Private First Steps in Sundari

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Sundari City
Mandalorian Empire
Aether Verd

The hum of the atmospheric shield parted as their diplomatic transport touched down with gentle finality in Sundari's main spaceport, its polished canopy casting long shadows over the durasteel landing pads. Outside, the city gleamed beneath Mandalore’s sun. Towers of beskar and glasssteel rose like blades of honor encased in the biodome that sheltered the Mandalorian capital from the harsh desert.

Sibylla took a steadying breath, yet it didn't steady her nerves as much as she'd hoped.

She had done her best to not only dress for the acrid weather but still maintain a semblance of civility. It was something, at least, she could control.

"Does it show?" she murmured to Corde Tsabin, her Deputy Ambassador and thankfully, a rather excellent keeper of secrets regarding her nervousness.

"Only if one knows you well, Lady Abrantes," came the low reply.

She offered her a side glance, but nodded nonetheless. This was her first official appointment, and she wasn't going to risk it.

They descended the ramp with dignified measure, her chin tilted upward, posture as straight as the pillars in Dee'ja Peak's Assembly Hall. House Abrantes did not slouch.

It was not lost on her that her father had walked countless corridors like these. Enarc. Karlinius. Even the cold halls of Rendali in its twilight years. He would know precisely what to say. She wished, in that moment, for one more line of advice. But she was here now, Naboo's new Ambassador to the Mandalorian Empire, and the only direction was forward.

Sibylla folded her hands gently before her as they were greeted by the escort detail, her voice calm and tempered with Nabooan melody when she spoke.

"I thank you for receiving us. I hope in the days to come, I may come to understand not only the Mandalorian people and their honored Clans, but the soul of this Empire as well. "

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

MANDALORE - SUNDARI

Aether stood at the base of the ramp, the folds of his crimson cloak shifting slightly in the warm air of Sundari’s dome. His armor held the deep charcoal tone of the iron heart of Mandalore, shaped by the hands of his people and bearing the quiet authority of the mantle he carried. Upon his right pauldron rested the ram’s skull, stark against the black, marking him of House Verd. On either side, the Supercommandos stood vigilant in gold-plated beskar’gam, ceremonial spears in hand, ready should their readiness be needed.

His helm tilted as she stepped forward, her words carrying the lilt of Naboo’s hills and lakes, a melody that had long been absent from these plains. He allowed that sound to settle in the air before he spoke, his voice low yet carrying across the durasteel without strain.

“Lady Abrantes. I thank you for accepting my request to serve as your Republic’s ambassador here on Mandalore. In the brief moments we have spoken, you have proven yourself capable and clear-minded, and it is my hope that your time among us will not only allow you to understand the soul of the Empire but that we might come to know the soul of your Republic through you and your people.”

He turned then, his stride measured as he set forth toward the city, the Supercommandos adjusting without word to form an escort as solid as the walls around them. His pace allowed her to fall in beside him, the sounds of Sundari greeting them with the steady hum of transports and the low conversations of warriors moving about their day.

“As you begin your first day, you have some options before you. There are minor clan discussions today that you may sit in on if you wish to witness how we settle the matters of our people. There is a meeting of the War Council that will be convening shortly. Or, if you would rather take time to see your accommodations and allow yourself to breathe, there is no rush. Whichever you choose will serve well enough for a first step.”​

Sibylla Abrantes

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Aether Verd


Sibylla walked by Manda'alore's side with a grace that belied the racing of her thoughts. His words had been generous and respectful, full of diplomatic courtesy, but there was truth threaded within them. She could hear it in the cadence of his voice, in the way he did not overextend. That alone had earned her regard. Perhaps, things were different here than within the machinations of the Royal Houses? Or was that just another layer settled differently here?

The young Ambassador took a moment to weigh his offerings.

The War Council. The clans. Her quarters.

With each step, the world was sharpened at the edges; not only disciplined and forged by a realm of warriors and oaths. And if she was to walk among them with any measure of honor, she could not simply observe from a balcony.

"I am honored, Manda'alore," Sibylla said at last, her voice shaded with the calm resolve now that she had made up her mind. "And most grateful for the options afforded me."

She glanced toward Corde at her side, and when their eyes met, she saw only a subtle nod from the dusky skinned woman, a confirmation that she, too, would follow where she led. That steadied her.

"If I may," she continued, turning her hazel eyes back to Verd, "I would choose to attend both the clan discussions and the War Council. Though I recognize the risk of overwhelming my first day, I am keen to see how matters are truly settled, not merely summarized."

Her smile, though slight, was genuine.

"I have found, in the brief and sometimes disillusioning education of politics, that holobooks speak often in sweeping truths and rarely of the smaller, human moments that shape a people. I wish to learn not only your structure but your substance, that which is lived and spoken."

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

MANDALORE

Aether held his peace as the young ambassador weighed the path before her. She spoke with the care and courtesy that had come to characterize her, reflecting well upon the High Republic she served. When she gave her choice, to walk boldly into the heart of Mandalore's deliberations on her first day, it drew forth a low chuckle from the Mand'alor.

“Of course, Ambassador,” he said, inclining his helm in acknowledgment. “I will honor your preference. Though, in light of your ambition, I will see to it that caf is brought along. Attending both could prove to be a daunting way to begin your tenure.”

He shifted, helm tilting as his gaze moved from Sibylla to the companion at her side. “Tell me, do natives of Naboo typically prefer caf or tea? I am well aware of your world’s fondness for wine, but it has always left me curious what it is that steadies your hands each morning.”

There was purpose behind the simplicity of his question. To set foot upon a foreign world in such a capacity was no small matter, and Aether intended to make the process as seamless as he could. Sibylla had not been sent to be devoured by wolves.

Once she had answered, he lifted a hand to the side of his helm, speaking quietly into the comm, informing the hosts of the clan meeting to prepare accommodations for their guests. His stride resumed, leading them deeper into Sundari’s heart until the passage widened into a meeting chamber set adjacent to the Court of Iron.

The room held a round table, polished but unadorned, ringed with seats that held no clear position of prominence. It was by design, a reflection of Mandalore’s unity, a reminder that its strength was not built upon the singular but upon the collective. Three seats had been left open together, and Aether motioned for them to take their places before descending into his own. His helmet was removed and set upon the table before him, its ram’s skull crest stark against the steel.

He regarded the assembled Alors with a steady nod before speaking, “Thank you all for your patience and your presence here today.” His eyes then turned to Sibylla, gesturing lightly with his hand. “Allow me to introduce the ambassador from the Royal Naboo Republic. Ambassador, the floor is yours, should you wish to speak.”​

Sibylla Abrantes

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Aether Verd ​

Sibylla laughed softly at Manda'alor's question, grateful for it. It managed to ease the tightness in her chest, allowing the teenager to linger with a ghost of a smile as she revealed honestly.

"Caf, without a doubt," she said with a smile. "Though my mother might disown me for such a confession. Tea was always her realm. But I was my father's shadow during his years as the Ambassador of Enarc, and he took his caf so strong it might've doubled as engine degreaser. My brother inherited the same habit. I suspect I learned to love the bitterness simply to keep up."

That brief moment of humor helped the young teenager relax, and by the time they stepped into the meeting chamber, Sibylla felt more at ease. While she was young, she had leveraged a political career since she was eight. Every bit of training, internships, and Representative position led her here. She should trust that.

As they stepped inside, her eyes caught sight of the round table, the even seats, and the silent strength of the Alors gathered. It was different from the Assembly Hall in the room. More intimate. How would discussions and legislative acts be conducted here? To be honest, Sibylla was equally nervous and thrilled.

Funny the things she was learning and experiencing half a galaxy away from her homeworld.

Her father had once told her that the primary rule of politics was to tell as much truth as you can, especially to a Jedi. So in her new role, Sibylla took it to heart with the Mandalorians as well. They would likely be suspicious of her, and if she were to gain respect for her position and character, she had to show it. This was an entirely different scene from the Royal Courts in Theed.

And she had to learn to adapt.

She inclined her head once in gratitude when Manda'alor introduced her, then turned to face the gathered Alors. She let her gaze acknowledge each Alor in a way she'd also have liked to be, even if helms might hide their eyes; Sibylla wanted to show them the respect of meeting theirs.

"It is an honor to stand among you. I do not claim to understand the breadth of your people, nor the weight of what you carry, but I have come with ears open and a willingness to learn."

"Thank you for this opportunity." Sibylla could feel her heart pounding in her ears, but she did her best to maintain her composure.

Just breathe, listen, and take everything in.

However, once she stepped to the side to find her seat, Sibylla leaned slightly toward Manda'lor.

"Pardon me, Manda'lor, should I write down any questions and save them for later? Or would it be all right to ask quietly as we go?" She asked politely, her face breaking into a small but genuine smile. She wanted to get it right.

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

MANDALORE

When Sibylla’s laughter touched the air, it stirred something rare: the light sound of the Mand’alor’s own mirth. Aether beamed beneath his helm, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in shared amusement. He raised a hand, resting it theatrically across the flat of his breastplate, and gasped in his best imitation of a Naboo noble.

“I do declare,” he said, feigning scandal with deliberately florid intonation. “A caf loyalist in a tea-drinker’s court? Your secret is safe with me, Ambassador! I’ll take it to the grave.”

He let the moment hang just long enough to bring a ripple of levity before leading them inside.

Once within the chamber, surrounded by the seated Alors, Aether listened as Sibylla addressed them with poise and humility. Her words were measured, sincere, and the subtle quiet that followed was not disinterest but attention. The Mandalorians gathered were studying her, weighing presence more than title.

One of the older women, face marked with age and battle, tilted her head slightly. Her voice was gravel-worn but playful.

“Are they feeding you right, little one? A stiff breeze might carry you back to Naboo if we’re not careful.”

That drew a chuckle from across the table. A grizzled man, broad-shouldered and loud of voice, leaned forward with a snort.

“Don’t take anything she offers you to eat, girl. You won’t fit back into those frilly dresses after two servings!”

The chamber rippled with laughter, hands thumping the table in good humor. No insult was meant, and none was taken. It was banter, familiar and familial, and Aether leaned slightly toward Sibylla as it settled.

“Clan meetings are less senate hearing, more extended family dinner,” he said with an easy smile. “We are all one people, after all. You’re free to ask your questions as they come, but you’ll need the jagyc’sol to do so.”

He stood then, drawing their attention with a simple motion. His hand moved to the back of his belt, retrieving a small rod of pure beskar. It was modest in size, plainly forged, but the way the room shifted at its reveal spoke volumes.

“For those unfamiliar,” Aether said, projecting his voice across the chamber, “this is the jagyc’sol: the talking stick. Whomever bears it may speak freely for no more than two minutes, then they yield. That way, every voice has its time.”

He set it gently on the table before him, then raised his chin as his voice shifted from warmth to order.

“The matter before us is trade between our worlds. The Planeshift Calamity exposed more than fractures in space...it revealed how fragile our supply chains have become. It falls to us to correct that.”

He offered the jagyc’sol to the eldest among them, a man whose armor was worn smooth at the edges. The Alor accepted it with a grunt and began to speak.

“We don’t need new shipping lanes. We need self-sufficiency. Every clan should be able to grow its own food, forge its own arms, and patch its own gear. If the galaxy cuts us off again, we can’t afford to break. This has to be the foundation.”

He said his piece with conviction, then set the stick back down. Aether glanced to Sibylla, gesturing subtly toward the jagyc’sol.

“If you’ve something to add,” he said quietly with a nod, “now is the time.”

Should she decline, the stick would move on, but the invitation was real. Her voice, like any other, had a place at the table.​

Sibylla Abrantes

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Aether Verd

Sibylla couldn't help the small laugh that escaped at the teasing about food. It wasn't the kind of humor she was used to, at least in court or amidst the Houses. On Naboo, such remarks might've been veiled barbs, measured carefully for political weight. But here, they were warm, disarming, and oddly charming.

"I assure you," she replied lightly, a touch of amusement in her tone, "I have been fed perfectly well. Though I imagine I may yet lose a diplomatic dress or two if your kitchens are half as bold as your appetites."

The laughter that followed was honest and good-natured, and for a moment, Sibylla felt as though she had stepped not into a council chamber but into a family gathering. It reminded her of home, of loud dinners with her father, of Cassian's dry comments tossed in between bites, and her mother's long-suffering sighs when someone dared bring politics to the table.

And then the jagyc'sol appeared.

She blinked at the sight of it, intrigued. A talking stick? What a simple, effective solution. The moment she saw how the room shifted around it, how the flow of discourse was shaped by it, she decided then and there she would find a way to introduce something similar back on Naboo.

Perhaps not a stick forged of beskar, but something ceremonial enough to make Cassian Abrantes think twice before interrupting... and maybe use it to knock some sense into his head.

She listened intently as the first Alor spoke, nodding softly to herself. The concern for self sufficiency struck a chord with her. It was not a sentiment unfamiliar to Naboo, particularly in the outlying districts. But here, it rang with greater urgency as it was a necesssary survival instinct in the wake of the Convergence rather than just policy.

Then the stick was offered to her.

For a moment, Sibylla blinked one and then twice in surprise. The invitation surprised her, but she was none the less appreciative of the offering. It wasn't just that they allowed her presence, but that they were inviting her voice among them.

Her hand hovered for a second before she took the jagyc'sol with careful fingers, its weight heavier than it looked.

"Thank you," she said first, dipping her head slightly to the table.

She looked around, not rushed, thoughtful.

"As the conversation turns to food and sustainability… has the Council considered creating or expanding seed banks? Or working to cultivate more advanced farming techniques across your territories?"

She let the idea settle before continuing, her voice calm but genuinely curious.

"Not to replace your traditions, of course, but to enhance them. With certain technologies, it's possible to increase seed yield, accelerate soil recovery, even breed livestock more efficiently. Herds and crops could become not only reliable sources of food but tradable resources between clans. A kind of shared strength."

Her attention would pan across each of the Alor's faces to gather their initial thoughts or expressions.

"In my experience, sovereignty is strongest when backed by security of resources. Especially when they grow from your own hands."

All the while, the young Ambassador's expression remained curious and engaged. Sibylla truly wanted to learn... and for some reason, she suspected this room might teach her more than a hundred Senate chambers ever could.

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

COUNCIL CHAMBER, MANDALORE

The ambassador’s reply, light with humor yet neatly folded into the rhythm of the room, was met with another round of hearty laughter from the gathered elders. It was the kind that rang against the stone and steel of the chamber without losing any of its warmth. The atmosphere lingered closer to that of an extended family’s table than any formal exchange of politics, and the ease of it softened the edges of even the most weathered faces at the table.

When Sibylla took the jagyc’sol and began to speak, the quiet that followed was the kind born from genuine attention. Her words, guided by curiosity, were given the space they deserved. The eldest among them, who had been the first to advocate for self-sufficiency, grunted with approval, a small but certain acknowledgement of her point. Yet before Aether could gauge the mood further, another hand rose and the stick was passed across the table.

The new voice belonged to a woman whose braids were streaked silver and whose armor had seen decades of wear. She began with a small nod. “Self-sufficiency is a fine goal,” she said, her tone measured but carrying the firmness of long service. “And there is sense in pursuing better ways to grow and raise what we need. But not every clan has the land or the sky for it. Some of us come from where nothing will grow, no matter the seed or the science. The Sith burned the north of Mandalore so badly that its soil will never see green again.”

Her gaze swept the table before settling back on Sibylla. “Clans like mine have to find our strength elsewhere, in what we can craft, in the skills we can sell. For those kin, it would be wiser to trade what we have for what we lack, rather than waste years trying to raise crops in barren ground. If Mandalorians traded more between ourselves, every clan’s strength could become another’s lifeline.”

Aether leaned back slightly in his chair, the quiet hum of thought resting behind his visor. His mind sifted through the points made, weighing their merit without rush. Yet his voice did not rise to cut the moment short. The eyes of the council lingered instead on the ambassador and the elder who had posed the counterpoint, the air between them holding the unspoken truth that in matters such as these, the right course was rarely drawn in straight lines.​

Sibylla Abrantes

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Aether Verd ​

Sibylla took a moment before reaching once more for the jagyc'sol, her touch thoughtful, not rushed. She met the elder's gaze with quiet respect, nodding once.

"You speak true, Alor," she said gently. "Not all lands can yield food...but every clan has its own strength, and that, I believe, is where the heart of this matter lies."

She glanced briefly around the table before continuing.

"If self-sufficiency cannot be built on soil, then perhaps it can be shaped in structure. A formal bartering system, organized across key regions of the Mandalorian Empire, might serve both clan and traveler alike. Certain areas could remain clan exclusive, safeguarding what is sacred or scarce. Others could be open to wider trade, offering goods, services, and skills unique to Mandalorian craftsmanship."

Her expression was one of attentive but genuinie thoughtfulness based on what she had learned so far with her time with the Mandalorians and her research on the star systems they oversaw.

"And if such exchanges were woven into cultural gatherings, seasonal festivals, competitions, even hunting bounties -- it would not only serve as trade but as celebration. An economy grounded in tradition, not removed from it."

She paused just briefly, searching the table again.

"I mean no offense in suggesting such things," she added quietly.

"Only that I have seen how resilient and resourceful your people are...and I believe those strengths could shape something that would benefit all of the clans as well as the people outside of the clans who now reside in your territory." referencing the worlds that contained billions of settlements and people who were not part of the Mandalorian clans, but also now subject to their domain.

She placed the jagyc'sol back down, her gaze calm but curious still. She knew she had much more to learn. But she hoped they could see that she meant every word.

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

SUNDARI, MANDALORE

The elder woman who had spoken earlier rendered a slow nod toward the ambassador as Sibylla’s words settled into the chamber. Her voice, when it rose again, was quieter than before, though the respect within it was unmistakable. “Wise beyond your years,” she said, tone softened by sincerity. “One wonders what crucible forged such insight in one so young?” The question was not meant to wound but to understand, for it carried curiosity rather than suspicion.

Aether leaned forward slightly in his chair, helm still resting upon the table beside him. “Perhaps those of Naboo undergo their own verd’goten,” he remarked, voice carrying a touch of mirth beneath its even tone. “Not in surviving the wilderness, but in surviving the world of politics and the care of millions. To endure such a trial is no small feat, and it shapes its own strength.” His words drew a ripple of approval from the council, affirming grumbles rolling low through the chamber like distant thunder.

The jagyc’sol then changed hands once more. The elder who took it was a woman whose accent betrayed origins not upon Mandalore itself, though her armor and presence bore no question of her place among them. She lifted the stick and spoke plainly. “There is wisdom in balance,” she said. “Every clan should see to half of its needs with its own strength, be that through planting, through craft, or through trade. The other half can be met through bartering, through commerce, or through the gatherings the young ambassador suggests. That way, if the unthinkable strikes again, no clan will be left with nothing, and each will have its own stores to weather the storm.”

Aether inclined his head, his voice rising once more. “Of all we have heard today, I find this suggestion the most fitting. It lessens the fragility of supply lines should disaster return, while encouraging unity among our people. It is also my commitment that the Empire itself will shore up these lines, so that never again will calamity such as the Planeshift lay Mandalore low.” His words were steady, not spoken in flourish but as a pledge that carried the iron of his mantle.

He lifted his gaze across the table. “Let us put the matter to a vote. Though the final word will be mine, I would know where the clans stand. Ambassador,” his eyes found Sibylla and he inclined his head toward her, “you may take part informally if you wish.”

His hand gestured toward the table as he spoke. “There are three courses before us. First, that every clan become wholly self-sufficient. Second, that each clan identify its industry and barter from its strength. Third, the balanced path, where half of every clan’s needs are met internally, and half through kinship with one another.”

He then leaned back, hands folding upon the table before him. “Raise your hands. Speak your minds. Let us see where Mandalore’s heart lies.”​

Sibylla Abrantes

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Aether Verd ​

Sibylla felt the tension in her shoulders ease just slightly as the elder's nod met her words. Relief that she hadn't offended anyone, but rather offered something that resonated, made a quiet warmth bloom in her chest. The approval hadn't come with applause or flattery, but something far more rare: respect. Earned, not gifted.

Even the jests from Manda'lor with his gentle teasing only deepened the feeling. She inclined her head in quiet thanks, a grateful smile curling over her lips in a way that she'd never reveal back at the Assembly in Naboo.

How different this was from the Royal Assembly.

She remained seated as the vote was called, folding her hands in her lap, not daring to raise them just yet. She wasn't ready to place herself among them in that way, not today. But she stayed still, attentive, eyes tracking each Alor as they cast their voice through raised hands or spoken word.

It was intimate. Strikingly so. There were no datapads passed around, no aides whispering recommendations, no quiet deals sliding beneath the surface.

Only voices. And truth.

No masks. No pretense.

It was...refreshing.

And in that moment, watching the vote unfold around her, Sibylla felt something else: not just the weight of her title, but the purpose behind it.