Private Diplomats and Politicians

[Mesh'la Skirata]

Mesh'la huffed a sigh as she walked down the corridors of the Theed Royal Assembly. It was a power move she knew. To have her summoned to the Royal Assembly so that Aurelian could show off his impressive political acumen. Normally Mesh'la would have ignored the summons disguised as an invitation. She reported directly to the Queen of Naboo and only the Queen of Naboo, her personal bodyguard and agent. Therefore she was outside the Royal Assembly's jurisdiction. As much as they would like it otherwise.

Things had changed however, not her position but her goals. The split loyalties her detractors had whispered about for years- a Mandalorian Handmaiden; she can't be trusted- well they had finally come to call.

Mesh'la's clan had been attacked by Sith. She knew it was only a matter of time before the Sith turned their full attention to the Naboo. When that happened she wanted Naboo to be prepared. For that she needed allies. Even sleemo allies like Aurelian. For this Mesh'la would need to be charming, strong, resolute, diplomatic and walk in with negotiation first thing on her mind. In short she needed to become a politician.

Mesh'la made it to Aurelians office. She had elected not to wear her Mandalorian armor. Deciding it was too recognisable and likely to cause a scene. Sometimes that was useful, but not if you wanted to at least attempt discretion.

"The Senator will be right with you can I offer you something to drink?"

A shot of Nubian honey brandy Mesh thought to herself ruefully.

"No thanks. I'm fine."

So began yet another so called power move, making her wait even though he had been the one to set the meeting. Mesh'la frowned as she wondered what he could possibly want. At worse he'd want a spy on the Queen his own personal agent in the Queen's trust.

Well that's not going to happen.

Maybe he wanted her support on his next campaign run. Mesh'la had become quite famous in her Mandalorian Black and Gold armor standing by the Queen at formal and public events. She'd become a symbol of status. Having her parade alongside the Senator while he smooched the rope line could be a great boon to his campaign run.

That would be… inconvenient, but if it was what she had to do to get support for her Clan and rallying support in the Assembly against the Sith then perhaps that's what she would have to do. Assuming the Queen didn't order her not to that is. Handmaidens maintained their status outside of the chain of command with a certain level of neutrality. They served the throne and only the throne.

Or Maybe he was trying to hire her for a job. There had been a few attempts of that over the years. Mandalorians reputation as mercenaries proceeded her. As far as Mesh'la was concerned she had a permanent contract with the Queen of Naboo.

"The Senator will see you now."

The secretary fake smiled pleasantly that made her look like a plastic doll. Mesh'la smiled back and nodded as she walked in. Mentally taking a deep breath to prepare herself.

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Aurelian Veruna didn't bother to rise from behind his desk when Mesh'la entered.

No, that would have been too eager, too obvious - and Aurelian Veruna was allergic to looking anything but perfectly in control. Instead, he looked up from a datapad in his hand, flashing a smile so practiced it should have been illegal, a slow, lazy grin like a sunbeam cutting through a storm cloud.

"Mesh'la." he said, voice as smooth as silk, shot through with just enough warmth to make it impossible to tell whether he was mocking or admiring. "The living legend herself. Thank you for gracing me with your presence."

He placed the datapad face down with deliberate casualness and steepled his fingers like a man preparing to enjoy himself. Which, of course, he was.

"I must confess," he went on, "I was curious. So much talk about the Queen's mysterious guardian. My spies - dreadful little creatures, no manners at all - keep dropping your name like it's some sort of spell. A Handmaiden, a Mandalorian, a loyalist, a wild card... Honestly, it sounded too good to be true."

He leaned back slightly, chair creaking in protest, looking at her like one might assess a rare piece of art they weren't sure they could afford - but very much intended to.

"And here you are. Exceeding expectations already." His smile widened just a hair. "House Veruna is always in the market for... exceptional talent. The best of the best. And you, Mesh'la, you seem like the kind of investment that pays dividends for generations."

He let the words hang between them, heavy with flattery but also sharpened with meaning.

"I hear you've got... ambitions of your own these days. Sith trouble, if the whispers are to be believed." Aurelian's fingers tapped lightly, once, against the desk. "Maybe we can help each other."

A pause, an elegant, dangerous pause, as if offering her the first move in a deadly game.

"I'm in the business of building a future. You seem like someone smart enough to want to survive it."

He gestured lightly to the seat across from him, his smile practically sparkling with invitation and veiled threat. "Shall we discuss terms?"

Of course he was playing a game. The only real question was: did she know it yet?

Mesh'la Skirata​

 

[Mesh'la Skirata]

Mesh'la sighed internally to herself as Aurelian clearly liked the sound of his own voice, veiled insults, borderline threats of being spied upon. Typical sleemo schmooze ball tactics. The Mandalorian in her wanted to tell the di'kut to go to hell and get to the point. The Nubian in her knew that that was a reaction he was expecting and that it was best not to play to expectations. This wasn't the battlefield where you yelled insults at your men to motivate them this was the halls of politics and diplomacy.

"Senator Aurelian. It would seem you have me at a disadvantage. You seem to know all about me. I barely know you. House Veruna? Yes? It's been so long since your house has put forward a Queen I'd quite forgotten. I assumed you'd all retired to your estates and left the business of running Naboo to those with it's best interests at heart."

"As it is. You are correct in that I believe the Sith pose a very real and present threat to the Royal Naboo Republic. If you are of likewise mind and are willing to serve the Queen, Naboo and the Republic. Then I am willing to… concede you may be useful."

"But starting out with veiled insults of my heritage or my loyalties nor borderline threats of whatever scurroulous spies- who I'm sure get their manners from their master- report. All in a pathetic attempt to throw me off guard in whatever petty game you're playing seems a poor way to approach good relations."

"Now if you want to discuss whats best for the security, safety and protection of the throne and her subjects as all loayl citizens of the Naboo Republic are obliged to do, I am more than willing to sit down to discuss it."

"If however you are merely content to play games with the Handmaiden Mandalorian, gawk at her well then I'm afraid you'll have to do it when I'm on duty in armor protecting our Queen."

"So what will it be Senator. Productive conversation for the good of all or belittling snide comments for your own amusement?"

Mesh'la waited unamused her arms folded while she waited for the Senators answer. Just because she couldn't tell the sleemo to go to hell in Mando'a didn't mean she couldn't do the same in Nubian. In fact in some ways it was infinitely more satisfying to spell it out in such intimate detail.

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Aurelian Veruna listened to Mesh'la's verbal ambush with a grin that only widened the longer she spoke.

There was so much bite packed into this handmaiden, it was positively charming. Like watching a nexu cub think it could stare down a speeder. Delightful.

He didn't interrupt. Oh no, he savored every word, arms draped lazily across the arms of his chair, the very picture of indulgent amusement. By the time she finished, arms folded like some self-righteous tribunal, he looked as pleased as if she'd just handed him a gift-wrapped scandal.

When the silence settled thick between them, Aurelian finally broke it - voice low, amused, a velvet blade of a tone.

"Don't be foolish," he said, shaking his head once, almost sadly, like a tutor disappointed a student had missed the easy answer. "House Veruna has no interest in the throne. Why would we? The real power," he spread his hands in a slow, deliberate gesture, "is behind the throne. It's the strings that matter, not the crown. If you haven't heard much about us lately…" he flashed that knife-sharp grin, "then I'm doing my job properly."

He tapped the desk once, a lazy rhythm like a countdown.

"No veiled insults, Mesh'la. Not even a sincere attempt. I am... infinitely fascinated by you. That's all." His eyes gleamed with something between admiration and calculation. "But if you're in no mood for flattery or foreplay, then by all means - let's dispense with the theater of it all."

He reclined further in his chair, balancing at an almost disrespectful angle, and gestured again at the seat in front of him. A king offering a place at court.

"Let's be plain."

He dropped the charming mask just slightly - not completely; Aurelian Veruna without charm was like a vibroblade without its hum - but enough that the steel underneath gleamed through.

"I represent Plooriod III. A lovely place, if you like endless oceans and inconvenient politics. It sits right at the border of Republic and Sith space. And while I don't doubt the Sith are sharpening their knives somewhere, nothing has stirred yet. No invasion. No fleet. Just a lot of hysterics from planets that see monsters in every shadow."

He tilted his head, studying her like a specimen under glass.

"The real problems, the ones bleeding us dry right now, are the Mandalorian crusaders, the Ascendant cultists, the Unblessed insurgencies, and the endless tide of refugees from Alliance space." His mouth twisted slightly, not quite disgust, not quite sympathy.

"My attention," he said smoothly, "is focused on saving Naboo from today's enemies, not tomorrow's bogeymen. I serve the people of the Republic not just its Monarch."

He paused, letting that sink in, before folding his hands again neatly.

"That said... I'm not unreasonable."

"Serve House Veruna. We'll even negotiate a split with your duties to the Queen, if it makes you feel virtuous." His voice curled around the last word like smoke. "I pay better than the Republic. I expect loyalty, skill, and discretion. In return? Resources. Protection. Influence."

He leaned forward, finally, resting his elbows on the desk, voice dropping to something quieter, more intimate.

"But if you have nothing to offer me in return... why, Mesh'la, should I stick my neck out for a threat that doesn't exist yet, while we have so many fires already at our feet?"

Another pause, letting the air charge with unspoken implications.

"Your move."

And Shiraya help her, Aurelian was genuinely excited to see what she'd do next.

Mesh'la Skirata​

 

[Mesh'la Skirata]

Mesh'la raised an eyebrow and sighed with an intake of breath at Aurelian's condescending tone. Looks like he chose option b disguised as option a. She should've known. She was tempted just to walk out. She should just walk out. Instead she just grimaced and shook her head. Dealing with overpompous twits was just the price she had to pay to help her clan. Besides there may be a way to turn this to her and her clans advantage.

"Spoken like every power hungry man who knows they could never seize legitimate power." Mesh'la sneered dryly. "No wonder you don't want to defend against the Sith. You sound like you want to join them. An ideal power hungry recruit."

Mesh'la flickered with irritation as he made several good points about the current threats facing the Naboo Republic. They were good points. The fact that they were good points only irritated her further. The man clearly wasn't stupid- that just made it worse-, just selfish and power hungry. Though she would hesitate to call refugees a threat she couldn't deny the influx of a greater number of them could provide numerous challenges. Ensuring they were cared for being just one of them. Still there was an obvious flaw with not preparing for tomorrows plroblems.

"I'd say I couldn't believe how short sighted you were being, but I wish I could say I was surprised. All of those threats you listed weren't right on our very border. The same border world you represented would be among the first to fall to the Sith."

Mesh'la took a deep steadying breath employing some meditation soothing exercises from her Handmaiden training. She needed all the patience she could muster to deal with this sleemo slimeball wannabe Hutt.

"As for your offer. My services are to the Queen and my Clan. My Clan, Clan Skirata, which my father is Alor of- that's Chief, however is known to take contracts. You say the Crusaders are a threat what better way to fight Mandalorians than with other Mandalorians. It'd be a powerful message to broadcast to the Republic. "Fear Mando's? Here's our Mando's!" could be the slogan for all I care. For the right price."

Mesh'la paused to deliver her pitch. Swallowing the bile in her throat as she made it. It was for the good of her Clan she told herself firmly. Even as she kicked herself for not going to the Queen with this offer instead of a sleemo like Aurelian. Maybe she should make the offer to both and see which one made the best counter offer.

"My uncle Udesiir has designed a ship, even has a shipment of beskar to help build it he just needs a production facility. A ship and your support against the Sith. Do that and you'll have an entire Mandalorian platoon on a contractual basis."

Mesh'la scowled as she considered how this could all go wrong and delivered cautionary warning as a condition.

"Keep in mind we're mercenaries not monsters we won't be used to enforce your will for no good reason. Legitimate jobs only."

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Aurelian's grin didn't falter. In fact, it grew.

Mesh'la's rebuttal was... chef's kiss. It had all the hallmarks of a woman raised in discipline and drowning in pride: moral clarity like a sword in the dark, noble intentions wrapped in barbed wire, and just enough desperation to make her interesting.

He watched her with the same rapt attention he might give a rare performance - one where the actress didn't realize she was on stage.

"Mesh'la," he said slowly, savoring the name like a fine wine or a pending disaster, "do you know what I love about you? It's that you try so hard not to be interesting, and yet, here we are. You're compelling. I mean that sincerely. I meet so many people who say noble things while angling for power. You're the rare breed who says aggressive things while desperately trying to convince me you don't want any."

He rose - unceremoniously, gracefully - like a serpent lifting its head to better appreciate the warmth of a sunbeam. His fingers trailed along the desk as he circled it, no urgency in his steps, just the lazy confidence of someone used to owning any room he walked into.

"I don't need to seize legitimate power," he said, voice dropping into that delicious register between condescension and charm. "I already own the loyalty of half the court, Mesh'la. The other half is too scared to act without my whisper. The throne is a crown for fools. I prefer the shadows where decisions are made."

He stopped a few feet in front of her. Not invading her space, but near enough to disrupt it.

"And yet you, fierce little viper, come offering a Mandalorian warband like it's a favor. Like that's not the kind of powder keg that could ignite the whole Republic in fear."

He chuckled, warm and disarmingly casual. "I admire it. Truly. A calculated risk. You offer me teeth, on a leash. The leash, of course, belonging to you. And here I thought you were going to keep pretending you were just a humble servant."

His eyes glinted, sharp as broken glass. "Udesiir's design - send me the schematics. If it's viable, I can find him a forge. The beskar sweetens the pot. That kind of armor turns soldiers into legends."

Then, with an exaggerated flourish, he extended his hand - not to shake, no, too mundane - but as if inviting her to dance. Or maybe pull her into the fire with him.

"I'll back your platoon, with all the plausible deniability I'm famous for. You'll have your production line. And in return... your Clan fights my wars, when I say they're justified."

He leaned in, just slightly, the mischief in his grin sharpening to something dangerous.

"But let's not play games, Mesh'la. Every war is just, depending on who tells the story. And if you're clever, and I suspect you are, you'll help me write that story."

Then, quieter still: "The Sith will come. And when they do, I want fire at my side. Controlled fire. Yours."

A beat. A final smile.

"Deal?"

Mesh'la Skirata​

 

[Mesh'la Skirata]

Mesh'la skin crawled at the leery grin plastered over Aurelians face. She felt like a whore selling herself and her people for the hope of protection. This was just what she had to do to ensure the protection of her peoples, both her peoples Mandalorian and Naboo. Dealing with sleemo politicians was just a fact of political and court life at Naboo. It couldn't be avoided any more than combat could for a Mandalorian. Some Nubians grew to like the constant sallies back and forth. Mesh'la had grown to despise it. It reminded her too much of Handmaiden training the other girls making whispered, barbed and veiled threats about the 'Hando Mando' half breed. Aurelian was like those girls only worse. Aurelian had real power the capacity to make decisions that would make or break her people.

"I say what I mean. It saves time, energy and trust." Mesh'la replied stiffly as even Aurelians compliments made her skin crawl. It was like talking to a… to a toad. All slimy, but with pretty colours that indicated the poison beneath. And yet here Mesh'la was about to shake hands with the poisonous toad in the hopes that the poison could be turned into medicine needed to heal her people and protect the other.

"You sound like a Palpatine wannabe." Mesh'la snorted dismissively "Fancy manipulating the republic into a war to seize the throne? If you do just keep in mind I'll be there to stop you. This isn't a blanket offer for your personal bully boys and thugs. We are honourable fighters. I'm willing to admit you have some power in Naboo, and that may mean our goals align in the protection of Naboo, but that does not mean we serve to protect your personal power."

Mesh'la scowled and resisted the urge to take a step back at his invasion of personal space. Instead she stepped forward till they were almost nose to nose looking each other dead in the eye, neither backing down.

"You're right it is my leash. And if necessary I will unleash my leash. On you. Let's be clear Aurelian. I am not yours. My Clan is not yours. This is a contract. On a contract by contract basis. It wouldn't be the first time a Mandalorian has worked for a client that makes there skin crawl. Usually they're actual Hutt's not wannabe's, but don't worry you do an admirable job of living up to their reputation."

Mesh'la nodded and stepped back delibartely her point made.

"Deal."

Mesh'la grabbed Aurelian's arm in a wrist to wrist hand shake.

"Unless of course you think trying to harness a beast you can't control is too much for you to handle?" Mesh'la raised her chin with a slight smirk in challenge. Half hoping the senator would back down so she wouldn't have to engage in this contract. This folly. She should've just approached the Queen directly. She scolded herself firmly, but Mesh'la hadn't wanted to use her position to leverage political favor. Besides gaining support from other powerful political factions had made tactical sense. Now Mesh'la was regretting having gotten up this morning.

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Aurelian's smile remained - of course it did - but it curled now, narrower, like a blade being sharpened.

He didn't flinch when she stepped close, didn't blink, didn't breathe, as if welcoming the heat of her fury the way a man might enjoy the first sip of brandy: slow, dangerous, and intoxicating. When she finished - her venom elegant, her honor a little too loud - he laughed. Quietly. Not mockery. Delight.

"Oh, Mesh'la," he murmured, voice like silk pulled tight over steel, "you're magnificent when you're angry. Most people lose clarity when they start snarling. You? You turn into a thesis on controlled rage. It's riveting."

His eyes stayed locked with hers even after she stepped back, even after her hand gripped his forearm like she meant to break it.

He returned the gesture, his fingers curling not in camaraderie, but in pact. Old style. Bloodless, for now.

"I never said you were mine," he said, low, reverent almost. "I said I'd back you. That's the difference between a tyrant and a tactician. I don't need to own the fire. I just need to know where it'll burn."

Then, with that maddening smirk returning like an old habit:

"And for what it's worth, I admire your restraint. You only compared me to a Hutt once. That's growth."

He stepped back, slow and smooth, like this was all just a delightful rehearsal for a much bloodier opera.

"I'll have the schematics reviewed. Quietly. Your production line starts next month, under the radar, under my nose. And when the time comes, you'll receive... let's call them 'narratives' for justification. You can pick the ones that sound most righteous."

Aurelian turned, just slightly, gaze flicking to the window as if he could already see the war-torn horizon.

"We're going to do great things, you and I."

Then, over his shoulder, like a man tossing a match into a forest:

"Thank you, Mesh'la. You've just made the Republic a far more interesting place."

Mesh'la Skirata​