Paper Faces on Parade

[Mammut]

​

Procopia,
Island City of Estalle

They danced splendidly upon the golden floors of the palace, all these men and women of every species and creed. The finest fabrics of a thousand scattered worlds adorned their frames. One feature united them. Noble blood. There stood the delegation from Hapes, all female, all impossibly beautiful, all as deadly as a nexu. Three Serenno men approached, each a count or marquis no doubt, and asked for a dance.

A solitary figure turned away sharply as fingers interlaced and bodies drew close. His chest felt empty. No, it felt crushed by a great weight. He grit his teeth and glowered behind a white mask that covered all but the lower half of his mouth.

Arkaitz Zambrano stood alone upon the palace ballroom floor. Though he wore a resplendent scarlet ensemble, none approached him. For who would make nice with a member of House Zambrano? And he the lone delegate from the Pacanth Reach.

Eyes of tortured gold scanned the crowd.

"Father thinks this some game to toy with me. 'Send the cripple to the decennial summit, let the other houses laugh at him.'"

But no, Darth Carnifex would not wish for a representative of his house to be a laughingstock.

"A message, then."

Arkaitz held a gloved hand to the side of his mask and adjusted it reflexively. The burns beneath itched terribly, as always.

If even Kaine's own son could not escape his wrath, then what more would he do to those he called enemy?

Cold, callous and almost wickedly humorous. Yes, that rang more of his father's touch.

The bastard glanced at the flyer in his hand for the third time that evening.

Procopia's Decennial Summit​

​

A month celebrating the galaxy's nobility​

​

Primeday: Opening Ball at the Palace​

​

Centaxday-Taungsday: Tour of the Alaphoe Gardens​

​

Zhellday: Summit begins at the Great Council Chambers​

​

Rooms available at the Grand Royal Hotel​

​

Mere pretense for the galaxy's nobility to converge and renew old alliances or forge new ones. Those gathered here, while blue blooded, were not the prominent members of their various castes. No one of such a position could afford to while away a whole month on Procopia. But for those like Arkaitz it acted as a proving ground. A way for the lesser nobles of a family to show their quality.

Arkaitz turned the flyer over. The back contained a number of information, along with a reminder in small print that duels and assassinations were strictly prohibited on Procopia. He snorted. Prohibited they might be, but this gathering included a number of foreigners. Woe betide the commoner who managed to fall afoul of such a brood and their "diplomatic immunity."

[member="Callia Rodez"]

 

[Mav Halo]

[member="Arkaitz Zambrano"]

Krum-Krum-Krum. Like a Judge passing his sentence, the chamberlain’s staff slamming down on the marble floors carried a distinct note of finality behind it. His proclamation of her arrival only further underscoring the fact that it was too late to turn back now. The die was cast.

“Dame Callia Rodez of House Cadriaan, Heir to the Rhore barony of Cesya, Granddaughter of Lord Jorg Rodez.”

The youngest scion of the Rodez family inclined her heady coolly as she descended the stairwell, not giving the assembled nobles and influential dilettantes the satisfaction of seeing her cow before their combined presence. Knowing all too well that, like the fabled piscators of Alluuvia, they would only grow stronger in the face of such weakness. Weakness House Cadriaan could ill afford in light of recent, troubling rumours. Already the fact that she was the only member of her House of note to attend surely wasn’t lost on the crowd.

Her hand clenched into a small fist, knuckles straining white, the memories of her discussion with what she had assumed was a loyal and faithful retainer only weeks previously still ringing heavily in her ears. Distracting her from the benign compliments and platitudes the nobles offered her way, hollow words returned with an even hollower smile that never one reached those dark brown eyes. None of the wellwishers really gave a damn about her, not really, it was her surname that afforded her such pleasantries. The reputation of Lord Jorg Rodez was one few could ignore.

“Dame Rodez, delightful to see you again.” A familiar voice called out, heralding the appearance of a painfully foppish looking noble in a garishly bright red tunic. The man was nothing more than a minnow in the grand scheme of things. No doubt sent ahead of the main party, testing the proverbial water as it were. The Hapans would be her first guess, judging from the way they were suddenly trying to appear disinterested in their discourse. “We had feared that you had taken ill, what with rumours of your hasty departure from the Royal House of Learning. My daughter in particular was most concerned.”

Her smile grew, the warmth behind it did not. “Sir Gilliam, I believe we are both acutely aware that your daughter has never concerned herself with anything beyond her own reflection. Something her grades should have made abundantly clear by now.” She tilted her head to the side, a delicate eyebrow arching. “What was that, the second wing your family donated to the academy? I have heard tale of parents sparing no expense when it came to their children’s education, but surely one should draw the line somewhere. I pray she only graduates soon, if only for the sake of your dwindling fortune.”

The man spluttered with all the grace his lesser station could afford, fumbling for a response while becoming increasingly red with both embarrassment and barely restrained anger. If he wasn’t careful, he would run the risk of matching his dreadful little outfit. A sight that Callia wisely choose to avoid ingraining into her memory, instead leaving the knight in her wake as she pushed on further into the party.

If these so called nobles were looking to see blood, then she was more than willing to give it to them. Hardly the Jedi way, but then she was not a Jedi right now. She was the representative of the Rodez family and, by extension, House Cadriaan. Of all the privileges and burdens such a lofty position carried, suffering fools was not listed amongst them.

 

[Mammut]

The knocking staff drew Arkaitz's eye to the stairwell. A young woman descended with poise despite tender years. A curtain of dark tresses fell from her head. A comely lass, but not one of surpassing beauty. She would never bewitch man or woman with wondrous looks, as did the Hapans. Nor did she have the experienced guile of the Serenno counts. Age denied her such.

So what brought all these vultures guised as peacocks flocking to her table? Mere hopes they might curry favor with the Baron, no doubt. A simple enough ploy, easily executed on the young and naive.

Gloved fingers crumbled the flyer and tossed it aside. The paper bounced across the gilded floors, where it would like as not be bemoaned over by some servant. Arkaitz paid it no further heed, all eyes on the heir to the barony, and strode closer so he might hear as the festivities around resumed their noisy delights.

He neared close enough to witness Rodez swiftly dispatch this 'Sir Gilliam,' edged words splitting him from throat to groin the way Carnifex might carve into a prisoner, and with such winning smile. Babbling, half-formed words spilled out. No match for the razor wit. She walked away, leaving poor Sir Gilliam to bleed out his ego amidst guffawing lickspittles.

First blood, it seemed, went to the honorable dame Callia Rodez. Did he see a hint of enjoyment in those brown eyes?

Not so naive after all.

The girl had been well-trained.

Arkaitz watched her gait and noted an uncanny grace of step that went beyond mere courtroom tutoring. Did she wield a blade to equal her wit? But then, such would be unsurprising. Most noble Tapani youths trained in the foil. Duels were a part of their tradition, after all. Still, there seemed something more to her. Something he could not quite place.

Questing out with a sliver of thought, Zambrano sought to peer into her emotions.

[member="Callia Rodez"]

 

[Mav Halo]

[member="Arkaitz Zambrano"]

While projecting an air of composed calm on the surface, one that belied the sharpness of her tongue as she delivered cutting retorts and backhanded compliments as she cut her way across the ballroom floor, beneath all that was different story entirely. Irritation at being forced to attend such an event, mingled with frustration at letting such feelings get to her. Icy flickers of amusement with every noble foe vanquished. And, of course, pride. The crowning staple of Tapani nobility. The only thing that was masking the pangs of uncertainty that whispered in the darker recesses of her mind during the lulls in tongue lashings.

Had she been more focused, more attune with her surroundings and less of her poor unfortunate victims, she might have noticed the faint brushes of a mental intrusion sooner rather than later. Instead it took her several long, open seconds before she recognised the touch of another’s mind against her own.

Had she been more focused, more attune with her surroundings and less of her poor unfortunate noble brethren, Callia might have noticed the subtle brushes of a mental intrusion sooner. Instead, it took the tapani noble several long, embarrassingly open seconds before she recognised the touch of another’s mind against her own. Several more before she managed to close down her defences, constructing a tentative wall of blank thought between herself and the world around her.

A trick Vai had once taught her, albeit inadvertently. She had always been adept at poking around other people’s minds. Always snooping, always lingering where she shouldn’t. Callia had thought it endearing at first, almost enjoying the presence of another mind against hers, but the gift of hindsight had not been kind to such formerly fond memories. Now she saw it for what it was.

A violation.
​

Jaw setting into a harsh line, her gaze swept across the assembled blue bloods, dismissing them systematically one by one, settling eventually on the visage of a masked figure. One as adrift from the crowd as she was, it seemed. And one with an expression that serves as a stony reflection of her own in that very instant.

She altered her course, her gait taking on a distinctly predatory grace as she sought to close the distance that separated them, her hand twitching precariously towards the stylish clutch bag that served as her sole attempt to accessorise tonight’s outfit. Not out of vanity, mind, but more a simple need for something big enough to hide the lightfoil she had secreted within.

Harsh words and a cutting smile only got you so far, after all. As is often with social gatherings of the Tapani sector, sooner or later lines – and blades – would inevitably be drawn.

A hapan noble called out as she passed and went flatly ignored, Callia Rodez now only having eyes for only one man at the party this evening.

 

[Mammut]

Although a member of the Zambrano brood, Arkaitz had as yet not come into his own in terms of the ethereal powers. Peering into this young Tapani's mind he felt like a man poking at a muddied pond with a stick, only getting glimpses of what lay beneath. He sensed her gratification at besting nobility like a mountain stream, cold and refreshing.

Such dark felicity seemed at odds with her aura. A chink in an otherwise impeccable armor. Where his father might pry it open with a mining laser, Arkaitz preferred subtler methods. What was it the Sorcerer had told him, so long ago? Why go to the mountain, when you could bring the mountain to you.

A smiled ghosted across Arkaitz's pale features, so quickly it might never have existed.

More lay beneath, a wellspring of the light no sooner glimpsed than it was shuttered away, blinds drawn closed before his scrying gaze.

Trained in far more than the court, it would seem.

Now she approached, singling him out, features grown hard. Ah, who else could it be but that blasted Zambrano? A source for all evils, large and small. But then, he could not deny his own complicity.

He inclined his head in bow as between equals. "Dame Rodez," his voice was rich and oily. "I do not believe we had the pleasure of meeting. I am Arkaitz of House Zambrano."

[member="Callia Rodez"]

 

[Mav Halo]

[member="Arkaitz Zambrano"]

Zambrano.

Her lips twisted with an almost mirthful sense of displeasure. While she had never crossed paths with members of the infamous house herself, before now that was, there were few civilised worlds that had not heard the tales of their cruelty and barbarity. Nobles in name, demons in deed. Her mind positively crawled at the thought of what one of their ilk could accomplish on the unwary mind. What he could have accomplished.

Needless to say, she did not return the bow.

“You will have to forgive me if I believe that any pleasure from this meeting would be yours alone, Prince Arkaitz.” Callia replied curtly as she took in his measure, eyes raking his form from ivory mask to bespoke boots and back again, never once losing an ounce of the steel they contained within.

For the spawn of such a prolific monster, he had the audacity to appear near-human enough at first inspection. Perhaps the scales and other twisted signs of corruption lurked behind the mask, an eccentricity she placed down to an overly inflated sense of melodrama and an obvious flair for theatrics.

She took a purposeful step forward, her anger at having been so easily invaded outweighing any sense of caution one should have experienced when dealing with such creatures. A forced smile of polite civility was mustered. To an outside observer, they would perhaps appear as a couple exchanging simple pleasantries. To anyone within earshot, however, few could mistake the rigidity of her tone.

“Tell me, do you often make a practice of invading the minds of young women, or is that merely a parlour trick you pull out for parties?” She tilted her head slightly to the side, "In any event, if you are expecting me to be impressed, I think you will find yourself sadly mistaken. More so if you expect this to go unanswered."

 

[Mammut]

Ah yes. Quite.

A flash of pure disdain sparked in her eyes to mix with a disgust she either did not bother to hide or could not help but show despite her training. All because of a mere name. A name he did not choose. How strange that even after a thousand such encounters these reactions still elicited bitter resentment within him, stirred up like dust in a draft.

Her gaze searched him from crown to toe.

"Pardon the intrusion." He said, as if he'd simply opened the wrong door instead of leering into her thoughts. "Mere curiosity, I assure you." The barest hint of venom seeped to the surface of his tone, then slipped away downstream.

Red-rimmed eyes of molten gold peered down at her. So short of statute, it would no doubt be difficult for many nobles to reconcile size with such disproportional ferocity and come away with anything short of amusement. Fortunately, or perhaps no, Arkaitz's schooling was rather... non-traditional.

Such boldness. Like as not born of hate. I wonder what fresh sorrows my father tilled amid the Cadriaans that now to me bear fruit.

Or perhaps this was just the result of his own hand at work.

"Seldom do I find one of similar abilities here." His voice dropped to just above a whisper, for their ears only. "Matukai, or Jedi perhaps? No matter." His voice pitched up to normal. "You dispatched of the Hapan proxy well enough. Thinking to do the same with me?"

[member="Callia Rodez"]

 

[Mav Halo]

[member="Arkaitz Zambrano"]

Mere curiosity?

The audacity of the remark, so offhandedly delivered, rankled her. But then, what was she to expect from a Zambrano? You could clothe a rabid dog in the finest of silks and teach it to bark on cue, but at the end of the day you would still have a rabid dog on your hands. No amount of false civility could hide that; one only need to look into the man’s blazing, sulphurous eyes to see that much. The eccentric looking mask was only one layer of the façade.

“The thought had certainly crossed my mind,” Callia replied with the blunt honesty of youth, her cold smile straining at the edges to keep up appearances. Her fingers positively itched for the comforting embrace of her lightfoil, stayed only by the knowledge that striking down a guest without provocation, that she could prove at least, would only cause her House and her Father undue trouble. It didn’t stop her from poking the proverbial nexu, however. “Though what I had envisioned pales considerably to the treatment Sir Gilliam received.”

She turned and absently snatched a wine glass from a passing waiter as she spoke, her gaze momentarily leaving the prince in favour of inspecting the aforementioned noble and the Hapan contingent that held his leash. Though the ballroom was crowded, it wasn’t hard to pick them out even at a distant. Even here, in the heart of Procopia, they stood out like roses amongst weeds. All painfully stunningly beautiful in the way all of their kind was. On the outside, at least. The looks that were being delivered in their direction left little to the imagination.

“Still, clumsily delivered, I feel that was just the opening move where they are concerned, however.” She brought her wine glass to her lips. The sweet Alderaanian red clashed with her mood and disposition, but was pleasant enough she supposed. A fair choice for an event such as this. “It seems I am not the only one looking to be on your dance card this evening.”

 

[Mammut]

"Certainly." Whether this came in response to his ever-growing queue or her threats remained unclear.

He followed her gaze to see the attention they had garnered from the flowers of Hapan nobility. The looks shot in their direction would mean little to common folk, but to a court-trained eye they spoke volumes. Arkaitz knew why he formed the locus of their ire. The noble houses in amity with Zambrano stood few and far between. Still, fear kept the others in line. Better to be feared than loved; a lesson learned young. Love came fickle as the breeze, blowing sometimes strong and at others utterly becalmed. Arkaitz, for his part, had experienced naught but the doldrums in life.

Sending the messenger back with tail-tucked seemed a choice destined to earn the ill wishes of the Hapans. A calculated statement of power, or the irritated whimsy of a young woman? He thought he felt a sense of violence bleeding from Rodez.

"They are clever and powerful, undisturbed by and large from the ravages of war. You might have made them allies. Instead you made them an example."

But to what end?

"I confess, you intrigue me. What have those gilded lilies done to earn your displeasure?"

[member="Callia Rodez"]

 

[Mav Halo]

[member="Arkaitz Zambrano"]

“Allies? Hardly. Allies implies that we could have possibly worked together for mutual benefit.” Callia inspected the contents of her glass as if they had suddenly found the answers to the galaxy’s troubles within, her thumb gently caressing the crystal rim. “Instead, the Hapans made it abundantly clear from Sir Gilliam that they do not see me, my family nor the House I represent as an equal. They have no intention of forming an alliance, tentative or otherwise, with House Cadriaan. They simply want a pawn.”

She glanced up towards Arkaitz, her lips a thin line of mirthless emotion. “I would imagine, you of all people present should know what my mind would be on such a thing. I’m not a hound for their leash any more than I am a holobook for your perusal.”

She gave a small shrug and turned her attention back to purposefully ignoring the Hapans and their cronies, knowing that they would likely announce their attentions long before actually moving to strike. Sir Gilliam was a prime example of that. She might have been relatively green in the game herself, but that was a rather novice fumble on their part. With any luck it would be a trend they would continue throughout the evening.

“I could entertain them, granted, but honestly I have very little interest in dancing around the issue. If they are brazen enough to come, it might as well be in the here and now than later with a dagger in the back. Quite unlike your esteemed noble house, Cadriaan prefers to deal with its enemies in the open.”

 

[Mammut]

"My dear, if you operate under the impression that my father's Blackblades operate in the realm of cloak and saber I'm afraid you'll be sorely disappointed in us."

House Zambrano's modus operandi tended toward the perfunctory iron gauntlet. Seldom did Prazutis or the God King employ more subtle arts. And what reason would they have for subterfuge, when their very presence made the knees of nobles weak?

His gaze slid sidelong to examine the girl. The girl had no patience for playing the part of the pawn. Ambition, then? Or merely outrage at feeling used. She had something of the ferae naturae about her, as if Cadriaan had gone about the task of procuring a sand panther only to attempt to domesticate its true nature. Such a shame.

Headstrong, poised... so much potential. Ah, but what art could a crass scion of Carnifex produce? Something repulsive and gory, just like the rest of them.

Arkaitz's lips twitched.

"But you mistake my intent. A holobook... Is an artisan to blame for admiring the glass wintrium fountains of Klatooine? Or an architect at fault for becoming enraptured in the streets of Theed?"

He smiled wanly.

[member="Callia Rodez"]