Populate Just a Turn Around The Garden [High Republic Populate of Parcellus Minor]

[Ravion Corvalis]

​

The gardens of the Calarian Estate were in full, deliberate bloom, as if the very flowers understood the etiquette of Naboo politics. Rows of lilies curved with architectural precision, hydrangeas clustered in calculated color palettes, and the central reflecting pool caught the pale gold of the afternoon sun like a jewel in a setting. It was the sort of gathering where every word was chosen as carefully as the wine list; and every coin pledged to the noble houses’ “Defence for the High Republic Fund” came with an invisible signature of obligation.

Ravion did not drift aimlessly among the guests; he moved with purpose, a conductor in the quiet symphony of influence. A misplaced seat was corrected here, a serving tray subtly rerouted to interrupt a dangerous pairing of rivals there. The steward of House Calarian was surprisingly nowhere in sight, which had given Ravion the chance to step in, for he was not the steward, and yet the machinery of the event turned as he willed it. His task was not to be seen; his task was to ensure that those who mattered saw only what he wanted them to see, who he wanted them to see.

Beyond the marble balustrade, the estate’s famed riding grounds rolled into the distance. He remembered another day here, not so long ago, when a certain young Sal-Soren’s arrival had disrupted the rhythm of the gentry like a stone in still water. That was a different game; this one was far more controlled. Today, the stakes were Naboo’s noble alliances, and the as empty coffers of the High Republic, and Ravion was content to keep his hand firmly on the tiller, unseen but inescapably present.

He spotted them on opposite sides of the reflecting pool: Under-Senator Varrick, tall and silver-templed with the self-importance of a man used to applause, and Senator Dorian Halver of the Southern Republic Planets delegation, whose sense of diplomacy was matched only by his taste for public humiliation. Their feud was an open secret, a long chain of legislative skirmishes, misquoted speeches, and personal slights dressed up as procedural objections.

Ravion’s smile was almost imperceptible. A collision between them here, among the peacocks of Naboo society, would not damage the evening; no, it would flavor it, just enough to make certain guests lower their guards while others scrambled to take sides.

He caught the arm of a passing server, murmured a change of direction, and watched as a tray of rare Gunganesse sparkling wine found its way toward Varrick. A few steps later, Ravion intercepted Lady Morrin with a quick conversation of the Set statue of the crescent moon she had purchased from him the week before. Lady Morrin known for her irrepressible need to “connect” old acquaintances, and gently turned her toward Halver with the lightest touch on her elbow. Two nudges; nothing more.

The moment came together like clockwork: Varrick turning with glass in hand, Lady Morrin steering Halver into his path, the sudden startle as fine bubbles spilled across silken sleeves. Gasps rippled, followed by the brittle laughter of the well-bred masking discomfort. Ravion was already moving away, blending into the crowd as the first barbed pleasantries began to fly.

The party would recover, of course. But for now, the water was just choppy enough for him to maneuver the real business unseen. Creating the financial means to support a Grand Army for the High Republic.

 

[Ravion Corvalis]

​

[OOC: Welcome to the first High Republic Fundraising Charity Afternoon in support of our glorious High Republic Defence Force.

This thread should be a chill time, mingle and talk, make alliances and find new rivals.

We will also be having an auction, a list of items will be provided during the thread for people to bid their UCs on, with all payments to go towards using them to drive activity with the High Republic.

We also have several sport activities going on across the estate.

Noble duelling, where you can don your blade and bodyshield and engage in honourable hand to hand in acts of valor and reputation.

Guarlara riding and show takes up much of the estate. Take bets on the races, talk among the crowds or show off your own Guarlara and race against other nobles.

You can also donate to the cause if you want to, any and all donations of UC are loved forever.

All UC payments are to be donated to Pillar of Reflection

Now go out and enjoy]

 

[Aiden Porte]

Fountain
Tags: Open

Aiden found himself staring at the small chasms that were from from the multi layered fountain. As each layer of water moved downward, sending small ripples across the surface. He could help but smile, and he looked up as he heard laughter and a loud enough talk that broke his concentration on the fountain. Such an event that was taking place, was needed for the High Republic. While Aiden was no incredibly rich individual he made a small donation to the efforts for the High Republic Defense Force. Truth be told there wasn't enough Jedi to protect the Republic, while the order was growing. They were keepers of the peace, they would need more men.

With the rising threats in the Core Worlds and thousands of Republic citizens were displaced and even Jedi themselves. Not to include the recent conflicts would indeed draw in more powers seeking to destroy them. Aiden took a deep breath as he gave a friendly nod and smile to some passerbys as they exchanged pleasantries. The Jedi Knight waved his hand politely, waving off the server who offered him a drink as he passed just after the couple did.

He was okay, but it was times like these he wondered what his mother and sister were doing. He wondered where they were and, just hoped that they were okay. As much as he wanted to go and look for them, he knew he couldn't leave. Not that he was stuck here or stranded here. He couldn't just up and leave like that, he had responsibilities here and to the Republic.

Besides that, he was reminded by his father before he was gone. That wherever they might be, that they were together.

And that meant that they were okay.

On a more pleasant note, he wondered what was to be put on auction for the day. Aiden didn't bother bidding at the last auction, where he had a rather strange encounter with Cerys. He wouldn't pass up the opportunity to bid on at least an item or two this go around.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian almost seemed to materialize into the party, slipping into the gallery between two clusters of silk-clad onlookers as if he'd been there all along. A dangerous smile already played at the corner of his mouth.

Below, two armored nobles circled, their blades tapping with the crisp rhythm of ritual. The betting slate hung in the air, flickering with odds. Aurelian's eyes scanned it with the casual disinterest of someone checking the price of bread, until the numbers swayed and his gaze sharpened.

A man from a lesser house stood beside him, loudly declaring his bet was on the younger duelist. Aurelian's scoff was quiet, but sharp. "Bold of you to gamble with pocket change," he said without looking at the man. "If I weren't still recovering from Wielu…" He let the sentence trail off into a knowing smirk, an unspoken image hanging in the air: himself in the ring, cutting an opponent down with theatrical efficiency. "You'd be betting on me instead."

The lesser noble bristled, as they always did. Aurelian turned, finally meeting his eye, and let his smile harden just enough to make the insult clear. "Still," he added, "every cause needs its little donors. Keep your wager. The Republic's defense fund thanks you."

He flicked his own credit chip toward the attendant. The sum was far larger than the duel deserved, and he made sure those nearby saw it. After all, an investment was never just about the game; it was about ensuring his name came up when people whispered about influence. Every credit pledged here could serve its purpose: boosting the High Republic's defense coffers.

In the ring, the younger duelist lunged. The crowd gasped. Aurelian merely leaned forward, eyes bright, and murmured under his breath: "Come on, boy. Make me richer."

The attendant logged his bet. Aurelian was already moving, drifting along the gallery rail until he found a pocket of wealthy patrons pretending not to watch him approach. He slipped into their circle like a blade sliding into a sheath, seamless yet purposeful.

"You see," he said, glancing toward the duel, "it's about the willingness to put something on the line when the outcome isn't certain. That's why the Republic falters: too many spectators, not enough players." His tone was light, almost conversational, but his gaze flicked over each face, measuring.

A ripple of polite discomfort ran through them. Good. He wanted them just unsettled enough to listen.

"If you're feeling daring," he continued, producing a slim datachip from his pocket, "I'm matching any pledge to the Defense Fund made here before sunset. Consider it… my way of training the Republic's spine back into place." He smiled as the nearest patron accepted the chip, a gesture that felt more like a dare than charity.

The duel below ended with a roar from the crowd, but Aurelian hardly looked. His real victory was already unfolding in the subtle lean-in of his audience, the quiet calculations flickering in their eyes. Credits and influence would flow from here, into his coffers and the Republic's alike, and perhaps, one day soon, into the undoing of the Black Sun.

@OPEN​

 

[Enshid Veruna]

Tags: Open
Outfit

​

"it's about the willingness to put something on the line when the outcome isn't certain. That's why the Republic falters: too many spectators, not enough players."

Speaking of players...Enshid adjusted herself for a moment, as she prepared to throw herself into the duels. Taking in a few steady breaths as she checked over her epee for a moment. The use of a shield wasn't necessary for her. Even if she was to get hurt, it would be her own fault. She needed no protection. She needed none of that. All that mattered was her own capabilities. The girl refused to accept any form of pity on her, or anyone looking down on her.

He was somewhere above. Watching the duels. Maybe not the entire time. But Enshid knew her brother was up above. It was what he did best. He mingled amongst people. He was the charisma of House Veruna. She could never take that role for herself. She was far too...churlish. No. Most might say it was better to be seen, not heard. Yet for Enshid, it was better for her neither to be seen nor heard. Damn what was better for her however. Today, she was going to let herself be seen. Let herself be heard. Aurelian may trained in the art of words, but Enshid had her own way with a blade as she prepared herself.

The actual duel didn't last for long. She had been at a clear disadvantage, considering the fact her opponent was far more armoured than her but Enshid made up for that in speed. Dodging as opposed to blocking. She could stay on the move. If she had truly wanted to, Enshid could have ran circles around her opponent. The armoured noble with what Enshid could imagine was a sneer under his face. He must have believed he could have went against a better opponent. Someone better than the trash of House Veruna. In reality? It was more than likely he wasn't thinking that at all. But for Enshid, reality didn't matter. Her own beliefs was the reason she had to finish the fight swiftly. She was no pampered noble. She was not some weak damsel. Enshid had fought her entire life.

A few precise thrusts from her epee was all she needed. Exposed points in the armour. Spots where when struck, her opponent would find himself struggling to respond, until he fell to his knees. This was the difference between a duel and a fight however. Enshid, for all the affection she had towards the common folk, had no such affection for the nobility. In a true fight, with life or death on the line, that's when one's true colours would be exposed. Yet in this duel, it just seemed like a mockery. With a small flick of her wrist, Enshid took a small cloth and cleaned her blade before sheathing it, and flinging the cloth in front of her opponent.

"Clean yourself up. You're a mess."

And with that, Enshid made her way out of the duelling arena. There were eyes on her, but none of them she cared for. All she cared about in this moment was getting a glass of water. Duelling made for thirsty work at the end of the day.
​

 

[Nathan Bloodscrawl]

Wearing: High Republic Robes

Armed With: High Republic Lightsaber


His daughter Sera would be arriving separately.

As far as anyone was concerned, Nathan was just a low level Knight in the High Republic.

At least, that had been before the Warehouse Raid on Sarko VI, where he had brutally engaged The Syndicate targeting his fellow Jedi. Nathan's Counter-Attack had been absolutely swift, ripping apart the warehouse, the catwalks on the inside, as well as rescuing his fellow Jedi and High Republic Operatives .

Nathan had ended up with the highest kill count of any of the Jedi that had conducted the warehouse raid. A good number of the Jedi had survived only because he had reduced the Black Sun's numbers so heavily.

Some had thought his reaction unnecessarily brutal. Nathan had replied to such critiques by saying the Jedi had been outnumbered, he had been the only one there truly prepared to be ambushed, and the only one ready to truly respond to said ambush, and as a result sent a large number of Syndicate operatives in full retreat. Sure, it required a lot of BSS Gangsters dying, but the BSS had sought that fight and had resorted to terrorist methods by deploying Dioxin Gas.

But it wasn't just the brutal response...it was the skill and power he had displayed in the process. It really was his first major operation in High Republic Space. And he had shown he was not to be trifled with.

He had donated ten thousand credits to the fund that Ravion Corvalis had set up before arriving, he would not be participating in the auction.

Nathan had come here, far out of his comfort zone in the field, in order to better understand politics at the encouragement of his sisters.

He had shown dressed like he belonged, his shiny new Lightsaber and Red and Gold robes a contrast to the grim, humorless expression on his face as he entered the estate grounds.

Those who knew who he was were taken back. They didn't know what they had expected, but they had not expected him. Let alone expected him to look so clean cut. So not like the Hazmat Suit clad berserker with a white blade.

He ignored the whispers, grabbing a cookie off of the guest table, ate it and went exploring. Politicians had been unknown to him in the Plague: he had heard tales of them from archives but actually seeing how they acted in their actual environments served only to revolt him on an instinctive level, though he hid it in his perpetual grimness.

He made his way into a lavish area overlooking an arena...and spotted no less than Aurelian Veruna charming the crowd for money and with no small amount of practiced bravado.

His Mother had seen through the stunt he had pulled setting up his own father and the act of course had utterly revolted Nathan...but with the Core lost, Nathan had begun to coldly re-evaluate the Prince.

Such ruthless behavior might be useful. Inherently treacherous though Veruna might be, Nathan doubted the man wanted to see Naboo fall to the empire. Even if it also meant he would be more than happy to throw the Jedi under the bus to prevent The High Republic from falling.

Nathan had to take the risk.

"I agree about there not being enough players..." Nathan spoke up, moving through the crowd closer to Veruna.

"But what's even worse are the lack of players who play to win." Nathan trailed, pulling out a golden credit chip.

"I pledge forty thousand to the defense fund." He said, teleporting the ship in his finger to the palm of his shocked attendant, who dropped it in surprise before picking it up.

"So...who's next in the ring?" Nathan asked Veruna, still unsmiling.

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Honor Dueling

Cassian glanced at the shield at his side and the blades that were placed in perfect file along the rack. He reached for one and reached for the other, he looked the blade up and down as he gave it a small twirl in his hand. He couldn't help but laugh, this was going to be fun. For House Abrantes, but more so for him. As he had an urge to let out much emotion through combat on this day.


The air around the small arenas were taut with silence, the crowd holding its breath as brave and honorable warriors stepped into the circle of trampled earth. Sunlight from the afternoon shimmered on their shield and sword. Each blade held trembled just slightly, but not from fear. From the energy each warrior held to prove themselves and their house. There was honor at stake, and none of them would want to surrender such.


They circled each other slowly, eyes locked, searching for the smallest chink in the defense. Thus the first blow came and a flash of metal, and clash of steel on steel. Sparks spat into the air. Cassian's opponent drove forward, blows raining down like a storm; the other met each with calm precision, deflecting, and countering in a quick dance that he knew all too well.

Every step was a gamble, every strike a question that demanded an immediate answer. The ring echoed with the harsh rhythm of breath and the rasp of weapons meeting again and again. Neither seemed to be willing to yield an inch.

And then finally at last, one slip up and the match was over and the duel was decided. Cassian stood with a slight rise in his chest as he held his hand down to his opponent to help him up. Cassian returned back to the hold, reached for a glass of water as others were discussing their own fights and no doubt his next match would happen all too soon.

 

[Arcann Pehnataur]

Arcann didn’t just enter the gardens of the Calarian Estate—he arrived.
Not loudly, not with the self-importance of a man demanding attention, but with the quiet precision of one who knew it would find him anyway. The light caught the silver trim of his jacket just so, each step measured to carry him effortlessly into the center of conversations before they even realized he was part of them.

His staff peeled away like a well-rehearsed chorus, each taking a separate path through the manicured rows. One stopped to greet a gardener, another intercepted a fidgeting aide whose datapad was threatening to spill embarrassing details. Nothing looked coordinated, yet somehow every path led back toward Arcann—placing him always within arm’s reach of someone who mattered, or someone who would matter by the end of the evening.

“Senator.”

Ah—Senator.

“Senator Arcann, I must—”

He greeted each voice with a smile that seemed made for the recipient alone, a handshake that lingered just long enough to feel personal, and a few words that left them nodding as if they’d shared something of consequence. He asked a noblewoman about her injured riding mount, recalled the name of a junior attaché’s homeworld, and congratulated a rival on a recent trade bill—without mentioning that it had failed spectacularly in committee.

The champagne in his hand was never for him; it was a prop, passed on to a servant to free his hand for another introduction, or offered with gallant precision to a guest just noticing their empty glass. He used the movement to pivot, to catch eyes across the pool, to give the subtle nod that told his staff where the next thread of conversation would be pulled.

To the onlookers, Arcann was a masterclass in senatorial grace: approachable, attentive, almost impossible to dislike. To those with keener instincts, the truth was more nuanced. Every smile was a hook, every question a quiet ledger entry, every gracious laugh at a harmless anecdote a way to measure the speaker’s tells.

He was here to be seen—yes—but also to see. And while the estate’s lilies might bloom in perfect, cultivated order, Arcann’s presence was the wild element in the garden: the one thing no amount of planning could quite contain, and the one thing everyone would remember when they left.

TAG - OPEN

 

[Dominic Praxon]

The garden terrace offered a view worth more than most political promises. Dominic let the late afternoon light do part of the work, standing where the amber reflections caught his profile. A champagne flute was balanced in his fingers. He was surrounded by three donors who, in different ways, seemed to relish the taste of doubt more than the vintage in their glasses.

"Fourteen percent, Praxon," drawled Baron Ryn Dalkorr, swirling his drink as if it might show him a better number, "you’re charming, yes, but is it wise to back a runner in last place?"

"Especially when the other two have war chests big enough to buy half this estate," added Teyra Valmor, a jewel merchant whose smile never reached her eyes.

"Perhaps you’re running for practice," said Councillor Merdan with a chuckle that invited agreement.

Dominic’s answering smile was all civility, white teeth in the dim light. "If fourteen percent were the end of the story, Councillor, I might agree with you. But fourteen is more than the eight of two weeks ago...and Sorelle has already slipped to second." He tipped his glass slightly, the gesture halfway between a toast and a counterpoint. "Momentum is a curious thing. It begins quietly. Almost imperceptibly, and then all at once it’s the only thing anyone can talk about. And you...are all talking about me."

Baron Dalkorr arched a brow, clearly amused. "And you expect us to be the first to care enough to invest in this...momentum?"

"I expect you to not be found flat footed. Stay nimble, dear Baron. Your eggs are already in two baskets. Why not make it three?" Dominic let the words linger. Leaving just enough silence for the math to work out in his head.

Teyra’s gaze flicked to Merdan. The two shared a look that Dominic knew well, the one that asked, Can we afford not to?

"Now," he added smoothly, "shall we discuss the auction list, or would you prefer to start with the terms of our arrangement?" His tone was easy, as though neither option was unusual…but both inevitable.

@OPEN - Loria Sorelle​

 

[Loria Sorelle]

​

LORIA SORELLE
Calarian Estate, Naboo

"And you didn't catch his name?!"

"No! He was gone before I could even ask..."

Loria & her circle of friends nattered away across their table, discussing her chance encounter with the strange man just days earlier.

As time progressed, the number of attendees slowly increased- the air filling slowly with constant chattering, talks of money, politics and everything in-between. She found it discomforting. She was used to the quiet, and wasn't usually the one to attend such functions; But with her parents fixated on the Naboo Senate race, she was the only one with the capacity to make it.

She had arrived a little earlier to drop off House Sorelle's contribution: A first-edition copy of an account of the old Nabooian & Gungan accords entitled 'The Lake Accords.' Rare, but highly valuable- especially to those appreciative of Nabooian culture. Loria had in-fact found herself a little upset in handing it over: such a rare, well-kept original.

" 'Ria?" her friend called out, snapping her out of her moment of disassociation.

"Hm?" she looked around at her friends, each of them looking at her- desperate for more information about her chance meeting.

"I uh-" she cleared her throat. "-Need some air," exclaimed Loria, watching as her friends groaned and grumbled at having to wait longer for more details.

Arising from her seat a little flustered, her face a little red, she made her way through the doors into the garden terrace. As the breeze hit her face, she felt a sense of relief- taking a deep breath to savor it. But it was still too busy for her to have but a moment of peace.

Looking around, she found a little corner away from most of the hustle & bustle yet not entirely private. She meandered to the edge of the terrace, rather stunned by the view on offer- and the impressive bloom of the gardens hydrangeas.

Just as she allowed herself a brief reprieve, distant chatter reminded her the world hadn't paused. Turning to head back inside, her gaze froze.

A familiar sight, Dominic Praxon .

Her eyes widened and her breath stopped for just a moment.

It was him, she was sure of it. She had no idea how or why, but seeing him again made the distant view of the landscape feel impossibly small...

Dominic Praxon & Open

​

 

[Dominic Praxon]

Merdan was halfway through an appraisal of the auction's more obscure lots when Baron Dalkorr's gaze shifted over Dominic's shoulder, the corner of his mouth curling.

"Speaking of Sorelle…" the Baron murmured.

Dominic turned slightly, following the line of their attention. Across the terrace, framed by the spill of late sunlight from the garden doors, stood a young woman in pale silk, her hair lifted gently by the breeze. She wasn't mingling. She stood apart from the milieu. However, the way the light caught her, the way her posture seemed both deliberate and unaware, it drew the eyes of half the terrace.

Teyra's smile was sharper than the jewels at her throat. "Loria Sorelle. The only thing Marcellan ever produced worth keeping in the public eye."

"She's his daughter?" Dominic asked, the question so lightly spoken it almost passed for idle curiosity.

"And his shadow," Teyra said. "Devoted, by all accounts. But…new to the circuit. You won't get much from her."

"Unless you know how to ask," the Baron added, with the kind of chuckle that held more challenge than jest.

Dominic let the corner of his mouth lift, concealing the calculation already turning over in his mind. The Sorelle name was a fortress, but fortresses had gates. Gates were frequently guarded, but those of secure cities became...lax.

"If you'll excuse me," he said smoothly, setting his champagne flute on the nearest tray, "there's someone I've been meaning to meet."

The nobles followed his glance, then back to his face, reading enough there to exchange knowing looks. Dominic only offered them the faintest of smiles before stepping away, already weighing the possibilities in that poised silhouette by the garden's edge.

Attraction was one thing. Opportunity was another. And in this rare instance, they walked hand in hand.

"Ah. Fate has smiled on me with a reprieve once again!" He called out, just enough to draw the attention of those not yet watching.

Loria Sorelle​

 

[Ravion Corvalis]

​

The murmur of the crowd softened as a polished announcer took the podium, voice crisp and precise. One by one, the items for the afternoon’s auction were displayed, each resting on velvet cushions atop the raised dais, gleaming under sunbeams that fell almost like they were.

Ravion’s gaze moved from the podium to the crowd and back, noting the flickers of interest, the subtle adjustments of posture, the polite coughs that betrayed excitement or concealed envy. Each bid, each whisper, would ripple across the noble houses in ways no casual observer could predict. And he would be there in the currents, steering them invisibly; all in the name of the High Republic of course.

The final item appeared, one that was not listed nor even addressed as of yet: a small, sealed chest, rumored to contain a collection of rare credits and historical deeds, its provenance verified yet shrouded in the kind of mystery that made the well-born lean forward in their chairs. A hush fell over the garden. Eyes followed it, and hands flexed. The auction, as intended, was now entirely alive.

Naboo Charity Auction Listing​

There are rumoured to be more items to come later, all bids should be placed in character and tag myself or Pillar of Reflection
Any payments for won bids will be requested of by Pillar of Reflection
Lot A
Set and Vere embracing statues.
Two intricately carved statues made from the petrified branches of the Naboo Perlote Tree. While both are individual pieces it is when together that the craftsmanship truly shines, both of the ancient Naboo deities embrace each other in a way that seems impossible to have carved.
Estimated appraisal of the wood age and carving technique pre-dates many of Naboo’s current written records.

Starting Bid: 1,000 UC


Lot B
Globe of Peace.
This iridescent glowing sphere is rumoured to be the very same Globe of Peace given to the Gungans centuries ago. Appraisal sings highly of it not being a fake, however with the years being like they have, you can never truly tell. It is however, an item of vast beauty.

Starting Bid: 1,000 UC

Lot C
Future Regents Dinner
An exclusive invitation to the forthcoming Regent’s dinner hosted at the Palace of Naboo sponsored by Aurelian Veruna . The event of the year for the Noble Households of the Naboo and beyond. Considered by many as the start of the event season, the dinner sees the connections it can offer worth the price or admission for those who are not selected on title alone.

Starting Bid: 5,000 UC

Lot D
Royal Sovereign of Naboo Medallion
This golden crescent medallion is likely a replica of the queen’s medallion, yet with age estimates at around four thousand years old it has become a treasure within itself.

Starting Bid: 2,000 UC

Lot E
Ancient Chalice Collection
A series of ornamental chalices donated by the Naboo Fund Society. Once part of the Sal-Soren estate, they are purely ornamental and hold no power like the family’s reputation would have one believe.

Starting Bid: 3,000 UC

 

[Loria Sorelle]

​

LORIA SORELLE
Calarian Estate, Naboo

'Ria grinned in an almost embarrassing manner as her pale-blue eyes watched him approach. She stood properly, posture fixed. Gentle breezes prompting her silk dress to sway smoothly, catching the sun as it did so.

Air felt thicker as she worked herself up, not knowing what to say or who should speak first. She still didn't know who he was, even.

Just a memory of him through a lattice.

Loria smirked sheepishly at his opening remarks as she found herself tightly clasping her hands over her stomach habitually- as if grasping for something that wasn't there. She gazed downwards for a quick moment before meeting his gaze.

"Hmm," she tittered softly. "No book this time, I'm afraid your 'reading' will have to wait a little longer," she mused back coyly, and more softly- perhaps not as comfortable in drawing attention as him.

Which piqued her interest greatly; His confidence.

"You-" she hesitated for a moment, eyes squinted slightly to combat the glare of the sun above them. "-left before I could catch your name the other day. You disappeared much like a... wisp in the wind."

Of course, many would expect her to know Dominic Praxon, yet she was wholly unaware. She had led a relatively secluded life; A life spent in art, history & literature. A life spent with the same social circles throughout. A life without social or political expectations- at least for now.

She was perhaps just as clueless to not realize he was her father's opposition in the race for Senator. Quietly, she hoped that she would be excused for not knowing him- hoping to avoid embarrassment if at all possible.

Her words lingered in the air between them, delicate yet deliberate.

Loria shifted her weight ever so slightly, the silk of her dress whispering against itself in the breeze. She kept her gaze steady on him now, curious, waiting- feeling that same quiet pull she'd first sensed through the lattice.

Whatever answer he might give, she was certain of one thing: this time, she wouldn't let him disappear without knowing more...

Dominic Praxon

​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

X | X​

Aurelian's smile, the kind that never quite reached his eyes, widened as Nathan approached. He let the golden credit chip gleam in the light before an attendant whisked it away, the crowd's murmurs growing louder around them.

"Forty thousand," Aurelian drawled, a dangerous hint of admiration in his voice. "A man who plays to win. Refreshing." His own credit chip appeared between his fingers, as if it had always been there. "I'll match your bid. Wouldn't want the Defense Fund to think I've been outdone on my own stage."

He flicked the chip to the attendant with casual precision, then glanced toward the ring. "Looks like my sister's up next. I'd recommend betting on her, though I don't believe in rigged games. Politics, of course, is a different story."

Enshid. The bastard of House Veruna. She moved like she'd been born with a blade in her hand: quick, decisive, efficient. Aurelian truly hated her growing skill, and especially her confidence. Enshid still saw herself as a shadow, keeping to the edges, waiting to be overlooked. But Aurelian knew the true danger came from those who kept to the fringes. They could move freely, striking when least expected. And Enshid was sharpening her own edges. He swirled the wine in his glass, the deep crimson catching the sunlight. She would have to be brought to heel soon, perhaps sooner than she'd like.

Turning back to Nathan, his grin sharpened. "Join me for the auction, won't you? It should be starting soon. I'd hate for you to miss the chance to spend even more money in front of the right people."

A ripple in the crowd pulled his attention to another ring where a fight was underway. Cassian Abrantes , the so-called heir of House Abrantes, was in the final moments of his match. Aurelian watched the swordplay with mild interest, though the outcome was inevitable. The man had fallen far; once a celebrated general, he was now just a duelist clinging to relevance. Rumor had it his name no longer opened the doors it used to.

The match ended with a clean, competent victory, better than Aurelian expected, but still nothing to warrant applause. He set his glass down on the nearest passing tray, excused himself from a half-interested circle of patrons, and crossed the space with the deliberate steps of a predator approaching a distracted animal. "Surprised you managed your duel well enough, Private Abrantes," Aurelian said as he passed, his tone a blade sheathed in silk. He didn't stop, denying Cassian the dignity of a pause. "If you practice enough, Lieutenant might be in the cards for you in a year or two."

He didn't wait for a reaction. His focus was already shifting toward the heart of the gardens, where the polished announcer was beginning the auction. One by one, the pieces were unveiled, each under its perfect angle of sunlight: Set and Vere in petrified wood, locked in impossible embrace; the Globe of Peace; an invitation to the Future Regent's Dinner, his own event, which he desperately hoped would be bought by someone interesting. The thought of enduring a corporate delegate's tedious monologue over the main course was enough to sour even this afternoon.

He moved through the items with the same discerning eye he used for people: weighing value, leverage, and how the acquisition would look in the right company. The final piece, a sealed chest of rare credits and historical deeds, drew a collective hush from the crowd, but he dismissed it for now. Mystery was fine, but without utility, it was just a party trick.

His attention settled instead on the Set and Vere statues. They were exquisite: old Naboo craftsmanship, predating much of the planet's written history. And he knew someone who had been studying them and the events around Katabasis.

He didn't bother with subtlety. Aurelian stepped forward, his voice carrying just enough to be overheard by the right ears. "Five thousand UC for the statues," he declared. No minimum bid, no polite increments. Just a number big enough to wash out lesser bidders before they even opened their mouths. The crowd murmured, half in admiration, half in irritation at his blunt display of wealth.

Aurelian smiled faintly to himself as the attendant marked down his bid. This was how you played the game: with decisive strokes that left no room for doubt. The duels, the auction, the conversations, every move was another stone in the road he was paving toward the throne of Naboo.

And if, along the way, that road ran right over the Black Sun, all the better.

Spoiler

5,000 UCs on Set and Vere Statues Pillar of Reflection

Nathan Bloodscrawl​

 

[Aiden Porte]

Aiden looked back as there was a small ease of commotion which after looking was an announcer that stepped to the podium. The Jedi Knight turned to give him his full attention. The awes and chatter from the crowd as the items up for auction were announced and there were several that caught Aiden's attention. For starters the Globe of Peace, a truly immaculate design. To him anyway, the only art he had seen to be honest was at the Art and History Museum on Naboo.

He wasn't an art collector, and while its own reports seemed to be that it was genuine. Yet as the years passed who really knew the truth anymore. As the announcer said, regardless it was a work of art. Aiden's hands rested behind his back, as his mind began to wander. Reaching out with the force, to see if he could sense anything unusual about the object, the Globe Of Peace. It felt as if the light itself not only radiated from it, but almost as if it was calling to him.

Just then a thought crossed his mind, he could present it as a gift for someone. He knew there were some people that have a stronger connection to Naboo than he did.

"What to do....." Aiden whispered to himself as his mind weighed the options.

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

Honor Dueling
Aurelian Veruna

"Surprised you managed your duel well enough, Private Abrantes,"

"If you practice enough, Lieutenant might be in the cards for you in a year or two."

He wondered when he was going to make his voice heard to the newly ranked Private Abrantes. Cassian wasn't a fool, he was prepared for it. Or maybe he was a fool for agreeing to this damn charade. Before he would've engaged back, probably said something, did something. Yet he kept his composure as calm and cool as he could. Which worked a lot better than he thought he would, he didn't give the Prince an inch lest he dishonor his house and himself more than he already did. Yet to keep things amusing he compared the prince to that of a rat looking to make its mark on the world.

Fortunately for Cassian, rats tended to have short lives....

Was that truly honorable to think, perhaps not...

Rumor had it he wasn't honorable anymore, perhaps he should start playing the part.

Cassian set the glass down as he stared down at the table for the longest time. His thoughts and such beginning to gravitate towards something else. Something that wasn't so honorable, and yet he pushed that from his mind. That wasn't who he was, he had to make sure he didn't lose that. He thought back to what his father told him, and he tried his best to cling to that once more.

The sound of his name called as he looked up. It was his time once more, as he brandished the sword and shield stepping out onto the soft earth.

His opponent pressed forward almost immediately blade flashing in relentless swipes and Cassian yielded ground with a quick and steady precision of someone who had been doing this his entire life. He let each attack glance away by a fraction of an inch. More of a challenge, this one was...

Seemed to be something more...

As the relentless arcs continued, there was something different in this one's eyes. It was evident as the next several attacks were more vicious than before. It was enough that the the very edge of his opponents blade pierced broke the flesh across his cheek in a cheap and cowardly move.

Blood slowly seeped from the cut across Cassian's cheek. There was a call to stop the match, but Cassian held his hand in the air as he wasn't going to allow that. Whatever prestige and honor he had left seemed to hold as match was allowed to continue. Abrantes's opponent was docked and advised another tactic like that and he would be disqualified.

Cassian let loose his shield as he tossed it to the ground behind him. He moved the blade in front of him, holding the hilt with both hands. A more stern and resolving stance held the eldest son of the Abrantes household.

Thus the clash of blades began once more.