The ceremony concluded with applause measured and dignified, as everything had been that afternoon.
Jasper did not linger among the immediate well-wishers. He offered a restrained nod to a fellow officer, a brief exchange of congratulations to a trade minister whose shipyards his fleet had once relied upon, and then allowed the flow of guests to guide him toward Ambassador Hall.
Transition, he had always believed, was where true impressions were formed.
The doors opened.
And even Jasper paused.
Ambassador Hall did not simply host the reception, it proclaimed it.
Three cascading crystal chandeliers descended from the vaulted ceiling like captured stellar phenomena, refracting gold across polished marble in quiet constellations. The light caught along the sharp edges of his rank plaque, shimmered faintly against the gloss of his boots. He adjusted his gloves in one smooth motion and stepped fully into the space.
This was not extravagance for its own sake.
It was message control.
The vaulted chamber carried the faint scent of citrus oils and polished wood, crisp and deliberate, layered with the quiet promise of champagne yet to be poured. Staff moved with precise choreography, aligning chairs, adjusting glassware by millimeters, ensuring the illusion of effortless perfection.
No detail was accidental.
Jasper’s gaze lifted toward the far wall where tall arched windows framed the city skyline. Avalonia’s towers stood illuminated against the night, their glow dignified and unwavering. Reflected faintly in the glass, the chandeliers seemed to double the stars inside the hall.
Statecraft under starlight.
He approved.
Round tables, ivory linen layered with deep sapphire overlays, were arranged with military symmetry. White roses rested in gold-rimmed vessels, low and controlled, romantic without indulgence. Candlelight flickered just enough to soften the marble, never enough to surrender clarity.
He moved through the space like he would across a command deck: observant, unhurried, cataloguing.
Diplomats gathered in measured crescents near the bar, voices low, smiles sharpened at the edges. Industrial magnates from Aurora Industries stood in small clusters, their laughter careful, their posture confident. Military officers, Commonwealth first and foremost, bore themselves with disciplined ease, dress uniforms immaculate beneath the chandeliers’ glow.
Political rivals stood closer together than they would have in the Senate chamber.
Interesting.
Jasper accepted a flute of champagne from a passing attendant with a nod of appreciation. He did not drink immediately. Instead, he turned slightly, allowing the raised head table to settle into view.
It had been positioned perfectly beneath the central chandelier ring, ivory and sapphire draped with architectural intent. A river of white roses and silvered greenery traced its length. Crystal glassware shimmered before each seat.
And beyond it, framed precisely through the arched windows, the skyline.
The Grand Vizier had not chosen that placement lightly.
Power before the city. Unity beneath light. The future positioned against the present.
He took his first measured sip.
To the right, a DJ station sat recessed beneath cool blue uplighting. Elegant. Controlled. Ready. The dance floor at the center of the hall remained untouched, a smooth expanse of marble waiting for permission to transform.
For now, it held potential.
Jasper felt it in the air, that quiet tension before momentum shifted. Conversations were forming. Laughter rose cautiously. Alliances recalibrated in glances that lasted a fraction too long.
Weddings were rarely just weddings within the Commonwealth.
They were pressure valves.
They were tests.
They were opportunities.
A scholar from the Core Worlds approached him with polite familiarity. They spoke briefly of fleet modernization and the latest Aurora refinements to shield arrays. A distant cousin of the Vizier offered a charming anecdote about the early days of the couple’s courtship. Jasper responded appropriately, attentive, controlled, never overly revealing.
He had not come merely to celebrate.
He had come to observe which officers gravitated toward which ministers. Which industrial leaders sought military conversation. Which Force-affiliated guests were welcomed warmly, and which were tolerated.
The chandeliers glimmered overhead, silent witnesses.
As more guests filtered into the hall, the hum of voices deepened, layering into something cohesive. The first subtle swell of music teased from the DJ’s console, restrained, atmospheric.
The evening had not yet begun.
And yet it already felt decisive.
Jasper stood near the edge of the untouched dance floor, champagne in hand, posture relaxed but presence unmistakable. His reflection shimmered faintly in the marble beneath his boots.
Historic moments did not always announce themselves with thunder.
Sometimes they began with light.
And he intended to be present when the first step onto that floor redefined the room.
