Campaign Embassy Lament | Former GA Senators & Invited Diplomatic Visitors

[Cressida Tolliver]

WEXBRIDGE HOUSE
NEAR NEW STERANDEL ON AEGIS
EARLY AUTUMN - 1000 HOURS LOCAL TIME
[MOOD]
​

Wexbridge House was named for Sir Alistair Wexbridge, the very first Foreign Secretary of the Renascent Heirate, who built the stately home as a diplomatic tool. He originally used it to entertain members of the Concordiate, wining and dining them while pressing the government's case on foreign policy matters. Upon his untimely death, he bequeathed the manor to Her Majesty's Government in perpetuity, with hopes that it would be made available to the Foreign Secretary of the day. Bertram Rookwood, the current Foreign Secretary, had in turn opened the home up to the conference being hosted by his protege, Senator (or ex-Senator, the jury was still out on that) Cressida Tolliver.

It was a stout, red-brick residence, turreted, with a broad colonnaded portico separating the white limestone stairs from the forecourt. Today, the forecourt was covered with a pristine marquee, and heated nicely so that when Tolliver and Rookwood were standing outside waiting to greet newly-arrived guests they wouldn't catch a chill. Cressida had still bundled herself in a fashionable fur coat and dark gloves, though Rookwood had chosen a warm woolen coat and a plaid scarf.

The conference was meant to gather those former colleagues from the Alliance Senate in the wake of the military's utter collapse after Atrisia. The Senate had not yet caught up with the reality of the situation as far as Cressida knew, and from what it looked like it never would. What was the parliamentary procedure to ratify the collapse of a superpower, anyway? Cressida had been tasked by the Prime Minister with exploring what diplomatic ties and links could be salvaged from the Alliance, and what could be forged among new allies that were making positive overtures. The Diarchy was making such overtures, though the geography didn't quite work for the Heirate. The High Republic were much closer, though they seemed to be dealing with their own crises.

Of course, the next closest neighbor was the Galactic Empire itself. "Her Majesty would prefer that such an entanglement be avoided," the Prime Minister had intoned in her inimitable, quite dry way. As if Cressida needed telling.

The Prime Minister was not present, not at such an early stage. Nor, obviously, was the Supreme Leader. Lending the event some measure of establishment credibility, however, was Princess Reima Vitalis in her official capacity as Colonel-in-Chief of the Crown Sentinels, the Household Division that provided honor guards to diplomatic missions, embassies, and -- when it was being used for official government business -- Wexbridge House. They also provided transportation and escort on the short speeder ride from the nearby airfield, where dignitaries were arriving, to the house itself. The Princess herself would be acting as a semi-official hostess, rubbing elbows with the guests as they settled. It was a first for her, and Cressida knew as well as anyone that they were all operating without a safety net today.

Upon their arrival to the house itself, visitors would be greeted by Tolliver and Rookwood and invited to step inside. In the grand entrance hall, waiters would be circulating with wine, spirits, and other libations, as well as warm canapes, to encourage a convivial atmosphere of mingling with the other attendees. There was no formal agenda yet set in stone beyond the inaugural session of feeling out what was possible for the remnants of the Alliance that now found themselves without a quorum, without a chancellor, and without a military.

OOC: Please let's be so chill and not do violence today. Thank you.

Mykel Dawson | Quolv Zyhvas | Severus Barran | Helios Ardemark | Alexandra Feanor | Tiber Septimus | Diarch Reign | Diarch Rellik | Lodd Grimmin​

 

[Quolv Zyhvas]

Mykel Dawson Severus Barran Helios Ardemark Alexandra Feanor Tiber Septimus Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Lodd Grimmin Cressida Tolliver

Quolv Zyhvas was normally a very patient man. Very patient indeed.

However, the lanky Neimoidian found himself seething with inner anger over this whole debacle with the Galactic Alliance's military having been reduced to the equivalent of Bantha excrement. He had offered them the use of some of his finest business accomplishments if only they would agree to supply him with more engineers to bolster his workforce that barely even amounted to a whole sector! Instead, those idiots in the military, the Senate and the higher levels in the Government alike had been DAFT enough to refuse his most generous terms and his most reliable designs for infantry, starships and vehicles alike!

His GREATEST Metallurgical achievements had been scoffed at, at the worst, or ignored at best. It was as such that he was attending this meeting on Aegus, at the Wexbridge house in a state of barely-contained frustration!

The blue and gray airspeeder that was ferrying him dropped him off outside the residence in question, and he huffily thanked the Bothan pilot, before taking a moment to smooth over his purple robes just as fussily! The robes were made of fine shimmersilk and laced with midnight black trim that was embossed with a bronzium choker around the neck, and the deep purple contrasted the rare genetic quirk of his sapphire blue eyes most... Handsomely, he thought. Smooth leather shoes of mottled Gundark skin poked out from beneath his robes, covered in exotic bumps that were natural to that rare subspecies, and thus all-the-more opulent, as black as night as he began to make his way towards the residence.

The grumpy man smoothed the screen of his datapad. The airspeeder took back off as a droid that resembled an ancient training remote, though far larger in size then those nigh-forgotten models emerged, to hover at the Neimoidian's head. Giving a hand signal, Quolv spoke harshly, to vent his frustration over this whole state of affairs on the hovering protocol droid before he had to speak to any other organics. It was far healthier that way!

"Record everything or I'll have your memory wiped!"

He paused to adjust his dual-pronged V-shaped headdress, the immense midnight blue and black-trimmed (contrasting his robes) ornament comfortably light atop his bald head as he made his way forward, forcing the best approximation of friendliness as he could muster on his pale face as he saw his hosts, quickening his pace to meet them even as his droid spoke in his dull, monotone voice.

"Master, I hope we survive this..."

"Quiet!" Quolv hissed, even as they two stepped into sight of their gracious hosts. It was only polite to greet the hosts seeming as well-off as possible... Morale was a necessity now more then ever!

(Quolv's protocol droid - one DR-07 - model: https://swse.fandom.com/wiki/Chiba_DR-10_Protocol_Droid )

(Also, this is my first ever political RP in ALL MY THIRTY+ YEARS of writing, so I apologize if I'm rusty.)

(Edit: do we go in a certain order, I take it, that way everything goes as smoothly as possible?)

 

[Tiber Septimus]

Tiberius "Tiber" Septimus glanced out of the window, as the speeder that had spirited him away from the space port pulled to a smooth stop in front of what could only be Wexbridge House- a fine residence indeed, perfect for conducting matters of state.

'Then again', Tiber thought, smoothly out his military formal dress, 'Cressida did always have an great eye for taste.' The Niaheli had dispensed with his Senatorial robes- since, as it stood, he couldn't very well be a representing the interests of Niahelios as a Senator of a collapsed power- instead choosing to wear the traditional uniform of a military officer, representing His Majesty in the capacity of a Prince of the realm, as well as representing the proud, martial traditions of the Niaheli on the galactic stage.

Tiber had thought he would never wear the garb again after completing his compulsory military service, but the fall of the Alliance- and Tiber's narrow escape from the Black Sun over Atrisia- rippled out to even the Unknown Regions. Shortly after the battle, he was recalled to New Titus by his father, His Majesty, King Uriel Septimus IV, to brief his lord father on the repercussions of the fall of the Galactic Alliance on Niahelios. To his surprise, Uriel did not have to be prevailed upon to not direct Niahelios to look inwards post-Alliance, and rather easily acquiesced to his judgments.
---------------------------------------------------
"The Empire, the Sith...champions of the Dark wax, while the Light wanes", Uriel sighed, slumping into a chair and suddenly Tiber was struck by how old his father was, even as he glowed in the Force.

"The Alliance is gone. And with them gone, one day, our enemies will turn their eyes on the Unknown Regions. Niahelios must be ready to defend ourselves and the Void. I sense your role in the greater galaxy has not ended, my son."
---------------------------------------------------

"...Prince Septimus?"

Tiber snapped out of his ruminations by a steward- a gangly youth, barely out of his adolescence- smiling brightly, but vibrating with nervous energy. Tiber smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry, a lot weighs on my mind these days, could you repeat yourself?"

The steward swallowed, eyes darting around, and took a deep breath before beginning to speak; Tiber had a feeling he had had less-than-desirable dealings with the aristocracy in the past.

"Yes sir...I wanted to lead you into Wexbridge House. Senator Tolliver and Lord Rookwood are receiving guests, and we have food in the grand hall. I read that Niahelios is all the way in the Unknown Regions and-"

"You thought it prudent to not let me stew here? Lead on, lad", Tiber said kindly. Grateful, the steward bowed, leading Tiber across the courtyard, towards the steps up to the Wexbridge.

​

Mykel Dawson | Quolv Zyhvas | Severus Barran | Helios Ardemark | Alexandra Feanor | Cressida Tolliver | Diarch Reign | Diarch Rellik | Lodd Grimmin

 

[Luciano Merovain]

Cressida Tolliver | Quolv Zyhvas | Tiber Septimus

This was not the first event that Luciano participated in as a representative of the Merovain family, but it was the first one since the dissolution of the Galactic Alliance.

Ever since the Empire had wholesale conquered the entire Core, the Alsakani had to move carefully. They were right in the middle of the mess and for now it wasn't yet clear if the Empire would follow the Alliance into the grave or not. But his father wished to maintain relationships with those that had been able to escape the madness of the Empire's grip.

At least carefully and under the cover of social stealth.

Who better to send than the disinherited son of the Merovain family. Someone who was out of favor and if need be, they'd be able to reject any connection to this event.

He stepped on through the doors onto the estate after being greeted by Tolliver, the Senator from the RH. He made a point of remembering to circle back to her later in the evening. It would be good to establish more thorough relationships with the political class of that nation. From the briefings that Luce had attended, they were one of the few who were actively trying to push back against the Empire. Case in point: this meeting that was organized by them to try and gather the other still remaining senators and diplomats from the worlds suddenly on their own.

As Luce plucked one of the flutes from the table, his passage brought him near the Princess and that made him blink lightly. He hadn't been aware that Reima Vitalis herself would be in attendance.

"Ah, your Highness? My compliments to the organization of this gathering. In the face of Imperial aggression we must do what we can to offer a unified front, yes?"

Even if House Merovain couldn't offer much more than diplomatic connections while being under the watchful eye of the Empire themselves.

 

[Reima Vitalis]

The Princess was not in uniform, though she would -- under ceremonial circumstances -- have worn the same ivory and crimson dress uniform as the men and women who made up the Crown Sentinels. As it was, she had opted for a simple but heavily structured ivory day dress by Black & Wren, which she set off with a silk scarf in the Sentinels' regimental colors produced by Montrose Atelier, pinned at the neckline of the dress with a simple ruby brooch.

These types of events were usually about fashion, after all, and Reima hated to disappoint.

She stood near a broad window in the entry hall, watching with satisfaction as her Crown Sentinels executed their very first public affairs event all but perfectly. She didn't notice the approach of Luciano Merovain until he spoke at her elbow, and it was only her immense control that prevented her from starting. She half-turned, inclining her head momentarily, dark eyes settling on the stranger.

"I'm afraid you owe your compliments to the woman out there," she said, nodding toward the window briefly. "This is Senator Tolliver's brainchild. I'm just here because I'm the most junior member of the royal family to add a touch of royal approval to the endeavor without fully endorsing it with the royal imprimatur that my mother or brother would bring. I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Mister...?"

 

[Luciano Merovain]

Reima Vitalis

"Oh, I have already thanked her, your Highness." Luce responded swiftly with a soft smile. "But the fact that you took some time out of your schedule to be here means a lot to everyone involved, I assure you. The more support we have, the better it is."

Then a light blink, as if Luciano had completely forgotten about himself and the introduction.

"Ah, my apologies. Luciano Merovain, son of the Duke of Merovain. We are family of the King of Alsakan." Offering another sketched bow, a touch more theatrical compared to the first one that happened at the introduction. "As you may know, Alsakan is formally under the aegis of the Galactic Empire so neither my father nor the King himself could attend without concerning attention being put on us."

He offered a shallow shrug there.

"But the eldest son, who is known to have been cut-off from his family after a dispute? Easily disregarded as simple youthful folly. No danger to the family itself."

Luce looked around as people filtered into the rooms.

"Busier than I expected, I suppose people are more pissed off than afraid, yes?"

 

[Quolv Zyhvas]

Reima Vitalis Luciano Merovain Tiber Septimus

Quolv was surprised that he wasn't already the first one to arrive - a few others of important standing had beaten him to the chase, apparently! Not that he was too troubled by the matter. The lithe Neimoidian recognized Tiber Septimus just ahead of him up the steps, a seemingly well-to-do boy and the Senator of Niahelios, of the former Galactic Alliance, as well as the Lady Reima Vitalis , daughter of a Duke that he had briefly made the acquaintance of - he couldn't recall all of the facts regarding his rebellious daughter, and he was surprised that she would be attending a meeting of such importance. But, of course, with the Fall of the Galactic Alliance, she probably had nowhere else better to be at the moment. Her Father, the Duke, though... Quolv couldn't recall the exact details, but he was sure that his company had some sort of trade arrangement with the man's homeworld, and Quolv hoped that his metallurgical genius was both apparent and useful to the Duke and his people.

The Neimoidian snapped his head to one side as his exotic blue eyes widened, fixing with shock at the sight of the weaselly-looking form of some unrecognizable whelp that he couldn't exactly place, perhaps a decade or so younger then Quolv, or perhaps younger still. He settled behind the two humans and waved over a servant perhaps a bit more stiffly than he should have - he WAS still angry, after all!

Tersely, the Neimoidian couldn't stop himself from interjecting at Weasel Boy's words.

"That's putting it mildly... Try imagining your anger at being turned down when YOUR creations, YOUR work, could very well have saved the Alliance if only they had used it!"

He sighed, deciding to stop himself before he went on a tangent. "But I digress..."

Ho took a bronzium goblet from atop the servant's platter, to take a short sip of an exotic teal liquid, "Apologies... These are trying times, but I'm nonetheless pleased to be in the presence of the Lady Vitalis, and her chaperone." He politely raised his goblet to the two of them, his whirring, remote-looking protocol droid swiveling around behind the three of them for a moment, before it lifted off to survey the area around them. The Neimoidian took a moment to adjust one purple-and-black sleeve tip.

He laid his strange sapphire blue eyes on the young human male. "To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

 

[Reima Vitalis]

"A fellow black sheep, I see," Reima murmured enigmatically, her dark eyes twinkling with something like amusement. She watched as a handsome fellow came up the stairs and crossed the covered forecourt -- she knew by her briefing that it was Tiber Septimus , a would-be ally of Senator Tolliver, one of the core supporters of Alexandra Feanor 's candidacy for Chancellor before the wheels had come off the whole thing. There was no reason to doubt his steadfastness, or his willingness to stand against the Empire, but Niahelios was on the opposite side of the Core. The geography was... inconvenient.

On his feels was a Nemoidian, resplendent in ostentatious robes and a sort of forked miter cap, or so it appeared to Reima. And yet, he was not Lodd Grimmin , the only Nemoidian who had been in the briefing packet as a former Galactic Alliance Senator. At least, she thought, she thought he wasn't. She wasn't an expert on Nemoidians, but she didn't think they all looked alike.

"Alsakan," Reima said thoughtfully. "Every world the Empire holds is a -- " But she was interrupted, by the very same Nemoidian she had spotted making his entrance.

She looked puzzled for a moment, then put on a very diplomatic smile. "I'm sorry, we haven't been introduced. My mother is Lady Vitalis, the Dowager Duchess of Foxfield, though more relevant to the planet of Aegis here in the Renascent Heirate she is Queen and Sovereign. I'm simply -- " She hesitated. It would be impolitic to pull rank, especially on someone who was trying. She concluded on a smile. "Reima. This is the Marquess of Saltspire, son of the Duke of Thalasor on Alsakan. He is a guest, not my chaperone. And you must be...?"

Quolv Zyhvas | Luciano Merovain​

 

[Cressida Tolliver]

Cressida nodded a warm smile of greeting to Quolv Zyhvas as he passed, muttering angrily to his droid. She exchanged a look with Rookwood, and both understood that they would need to do something to diffuse that particular situation. That would be difficult, given that she didn't know quite what he was irritated about, and -- as far as she could recall -- had never clapped eyes upon him. But between them they would get to the bottom of the matter and, hopefully, set the angry man at ease. It was all they needed to start the summit off with an explosive temper.

The next one up the steps was Tiber Septimus , who Cressida favored with a broad smile. She stepped forward to meet him, extending her hand and shaking his. "My friend," she said genuinely. "It does my heart good to see you alive and well. With all that's happened we've been at sixes and sevens getting a hold of everyone. And the Empire's communications blackouts are doing us no favors. I'm so, so glad you can be here."

She led him toward Rookwood. "May I present my -- well, technically my boss, but we try not to dwell on that -- Lord Rookwood, Foreign Secretary?"

Rookwood offered a hand. "Senator," he said gravely. "Pleased you could make it."

Cressida took Tiber's arm and steered him toward the entrance, leaving Rookwood for a moment. "I'll need to get back to the boss in a moment, but -- have you heard from any of the others? Alexandra? Tagge?" Her dark eyes searched his face, clearly concerned.

 

[Lodd Grimmin]

Cressida Tolliver Reima Vitalis Tiber Septimus Luciano Merovain Quolv Zyhvas

A number of Trade Federation Shuttles had touched down near the WEXBRIDGE HOUSE after obtaining clearance from flight control. This esteemed residence had become the focal point of the Alliance Government, or what remained of it, following the revelation that the Galactic Alliance had ceased to exist due to the destruction of the Mon Mothma by the Galactic Empire over Atrisia.

This devastating event served as the final blow to the faltering superpower, suggesting that the Trade Federation might be on a similar path. With the market in disarray and the Alliance Credit rendered nearly worthless, they possessed minimal capital to allocate elsewhere within their trading empire.

The Neimodiians bore the brunt of this situation, having financed the construction of the Death Star III, and with its destruction, the personal finances of their Trade Monarch were indeed quite depleted and so in a move uncharacteristic of Lodd, he decided to leave his palace within Imperial Space and journey here to consult the remaining Alliance Senators.

The ramp hissed as the mechno-chair, a remarkable piece of Neimoidian engineering embellished with elaborate designs, made its way into the house. Surprisingly another Neimoidian appeared to be in attendance as well in the form of Quolv Zyhvas , who the Trade Monarch was unfamiliar with but as long as they were not hostile to the Trade Federation they were acceptable in his mind.

There were others such as Senator Cressida Tolliver , Luciano Merovain and Reima Vitalis but they appeared to be in conversation.

"A delightful party if I must say so. Though this is hardly the cause for celebration with the Market having collapsed overnight." Lodd said with a slim smile, picking up a drink from a passing service droid.

 

[Mykel Dawson]

Suit

With little fanfare, the ever elegant Quicksilver quietly made landfall at the designated airfield with barely a whisper from its struts. Following touchdown, Mykel and ex-Senator - now Ambassador - Kevari Thalos promptly set off for the Wexis estate by a similarly sleek airspeeder Mykel piloted right out of their mothership's hangar.

Upon arrival, Mykel stepped outside not in his usual onyx Jedi robes, but in a herringbone suit and charcoal wool overcoat, mirroring Thalos's tailored navy worsted ensemble. He wanted to keep a low profile, aiming to avoid announcing Jedi the moment he appeared. Dressed as he was, he could easily pass for an aide or even a discreet bodyguard to his elder colleague. Indeed, he had come in part to fulfill the role of the latter, hazel eyes sweeping his surroundings mapping potential threats and exit routes. Concealed on him, his pocket-sized AI silently scanned for other traces of trouble unseen. The gathering of so many HVTs made for an inherently dangerous environment when their greatly bruised but still potent enemy existed.

Corazona von Ascania may have been delighted to see him donning something other than black in public, but ironically it would have been more appropriate. Today, he felt like he was attending a funeral wake.

One last hurrah for the Galactic Alliance.

However, as melancholy had freshly nestled into his heart, hope remained strongly rooted. Perhaps in the ashes, something anew could arise, just like the Starbird that formed the GA's crest. If the Imperials could keep springing back like weeds, then why couldn't they? That was why he'd really come: in search of embers. For resistance. For renewal.

Inside, Kevari quickly made himself at home, slipping effortlessly into old habits while mingling with his Senatorial colleagues with an ease that came from decades of political maneuvering. Still networking, still pulling threads, still scrounging for leverage even when everyone present had little to offer these days. The game for him never stopped.

Meanwhile, Mykel lingered at the edges of the proceedings during the early stages of smoozing, quietly observing the ever growing crowd of attendees. Here at the periphery he found himself in the company of watchful personal bodyguards and the last loyal Senate commandos in plainclothes tracking every movement like hawks.

During the course of his politician watching, he was a little surprised to find Neimodians present. The risk adverse race was well known to have a finger in every pie to protect their margins, yet even they weren't immune to finding to themselves in bearish straights it seemed. The project of empire was costly.

___________________________________________________________________

Cressida Tolliver Quolv Zyhvas Tiber Septimus Reima Vitalis Luciano Merovain Lodd Grimmin
​

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Westbridge House
Tags: Lodd Grimmin Cressida Tolliver Quolv Zyhvas Tiber Septimus Luciano Merovain Reima Vitalis Diarch Rellik
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather
Color Code: #B35432

---

The invitation had been surprising but welcome. Reign’s heart went out for the people of the Galactic Alliance. Hence his proclamation that they were not alone, the Diarch was a man of his word, and while some may view him as “evil” the Diarchy’s actions on Atrisia and afterwards had hopefully softened their views.

As he sped towards the manor, Reign’s mind turned to the tumultuous times the galaxy was facing. While Reign himself would have torn the Galactic Alliance asunder, it would have been when their enemies in the Galactic Empire, Mandalorians, and Sith had been destroyed, allowing more of a peaceful transition.

How it happened instead, had left trillions upon trillions of beings now at the mercy of the Empires of the Galaxy. And Reign would not leave them to burn.

As such, here he was, to lend aid. To protect, should it come to it.

He stepped out of the speeder, his black and gold military uniform sharp as always, his black cape brushing the ground as he walked.
Reign looked, for all intents and purposes, the Warlord people claimed him to be. Yet it was not so, he dressed as his men did, to show them he was one of them.

The steward greeted him, a small tremor of fear in his voice as he said

“The delegates are gathered this way.. sir.”

Reign just smiled and nodded at the young man, following him into the area proper.

Greeting his hosts he bowed low and said

“Thank you for welcoming me, The Diarchy is at your service”

His eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar face of the representative of the Trade Federation, as well as one Tiber Septimus.
A smile on his face as he remembered the senator from their meeting aboard the doomed starship.

“Senator Septimus, a pleasure to see you again!”

 

[Cressida Tolliver]

The arrivals seemed to be waning now, though the landing grounds would remain open and the Crown Sentinels would continue their vigilant oversight and transportation services until at least nightfall. Cressida, shivering against the chill despite her fur coat, turned to Rookwood, who apparently had the same idea. They agreed to enter, following Diarch Reign in.

Cressida had her doubts about the Diarchy, if she were honest. They were not ideologically compatible with the Renascent Heirate from what she could tell, and certainly not with the Galactic Alliance. They did make attractive allies of convenience, though she did wonder whether it would be prudent for the remnants of the Alliance to pledge to them for the sake of staying out of the clutches of the Galactic Empire. It sounded to Cressida like the difference between being in the frying pan and being in the fire.

She allowed a footman to take her coat once she and Rookwood entered, and she crossed over to one of the fireplaces on either side of the room to warm her hands, watching in the mirror over the mantle what was happening in the hall. It was not the attendance she would have hoped, but she supposed if the Galactic Alliance had had a Senate known for showing up they might not be in this predicament. Hands sufficiently warmed, she turned to take a champagne flute from one of the passing waiters' trays and took a few steps up on the grand central stairway in the middle of the room, using a gold-plated pen to gently tap against the crystal flute, making a melodious tinkling noise that, she hoped, would gather everyone's attention.

"Friends and honored guests," she began. "Thank you for coming. I know the timing is not ideal, given what our governments must now be working through. The disappearance of the Galactic Alliance's security and trade infrastructure will put great burden on our worlds. It is my hope that here and now, over the course of this summit, we can lay the groundwork for efforts to alleviate these challenges and others, to join together where we can to support our worlds. Now, I don't have anything specific in mind. It is probably too early to begin drawing up agreements or treaties, but I trust that here can begin an honest and frank conversation about where we go from here. Do feel free to mingle and enjoy the hospitality. On the hour, I invite you to join me in the library for a more focused discussion." She indicated a pair of double-doors that stood open on her left, beyond which a dark paneled room where a long, polished wood table sat surrounded by chairs, waiting for the conference to begin.

Mykel Dawson | Severus Barran | Lodd Grimmin | Quolv Zyhvas | Tiber Septimus | Reima Vitalis | Luciano Merovain | Diarch Reign | Diarch Rellik | Helios Ardemark | Alexandra Feanor | @Everybody else who might join​

 

[Tiber Septimus]

Tiber swept into the grand entrance hall, already swarming with sentients. He could sense the nerves in the room, already tense. But before he truly start working the room, he was met by a most familiar- and welcome- face: Cressida. Involuntarily, a smile blossomed across Tiber's face.

The next one up the steps was who Cressida favored with a broad smile. She stepped forward to meet him, extending her hand and shaking his. "My friend," she said genuinely. "It does my heart good to see you alive and well. With all that's happened we've been at sixes and sevens getting a hold of everyone. And the Empire's communications blackouts are doing us no favors. I'm so, so glad you can be here."

She led him toward Rookwood. "May I present my -- well, technically my boss, but we try not to dwell on that -- Lord Rookwood, Foreign Secretary?"

Rookwood offered a hand. "Senator," he said gravely. "Pleased you could make it."

"And I thank the Force to find you well", Tiber responded warmly, accepting her hand and clasping it with both of his, before turning to Lord Rookwoood and shaking his hand.

"Pleased to be invited, Mr. Secretary", Tiber said courteously, before Cressida took him by the arm, steering him away, leaving Rookwood to his own devices for the moment.

Cressida took Tiber's arm and steered him toward the entrance, leaving Rookwood for a moment. "I'll need to get back to the boss in a moment, but -- have you heard from any of the others? Alexandra? Tagge?" Her dark eyes searched his face, clearly concerned.

At the query, Tiber's smile faded, as he looked down at Cressida, eyes locking. "I last saw Arsenio Tagge - Marek Bancroft as well- on the AVS Tython, over Atrisia. We were in talks with the Diarchy, on what an partnership would look like...with the Alliance", Tiber began, still grappling with the fact that the democracy they fought bitterly to preserve crumpled in the face of victory. He took a deep breath.

"Talks were disrupted by that abomination- by the gods Cressida, it was as big as a moon- coming out of hyperspace. Black Sun boarded shortly afterwards, looking to take us hostage. Getting away was a close thing; if not for the Diarch's retinue, I don't think we make it out, honestly."

He paused, swallowing. "I haven't heard from Alexandra. Intelligence indicates that the Empire hasn't moved on Veradune"- the word 'yet' hung over Tiber's statement- "But getting any news from the Core is difficulty. The Holo-net has crashed, Senators are pillaging GADF assets for their homeworlds, trade has come to a stand-still, the refugee crisis has ballooned...it's bad, Cressida."

They talked for a moment longer, before Cressida had to step away.

Tiber took a moment to scan the room, nodding at Lodd Grimmin . He grinned as he heard a familiar voice:

His eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar face of the representative of the Trade Federation, as well as one Tiber Septimus.
A smile on his face as he remembered the senator from their meeting aboard the doomed starship.

"Senator Septimus, a pleasure to see you again!"

"Diarch Reign, wonderful to see you again in less...trying circumstances", Tiber responded dryly, grinning impishly.

He had intended to continue, when he heard the tap of a flute. Turning around, he gave Cressida his undivided attention.

"Friends and honored guests," she began. "Thank you for coming. I know the timing is not ideal, given what our governments must now be working through. The disappearance of the Galactic Alliance's security and trade infrastructure will put great burden on our worlds. It is my hope that here and now, over the course of this summit, we can lay the groundwork for efforts to alleviate these challenges and others, to join together where we can to support our worlds. Now, I don't have anything specific in mind. It is probably too early to begin drawing up agreements or treaties, but I trust that here can begin an honest and frank conversation about where we go from here. Do feel free to mingle and enjoy the hospitality. On the hour, I invite you to join me in the library for a more focused discussion." She indicated a pair of double-doors that stood open on her left, beyond which a dark paneled room where a long, polished wood table sat surrounded by chairs, waiting for the conference to begin.

Nodding, he grabbed a flute and began to make his way towards the double-doors.

Mykel Dawson | Quolv Zyhvas | Severus Barran | Helios Ardemark | Alexandra Feanor | Cressida Tolliver | Diarch Reign | Diarch Rellik | Lodd Grimmin

 

[Quolv Zyhvas]

Mykel Dawson Severus Barran Helios Ardemark Alexandra Feanor Cressida Tolliver Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Lodd Grimmin Tiber Septimus

OOC: I hope I didn't make the "chaperone" mad... It's all in harmless jest that in no way applies to reality. Sometimes, I flat-out have no luck with humor, even in pretend worlds...

If Luciano Merovain had intended to respond to Quolv Zyhvas, he was interrupted when Cressida Tolliver interrupted with a gentle rapping of a crystal flute that dulled the varied conversations and greeting that had been taking place. Lowering his bronzium goblet of teal alcohol, the Neimoidian turned his sapphire eyes to face the hostess, as was proper and expected, one hand grasping the edge of a banister as he took a small sip of his drink once more.

"Friends and honored guests," she began. "Thank you for coming. I know the timing is not ideal, given what our governments must now be working through. The disappearance of the Galactic Alliance's security and trade infrastructure will put great burden on our worlds. It is my hope that here and now, over the course of this summit, we can lay the groundwork for efforts to alleviate these challenges and others, to join together where we can to support our worlds. Now, I don't have anything specific in mind. It is probably too early to begin drawing up agreements or treaties, but I trust that here can begin an honest and frank conversation about where we go from here. Do feel free to mingle and enjoy the hospitality. On the hour, I invite you to join me in the library for a more focused discussion."

Upon her concluding, Quolv shifted his eyes to the other guests, before turning to face the Duke's daughter once more. "I hope this will be a productive evening, Madame. Please give my warmest regards to your father, if you would." Quolv smiled in that odd Neimoidian fashion (I assume they can smile at least a tiny bit - my memory fails me), even as a hand clasped one of hers, drawing it up in a gentle, friendly shake.

"Tell him that Bastion's Light Industries appreciates his patronage, and that I am more than willing to continue a healthy and open partnership, even despite these troubling times; now more than ever, we must not fail to care for one another. Even despite the loss of the Holonet across certain worlds, we have not wavered in our commitment to our trade partners. Please tell him that our armor shipments will continue, in defiance of all inter-sector obstacles and lack of communications, as close to out normal schedule as the supply chain with allow. I hope we can talk more personally before this evening is through. Now, If you'll excuse me..." He bowed delicately at her, before turning on his heel to walk towards Tiber Septimus and Diarch Reign and the strange leader of a newly arisen faction that he had never heard of before, save in scant news reports or wild rumors, and now was the chance to try to gauge this man's intentions... However, that would have to come about later in the evening.

He was making his way past the so-called Diarch when he very nearly bumped into Mykel Dawson while turning his gaze to look at Lodd Grimmin 's elabotately-constructed mechno-chair.

Startled, the Neimoidian shifted backwards, thankfully with not enough force to spill his drink from its goblet.

"Forgive me, Sir!" he gasped at Mykel Dawson , "I am too focused on my stressors, apparently." The Neimoidian seemed genuinely concerned. "These are trying times for all of us!"

 

[Diarch Rellik]

The speeder eased to a stop beneath the covered portico, and the Diarch stepped out dressed not in armor, but in a dark tailored suit. No cloak. No blade. No spear. Nothing but the man. He turned and reached his hand out to aid Iandre Athlea out of the speeder. Quickly fixing his cuffs once both were standing and then offered his forearm to Iandre beside him. A big smile on his face. Together they ascended the white limestone steps.

Inside Wexbridge House, warmth met them immediately. Voices. Movement. The faint ring of glass. Rellik paused only long enough to take in the hall, the gathered faces, the tension beneath the elegance. A government that held its culture and formal nature despite circumstance. Something he would remember to respect as things moved forward.

He guided Iandre a little farther into the hall, settling beside her in a pocket of calm at the edge of the mingling crowd. Rellik leaned slightly toward her, voice lowered so only she could hear.

"Are you alright?"
A quiet question, meant for her alone.
"If being this deep in the Core stirs any trouble from the past, remember I am here with you."

He gave her hand a soft squeeze.

Straightening his back, his golden eyes scanned the room. Presumably, on his appearance alone he might look like the most vicious man in the room. Perhaps it was true. Yet the Diarch's eyes were not that color due to his maliciousness or disregard for anyone but himself. Simply a by-product of his life and tapping into more... esoteric force teachings.

Many in the hall would carry their own assumptions about the Diarchy - harshness, absolutism, the shadow of power used too often enforce harsh lives. It was a reputation not softened by distant rumors or half-read dispatches. Few here knew the structure behind it: the High Council that tempered every decision, the Chancellorate that debated law and policy, the social programs that pulled the forgotten and the broken back into dignity no matter who or where they were from. "They allow the sith" No. They simply did not damn them.

And that distinction mattered.

Because the Diarchy did not arrive seeking dominion or fear.
They arrived because a government had fallen, millions were exposed, and someone had to step forward with a steadier hand.
Rellik stood here for that reason, and Iandre beside him, proof that the Diarchy's strength and compassion were not contradictions, but foundations.

Today would be their chance to make that understood. To show there was compassion for all under their rules of law.

Mykel Dawson Diarch Reign Lodd Grimmin Tiber Septimus Cressida Tolliver Helios Ardemark Severus Barran Alexandra Feanor Luciano Merovain Quolv Zyhvas

- Sorry if I missed anyone! Please feel free to come up and meet the Diarch and his soon to be Diarne! Hope everyone has fun!

 

[Severus Barran]

TAGS
Cressida Tolliver Mykel Dawson Lodd Grimmin Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik
Quolv Zyhvas Tiber Septimus Reima Vitalis Luciano Merovain
Helios Ardemark Alexandra Feanor

EMBASSY LAMENT
1

​

Wexbridge House, Near New Sterandel,
Aegis, Galactic Alliance Territories (903 ABY)

Intriguing crowd tonight.
Good turnout, considering the circumstances.
​

The young Lion had taken inward note of the double-doors leading to the library, politely nodding in Tolliver's direction before returning to last-minute intel scrawlings on his datapad, a task to which he was already attending by the time the announcement was voiced, interspersed mostly between nosy distractrions whilst the Protectorate diplomat waited for proceedings to commence. Not overtly observant in his diverted attentions, though the other attendees were freely speaking with stomach-deep, intentionally-public voices, it was by these means that Severus was able to put vital names to new faces, a silent, solitary process to join with that which projected from the flat surface of his datapad.

It was not until Barran looked up again when he finally realised his observance was catching that of his foreign contemporaries, all wondering who it was the Lord Imperator had sent to represent Nirauan that night, though that unasked question would, regardless, be answered soon enough; thus the young Lion's gaze drifted downward once more, drawing his focus back to timelapse predictions, risk-assessments and the like, and all pertaining to supply-routes and hyperlanes on which all realms in attendance would soon rely. Some would be safe in time-sensitive windows, and while others would retain perpetual safety, (or the lack thereof-) Severus could not help but feel that someone would need to pass mention on these specific findings.

'Ooooo....'

Not even sure its safe at that point of the timeline, let alone now.
Looks like I may need to caution away from the Unknown Regions after all.

It should go without saying, though. Looks like I can't coast this one now.​

'Wonderful.'

​

Softly placing his device on the table before him, Severus would shake his head disappointedly for a moment before lifting his gaze once more, as he knew this would mean going against his usual diplomatic strategy. Fortunately for the young Lion, however, the library beyond would not be so exposed to prying ears, as there was a fair extreme of discretion that would prove to lessen the guarded nature of his approach, made all the more apparent in the collective need for unity that day, especially in the wake of tragedies in the Deep Core. Thus giving Barran every nudge toward relenting, as every morsel of trust would be required in the fight against the latest of Galactic-level threats, and in seeking chances to be considered as one who would meet his peers in the middle, the young Lion realised it was for the best that he step outside of his comfort-zone.

 

[Helios Ardemark]

WEXBRIDGE HOUSE
AEGIS — COLONIES

"Friends and honored guests," she began. "Thank you for coming. I know the timing is not ideal, given what our governments must now be working through. The disappearance of the Galactic Alliance's security and trade infrastructure will put great burden on our worlds. It is my hope that here and now, over the course of this summit, we can lay the groundwork for efforts to alleviate these challenges and others, to join together where we can to support our worlds. Now, I don't have anything specific in mind. It is probably too early to begin drawing up agreements or treaties, but I trust that here can begin an honest and frank conversation about where we go from here. Do feel free to mingle and enjoy the hospitality. On the hour, I invite you to join me in the library for a more focused discussion."

Helios slipped into the entrance hall, alone, after being transported to Wexbridge, just as Cressida began to address this gathering of peers. Yes, the timing was not ideal, but then, none of this was. Though the Tapani Sector was self-sufficient in many ways even before the Alliance, the disappearance of the trade infrastructure had severely disrupted, if not cut Pelagon and the Expanse off from a number of trade relationships with worlds outside of it, and such things had been strained with the Empire's conquest of the Core, as it was.

None of it was the reason he wore black, this day. The offer had been made for someone to go in his stead, but no matter how much he was implored to remain on Pelagon during the period of grief and transition of power, the reality was that he still held the responsibility to his homeworld, province, and High Lord to work in their interests. And to some degree the entire Sector. He wasn't about to let someone else step in when it was him that had spent the bulk of the year in the Assembly, in the company of its representatives. So he was here, despite the investiture that awaited him in the coming days. Despite how the betrayed look in his mother's tear-stained face haunted his thoughts.

How dare he.

Not only was coming here worth the trip, but it was as much an excuse to give him some space from the gray atmosphere he'd have to go back to, after. A change of scenery. He removed his gloves, finger by finger, and was relieved of them and his coat by a footman, much the same as was done at home, before moving himself closer while Cressida continued. Helios noted the paltry number of faces that were here — some absences were quite surprising — but in light of the circumstances, he couldn't quite blame those that elected not to make an appearance.

To get here was one thing, in particular for those situated on the other side of the Empire as he was, as Tiber was. Navigating the political and financial landscape the dissolution of the Alliance had caused was quite another. But then, that was what brought them all to this conference, at least in part. He couldn't assume to know for each of them.

But call it an educated guess. As he made his way around, he gained a flute and stopped to take a sip. The delicate scent of the champagne reached him before the liquid met his tongue, and for a scant few seconds, the want of something stronger nipped at him, making him lower the flute and pinch the bridge of his nose as he swallowed. It was a want his discipline had thus far restrained, leaving the fresh bottle of ucazik - a clear Pelagonese distilled spirit with a proof as strong as the Mandalorian tihaar — that sat in his chambers with hardly a dent, and that discipline would remain, here.

Such a lowering of inhibitions was a hazard best indulged in private.

Cressida Tolliver • Diarch Reign • Diarch Rellik • Lodd Grimmin
Luciano Merovain • Mykel Dawson • Quolv Zyhvas • Severus Barran • Tiber Septimus​

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Mykel Dawson Diarch Rellik
The cool air beneath the covered portico brushed softly against her skin as Rellik offered his arm, and Iandre accepted it with quiet grace. No armor today—only a slate-blue formal gown cut in clean, defensive lines, the fabric draping like calm water with each step. Her lightsaber hung discreetly at her hip, its presence subtle but unhidden—a reminder that every alliance, every negotiation, required strength as much as diplomacy.

Wexbridge House rose before them like a memory of gentler politics—red brick, elegant columns, warm lights spilling across the limestone steps. It exuded the history of a world that had not yet been ravaged, not yet broken open by war. In another life, she might have admired it simply for its beauty.

Today, it felt like the last place holding its breath while the galaxy rebuilt itself outside its doors.

Rellik's question reached her quietly, only for her. She let her fingers curl around his forearm, grounding herself.
"I'm alright," she murmured, voice soft but firm. "It's strange being back in the Core… but not unwelcome."
A faint breath. The memories of the Clone Wars haunted every corner of this region of space—but she was not the frightened Padawan who once fled the battlefields here.
"And I'm not here alone anymore."

Inside, warmth embraced them immediately—a carefully cultivated atmosphere of refined diplomacy masking exhaustion, grief, and uncertainty. Voices rose in polite conversation, but every so often she could hear the cracks beneath: the Alliance was dead, and this gathering felt less like the start of something new and more like the final ringing echo of what had been.

Still, she held herself straight, composed, every movement deliberate. She was a Knight of the Lilaste Order, second lieutenant of Tarain's Sword, but here she was also something else—an envoy of a rising power that wished to be understood before it was judged.

Her eyes swept across the crowd. She spotted familiar faces among the political remnants—some weary, some guarded, some quietly hopeful. And there—near the periphery, observing rather than participating—stood Mykel.

A real smile touched her lips, small but genuine.
"I see Mykel made it," she said under her breath to Rellik, amusement glinting lightly in her grey eyes. "I should say hello before he vanishes into a corner entirely."

But the hosts approached first. Cressida Tolliver and Bertram Rookwood stepped forward with diplomatic poise polished enough to shine under the chandelier light. Iandre inclined her head respectfully.

"Thank you for the invitation. I am Iandre Athlea of the Lilaste Order, here on behalf of the Diarchy and the humanitarian initiatives launched after Atrisia."
Her tone was warm, professional—utterly devoid of the tension others might expect from a Diarchy representative.

Only once greetings were exchanged did she turn slightly toward Rellik, allowing him to formally present the Diarchy's stance. She stood beside him not as an ornament, nor as a shadow, but as a second pillar—calm, steady, and unflinching.

As the conversation lulled, she touched Rellik's hand once more, a small, grounding gesture before she stepped away to approach the familiar figure at the edge of the crowd.

"Mykel."
Her voice was warm in a way very few in the room had earned.
"You clean up surprisingly well."
A soft smile.
"I'm glad you're here. It feels like fewer ghosts in the room when I recognize someone."

She let her gaze drift across the hall again, absorbing the mixture of grief and fragile hope lingering like perfume.

"Whatever comes of today… let's make sure it's a beginning, not a eulogy."

 

[Cressida Tolliver]

Cressida continued her rounds, greeting and nodding and smiling, beckoning over waiters to refill drinks and footmen to gather coats and cloaks, all the while considering what Tiber Septimus had said. She hadn't been privy to the Galactic Alliance's negotiations with the Diarchy, but that made her feel a little better about the two Diarchs' presence here. She did not feel that they were natural allies, but if they were prepared to stand against the Empire, then -- well, there was truth to the sentiment that war made strange bedfellows.

Cressida greeted Diarch Rellik and Iandre Athlea as they entered. "We are pleased to have you," Cressida replied Iandre Athlea with genuine warmth before favoring Rellik with her dark gaze. "Both of you. Welcome to Aegis. Please, come in and get warm. When you're ready, we'll be settling in the library -- just through there."

The wayward Senator -- was she, still? -- disengaged from the guests and crossed to the library to ensure that the final preparations had been made. The tiny dark cerulean and gold flags of the Renascent Heirate were a nice touch, but perhaps too frivolous for such an occasion. Still, there would be plenty of austerity to go around before it was all over. The table was situated in the center of the room. Cressida's chair was at the center on one side, opposite Rookwood's owns eat. The other seats were not assigned, because Cressida hadn't known who would for sure attend, but each had a notepad, and a fresh pen. Each paired seat across the table shared a pitcher of water and an insulated carafe of coffee with two glasses and cups.

There were snacks and other refreshments arranged on tables around the perimeter of the room, to which guests would be welcome to help themselves. The temperature was a bit cool, with the fires on either end of the room not quite filling the room with heat. But the room would heat up a few degrees when the dignitaries had settled around the table.

In the entryway, an ornate grandfather clock began to chime the hour.

Diarch Reign | Diarch Rellik | Iandre Athlea | Quolv Zyhvas | Lodd Grimmin | Luciano Merovain | Tiber Septimus | Helios Ardemark
Severus Barran | Mykel Dawson | Alexandra Feanor​