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The bags under the senator's eyes would be apparent to all entering the board room. Yet, for the moment, she held onto the small peace of its current empty state. The window she stood before overlooked the rest of the senate district, people and airways bustling below. Soon enough, the visiting parties would ascend the steps outside. The importance of this meeting did not escape her- it far surpassed the many others that had filled her time since the news of Csilla's fate.
The invitations had not been administered lightly, but with the rising tensions between the Alliance and their Confederate allies, in addition to the actions taken during the Sith-Imperial Civil war, such felt needed. Despite the necessity for the terms set to be discussed, there was a grim reluctance that tugged at the edges of Annsari's mind. The chair of foreign affairs was loathe to give her personal feelings any weight in the coming negotiations. Safety and assurance of the nations and peoples involved need to be prioritized above past frictions.
Fluttering to the intercom, her cream and gold robes followed behind her. A buzz indicated her call answered.
"Miss?" Myra's voice chirped.
"Send in refreshments, and the diplomats, when they arrive."
With that, she took to pacing across the mahogany floors, waiting.
"I would advise against the pacing Madam Senator." The smooth tone of the Warden of Peace came from the entrance of the room. Offering the politician a polite bow of his head. In contrast to the representative of Jakku. Aaran was the picture of calm and serenity. "It would not bode well for our guests to feel you are ill at ease."
An easy thing to advise, another matter entirely to actually remain calm. What with everything that this meeting was meant to represent. An attempt to clear the air and ensure an understanding was reached between volatile powers. A hope to defuse some of the underlying tension and address some rather pointed issues that had been brought to light.
Along with a few others that had been open secrets for quite some time.
Striding into the room. He moved to pick out one of the chairs next to the head of the table. Easing himself into it as he placed his hands on his lap. "But I do thank you for inviting us. We appreciate your efforts to keep the New Jedi Order involved in these affairs." If nothing else any Jedi in the room where there to act as a buffer and to ensure the incoming Sith did not attempt anything esoteric or untoward.
But thankfully his presence would hopefully be enough to deter anything of the sort. One blade present kept another in its sheath. As the saying went.
His only true concern was that how the New Imperial Order would behave. Tavlar had made his stance on any sort of cooperation or agreements with Sith rather clear. The Jedi could only hope that these talks could appeal to the Imperialist's sense of pragmatism. Allowing them to focus their attention on the far more pressing threats to galactic stability.
So for now, he would simply wait and observe. His purpose here was to act as a peacekeeper and mediator. To ensure that any dealings were performed in good faith towards either party.
These were strange times. The Galaxy walked the razor's edge. Many questions, few answers. But there remained three persistent constants. Certainly so in the wake of the New Imperial victory at the Atrivis Salient. The New Imperial Order, Galactic Alliance and Confederacy of Independent Systems would be the blocs of power here to stay.
To this point, the New Imperial Order and the Galactic Alliance had maintained similar aims and close ties in spite of a tense ideological opposition of one another. Where the Galactic Alliance prized personal freedoms and democracy- the Imperial state in Bastion sought order and security. For without those, where would be no state at all.
Irveric didn't trust the Confederacy, Dantooine and Serenno had seen it intervene in matters it had no place in. But if the New Imperial Order was able to slay dormant demons within their perception of the Silver Jedi Concord, it might be able to do the same unto the Confederacy. But even so, Tavlar was skeptical- not that he ever wasn't. But even so, the Alliance clearly had an aim in mind, that if the Confederacy and New Imperial Order could not touch base in some form, Galactic stability could not truly be achieved.
Irveric, donned in his New Imperial military uniform of fieldgrey, black and crimson piping with tall jackboots and the imprint of his rank on his chest - twelve silver, Sovereign Imperator. Supreme commander of the New Imperial Order. With him, his retinue. Varian Dyre took up the role typically expected of the late Jaeger Harrsk, an advisor with an inclination of viewpoint expected of the intelligence community. Onansi of Thyrsus, one of the Order's more tactful and prominent warlords hailing from the Thyrsian Hierarchy- now vassal state to the NIO. And Mithrad, a new arrival to his government but one quickly rising. He was all but one of the leaders of the Chiss in-exile who'd taken refuge in New Imperial space. Given recent events, his perspective would no doubt be a useful one.
Irveric and the others entered, the Sovereign Imperator stepping into the meeting chamber with a nod in the direction of the Alliance delegation.
"Senator, Master Jedi. And I am to assume Chancellor Chandra will not be in attendance?" He inquired. Odd, considering he more than expected the Vicelord opposite of him, each government arriving with their head of state would only be fitting. But even so, she may very well seek to overstep in mediating their interaction. This may have very well been for the best.
He remained standing for the moment, waiting to introduce himself to the leadership of the Confederacy, once more, having never encountered any of them in the flesh.
The frigid bureaucrat followed the Imperial delegation inwards, a single hand reaching to turn off and store away his holo-glasses in an act of respect for the authority and renown of the yet-unknown characters present at such a pan-galactic meeting. His ember-tinted, crimson eyes placidly scanned the room, both for it's occupants and it's general mood as he passed the door's threshold without stopping, a few steps behind the Imperator, alongside the representatives of the warlords and the intelligence bureau.
Having only recently been expulsed from the Csillan internal political scene, and unfortunately for reasons completely out of his control and which also motivated the meeting that took place that day, Mithrad knew very little about those present, beyond what he had read from presentation briefs, documents and the opinions of those he had travelled to Coruscant with. The Chiss, although observant and alert, seemed to take a backseat for the time being, quickly making his mental first impressions of the few Alliance representatives that conversed with one another. Although Csilla had once been a jewel of it's own kind, the visit to Coruscant, the metaphorical central artery of the entire Galaxy, had been surprisingly enlightening for the man, whose creative mind already burgeoned with architectural and logistical ideas.
Rather then his usual hybrid outfit, a bastard combination of military officer and chiss administrator, Rodam'ithra'dovor had traded the more informal and versatile attire for a more slick and businesslike look, now donning a full, corporate suit, supported by Csillan colors and similar airs to those that Galactic Alliance corporatists would find to be in trend. At his neck was a velvet, quality tie with faint tinges of Ascendancy royal blue, clashing only pleasantly slightly with his own ice-pale skin tone. Everything about the man screamed precision, with no detail left uncut- perhaps that was the kind of image he liked to project.
Mithrad's arms soon came to fold in his back in a diplomatic manner as Imperator Tavlar spoke up, enquiring about his GA homologue. A dark brow very faintly raised in a mix of curiosity and interest, although he did not speak a word, waiting for presentations to take place in formal and hierarchical order, as was at least customary in his homeland of Csilla.
A V E N G E R NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
GALACTIC CITY | CORUSCANT
Lost in thought, with memories of sorrow and grief resurfacing, Varian Dyre observed the endlessly sprawling cityscape of his homeworld of Coruscant. There, right there at the heart of the business district once lied the headquarters of his father's conglomerate. It had stood out by the virtue of humbleness - no massive company name, no megalomaniac company logo to flash bright over the City's denizens. Just a place dedicated to creating a better future, a future the Sith had erased during the Sacking of Coruscant leaving forever a void in Varian's heart; damning him to a fate of relentlessly seeking its closure.
As the Imperator's presence lingered next to him, he couldn't help but feel the rupture plaguing him ever since the day he had dedicated himself to the idea of the Imperial. Internal turmoil locked in a strife as the means he had followed to achieve order, closure and retribution for the death of his parents, were at complete odds with the virtues and legacy of his family.
Relief washed over him as soon as he stepped into the meeting chamber, work had always been his escape from the violent memories that often threatened to break his resolve and shatter his sanity. Donned in a graphite colored, officer's uniform - as per New Imperial etiquette - Varian silently examined all who had gathered, waiting for the standard introductions to be made. The meeting today directly concerned his role and responsibilities as an Imperial Spectre; agents entrusted with extraordinary authority by the Sovereign Imperator with the responsibility to preserve galactic order and stability by any means necessary.
Although he preferred to stay out of politics to the best of his ability, Varian understood politics were inevitable at some point. This conference was a proof of that notion. The destruction of Csilla by the Maw cultists, the ravaging hordes of the so-called Bryn'adul, all the while the New Imperials entered their sixth or seventh year of the Third Imperial Civil War against the Sith-Imperials; it only made sense that arguably the strongest states of the galaxy would inevitably convene as they do today in the quest for stability.
While the New Imperials struck a fragile balance between maintaining order within their borders simultaneously waging a war against the Sith Empire, both the Galactic Alliance and the Confederacy of Independent Systems had demonstrated success in maintaining stability and order in the Core and the Southern Systems, respectively. The forum today would tell if all sides could dispel the ghosts of the past for the sake of the future.
"Of course, as a part of the Triumvirate, it's only natural that we should be," she said, giving a glance to Aaran. There was a bit of heat in her tone, yet a moment later it abated, her gaze softening to match. She felt as though her nerves were showing. Maybe a bit of confidence -- assurance that she was, indeed, meant to be there -- would do her well. For all her growth, she couldn't always find the perfect calm that Aaran had.
She took a deep breath, before nodding respectfully to the Senator of Jakku. What little Auteme knew of the woman's past made her wonder, for a brief moment, if it was right for Annasari to represent the Alliance today. But there was always a second chance -- that was, after all, why they'd gathered in this meeting.
Not soon after the two Jedi did the Imperator and his advisors arrive; Aaran's concerns seemed unfounded, the Imperator seemed far more focused on the arrivals opposite to him in the Confederacy. Auteme waited for Annasari to formally open the proceedings.
Annasari offered the Jedi a warm smile as they arrived, and stopped pacing on the mention of such. He was right of course- a show of nerves couldn't be tolerated amongst foreign giants. She nodded in response of his thanks, took mental note of the shield's sharp edge. It did surprise the senator, momentarily- she had heard the girl was a soft thing. Perhaps the Jedi felt there was something amiss in the ever-shifting balance that was the Galactic Triumvirate.
"Agreed," She stated after a moment. "Of course our closest allies and a pillar of our relationship with the Imperials deserve a spot at the table."
The Imperials entered shortly after, looking as they always did- hard as iron. The time that had passed since she last encountered the imperator had seemed to leave him worse for wear. The warmth held for the Jedi had all now but vanished, leaving only cordiality. Icy blue eyes probed the men with him. She knew only their names, the slight details that had been left on her datapad. The senator had held a small hope Enlil would be in attendance; but perhaps it was better that he was not, given who they were meeting, and the circumstances that the two had met on so many years ago.
"Imperator." She greeted. "Unfortunately, the chancellor will not be able to join us today. She sends her condolences, and her well wishes."
There were no further explanations offered. Her eyes flickered to the clock momentarily, then back to the party.
"Allow me to extend my thanks for traveling here. The Confederates should be joining us shortly."
The jolt of anxiety ran through her once more. How would they react when she made the proposal? The Imperials were known for having an iron will. Working to keep her emotions off her face, she offered a smile, but it did not reach her eyes.
In the old days, when many of the bold souls carrying the torch for the Alliance were yet infants, this was the reality that the South faced. In that era, the Confederacy had taken up arms against oppression beyond its borders. It stood in the shadow of the first Galactic Alliance, looking up to the democratic giant the way a younger sibling did its elder. It stood beside them in their plight against the First Order, the Mandalorian Empire, and the Galactic Empire. And when the titan fell, the Southern Systems made a single vow: they would not suffer another empire to live. It was this guiding mantra which guided their hand for years. This directive which saw them clash with the Galactic Imperials and devastate the Mandalorian Empire.
But by the time their eyes settled upon the north, the Sith Empire was a giant - and they were far too young to succeed. The reality in those days was simple. Conflict between the two nations would rip the Galaxy asunder. A war that would spell the absolute destruction of both participants to the last man, woman, and child. Faced with this certainty, the Southern Systems enacted a truce. Neutrality, as opposed to plunging the Galaxy into further chaos. Thus, the South merely tolerated the existence of the Sith Imperials; but their mission to stand against Imperialism remained the same.
For some, a lifetime had passed by the time the Sith and Confederates sat again at the table. And during that conversation, the latter convinced the former to outlaw slavery within their borders. At the very least, while they would not enact a war of devastation against the Sith, they would see to it that their people were not wearing literal chains.
And then the Civil War broke out.
Were it not for the rampaging, genocidal monstrosities at their borders, the Vicelord might have raised a toast to the New Imperials. For they, in lashing out against the regime, accomplished that which he had only dreamed of. The old Alliance - their first ally on the Galactic stage - was avenged with each battle. A net positive for the Galaxy, on paper. Yet, initially, the sole souls who seemed interested in facing down the Bryn'adul were the Sith and the Silver Jedi. Efforts had been made to eliminate dogmatic differences long enough that the three nations could work together to end the threat. Yet they were unsuccessful. Talks fell through; and of the Silvers and Sith, only the Empire was willing to commit their forces.
It behooved the South that they remained breathing, insofar as they were willing to face down the Bryn'adul. Yet, with the destruction of Csilla by an equally ravenous Maw, the other powers that be seemed more willing to bring fire to the enemies of mankind. This was progress. Enough so that that the South was willing to sit at the same table as the New Imperials. An invitation had been sent by the faithful Alliance for breaking bread. In the name of Galactic stability. And once the scourges were dealt with, peace would always be preferable to war.
Thus, the Confederate delegation arrived in the board room. The Vicelord, garbed in a tapered suit, raised his hand in greeting. "Greetings one and all. Thank you for the invitation." he the motioned to those accompanying him and introduced them one after the other. "Joining me today are Lord Commander Lechner of the Knights Obsidian, and Exarchs Srina Talon and John Locke."
He rendered a respectful nod to the Alliance delegation who was hosting the meeting. And to the New Imperials, he drew near. He had never spoken to them in person, yet they had been in the same room once or twice. But now? His dominant hand extended towards the Imperator.
If they were to speak, let it at least begin on the right foot.
If the extended travel from the Southern Systems to Coruscant had left her weary, diminished, none would ever know. The presence of at least one high-ranking member of the Confederate governing body had been required all over the verse as of late. Srina, was an obvious choice. The Vicelord was often inundated with matters of state whilst her fellow Exarch had a presence to maintain within the scope of national defense. John Locke
monitored the pulse of the Ministries alongside Darth Metus
who provided vision and empowered Gerwald Lechner
to guide and cultivate the Knights Obsidian.
All held their duty. All had purpose; function.
Srina filled the gaps when required and often found herself sitting with foreign powers or visiting sovereign systems in need of support. Occasionally, they required her words. Occasionally, her sword. The no-nonsense approach she took to every endeavor was either loved or abhorred nigh universally and there was no denying that her approach could result in friction. She wasn’t caustic—But she was pitilessly honest. She did not lie.
It was a quality that most politicians could not fathom. The truth was hard to accept, even, for seasoned leaders and the brightest, boldest, members of the galactic community.
Every time she set foot on Coruscant she was reminded of the fall of the Galatic Alliance. Not this version, certainly. The one that came before. She was reminded of her lungs filling with smoke while the Sith Empire made orphans of thousands. Hundreds, of thousands. The Confederacy had arrived to fight, as promised, but the battle had been almost over before it began. She could remember the sight of a dreadnaught splitting in two.
She could remember watching half of it crash devastatingly into the Jedi Archives.
Did anyone present recall the sheer oblivion that was left behind, the lives destroyed, and the pains that were taken to resettle the survivors? The terror that had been left in the wake of what equated to terrorist attacks had been all-encompassing, and yet, the utter annihilation of Csilla was far worse.
Ivory hair twisted like fine ribbon in her wake while she walked just a step behind her Master in a tepid silence. Her clothing matched the professional flair he favored, though, she seemed to be boasting the wrong shade. If the assembled dignitaries didn't know better it would be a simple thing at first blush to confuse her with a Jedi. Srina was never far from Darth Metus
given the opportunity. Especially, not on potentially hostile ground. She did not feel Adhira Chandra
present ahead in the board room. It was not a requirement of their agreement to meet, however, the lack of the Chancellor was unexpected in her own halls. She couldn’t imagine the same thing happening on Naboo were the situations reversed.
“Eyes up, wolf.”, she murmured to the Lord Commander, though, she offered no explanation. He required none.
Gerwald Lechner had been introduced headfirst into her reserved nature and the cold orders she so often delivered. Her tone was terse, respectful, and succinct given their present location. There were too many unknown factors, especially, since they had once again risen from the South at the behest of the Alliance. The New Imperial Order had been waging war with the Sith Empire for so long that she wondered, truly, if any of them knew the reason it began. A schism—Certainly. Everyone knew that. Seemingly delicate footsteps carried her forward and her mind lingered, momentarily, on the past. On the moment when it was decided that the grip of the Empire could be tolerated, no longer. That carnage, bloodshed, was the way.
The only way.
Mercurial eyes moved over Irveric Tavlar
first while the Vicelord made ephemeral introductions. Plainly. There was very little that Echani eyes did not see and each individual present would be subject to the same visual inspection. Each galactic power within these chambers compromised something in order to hold affable discourse. Large or small; a piece of themselves, of what they stood for, or against, would require evaluation and potential sacrifice. The greater good was costly.
Was it a price they could pay?
Did they have a choice?
Slender hands came to clasp before her and the achingly elegant woman inclined her head toward the delegates of the New Imperial Order. Then—The Senator of Jakku. If anyone deserved a small piece of distant reverence it was the dark-haired woman that sought to mediate negotiations. This was a first true impression. The first point of contact. They knew virtually nothing outside of hearsay, war stories, tactical data about one another. Yet, distrust would permeate the air.
Fear in the loosest sense of the word, distrust, of what they did not know. Did not understand—Or thought they knew. A Sith would likely always be a Sith in the eyes of an Imperial. But, if a democratic Alliance could find common ground? If the Silver Jedi Concord could find value? Faith?
John could remember the first time he’d walked into a room like this, so long ago that it seemed like a different life. The Galactic Alliance has just fallen, dark forces had been running rampant through the galaxy threatening untold death and devastation to those in their path. He’d been sitting on the other side of the table then, a member of the Jedi council, provider of technology and an admiral in their defence. It was in a room like this that he’d first met the Vicelord, met his fellow Exarch Srina Talon. It was shortly after that he’d left the Jedi, tired of their willingness to judge but not to take action when needed.
It was funny, it seemed a lifetime ago, and yet today they were called together again as dark forces roamed the galaxy intent upon causing death and destruction. Once again they came to a room like this, Once again the eyes of history watched.
The same dance, different players.
The dark-haired couldn’t reach out to touch the force, he lacked that sense that so many others in this room had, that they took for granted. But...even he could feel it, the weight pressing down on the room, on the shoulders of all those present. The weight of history, of expectation, was no stranger to the man, he’d lived with it all his life. From the moment he ran into the fire on Corellia he’d always been racing forward as people piled more and more expectation onto him. It was true of any of them, everyone in the room would be tested by history, by the weight of expectation. It was never an easy burden to bear, one that could be trying at times but, what choice did they have? Their nations, the entire fate of the galaxy depended on each of them being strong enough to shoulder the burden in front of them. To not just demand, to not look to their own good but the good of the galaxy.
Unconsciously the Exarch slipped his hands into his pockets, it was an easy gesture one well practised as the man fell into step behind the Vicelord. Dark eyes flicked over the man’s shoulder, slowly travelling around the room, taking in the individuals gathered. Senator, Imperator, bureaucrat and Jedi. Some he knew by reputation, some were unknown to the man, but it mattered not. Here in this room, only actions would count, would be judged. His as well as everyone else’s.
“It’s nice to finally put a face to some of the storied names and reputations in the room.”
A small nod of his head at the Imperator, the man who had led the war against the Sith, who had forged his nation on the back of that conflict.
This wasn’t the venue for hostility, for enmity, the galaxy was burning around them, they could all at least get along. Or if not, give a good show of it. The Exarch was willing to take his lead from the Vicelord, to extend the hand on greeting towards the others here and let their actions speak for them.
Let them judge him by his actions.
The man twisted slightly, turning his attention to the woman who had put all this together, had drawn the leaders of nations from across the galaxy.
“Thank you for setting this up Senator, I look forward to your presentation.”
It had been a long time since Gerwald’s feet had touched the platforms of the large city planet. In fact, his last visit had been long before the Galactic Alliance had been a name to revisit the tongues of many in the galaxy. He had seen the devastation which the Sith had left behind. He had known how the previous Galactic Alliance had also brought war to this planet. He may not have left Stewjon at that point, but as Lord Commander of the Knights Obsidian, Gerwald needed to know the galaxy’s history.
Once again the wolf found himself on a diplomatic mission. It seemed more of his time was spent negotiating with leaders of other nations rather than investing in the training of his own Knights. He supposed that was why there were others who could teach. Where the other he accompanied were dressed for diplomacy, Gerwald maintained the armor which designated him as a warrior. It made little sense to go into the meeting under the pretense that he was anything other than a combatant. Diplomacy was not his strength, nor was it the primary reason he was there. @Srina Talon’s command served to remind him of his role.
Gerwald had been on Dantooine when the New Imperial Order had attacked. They had been invited by The Sith Empire to further discuss why the Compact between them and the Silver Jedi had broken apart. The Brynadul were still a threat, one which needed to be handled, would the Sith still honor the defense of the Jedi despite their exit? It was during those proceedings the New Imperial Order attacked, and Gerwald found himself alone with Prazutis. He had been ready to kill the man if he could not be convinced to abandon his desire to bring a Nocna Mora onto the battlefield. The lupine had succeeded, but that did not mean his desire for justice had dissipated.
Gerwald clutched the ring which hung from his neck for a moment. Prazutis would pay for what he had done to Naedira. She would not have wanted him to chase the mountain, to seek his death. No, this was a promise Gerwald had made to himself.
The thoughts were quickly pushed aside. He was not here to dwell on that part of his past. Gerwald was there because there was a lack of trust between the Confederacy and the New Imperial Order. There had also been whispers that there were those among the Galactic Alliance which had been vocal in the need to abandon the alliance with the Southern Systems. This could have as easily been a trap as much as the motivation for this encounter was altruistic. The lupine could not know, but he would be prepared for either.
< “You do not need to tell me twice.” > His thoughts fell to the Echani. < “I have seen what the Imperials are capable of when they decide to wage war. They almost took one of our own on Dantooine.” >
Had the wintery Exarch read the report from Luna Terrick? There was little which the Echani missed.
His steps fell in behind her as the others walked into the meeting. Where she followed her master as a loyal apprentice would, Gerwald followed her for reasons deeper than blind allegiance. She had rescued him, saved him, nursed his wounds, and made him whole once more. His life was hers to command.
Metus was as masterful as ever with his quick introduction. The meeting seemed to be filled with pleasant words, and simple conversations. They all knew why they were there. The real question would be whether or not this meeting would be productive or would it prolong the unspoken tensions which were easily felt in the room. Gerwald did not expect this to be easy. War was abundant in the galaxy, but one truth was certain to the lupine. The threat of the Maw and the Brynadul were real. They needed to be stopped, even if it meant standing with those which he did not trust.
The wolf did not need to speak now, but he would not lie nor be anyone other than himself if the time came. His eyes fell to the other force users in the room. There were those among the New Jedi Order he had yet to meet. That needed to change. Perhaps later.
It reminded him of Bastion, less ruinous perhaps, and somehow managing to be even busier.
It was somehow obnoxious, he felt.
Similarly to the Jedi, he thought. Laying his eyes upon first the Miralukan and then the other, who seemed to over value their status on galactic affairs. He blinked once, then twice. Satisfied with his quickly forming assumption that it didn't matter what they put in front of their name - they were still Jedi. And whether the situation concerned them or not, they would always think they deserved a voice.
Suppressing the urge to frown, a skill the Warlord rapidly manifested after countless hours spent in the Imperial Assembly, he went to take his seat, just in time for the Confederacy's arrival to the meeting hall.
Save for an appraising nod in their direction, words were not exchanged to greet them.
The maneuvering of this discussion would be for Tavlar, and one of the newer additions to the Assembly, the Chiss. A living and breathing testament to the change of the New Order's focus - The Maw. Even prior to their defeats of their easternmost enemies forces, the attention of the Imperial had been placed on the Unknown Regions.
A reaction was drawn however, when he found the platinum shock of hair sprouting from the scalp of an Echani. Though his features did remain stoic, save for the exhalation of air from his nostrils. It begged the question as to why of all the Order's Warlords, it was him. Did Tavlar seek his outburst? Planned for the expected conflict that he added to in the Assembly? A sound tactic for the man that was in the midst of toppling a galactic super power that spanned for nigh two decades.
Were it not for the fact it'd require the Thyrsian to make a fool of himself.
A concept that Onansi was not overtly fond of, as he settled on speaking rather little.
I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
GALACTIC CITY | CORUSCANT
And so there they were, in the flesh. The lungs of command to the Confederacy of Independent Systems. As hulking as these two nations are, Galactic proximity and invisible tension had certainly kept them at odds along with the opposing ideologies they both crusaded along the stars. Where the Confederacy would not suffer an empire to live- the New Imperial Order embodied Empire at its purest, unfettered from the manipulation of the Force.
Regardless, business was going to get done today. He offered a quick glance over each of the Confederate emissaries opposite of him before approaching his direct counterpart- the Vicelord himself.
"Vicelord." He said, taking the offer of an extended hand with his own- the crimson cybernetic of his right hand reaching out to take Isley's. The reputation Irveric would have mostly likely garnered in Confederate space was made vindicated in the flesh. His lone eye frigid in its focus set in a face marred with lacerations from shrapnel, tibanna burns and worn scarring from battles past. He gave all the appearance of what he truly was- a soldier...a warlord.
"A shame so much time has passed and we've yet to truly encounter one another. With me is the Secretariate hailing from the Chiss Remnants- Rodam'ithra'dovor. Commander Dyre and of course- the Supreme Sun Guardian Onansi of Thyrsus." Irveric says, gesturing his cybernetic hand to each of the delegation from the New Imperial Order.
"It is my understanding we're here to discuss one simple commonality that we both must certainly believe in. Galactic Stability." Irveric iterates.