennix smirked as he shifted his weight to his back leg, resting one hand on the ledge of the bar, and holding his drink with the other. “She’s a natural.”

Taking another sip of his drink, the Sith turned his senses to the presences around him. As was to be expected, many high profile guests had come to congratulate the Empress, but among the political and publicity agendas, Sennix noticed several here who’s own appearance was owed to a shared loyalty to both the Empire and it’s throne; Between the few who had formerly bore the crown to those who were actively in the Empire’s employ, Sennix silently studied his fellow patrons, all while periodically sipping his drink. “Mmm, that really hits the spot.”

Reiden had spotted Korvyn when he made his way inside. He would have been surprised if he hadn’t already known the man was assuming the duties of Proconsul. Still, it had been at least a decade since he had seen him, back when he was still just a Knight. But the man was busy greeting everyone and working the crowd, his back to him as he stepped in. He decided saying hello would have to wait for later and he advanced into the museum.

As he scanned the crowd, there were faces both familiar and new to him. He spotted Kamjin at the bar and what looked to be Xen, someone else he hadn’t seen in some time.

It’s good to see him getting out again, even if he likely needed some coaxing to do so,

Kah’ri was there as well, a glass in hand and a bottle beside him on the bar top. He had no interest at the moment in mixing it up with the partygoers that he didn’t really know, especially those looking to curry favor or make an impression. He made his way over to the bar.

“Kah’ri, it’s good to see you again.”

“And you, as well, master.” Kah’ri said sliding the cider over to his elder. “I took the liberty of ordering you a cider — a little social oil, if you will.”

Kah’ri spun around on his stool to face the room. He saw many familiar faces, almost half of which he only knew from holos. “I take it, you knew of this a while ago: Ray- I mean the Empress’s ascension?”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” he replied, taking the drink. He turned to face the crowd as well, nodding slowly as he took a sip. “I did. Although after Kamjin and Thran both left for their new positions, there was really only one clear choice for who could assume the throne. On the other hand, it would have been…interesting to see someone else try to take it from her. I’ve had the privilege of observing Ray-the Empress,” he corrected himself, “over the years and I can tell you there’s nobody I can think of that would be a better fit. I always thought she was one to watch, but I guess it was a matter of waiting for the right timing.”

“I’ve seen that as well, despite my limited time with her.” Kah’ri’s memory fluttered with images of the Crannix Station mission. “She’ll do good for the Empire, of that I am certain. What’s more interesting - or possibly what’s more concerning - is the relationship between our new Empress and the Brotherhood’s Regent. So many promising opportunities for the clan.”

Reiden nodded along, sipping his cider. “I can see that as a possibility. Although it could just as easily go the other way, or remain neutral. With a higher position comes increased scrutiny. Thran may not want to risk raising suspicions like that. In the end, only time will tell.”

The shuttle arrived back at the shipyard where the Punisher was waiting for Vincent Brujah to return from the Gala. The Mandalorian dressed in a red snap up track suit and his makeshift “helmet” hopped out of the shuttle and made his way up the ramp of the ship. Upon entering the ship, he saw a large box, wrapped in black wrapping paper with a red bow on it. Reaching down, Jaz picked up a card with Vincent’s notorious skull and crossed lightning bolts logo on one side.

”Jaz,

Thanks for **lending* this to me. Your patience in awaiting its return has been most appreciated. Now get this on and get back to the Gala.*

Signed,

Vincent Brujah"

Through the cardboard mask, the eyes of Jaz widened. He ripped open the box to find his Beskar, polished and looking brand new.

“Finally!” he said as he grabbed the armor and disappeared into a changing room, tossing the pathetic cardboard mask onto the floor as the door whooshed closed behind him.

“Indeed. Though one does wonder.” Kah’ri replied.

For what felt like a full minute of silence, the Firrerreo sat observing the room and sipping his drink before finally speaking.

“I believe I’ve inherited your lack of desire for position. The idea of being heavily scrutinized, as you mentioned, is… undesirable. It happens already too often.”

“The only way to avoid criticism is to avoid doing anything worthwhile.”

Placing his glass down, Sennix turned, extending a hand to the Equite. “And that is worse than any scrutiny. Terribly sorry for intruding, but I couldn’t help but overhear. Sennix Krast, at your service mi’Lord.”

“Yes, that is the reality I find myself in as well,” he replied to Kah'ri. “All this,”he waved his hand at the museum, “is not me. Not something I desire or seek out. But sometimes one must do what they must.

He glanced at the partygoer that was beside them, tilting his head slightly, then sipped his drink. “Our guest here raises a valid point about ducking such things. Although there have been some that make accomplishments and remain out of the public eye before, but that lies more with the person and efforts taken to avoid it, I presume. Unfortunately, I’ve been in service to the Empire for so long and done so many things that it’s nearly inescapable. Which is part of why I’m not often seen at such gatherings, besides my duties taking me elsewhere at times. I’ve noticed that, luckily, most people just keep to themselves and go about their day.”

Kah’ri fought the urge in himself to clarify. A man who one day would gain power over his home world would obviously take part in this type of event — even relish in being the center of it — but the Dark Jedi Brotherhood (or more specifically, its bureaucracy) would have no hands in it.

“Forgive our manners. It’s a pleasure, Mr Krast. I am Kah’ri Marru, and this is my master, Reiden Palpatine Karr.”

“Palpatine?” Sennix said, raising an inquisitive brow to Reiden as he shook Kah’ri’s hand. “I imagine a name like that comes with its fair share of responsibility. Then again, considering present company…” he said, gesturing to the Empress and the entourage of guests growing around her. “But where are my manners? May I buy you two gentlemen a drink? Our bartender makes a delightful Alderaan Twist.”

“You can try, but ours come free.” Kah’ri jibed with a slightly condescending chuckle.

Reiden inclined his head to Krast, a small smile playing across his lips. “Yes, you could say that. I’ve served in varying capacities over the years. I feel privileged to have been a witness to some great accomplishments and history being made.” He paused for a moment, hearing his apprentice’s words. “I’m not one to turn down an offer of a drink. An Alderaan Twist sounds like it would be good, thank you. I’ll have to return the favor later.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Sennix said, signaling for the young Zabrak woman. “Sparkle, dear, could I please have a couple drinks for my friends here?”

Sparkle’s eyes glistened as she smiled, reaching down to retrieve two more of those slender glasses.

“From the looks of things, I’d say that the Empire is fortunate to have someone of your dedication, especially with the recent changes in leadership; People will be watching to see what kind of Empress her Majesty will be. She’s going to need people she can depend on at her side.” Sennix’s brow softened as he looked out at Rayne, poised and postured; The very picture of dignity.

“Your drinks, my lord,” Sparkle said from behind him, placing two freshly made Alderaan Twists onto the counter.

“Thank you, dear.” Passing the drinks to Kah’ri and Reiden, Sennix retrieved his own from its perch and raised it up to the others. “Long live the Empire!”

Kah’ri hesitated to assess their new acquaintance. Surely no one could be this politely naïve… ‘The life of the lower man must be filled with such ease’ Kah’ri thought to himself as he raised he own. “Long live Empress Rayne!”

Duk grit his teeth as be approached the main hall. I’m very late He joined the room with others just as the others began raising their glasses.

He spotted the nearest servant with a tray of drinks and grabbed one to raise it. He waited to see what the rest of the room did before said the words.

Truth be told, Reiden wasn’t sure what to make of the man’s words. There were times when he felt he wasn’t as capable, or maybe that he could be doing more. But he knew that the Summit knew they could call on him if they ever had the need to do so. As to his other point, he knew Rayne was quite capable in her own right and he had faith in her to do the job well. The new Empress was no stranger to such things either; she was sure to have knowledgeable advisors.

Reiden took the glass and lifted it, nodding. “To the Empress and the Empire.”

Elaine had been observing and listening to the surrounding conversations as she polished off her drink. A quiet sigh was sounded from the young Sith as she stood up and made her way to the bar, sitting a few stools away from the gathered group. She set her empty glass on the counter in reach of the bartendress.

“Another champagne for me.” She said.

“Right away m’lady.” Sparkle responded, briefly turning her back with a seductive twist to the group to grab the glistening bottle before making her way to the young lady adjacent to her.

She poured the golden hued liquid into Elaine’s glass ever so gently, being as precise as she could with the stream.

“There you are, m’lady.” She said with a small smile and a slight bow of her head as she turned to resume her previous tasks.

As she made her way back to her primary audience, Sparkle misstepped causing her to trip and fumble the bottle in her hands. Catching herself on the counter, the beverage slipped from the nozzle of the bottle, saturating a percentage of Sennix’s clothing.

Aboard the Punisher a door whooshed open and Jaz Holden walked out once again donning his full Beskar armor. He slid his WESTAR-35 blaster pistols into their holsters. Stretching his arms to get used to the feel of the armor again, he smiled under his helmet.

He walked back down the ramp of the Punisher, looking for the shuttle that had dropped him off, but it was gone. He sighed to himself. It wasn’t a far distance to the Gala, but far enough that walking wouldn’t be optimal. Then a lightbulb went off in his head.

Looking upward to ensure there was nothing in his way, he fired up his jetpack and began flying in the direction of the Gala.

“Just like old times!” the Mandalorian thought to himself as he ascended upward.

After a moment of flying towards the museum, a familiar beep began ringing out inside of his helmet. Over his visor, a warning:

Fuel critically low.

“You have to be kidding me…” Jaz muttered before the jetpack sputtered out and he began falling back towards the ground.

Duk rolled his eyes and wondered if he would win in a jetpack race.

He downed his drink and placed it on the tray held by a passing servant. He closed his cloak to cover his arm once again before heading over to join Kamjin by the artifacts.

“Master. Been some time since we’ve been in the same room.” <@679032520699805708>

Sparkle brought a frosted mug of a deep amber liquid to Vincent Brujah with a smile.

“I think this should crave the itch for a strong ale, mi'lord!” she said as she placed it on the bar in front of the Quaestor.

Pressing buttons on each side of his helmet, the seals released with a hiss. Brujah pulled the helmet off and placed it on the bar next to his drink before tossing a few credits on the bar. He lifted the mug to his mouth and took a big, satisfying gulp of the ale. It was deeply rich with flavor. Bitter. Enough to make a non-drinker gag. Just the way Brujah liked his ale. He looked at Sparkle and gave her an impressed look before raising the mug towards her, which seemed to amuse the Zabrak.

“Where the hell is Jaz? I really thought he’d be back by now…” the Sith thought to himself.

About this time Sparkle lost her balance and spilled a drink on Sennix. It took a lot to amuse Vincent Brujah, but it was all he could do to contain the smile and laughter dying to escape his body.

Sennix silently stared at his uniform as champagne dripped down onto his boots.

“Oh my- I’m- I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!” Sparkle stammered, her delicate, glowing repulsor arm frantically reaching to grab the bottle.

“Don’t grovel.” Sennix said, raising a hand to quiet her as he looked to see her whole body had stiffened in anticipation of his wrath. “Well, at least I won’t have anyone complaining about how I smell. Now if you wouldn’t mind, do you have a cloth I could borrow?”

Sparkle blinked vacantly as she tried to register Sennix’s words.

“Ahem.” The Equite cleared his throat. “Sparkle?”

“I’m sorry!” She began again, as if her train of thought had suddenly picked up where it had abruptly fallen off the rails. “Oh, um, y-yes, yes of course.” Reaching behind her, she swiped a fresh cloth from the counter and offered it to Sennix.

“Thank you.“ Sennix said, wiping the excess wine from his tunic and boots before handing the towel back to Sparkle.

“If there is any way I can make this up to you, mi’Lord, I-”

“Actually, my dear,” Sennix said, a small smile tucking itself into the corners of his lips. “A round of drinks for everyone at your bar free of charge might help to put minds at ease.”

Sparkle’s eyes twinkled eagerly as she bowed slightly. “Of course, my Lord.”

Kamjin turned at the sound of a familiar voice. He had become distracted watching Sparkle deal with the youthful inept and a completely irrational anger was swelling in his stomach.

“Duk,” Kamjin’s effortless smirking smile came upon his face. “It has been to long. Course, you had important work to handle,” he said, wagging a figure at the Togruta like a parent mockingly chiding their child for something they had actually told them to do.

“I see you’ve gotten yourself a drink. We should go and get you another one,” Kamjin said, placing a guiding hand upon the taller youth and turning him towards the bar.

Sparkle was flushed from her recent encounters with other member of Scholae Palatinae. Her body glistened as she created exotic drinks one after another. Kamjin had been to some of the finest exhibits of art throughout the galaxy in his career and Sparkle made them all look like clumsy Gundarks with binders on their appendages.

“Are my brethren treating you alright?” Kamjin asked, his voice full of concern and disregard for these members no longer being his clan. He would hold them to a higher power…his, if they were mistreating her.

“Mi'lord,” Sparkle said, even breathless her soft voice was like a cotton swab on a wound. Gentle and healing. Kamjin genuinely smiled at her and he could tell she actually blushed this time. “Its an honor to serve the Palatinae. You,” she looked down. “I mean, the Palatinae saved m-us, during the latest war. I am grateful for the chance to serve.”

She handed a tray of assorted cocktails to a Bothan in a sharp black tuxedo that blended into his dark fur. The Bothan sneered as he looked at Kamjin’s eyes that remained transfixed upon Sparkle as he left to disperse the drinks to the Palatinae.

“Friend of yours?” Kamjin asked, cocking his head towards the Bothan.

“Someone who thinks he has a chance,” Sparkle replied with a laugh that indicated she dealt with this all time.

Duk cleared his throat. “Could I get a refill?” he said, tilting his glass.

“Want me to get rid of him?” Kamjin said, unclearly if he meant Duk or the Bothan.

“Oh no, he’s harmless mi'lord.”

“Not everyone who looks harmless is.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I’m sure you can.”

Duk put his glass on the counter. “Kamjin, how is Kya? I heard she came to visit you with the kids when you were healing from the assassination attempt,” Duk said, seeing the magic moment dissolve - tapping his empty glass mouthing refill.

Kamjin coughed, straightening back up while Sparkle’s eyes darted anywhere but at the former Emperor as she picked up Duk’s glass and searched at the other end of the bar for the appropriate bottle.

Kamjin’s eyes fought to stay their usual olive brown and not turn and betray his Sith rage. “Yes. She did visit but left before I awoke taking Hikaru with her. Rohan and Komilia told me she had been concerned and it was uplifting to know she still cares. But,” he said, peering over Duk’s lekku to try and catch Sparkle’s eyes. “It’s still clearly complicated. You don’t blow up your spouse and hide your children for over a decade without having some baggage to workout.”

Realization that he may have overplayed his hand flushed Duk’s face. “Oh,” he said, rapidly turning between Sparkle and Kamjin. “Are you two? Is this a…”

“I don’t know,” Kamjin said, taking another sip of his drink. “It’s probably nothing. I should be nothing. But…I feel young Duk.”

Duk gave his Master a puzzled look. Being only twenty-nice himself he didn’t quite understand.

The speeder stopped in front of the Valet stand.

Thran pressed a button and the door popped open. He climbed out, destined for the door of the museum. A freckle faced teen swallowed hard as he approached.

“Mr. Park, can Vehicle and I Kast it?” He gulped.

“Easy there, Opie. Hope you drive better than you speak. Put it up front, not a scratch…” He said headed into the party.

A brief pause for photos on the red carpet and he went inside.

The gala was full of the usual folk, robber barons and titans of industry, potbellied ministers and women that were certainly not their wives. These were the type of people that he had bought this world from. Now, no longer operating in an official capacity, he could be himself, or at least one version of himself, the holofilm star.

He spotted Rayne across the room, flanked by the red armored guards he knew so well. There was a hint of concern, bordering on sadness in her eyes. She hid it well, but not well enough from his keen eye. It was often lonely at the top, so he elected to save any well played shenanigan for a later time.

The guards hesitated but a moment as he approached. They stepped forward, awaiting the Empress’ approval of his offered company.

Rayne smiled softly, meeting the emerald eyes of the man before her. She was relieved to see Thran. Before he had arrived, she had been chatting up dignitaries and guests of the Caperion system that came to meet the new Empress. She really turned on the charm at this event.

“As you were,” she reassured the guards, “he’s more than expected.”

They simply fell back in line in one movement, resuming their silent watch over everything. They were trained to analyze any threat to their Empress. They wouldn’t bother her over every guest coming to greet her, not unless necessary.

Reiden had watched as Sparkle tripped and spilled the champagne on Sennix. To his credit, the man handled it rather well, although the poor woman had looked mortified. Given her reaction and how she anticipated something more, he could only imagine what she had been through during other functions. Still, he was glad it was minor and hadn’t turned into a bigger deal than warranted. He finished his drink and placed the glass on the bar.

His eyes scanned the room, watching things, as they often did. It was an old habit he had picked up before joining the Brotherhood, but one that had served him well over the years. He saw Kamjin, clearly taken with the bartender, engage her in conversation once more. That was information to be filed away for later if need be. One could never have enough knowledge, after all. Then there was the interaction between Sparkle and the Bothan server. He wasn’t normally one to get in the middle of other people’s business if he could help it, but he didn’t like the look in the man’s gaze. He’d keep an eye on him, perhaps do some digging the next day. The people working such events needed to be safe, whether from each other or the partygoers. There was no sign as of yet that it would be a problem, but better to be safe than sorry - especially for someone working an event like this where the Empress and various summit members, past and present, would be in attendance.

He took note that the current Quaestors, Vincent Brujah and NeMo, were also at the party. It would probably be good to greet each of them at some point during the evening. Out of courtesy if nothing else. And of course there was Rayne, the guest of honor. Calling her Empress would be challenging due to his familiarity with her, the recent change, and his general lack of formality with such things. But an effort was to be made, as was the way of things.

Reiden turned his attention to the bar once more and flagged Sparkle down. “I’ll take an old fashioned, when you get a moment, please, with Corellian whiskey.”

He watched as the woman smiled and got to work. The little flourishes and showmanship as she brandished the ingredients and assembled the drink informed him that she was no amateur and knew her way around the bar. Not that he was surprised by that in the slightest. He was sure that only the best people would be on the clock tonight, especially in such a public-facing role as bartender.

Sparkle was quick with a smile, the light catching in her eye for the briefest of moments as she slid the glass across the bar top. The large cube of ice clinked against the side as it came to a stop. He placed some credits on the bar as thanks and returned the smile. As he raised the glass to his lips, he saw that the surface of the ice had been marked with the cog of Scholae Palatinae. His smile only grew from there as he took a sip. The flavors were familiar to him, the slight warmth from the alcohol a welcome change from the cider and the Alderaan Twist he had before.

“You certainly know what you’re doing, Sparkle. Thank you.”

“Good work, boys. No offense taken.” Thran patted one of the soldiers in the shoulder.

“Your Most Illustriousness…” he added with a bow.

He snagged a tall flute glass from a passing server and approached Rayne.

“Your beauty could move the stars to weep and is matched only by your unparalleled regality and incontrovertible grace.” He raised the glass and sipped.

“What staggering tales of wonder and soul captivating conversation has shaken you so as to set you to such deep solitary reflection?” Thran’s eyes panned the room.

He said up beside Rayne, his voice lowering to a near whisper. A directional nod, showed her to his targets.

“Perhaps it was them…a listen in on their riveting chat…” Thran said slightly clearing his throat.

His voice turned gruff and snuffling, like a rooting tauntaun. “Myess, my butt is large. Some say the largest butt ever seen on a man.”

His voice changed again, to a falsetto mimic of a woman’s timbre. “Hmmm, I don’t know. Pretty sure I’ve seen bigger. It seems like you’re lying ”

The gruff voice returned. “Madame, a gentleman. Never lies about the width and girth of his hind side.”

Again to falsetto, “Fair, it’s only the front side they lie about. Let’s get some uncooked fish eggs and laugh like we don’t understand joy!”

The mocking male voice returned “Myess, and I shall snuffle and wriggle my moustache.”

The distant pair of dignitaries were certainly discussing something dry and dull. Rayne smirked slightly. Thran planted a light kiss on her cheek. He was certain that the smile creeping across her face was the first genuine smile of the night.

“Did you miss me?” His own voice was restored.

She chuckled softly at Thran’s performance. He always knew how to make her laugh. “I’m glad you’re here, you ham,” she teased.

“Oink oink” Thran tossed back another swig of bubbling wine.

His eyes surveyed the room again.

“Quite the motley crew you’ve collected. Even managed to coax Xen'mordin out of his hidey hole, I see.” His remarks were jovial, but an aura hung about him.

It wasn’t sadness or envy. It lacked the drooping or narrowed eyes that accompanied those feelings. He bore the tiredness of defeat only found in a 2nd place racer. It was the weariness of a sculptor who’d not finished yet their masterwork. It was desire; desire for more.

He knew she could read him. He wanted her to know he felt his work unfinished. Of course he trusted her to rule in his stead, but for the Sith relinquishing a lesser rule for a greater one still felt like losing something small. He tightened up and turned back.

“Has the reality of being the supreme authority in the Caperion system set in yet?” He said.

“No, not yet, I suppose.” He added. “Usually comes after your first public execution. It’s like being drunk on berrywine. It warms you from the inside and you crave…cheese.” His eyes scanned the room again.

“What is your first order of business?” He asked

Rayne read Thran’s thoughts like a book. His mind was always a steel trap shut tight but she knew a way in. She knew how to see what’s real and what’s a façade.

He wasn’t wrong. They had shaped the Empire over the past year or so as a team; a power couple, built for taking the stars in the vast sky above them. She wasn’t expecting the transfer of power so swiftly but she knew her duty was to ensure the Clan’s continued survival, at any cost. The Sith Lady knew it was time to pick up the mantle and serve as Empress as he was… required elsewhere. She would continue working on their plan with new faces and those who wanted to be apart of the Empire.

“Mix and mingle, as per usual. Getting to know who to smile at, and who to smack down. That was my original plan.” she said.

She was itching to stir up some fun. Maybe add a bit more flair with fire at some point. Who knows? The night was young.

Rayne was immediately impressed with the display revealed before her. She admired the craftsmanship of the statue. She watched the jade green fire dance in the stone hand for a moment before raising her glass, exclaiming loudly for most people in the room to hear.

“For the Empire.”

For yourself… Duk thought to himself, before raising his glass. “For the Empire!”

The sound of the exuberant chanting reverberated through the doors of the museum, catching the attention of the two late-comers as they stood a ways in the shadows of an adjacent building. Two guards had approached the suspicious characters, but just one glare from the half-Sephi woman as well as a moment of recognition was enough to send them away to leave the contemplative couple alone. There was no rush to join the festivities as the married pair watched and listened in silence, the Nagai feeling the tension from his wife’s hand in his.

“I’m here. You won’t be alone,” Sanguis Caldiren reminded, giving her hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “We’re just here for the pleasantries.”

Shadow Nighthunter sighed, letting herself relax a bit. “It’s been a long while since I’ve been amongst my clan mates again. Most of them don’t even know I’ve returned. I don’t know what to expect. On top of that, I still hate parties.”

Her husband chuckled before leaning slightly to kiss her cheek and taking a moment to admire her in the crimson crop blouse and high-slit skirt. “I know, but it doesn’t help to loosen up a bit. Besides, this will be an opportunity to gain information, and I’m sure you’ll be happy to see a few faces again.”

“True.” Shadow turned her gaze to him, taking in the sight of the ancient Sith in his rather masquerade attire. “He’ll probably be there, you know.”

Sanguis nodded, his neck muscles tightening slightly. “I know, and as much as I’d like to kill him, I’ll behave and focus on having a good time.”

“Aye. We just have a good time, have a few drinks, congratulate my former master for becoming empress, and maybe have a dance or two.” Her golden gaze returned to the paparazzi infested entrance. “We just need to get through that first. I still say we should’ve just snuck in ahead of time.”

The Marauder let go of her hand and took her arm in his, ready to escort his beloved. “You were Empress once, Rowan. Hold your head up with pride, and just focus on us.”

Shadow closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself for whatever onslaught of questions the reporters and journalists would throw at her. After a few minutes, her golden eyes reopened. “Right. Let’s do this.”

Assured that she was ready, Sanguis kissed her cheek again before escorting her out of the shadows and into the fray.

“For the Empire,” Reiden echoed, raising his glass of champagne in the air before taking a sip. He set his other drink down on the bar top for later. It wasn’t often he got to experience first class champagne like this, after all.

He found himself observing once again. Gathering potential information was always useful, even if done partially out of habit rather than more intentional action. The topics were too varied. Most seemingly inconsequential, some delving deep into things that went beyond his understanding, some were both. But even so, he put a smile on his face and sipped his drink.

Nothing wrong with enjoying a good party and taking advantage of free alcohol, he reminded himself.

Elaine looked at the wonderfully constructed statue in amazement. Of course the Empire would spare no expense on such events.

She raised her glass.

“For the Empire!” She exclaimed. And congratulations, Rayne she thought to herself, taking a sip from her glass before setting it back on the bar.

Kah’ri looked on at Korvyn’s revelatory display with a burning sense of pride and lustful envy. His image would soon be the one carved in stone. With a hidden reluctance and stifled camaraderie, Kah’ri stood from his stool and raised a glass.

“For the Empire!”

As Reiden stood there, he turned his gaze to the statue again. The likeness was uncanny and even from a distance he could tell that the craftsmanship was exquisite, as befitting for something depicting a ruler. Knowing Rayne and her proclivities, the green fire was a perfect touch. She must have loved that.

He was struck with the sudden urge to reach out and make the fire dance. It would be an easy enough feat for one with his abilities and the reactions that the partygoers would likely have would certainly be a sight to see. But he refrained…for the moment, at least. Perhaps later in the evening, after the alcohol had been flowing more.

Duk let out a deep sight and slapped both hands on the bar. “Well I need quite a bit more to drink if I am going to stick around for any more of these ‘festivities’ tonight.”

He turns to Sparkle behind the bar who seemed to almost read his mind. She had two shots of a liquid that smelled like it could melt chromium.

Without hesitation Duk threw both shots back then turned back to the room. “Did someone say fire?”

He turns to Elaine, “You there! Conrat girl. I’ve seen your love of chaos. What do you say we shake things up a bit?” She starts to reply, “I didn-“ “I’ll take that as a yes!” He interrupts.

His head was starting to tingle. “Hold that thought I need another drink.” <@971875986654257162>

Duk’s words caught Reiden’s attention. He raised an eyebrow and turned to face that direction. He exchanged the champagne for his old fashioned, still sitting on the bar, taking a sip.

What direction will this go in?

I might as well humor him. It’s a good thing Callé isn’t here, things would have gotten interesting the moment the Togruta arrived. she thought as she lifted her glass, finishing her drink.

She made her to Duk and spoke in a hushed tone, “What did you have in mind?”

“How about we see if we can get Thran to ‘promote’ a servant to an early grave? He asked.

“What is your brilliant plan to achieve this?” She replied inquisitively.

“Insult his pride.” Kah’ri absentmindedly muttered into his glass. No sooner than he voiced the thought did it occur to him that he had been eavesdropping and subsequently participating in a conversation he’d much rather stay out of.

Pretending he said nothing, he set his empty glass on the bar and flagged the barmaid. “Sparkle, my dear, you wouldn’t happen to have a bottle of Tavraki Whiskey, would you?”

The woman gave a knowing smirk and disappeared behind the bar for a moment before emerging with a dark bottle that looked deceivingly ordinary and two low glasses . “Here you are, love.”

“My thanks.” The Firrerreo nodded. Kah’ri opened it up, poured a glass and gave it a sip. “Ahh. Delightful!”

“The plan is to have a winner and loser. You get caught…. You clearly lose and risk the wrath of the former Emperor. You win if he thinks it is his idea and destroys one of the servants.” He replied with whisper.

“I may not have spent a lot of time with Thran but I know that he is not one for being manipulated. I may be bold at times but I don’t have a death wish.” She stated.

“If you want to go along with this, that’s your prerogative but I will take no part in it.”

Vincent could feel the warmth of the alcohol beginning to course through his body. For now, it served to loosen him up, and brighten his spirits. He took another big swig of the strong ale and finished the mug. Placing the mug back on the bar, Sparkle quickly appeared.

“Another, mi'lord? Or perhaps something different?”

“I’ll take another of these ales. They are quite tasty.” Vincent returned.

Overhearing Dukwtape and Elaine’s conversation, the Sith smirked a bit. Perhaps he’d get dinner and a show out of this night.

The buzz was starting to strengthen. “Then what do YOU suggest?” He retorted while leaning in a little too close to Elaine.

“I suggest you get out of my face before you lose a lek,” She said with a drop of her expression.

Roughly two blocks from the museum, Jaz laid on the pavement. He slowly stood and shook off the fall, noting the scuff marks on his armor and sighing. He looked forward, seeing a crowd disperse from the direction of the Gala. Taking a deep breath, he sputtered:

“For the Empire….”

Before stumbling towards the Gala.

Duk withdrew himself from the Conrat girl. He paused for a moment as if thinking of his next move.

He sauntered in the direction of the newly unveiled statue. Arriving at the base he just looked up and stared at the green flame in its hand.

The tension in the room became tangible as everyone waited to see what the Togruta would do next.

Duk continued to stand there for a few minutes without saying a word.

And he’s the student of Kamjin… she thought as she scoffed quietly.

Oh well, one less Sith I’ll have to worry about.

Rayne felt the tension heavy in the air emanating from one Togruta standing at the base of the statue. She knew others could sense it too. Her curiosity was piqued, but she could sense he was fueled with alcohol giving him liquid courage, or stupidity. It’s amazing how often those are two sides of the same coin. She hoped she wouldn’t have to intervene or to have to have him thrown out, however a small part of her hoped he’d try.

She reached out with the Force, pulling a small portion of the fire towards her hand, letting it play between her fingers and it danced slowly in her palm, almost mirroring the statue. She hoped the Togruta could enjoy the night… before he didn’t.

Duk stood silently. The flame separated as is it flew over to Rayne’s hand. His eyes followed and until they made contact with the Empress. A polite smile swept across his face.

“My lady.” Duk said with a bow. “This statue captures every fearsome detail of yourself.” He made sure to make no sudden movements that would set off her guards.

“The Empire is in much better hands than those of your predecessor. What was his name again?” He made sure it was said loud enough for Thran to hear. “No matter. May your reign be long and strikes be swift.” He bowed again.

Thran scowled. It was an amateurish attempt to goad him.

“Were I to disagree on your point, boy, I’d have mind to correct your slack tongue. The Empire is in the best hands in the Galaxy. Your piddling antagonizing attempt to draw me to violence is but the bite of a sandflea upon a great krayt dragon…and I am so unbothered by it as to not to even scratch you free of your miserable, draining, pointless existence. Have you already forgotten, it is you that are here bending the knee, not I. Name known, name unknown, doesn’t matter. One day you’ll find the fortitude to stand tall, and I’ll be there to put your face back in the dirt. Alas…clearly that day is not today. Today is a day of celebration…” Thran smiled.

“So, celebrate, drink and be merry, that you still draw breath. You never know when that streak might end.” Thran sipped the last of his champagne and placed the empty flute in Duk’s hand. “And Make yourself useful…fetch us another one.” He added.

His buzz faded with the rush of adrenaline.

“Sparkle, dear. The has-been would like a refreshment.” He said over his shoulder toward the bar. “I will fetch one for the lady, but you can see the lovely Sparkle for yourself.” A slight smirk emerged from Duk’s face as he tried to hide the fact that he was heavily gritting his teeth.

One day I’ll come for you Thran, but not today. He thought to himself as he made his way to the bar for Rayne’s drink.

As Duk walked away, Thran smirked. Squashing upstart Equites was a favored past time. But, he wasn’t done. Duk had stuck his hand in a hornets nest. Thran would deliver the 1000 stings that would be the Togruta’s final undoing. He’d start small a single, petty sting that would come to direct the swarm.

He opened a communicator. He spoke swiftly and succinctly.

“16290. Freeze all asset accounts. Suspend all future payments. Permanent flag for suspicious activity. Notify the Inquisitorius.” The communicator clicked off.

He turned back to Rayne. “Where was I, my love?”

Kah’ri watched this whole thing through reflections in the bottles and glass cases behind the bar. It worked. The fool actually got a defensive reaction out of him he thought to himself. He found by this that his curiosity had been surprisingly unremarkable, as if the outcome was predicable. Even so, Thran could have ground the young Sith’s face along the ground until his cheek bones were showing and Kah’ri would still care as little as he did now. If he was honest with himself, he much preferred to examine the works of art in the museum than to mix with that type of immature debauchary.

“So Sennix, was it? What do you do for a living?” The Firrereo spoke to his new acquaintance, while motioning for the man to take a walk with him.

Reiden watched the exchange. The fact that the Togruta would do such a thing to bring some entertainment was equal parts bold and stupid, especially considering his chosen target. It was fascinating. Thran handled the situation better than he would have thought, but then he reminded himself that the party was for Rayne, so the Regent likely didn’t want to cause too much trouble.

Of course, Thran had that final trick to play, one last barb that would be hooked into the other man. Shortly after Thran finished speaking, Reiden heard a soft chirp. He pulled the sleeve of his jacket up and glanced at the computer on his wrist. There was a flash of the Inquisitorius symbol before text was displayed on its screen. Sure enough, Duk’s name and information was there, as was the security flag. A slow smile played across his lips when he read it. He marked it as acknowledged while also indicating that he was nearby. There shouldn’t be a need for further follow up, at least not yet, not by him.

I’m glad that I’ve never gotten on Thran’s bad side, as far as I’m aware

“Lady Nighthunter, where have you been?”

“Have you returned to take back the throne?”

“Who is your date?”

“Why did you leave without a trace?”

Shadow only offered a polite smile as she and Sanguis passed through the news-hungry journalists, The Sith wanting nothing more than to shatter their minds with terror. If there was anyone she hated more than politicians, it was the press. However, much to her surprise, Sanguis seemed rather unbothered.

“Lady Nighthunter is here simply to support and congratulate the new Empress,” he answered one journalist, his Nagai voice adding to his charm that seemed to bring satisfaction to the nosey wretches. “We both wish the best to Empress Rayne, and that she may lead the Empire into a time of prosperity and success.”

He smiled and offered a curt nod before leading Shadow inside, the journalists piping up again with more questions. Amusement danced in the assassin’s eyes as did gratitude for his intervention. “I should’ve had you handle the press on top of being my personal guard back when I was on the throne.”

“I find them to be pesky flies, but I learned to have my fun with them back in the day. Use them correctly, and you can have your rivals quaking if not goaded into making a fatal mistake. Plus, I was used to the press from my time as an officer in the Nagai military before the Sith life happened. Especially after my engagement to the general’s daughter was announced.”

“Makes sense.” Shadow shifted her attention to her surroundings as they made their way to the bar. Her eyes scanned for familiar faces, catching sight of a few clan mates that brought a smile to her face. That smile faded however when she caught sight of Rayne and Thran with a familiar with Togruta by what looked to be a statue of the new Empress herself. She could feel the tension through the Force, curiosity and wariness poking her mind.

Sanguis seemed to notice as well, the Marauder exposing his fangs slightly with an amused grin. “Seems things are already interesting.”

Shadow didn’t respond, watching the scene unfold in silence until at last Duk made his way to the bar at the behest of Thran. She briefly caught sight of The Usurper speaking into the communicator, his gaze still locked on the the Equite. She sighed, wondering what offense the Togruta had committed.

“Want me to get you champagne, love?”

The half-Sephi’s attention returned to her husband. “Yes, please. Been a long time since I’ve had some good champagne.”

Sanguis nodded, leaving her next to the column she now rested against to get their drinks. Her eyes drifted again, checking to see who else was present for the celebration as well as the various exhibits that dotted the floor and walls. She made a note to bring her children here sometime soon, to teach Artorias and Deus the history of the Empire they would one day serve should that be their path in life.

The Sith’s gaze landed on Rayne again as the Empress spoke with Thran, wondering what all the Firrerreo had been up to. She was tempted to approach her former master, remembering fond memories of their time together as master and apprentice. They had become close, Shadow considering the woman as family just as she did with Rasilvenaira. She wondered if Rayne still considered her the same way, or if Shadow was now just another chess piece on the board for the Empress to manipulate in the future.

Her thoughts were knocked to the side when Rayne’s aqua gaze suddenly fell upon her. Out of respect and acknowledgment, Shadow bowed her head and offered a soft smile of good will. She was ready to serve again, if the Empress would have her.

All hail Empress Rayne…

Rayne met Shadow’s eyes, acknowledging her presence. So she came back. The Firrerreo mused to herself. She would give her the courtesy and go greet her in a moment.

Duk arrived at the bar to get a drink for the Empress. “Excuse me, my dear. Could you make something a little off menu for me?” He asked Sparkle.

“Of course, mi’lord. What did you have in mind?”

“Can you make me a green galaxy with just a hint of spice and Azrid dust to produce a green flame on top?”

“I can do the drink and spice, but I wont be able to get the flame to burn green as I do not have any Azrid dust.” She replied.

“Well isn’t it our lucky day that I have some right here.” He pulls out a small pouch of a fine dust made from volcanic Azrid rock. “I bought this a while back and knew I would find a use for it. Just a light dusting will turn the flame green.”

“Understood.” She took the pouch and began to work.

“Ah yes… Socializing and learning the who’s who.” Thran offered her his arm; a suggestion they tour the gala.

“Perhaps we seeks out our reclusive brother…his skills may prove useful to you. It be wise to keep him close. And besides, I fear we’d better get to him before he’s overwhelmed with social anxiety and locks him away on Danktoonie again.” Thran said

Rayne sparked at the idea “Yes, an excellent idea, love!” she said jovially. She was waiting for the opportunity to go greet guests personally.

Duk returned to the pair and their guards. As the adrenaline faded his buzz returned. He stopped three feet directly in front of Thran and locked eyes. There was no mistake violence was about to erupt from The Usurper, he knew the cost of his actions.

“Empress, thank you for allowing us these pleasures. This will be a night to remember.” He said without breaking eye contact with Thran.

Duk began to chug the green flame drink recklessly as drips ran down either side of his mouth. He stepped closer and presented the empty glass in the palm of his left hand.

“Your drink, mi’lord.”

“Ugh, you again?” Thran eyes rolled.

He looked at the empty glass. He sighed. A silent psychic alarm rang through his mind.

Thran was mildly impressed that the young Sith would try again. Tenacity could be a wonderful tool, when properly applied. However, when misused it was little more than pride in disguise. To know victory, one must know when they are defeated. But tricky old pride has an unlimited ability to blind the fool to utter defeat. Hence the saying, that pride cometh before the fall. Another saying also struck Thran, knowledge is the greatest gift of all. He smiled. He was, after all, feeling generous.

“You really ought to slow down, champ. It’s not a race. Maybe get a little something solid in your stomach. It’ll save you tomorrow morning. What’s that? How wonderful! Hors d'oeuvres? Right there in your hand!” Thran exclaimed meeting Duk’s intense stare.

“Eat it.” His voice was devoid of emotion. His hand waived slightly.

Thran watched a flutter of fear in Duk’s eyes.

“All of it.” Thran added. His hand fluttered again.

The entire weight of the Dark Side descended upon the Togruta. His will caved like a paper doll. He was helpless. His body actively betrayed him. A rebel arm lifted the empty glass to his lips. He struggled against his own defiant jaws. They opened, closing around the top of the glass. He fought, to no avail, against his tensing muscles. He was wholly aware, witnessing, and locked in terror as his teeth began to shatter against the crystalline glass.

He chewed. The tang of iron and copper filled his mouth. He felt the blood poor from his lips as his mouth opened again. Struggled as he may to regain control, he was but a passenger in his own body.

Like a programmed machine, he took another excruciating bite. The remnants of liquor on his breath sting at his lacerated gums. His eyes welled. Hatred. He felt nothing but hatred for the smirking Master.

“Good…” Thran said, drinking in the thoughts and roiling emotions of his victim.

Thran reached into his coat pocket and drew a small orange pistol. The guard stepped forward a half step. Thran waived them off. He cocked the hammer and placed it grip first in Duk’s hand.

“Try another…” Thran said. His voice was low and dry. “Careful…it’s spicy.

Duk’s eyes darted to the pistol. His biceps flexed and he raised it to his mouth. Blood fell and pooled on the floor. The hard barrel clacked gained exposed dental nerves. He winced.

"Go on.” Thran encouraged. His hand waived.

Duk’s eyes slammed shut. He felt a traitorous finger curl around the trigger.

Click

Thran leaned in and gripped Duk’s chin. Duk could feel his presence in his mind, rummaging and rampaging through his memories, thoughts and fears. And as quickly and violently as the presence had come, it was gone.

“Drats. I forgot to load it.” Thran said, releasing his grip on Duk’s.

He motioned to the Praetorian guard to take him away.

Thran turned back to Rayne. She stood silently blinking at him.

“What? He started it!” Thran said.

Reiden watched the display, cringing on the inside. On the outside, however, well, he did his best not to show anything and suppressed a shudder. And yet, a short, harsh chuckle issued forth from his mouth and he shook his head. While perhaps going a bit far, it was apparent that the Togruta was in rather desperate need of being taught a lesson. Being bold was one thing, but being stupid was another matter entirely. Sometimes it was a fine line to tread. He was sure that Duk would remember this and he could only hope that the lesson he took from it would be the right one. After all, the information available to him - of which there was a lot - told him that Duk was talented in his own right and it would be a shame to lose someone with such promise ahead of them. Only time would tell.

He took another sip of his drink. The amber liquor brought a slight warmth to his throat. But it was cut short, the ice cube beginning to slide forward. He leveled out the glass, saw that it was now empty, and set it down on the bar top, giving an appreciative smile to Sparkle when he caught her attention as a way to thank her again.

Elaine watched as Duk attempted to make a mockery of Thran and though the site she saw filled her with fear, it more than anything made her grateful for her decision to not participate with the Togruta.

She chuckled slightly.

Though she wanted to greet the Empress, she thought it better to let the tension die down a bit. She arose from her seat and began to walk the halls, admiring the artwork.

Kamjin ignored Duk’s scheming for the moment. It was important for Sith to test their might against their betters. He smirked and chuckled to himself as memories of his own attempts danced before his alcohol faded memory. At least he isn’t wasn’t picking a fight with a Grand Master. Maybe at the end of all of this he’d still have a living apprentice.

Sparkle had become busy with orders as Kamjin nursed his drink. Lost in memories and wondering what had happened to his statues. Probably destroyed on Ragnath, looted by the masses, or melted down my Thran to build his dream.

Kamjin watched Sparkle move like a leave amongst a storm. She never hit the bar, dropped a glass, or missed a smile to a patron. He was more intoxicated with her than the potent spirits she poured him.

Sparkle slid over to where he was, a casual exhale showed that she was dropping her guard around him. That practiced, and necessary, shield from all the people who would take advantage of a lady in her position.

“So…a wife?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?”

Kamjin swirled what was left in his glass as he pondered that statement. He loved his wife. He loved his kids. But he hadn’t been with his wife in decades.

“Ya,” he finally said, as he saw Duk rush back to the bar and order some weird cocktail. Kamjin peered over his shoulder at Rayne and Thran by the statue. Kamjin could sense the mirth from Thran at whatever interaction had such concluded. He noticed Duk sprinkle some powder into the drink and an otherworldly green flame erupted.

He raised a hand as if to warn off his apprentice but then thought better of it. If he dies, he dies Kamjin thought as the Equite plodded off with the drink.

“Look,” Kamjin stammered. “It’s been a weird night. My wife and I are…I guess you’d call it separated. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m not usually like…”

Vincent watched the scene unfold from the bar, taking measured sips from his ale during the affair. He couldn’t help but smirk as the Togruta was taken away by the Praetorian guard. Most of the Clan had yet to experience the brutality that Brujah was capable of, but this display by Thran reminded the Sith much of his own antics while scouring the galaxy for information on the Jedi that had killed his mother. Though he had never forced anyone to eat a flute, he had done other unspeakable things to obtain the information he needed.

While the message was clearly pointed at Dukwtape, Vincent knew the reality that this was a show to anyone who would dare mock and antagonize the Regent. The message was clear, and the results sickening to most, but an important lesson was learned by many: Don’t bite off more than you can chew.

Kamjin trailed off as Sparkle’s face dropped as she looked over the Justicar’s shoulder. Kamjin felt the pain as he turned and saw his apprentice chew on his glass.

“Excuse me,” Kamjin said, standing up. Sparkle’s eyes seemed to plead for him to stay but he never saw them.

By the time he reached the scene, Duk was bleeding profusely and Thran was acting innocent. It didn’t take an Intelligence Officer to read the scene.

“Rayne. Thran,” Kamjin said by way of greeting. A polite bow of the head.

He looked down in disgust. “Get up,” he commanded. There would be no second request. Duk had failed and he was going to pay for it. Thran, whether cause he was drunk or thought it beneath his notice had allowed his apprentice to live.

Kamjin was still undecided on that fact.

“Kamjin.” Thran nodded in response

The Regent didn’t acknowledge or explain the events that had just transpired. He didn’t have to. Plus, he figured the Justicar wise enough to put the pieces together. The evidence spoke for itself.

“They let you out of Tartarus, did they?” He added with a smile.

The Praetorian guards started to grab Duk’s arm when Kamjin gave the order to get up. Fuming with hatred Duk shook off the guard and stood up on his own.

Normally he would have verbally acknowledged his master, but the sliced up mouth, tongue, cheeks, and throat made that near impossible. One hand covered his mouth while the other grabbed the edge of his cloak. Wincing in pain he used his cloak to wipe the blood from his face.

He bowed to his master and then to Thran before stepping away to clean himself up further.

Kamjin is going to make me wish I had died by the hand of Thran. He thought to himself. Kamjin regularly made it a point to further the lessons of failure if he survived.

“Ya, I wouldn’t miss this for anything else,” Kamjin replied to Thran. Out of the side of his eye he watched Duk struggle to his feet.

He scowled at the embarrassment. “How goes things on Arx? Have you made accommodations for a long term stay?

“I’m making due. Sadly, my obligations don’t leave me to linger on Arx. An absolute tragedy…” the sarcasm was only thinly veiled.

“With that said, we’re moving to stabilize in the wake of the accident. Zxyl was rather careless, Mattock station was a total loss. Fortunately, we’ll be able to write it off as material loss. Construction has begun on her replacement and it’s far less…Mandalorian…in its features.” Thran replied.

“I’ve used my recent… construction experiences…to help expedite the process. The tricky part is harmonizing the frequencies of the crystalline matrices of the primary material collector. It’s very technical, but I’ve amassed an army of dweebs to sort it out. It’s derivative of my father’s work, so I have some base understanding, but all the jargon can be quite vocational.” He added.

“I’m more involved on the branding side. Moon Muncher is what we’re…Frek, when I say it out loud… That’s awful. Ummm, we’re still work shopping names.” Thran continued, his eyes churned as he processed a thought. “That reminds me, I have a junior executive that needs an additional one on one when I return to Arx…” The seemingly benign comment felt ominous.

Kamjin nodded along politely. The occasional gasp or ‘you’re kidding me’ sprinkled in to show he was listening to what was quickly becoming a boardroom meeting. Kamjin’s eyes darted between Thran’s boosting to Rayne’s patient understanding.

Kamjin often wondered how that relationship worked but who was he to judge. His own relationship was full of challenges. He effortlessly shuffled the group to the side as a group of cleaning droids appeared to remove the stain of his apprentice’s failure.

Kamjin was certain to leave a more permanent reminder of this failure on his apprentice.

Noticing that Thran took an uncharacteristic breath between words, he seized the opportunity to change topics. “Rayne, I was curious since we have a moment. With the destruction on Ragnath I’ve not been able to use my retreat. I was wondering if you’d allocate a parcel of land in Elaya’s forested area to clear and create a man-made lake and retreat for me to utilize when I’m able to return here.”

“I have just the place in mind for you. North of Corcova in the Kaynya forest. I’ll have my people contact you and construction can begin immediately,” Rayne said, recalling from memory of the the planet’s terrain after working with Intelligence for the past year to expand surveillance across Seraph and the rest of the Caperion System. There were quite a few places of open real estate prime for use across the planet.

She could have it completely built out of desks just for Kamjin.

“Rayne, that will work perfectly. I’ll have my people connect with your people on this in the morning,” Kamjin said, taking the Empress’s hand and gently kissing its back.

“Oh, Thran,” Kamjin said, turning his head. “I think my apprentice bled on your suit.” Kamjin gestured towards a small, almost imperceivable stain on Thran’s coat.

Outside of the Gala, Jaz limped up to the red carpet. He was surprised to see the flock of reporters gone, and in their place a small platoon of Stormtroopers.

At least I won’t have to deal with the press he thought to himself as he approached the entry.

Before he could enter a Stormtrooper lifted his rifle and took aim.

“What is your business here?” the trooper asked.

“I’m here for the Gala.” the Mandalorian replied.

“Name?”

“Jaz Holden, but you won’t find it on…”

“You’re not on the list.” the Stormtrooper stated, raising his rifle once more.

“Yes, I was just trying to explain that I’m the plus one for Vin…”

“Depart immediately or you will be found guilty of trespassing.”

Anger and disbelief radiated from Jaz.

“If you would just listen, I’m trying to tell you that…”

“I said depart immediately or you will be found guilty of trespassing!”

In unison the entire platoon raised their rifles at Jaz.

Thran looked down at the small red spot.

“Gah! Sonuva…” He exclaimed. “I should’ve been the mailman…”

“Mailman,” Kamjin parroted in confusion.

“They’re big on Coruscant, or something. It haute couture…but you would know anything about that…Cloaky…McCloakerson.” Thran picked at the red stain. It smeared and became worse.

“Gah! This was probably expensive!” He whipped of the coat and threw it on the ground.

“You can bill that to me,” Kamjin offered, by way of making a temporary peace between Thran and himself. Duk…Duk was going to learn the hard way (like he had) about reaching beyond his status.

“Excuse me for a moment. I’ll be back shortly,” Rayne said politely, detaching from the conversation. The Empress walked off in search of <@411418079810289665>, her apprentice at one time. She had left entirely without a word the last time Rayne saw her so it was a surprise to see her here of all places. The Sith Adept would atleast hear her out. There was a place for her in the Clan still if she wanted to return, but Rayne wanted to be sure.

She spotted her with Sanguis, her husband, off observing the Gala together. Rayne approached them and said, “Hello again, Shadow. It’s been a long time.”

Shadow smiled. “Indeed it has. When we came back, imagine my surprise when I heard you were the new Empress.”

The assassin’s gaze shifted to her drink before she met Rayne’s eyes again. “It was a mistake, leaving as we did. Yes, we got a much needed vacation out of it, and Sanguis and I welcomed a new son. However, we both have come to see that we should’ve never left. My place is here. My heart is here with the Empire. It always has been, and to think I could stay away for long was foolish.”

“To be fair, I had an influence on her decision to leave,” the Nagai suddenly spoke. “After what happened, I thought it best we took our family away somewhere safer. However, we learned the hard way that our enemies will follow us no matter where we go.”

“So we came back,” Shadow continued. “In the end, I knew we needed to come back. My loyalty and my blades belong to the Empire. Just as I served as Empress, I still wish to serve now wherever you may need me. Wherever you may need us.”

“And we both seek to continue on the path of power that may be found here,” Sanguis added, taking a sip of his wine. “Granted, I feel like I had a lot more influence and power back in the day.”

Shadow rolled her eyes, a slight grin of amusement forming on her lips. “Yes, yes. I know. You miss your glory days terrifying and tormenting your rivals. You ol’ relic.”

The mirth in her eyes faded as she returned her attention to Rayne. “We pledge ourselves again to the Empire, Rayne. To serve and to help bring further glory to Scholae Palatinae.”

The younger Sith’s eyes blazed with determination and fealty. “That is, if you will accept us back, my Empress.”

With Kah'ri and Sennix departing, Reiden was on his own once more. It would be a shame not to explore some of the exhibits while he was at the museum. And moving around would give him a chance to take advantage of that and also possibly catch up with anyone else he knew. He looked around and made his way to the bar again, getting Sparkle’s attention.

“I’ll take another, please, when you’ve got a moment,” he nodded to his empty glass and gave her a smile. The Zabrak woman returned the smile with one of her own and got to work, soon producing a second drink and sliding it across the bar top. Reiden raised it in thanks and deposited credits on the bar once again before turning and walking to the nearest exhibit.

He had never truly appreciated all the history that Scholae Palatinae had. Then again, most of his early years with the clan were spent being sent training and being sent on missions, trying to survive. The struggle, the fighting, it was familiar to him. He had done that since the death of his parents on Corellia. Then came Coruscant, other worlds, and eventually finding his first master, Kadain. The old man had done a good job of teaching him the basics of the Force and set a strong foundation. Of course, he also withheld the location of the Brotherhood from him. One struggle to another. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. But it turned out to be a crucible for him. While it wasn’t clear to him at first, the realization came to him with time. Everything he had gone through strengthened him, and now here he was. Power was at his fingertips and he rubbed shoulders with people in some of the highest places. His advancements were seen, in part, among pieces in the museum.

It was a strange feeling to see displays that chronicled Scholae Palatinae. This was especially true in regards to their arrival in the Caperion system when they sought to wrest control of land from the Meraxis Empire to create a new home. That was when he was in the thick of it, fighting on the front lines. Even now, he could still hear the blaster fire and explosions, smell the smoke. And the blood as well, both of the enemy and the people he had fought alongside. He shook the memories clear and sipped his drink, continuing on. He caught sight of Rayne talking with Shadow and smiled, knowing he had felt her presence earlier. He would have to go over and see her when she had a moment. It had been too long. And of course he should spend time with the guest of honor as well.

Rayne listened to both their words intently. She saw the fire in Shadow’s golden eyes. That same fire Rayne had seen years ago when her apprentice was a young teenager. It reminded Rayne of the hunger for power, but specifically Shadow’s own power, whatever the Force deemed fit to manifest in the young Sith back then. She let her decision hang for a but a moment.

The Firrerreo then smiled warmly. “Very well. Welcome home, both of you. If you need any help getting settled, let me know.”

Shadow’s eyes brightened with joy, but she resolved only to a bow of her head in gratitude while raising her right fist to her chest in respect. “Thank you, Rayne. And we’d appreciate whatever assistance you could provide. We’ve been staying in a hotel the past week. It would be nice to have a place to officially call ours again.”

“Especially when you have three children and an anooba running around,” Sanguis muttered between sips of his drink. “We’d be grateful for anything at this point.”

“A hotel for a full family? That sounds pretty cramped. Every member of the Clan has quarters available to them at the Monolith and we can certainly find one large enough for you and your family. You may move in immediately until we find a permanent place to live. Have you considered where you’d like to make a home here on Seraph?” Rayne inquired.

“Not as of yet,” Shadow replied thoughtfully. “Probably somewhere not too far from the Monolith, but somewhere with plenty of land where we could have a reasonably-sized estate. Perhaps somewhere near the mountains to the north, now that I think of it.”

Reiden walked along the exhibits, taking them in. He caught sight of Rayne and Shadow again and decided now was as good a time as any, and if he waited long enough, he may not get a chance later. He took a sip of his drink and began to walk over to them. He thought for a moment about the last time he had seen Shadow but struggled to place exactly when it was. That was not a good sign and it was far too long for his liking in any case.

A broad, genuine smile spread as he approached. “Rayne, congratulations again on your ascension! It feels like this has been a long time coming and I look forward to seeing where you take us next.” He turned to Shadow, smiling again and nodding to Sanguis. “It’s great to see the both of you again, it’s been too long.”

“Reiden. It’s good to have you here.” Rayne greeted the long-time advisor for the Clan.

“It seems our Shadow returns with her growing family and we were trying to find a suitable place to call home for her,” she adding, catching him up to speed in their conversation.

“It will be good to have you back. I’m familiar with trying to find a place to settle down. I spent a lot of time at the Monolith after the move to Seraph,” he explained. He shook his head a bit and laughed. “I’m still trying to figure out what to do next, but at least it was an easy option for us all while we got settled. I’m going back and forth between wanting to be in Azatra or finding somewhere else where I could have a bit more space.“

“Well, if we do get our piece of land and have our estate built, there will always be room for you, Reiden. After all, the twins have missed you terribly, and I’m sure you’d like to meet your new nephew, Sorin. I know Deus and Artorias would enjoy long visits with their favorite uncle. Deus could use someone with good influence. He picked up a few things he shouldn’t have from his other uncle, Horus.”

Shadow glanced at her husband, Sanguis looking away indifferently. “You were gone, and there was no babysitter. I had no choice but to take them with me to the pit fights after Horus invited me.”

His wife rolled her eyes, knowing full well that Sanguis actually regretted taking the twins with him. “As I was saying, the twins could use a good role model. Especially Deus.”

Reiden laughed quietly and smiled. He could only imagine the influence Horus would have had on children. And then he realized just how much he missed seeing them all. He loved taking trips to their home and seeing the twins, taking them out to do something fun. He had been happy to hear that there was a new child added to the family with the birth of Sorin. “I appreciate the offer, but I think visits might be better. I don’t want to intrude too much. But you know I’ll always make time for those boys, and now Sorin, too, of course. I’m looking forward to finally being able to meet him.” He thought for a moment, smiling. “How have they been? Are they good with Sorin?”

“Deus and Artorias are doing well,” Shadow responded cheerfully. “They’re already learning the basics of the Force, though Deus has taken what he’s learned to use for his own mischief. Arty gets a bit discouraged when he sees his twin excel quicker than he does, but he’s determined. As to Sorin, they do well with their half-brother.”

“Until Deus figured he could put the blame on him since Artorias has gotten too smart for him,” Sanguis remarked. “Other than that, the twins spend a lot of time with him. Artorias is rather protective of Sorin when Deus comes up with one of his mischievous ideas.”

Sanguis finished his wine and chuckled. “Deus better be careful. Sorin may just get him back one day when he’s older,” the Marauder added with a hint of pride for his son. “Time will tell, of course.”

“Probably all the more reason these boys could use their uncle back in their lives again.” Shadow smiled as she shifted her attention back to Reiden. “They really have missed you. When we left, Deus and Artorias were heartbroken.”

“Well I guess some things never change,” Reiden replied with a smile. “Deus was always a little troublemaker, especially for Arty. It’s hard to believe they’ve already started to train, it feels like I met them as babies not too long ago.”

His mind went back to his own days of training. He hadn’t even known about the Force for so long and much of his initial powers had been more instinctively accidental with sensing things or being warned about danger. His training hadn’t begun until he was much older. He pictured the twins practicing and couldn’t help but wonder if maybe they made a game out of it. “I’m glad they’re doing well, although I may have to remind Deus to be nice to his little brother, much like I did for how he was with Arty.” He smiled again, this time sadly. “I missed them too. I would have tried to visit, but things have kept me busy. Hopefully I’ll be able to spare more time now, especially with you coming back.”

Sennix stepped after Kah’ri as he retrieved his freshly filled drink from the bar. “Before the Empire, I owned a small trading operation, but business isn’t what it used to be, so I’ve had to downsize drastically.” he said dryly, passively admiring a nearby exhibit. “Truth be told, my interests lie elsewhere as of late…” Sennix let the statement air, looking back towards Kah’ri. “And you? What does a man like you spend his time on?”

“Indeed. We’ll have to arrange a play day sometime soon.”

Shadow took a sip of her champagne. “How’ve you been though, Reiden? What have you been up too since we’ve been gone?”

“I’ve been good, keeping busy,” he sipped his drink, smiling. “The Empire has its work, but I’ve also been involved more with the Voice and the Inquisitorius. I even did a mission for the Envoy Corps earlier in the years. And then there’s always the odd freelance job as well to change things up. Luckily it doesn’t all hit at once and I can sometimes pick and choose assignments so I do have some downtime as well. Can’t keep going all the time, that’ll just make me collapse.”

Shadow nodded. “Fair enough. Sanguis and I did some freelancing ourselves while we were gone. Otherwise, we enjoyed life on Nagi. The ol’ man missed his home world.”

“Granted, it’s not the same of course,” Sanguis added, allowing only a hint of emotion in his voice. “But it was good to see home again despite the changes after all this time.”

He nodded, sipping his drink. “It’s always nice to get home when you can. I did the same last year, although it was more spiritual or symbolic in nature than anything else, and reminding myself of where I came from.” He sipped his drink, giving a slight shake to his head. “I’ve changed a lot since then, but holding onto at least part of my time there has always helped me. Even physically,” he added, a hand drifting to lightly touch the hilt of his dagger.

Sanguis nodded, the Nagai allowing a hint of understanding to show in his expression. He never really got to know Reiden much before, but he had some respect for the man. “It’s good to remember your roots whether they be physical or in some other form. Such things remind us of who we once were while also allowing us to reflect on the journey that has led to who we are now.”

“That they do.” Shadow turned her attention back to <@169597761379893249> . “As to what you said before, whatever you are able to provide, will be appreciated. For now, however, please don’t let Sanguis and I keep you. This is your night, not ours.”

“Thank you for coming tonight, for me and for the Clan. Please, join us for the Afterparty,” Rayne smiled politely at the three standing before her. She needed to move on at any rate. It had been too long since she got to connect to some of these people here. She could move mountains with just the right words with just the right people. With that, she left their company.

Kamjin’s ears perked up at the mention of the after party. It was quite easy to as he had grown accustomed to Thran’s long-winded explorations of topics and he had chosen to nod politely while receiving the finer points about haute couture on Coruscant and why the bill for his coat was going to be worth a small fleet of TIE fighters.

Kamjin had always had a knack for picking up on certain words and phrases in a crowd. When he was a child people said he was blessed with his maternal grandmother’s ears. As an intelligence operative it was a gift to weed out noise. But as a child, he was mostly told that he was eavesdropping and being nosey.

“Excuse me,” Kamjin said, interrupting Thran and handing him a flute from a passing server. He smirked to himself as Thran was probably trying to figure out if he was just being rude, attempting to poison him, or finally needed to hit the head. The later becoming a more pressing concern but he wasn’t going to turn his back on most of the people in here if he could help it.

“Rayne, do my ears deceive me or will there be an after party starting up soon?” Kamjin asked, casually interjecting himself into the conversation with a nod towards the other individuals surrounding the new Empress.

“Indeed you heard right. There will be an Afterparty after we leave here where we can really celebrate. I just had to put on appearances for the right people. You know how it is,” Rayne said, matter-of-factly.

“You all may join,” she continued, making sure her voice was heard to her guests from in and outside the Clan.

“Get wild or stay mild, it doesn’t matter,” she added, including those who just want to chill. However, she knew some of them were looking to really party like Sith. Usually, it meant breaking something or setting someone or something on fire. Ah, glorious chaos.

“I’d like somebody to be hanging on the chandelier by the night end atleast,” she said with a mischievous smile.

“With this crowd I’m fairly certain I know of whom you speak,” Kamjin replied, glancing back at Thran who had started to fiddle with a spot on his shirt and whether or not Duk’s blood had seeped through the coat to it or not. “If you’ll excuse me. I want to get another drink before we hit the road.”

Kamjin bowed politely, the assorted medals clinking on his chest as he made his departure from the crowd around the Empress. As he made his way through the crowd he noticed Xen trying to sneak around the shadows towards one of the supports leading to a chandelier. Kamjin sighed, tossed a nearby cocktail sword at the man and, once he had his attention, gestured in the other direction where an access ladder was hidden behind a velvet curtain.

Kamjin slid back up to the bar, comfortably at the end which he had made his home for most of the evening. Sparkle was off assisting one of the other patrons. Kamjin quietly sighed to himself. He felt young and foolish in a way he hadn’t felt in decades.

“How can I help you,” a gruff voice asked. Kamjin shook his head back to reality and saw the same gruff Bothan sneering down at him.

“Oh, I’m fine. I can wait for Sparkle,” Kamjin said, dismissively as he turned his head to catch Sparkle’s eyes.

“I’ll be helping you for the rest of the night. Let me get you another,” the Bothan said again, taking Kamjin’s nearly empty glass and tossing it into the sink under the counter. Kamjin’s eyes narrowed as the Bothan began to make a cocktail worse than the stuff he’d seen Dag’s bartender of the night make.

“So why am I so lucky that I’ve got you personally take care of me…Norr?” Kamjin asked, making sure to read the Bothan’s name tag.

“You’re a former Emperor, aren’t you?” Norr gruffed out, as he put the cocktail into a shaker. Kamjin could have sworn the Bothan was trying to flex as he shook the cocktail above his shoulder.

Xen nodded his head in thanks to the Justicar and slinked carefully towards the access ladder.

Ladders were a bit less thrilling but it would save him quite a bit of time. Of course he now had to attempt to remain level headed enough to actually climb the damn thing as the several rounds of drinks had made the world very wobbly.

“I am,” Kamjin smirked. “But there are several former Emperor’s here. Not to mention all the other members of the Palatinae elite here tonight.” Kamjin gestured towards the group Sparkle was tending to. “So, why are you helping me?”

Kamjin’s eyes peered into the Bothan’s eyes. Despite his bluster his hands shook and the shaker nearly fell from his grasp. Norr cracked the seal and poured the drink over crushed ice. Kamjin was certain they had solid cubes still behind the bar.

“I think you know why,” Norr said as he slid the glass over to Kamjin. For what passed as ‘claws’ for Bothan’s, Norr tried to make a show of force.

Kamjin beamed. “I do,” he said, taking the drink. It was bitter and he put it down immediately. Sparkle happened to turn at that moment and Kamjin waved her over with a smile.

“Mi'lord,” Sparkle said, her voice like silk. “Let me remake that for you,” she said, taking the drink and staring daggers at Norr. Norr hopped back. Sparkle having dug her heel into his foot as she gestured for him to follow her.

Despite the rancor of the room Kamjin could hear Sparkle chastise Norr. “What are you doing?”

Strangely Kamjin couldn’t heard Norr’s reply.

“I told you we’re never going to happen so back off,” Sparkle stomped on Norr’s foot a second time as she returned with a proper drink for Kamjin. “Mi'lord, my apologies.”

Kamjin sipped the drink and it was like the elixir of life. “Everything okay.”

“It’s complicated,” Sparkle said.

“It usually is…”

Reiden raised his glass to his lips and drained the last dregs from it. When he heard Rayne mention an after party once this had wrapped up, he was intrigued. Those were usually much more his speed than some big, fancy, public get together such as this.

He understood the importance of the ones for the public. It was good to display a strong image, after all. People would always want to pay respects, bend the knee, try to curry favor, get in the good graces of the upper echelons of the elite. He would have arranged the same thing if it were his responsibility. And it was his duty as a member of Scholae Palatinae, and also as one of the Palpatines, to show up to such functions, even if he would rather not be there and instead be almost anywhere else. Then again, they could also be entertaining in their own right.

His mind drifted to Duk and hoped the young Sith would be able to get the proper care he needed after challenging Thran. That would likely be a painful lesson and he hoped it struck home and stayed with him.

He nodded to Shadow and Sanguis, taking his leave to return to the bar. He set his glass down and smiled at Sparkle, bowing his head in thanks for her efforts. He turned to the party and leaned against the bar, taking in the guests. His gaze lingered on the gathered clan members. He found himself wondering if they would all be at the after party, and if any others from the clan would show up for that, or people from outside the clan.

This could become a very interesting night, he thought to himself.

Shadow watched Reiden leave before she was back to surveying the rest of the room. Her eyes lingered on Kamjin for a few minutes before she forced herself to look away with a sigh. “Well, things are going rather well so far,” she remarked. “You wanna stay for the after party?”

Sanguis popped his back before he answered. “I suppose. I might be able to get a bite here and there,” he said with a devilish glint in his eyes.

His wife shook her head in amusement before she elbowed him. “Funny.”

The Nagai chuckled, leaning down and planting an kiss on her cheek, the tips of his fangs barely grazing his skin. “You know I tease, although I might be tempted should a good opportunity present itself.”

“Behave,” she warned light-heartedly. “I don’t need you ending up on the empire’s most wanted list.”

“I know, I know.” Sanguis gestured towards the bar. “Why don’t we get a refill and you give me a tour of the collection here. I never did have much of a chance to learn more about your empire’s history before we left.”

Shadow smiled. “Of course. It will be a good way to pass the time.”

The battle had been epic. Songs would be written about this night. Xen was going to need several drinks to celebrate his victory, the ladder stood defeated as Xen clung to one of its handrails. He looked down.

Shit.

Three rungs down was the floor. He looked up and lost count of how many more he needed to climb to make it up to the chandelier. But if there is anything Xen was, it was determined. This war was far from over.

Drinking what was left of his ale, Vincent decided that it was time to beat the traffic and head towards the after party. He dropped a few credits on the bar for Sparkle as he pushed the empty mug towards the back of the bar. Reaching to his side, he grabbed his helmet and placed it back over his head, sealing it in place with a high pitched hiss.

He turned and walked towards the entrance. Being the first out the door, he saw something that he wasn’t anticipating. It appeared that Stormtroopers were in a standoff with someone. The Quaestor smirked under his helmet, wondering if it was the same reporter that had bothered him earlier. Peeking his head around the closest trooper, he was shocked to see Jaz in his full Beskar holding both of his WESTAR-35s outward at individual Stormtroopers. The Stromtroopers screamed for him to drop his weapons, but the Mandalorian spun in tight circles keeping his eyes on the platoon.

“I just… want… to go inside!” Jaz screamed at the troopers.

Letting out a small sigh, Vincent pressed a button on his armor, quickly disappearing from sight as his optical camouflage engaged. The lead Stormtrooper shouted at the Mandalorian.

“This is your last warning! Drop the blasters or we will shoot!!”

In that very instance a red lightsaber blade ignited and held itself at the Stormtrooper’s throat. The second in command quickly turned to engage, but with another snap-hiss found an orange saber blade at his own throat.

“What in the hells…” The trooper got out before Brujah turned off the optical camouflage and came into sight. Both troopers snapped to attention the best they could, avoiding the saber blades.

“Quaestor Brujah!”

“What is the problem here, and why are you pointing your rifles at my plus one?”

“I WAS TRYING TO TELL THEM!!! THEY WOULDN’T LISTEN!!” - Jaz screamed out, still half tempted to load the troopers full of whistling birds.

The lead trooper muttered quietly: “He wasn’t on the list, sir…”

Vincent deactivated his sabers, letting the troopers relax slightly.

“Remember this man. He is my friend… and I will not tolerate any further harassment.”

“Yes sir!” the troopers replied in unison.

Vincent patted Jaz on the shoulder as he relaxed and holstered his blasters.

“What the hell took you so long?” Vincent queried.

“Don’t ask… not now…” the Mandalorian seethed.

“Very well, you missed the Gala, but the real fun is at the after party anyway. Let’s get there.” Vincent said, waving for a shuttle.

Xen looked down at the gala floor. He estimated it was anywhere between three feet to one thousand feet below him.

“This will definitely have me hit my out-of-pocket maximum on my health insurance,” He said to himself. He didn’t envy the cleaning crews’ job either. Really this was all Rayne’s fault. She made him come to this damn party in the first place.

He looked up at the ornate mechanism locking the chandelier into place, and the attempted knot on the line he had made to allow him to swing across the room. He was a man of science. He could tie a knot to deal with the basic physics of it all. Totally. Not an issue. Easy Peasy.

He reached out a hand and closed his eyes, feeling his body swell with the Force. There was a soft click as the locking mechanism came undone. Then he was falling - no. Swinging - with style.

Elaine had walked around most of the museum before she decided to head back to the main room the gala was being held in. When she entered the room, she couldn’t help but notice a man whom she had not made the acquaintance of swinging from the chandelier.

What in the world did I miss…? She thought, looking around in bewilderment.

Rayne watched in sheer amusement at Xen'Mordin, pregaming the Afterparty, hanging from the chandelier like a boss. A drunk boss, but the effort was there nonetheless. She gave a soft laugh.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about, Xen!” she shouted up to him, encouraging bad behavior in such a formal setting. It was definitely time to move to a different venue.

As they prepared to move from one party scene to the next, the Empress relaxed a bit. Now, she didn’t have to play diplomat anymore and she could really embrace being a Sith Empress. This will be a night to remember.