Kriel Firin
Enough witless banter

Capital season was a holiday celebrated by the nobility of the galaxy – one that harped back to the olden days. Every year between Expansion Week and Shelova Week, the upper class would gather on a chosen planet to mingle and spy on each other. If a noble was to not be in attendance, their economic, social, and political status would suffer.
Nowadays there were fewer nobles – and few of them had wealth, so the majority of the attendees were socialites. The wannabe nobles that had all the credits in the galaxy but lacked the things that money could not buy – breeding and class.
Historically Kriel despised the idea of attending. He was too busy getting his adrenaline kicks through crime back on Bespin. But since the First Order came – and more specifically he’d joined the Knights of Ren, he saw things in an entirely different light. Money and status gave him access to people and places that could further his career with the Knights – in a way that crime-lords never could.
So hurried through the streets toward the Grand Reception Hall. The shadows thrown by the steep buildings were so deep that overhead the shuttles streaming through the spaces between the old buildings here were forced to keep their running lights on even in the daytime, creating a massive tapestry of light. By the time Kriel reached the Grand Reception Hall, the processional band was already playing an oddly mincing marching song, using janglers and deep woot horns.
The Grand Reception Hall was an enormous building, more than a thousand meters long, with fourteen levels for seating, but as he neared the entrance, he found that all of the portals were jammed with curious onlookers, eager to see the nobility. He hurried past the first five entrances before deciding they would all be like this. So he identified a protocol droid wearing a sash marked with the colours of the Naboo royalty and addressed it.
“Kriel Firin…” He said no more, the doid would no doubt be scanning him and would verify his identity.
“This way, sir, this way!" the droid led him back across a broad street and up a side ramp, past several guards.
As they climbed a long winding corridor, passing door after door, they rounded a corner and halted by a balcony entrance. Within, only a few people stood looking through the glass onto the procession below. Kriel didn’t recognise any of them. Even the immensely fat man who rested in a repulsor chair rather than try to carry his own weight was foreign to him. The nobles were all speaking softly and ignored Kriel, clearly deciding he was beneath their attention.
Kriel held the droid by the arm before he could disappear. “Take me down there,” he said, pointing to the huge dance-floor below. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt the ladies’ conversations.”
The protocol droid was about to interject that those in the balcony were all male but Kriel had already started to move back along the corridor. “Hurry, I wouldn’t want to miss all the fun.” He was beginning to regret his decision to attend already. It seemed fun was not on the agenda when the ball was planned. Well, if none was scheduled, he might just have to make his own.

[member="Jamie Pyne"]