Private Politics Is Run By Money

[Veles Oshu]

The desk was immaculate - built of a variety of off world woods, stained in only the most discerning colors. In its edges there was a defined grind that would offer the discerning eye a small glimpse at craftsmenship - while on the flats there were immaculate and complicated designs laden deep with etched gold. It was only the newest purchase for his office, to show the Galaxy a mere glimpse into the nigh on infinite cash reserves of the IGBC. Dorian, for his credit, rotated out his desk every few months - so nobody would be able to predict his newest aesthetic.​

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Everything he had was carefully in its place - done by the moving team no doubt, and anything classified was put in a later date by his personal security forces. He smiled as he toyed with the button that would open a secret compartment to his personal weapon. One couldn't be too careful in the world of banking or politics - but one such as Dorian could never be too careful in all that he did. Force forbid the SIA come charging into his Coruscanti Office looking for a Sith.​

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"Mrs. Shedo has arrived, Mr. Harper.", his intercom offered suddenly.​

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"Good, send her in.", he said as he leaned back into his place.​

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Hester Shedo​

 

[Hester Shedo]

Bankers. They were a decidedly painful yet necessary evil.

The flow and exchange of ideas was often limited to the availability of a currency that accompanied it. The buying and selling of goods, services, of positions of power and access was all part and parcel of the quite necessary day today dealings of politicians.

Yet here she was, walking into yet another meeting with yet another politician. This time, they didn’t represent a planet or a system, nor an interplanetary body. They did not represent a creed nor a religion nor the curious and ineffable machinations of the Force.

They represented the money. Nay.

They were the money. The credits that made wars possible, made technology leap forward or sit stagnant, the career highs and the painful lows, all entangled in the web of receipt that the fealty to money would bring an individual.
Ever since dispensing with her duties from within the governing bodies and lofty positions of the Confederacy, Hester had no real need for money. She had accrued plenty of it, both legally and…less so.

The IGBC would be an interesting talking point as she made overtures into their biggest neighbour; the Galactic Alliance.

She strode into the immaculate office of Dorian Harper without a care in the world, a fabulous red ensemble that highlighted her shoulders, her pale skin and her burning red hair, hugging her frame tightly and drawing all focus to her eyes and her mouth. She spoke, smiling as a predator might.

‘Dorian Harper, as I live and breath! I haven’t seen you since you were last visiting Fondor. A few years since? What has kept you so busy from my office? And not even a message?’

She pouted, waiting to be invited to sit.

Veles Oshu

 

[Veles Oshu]

"Business, my dear Hester. Business.", he purred back at her. A hand motioned to one of the seats before his desk - and then he would return to his idle position leaning back.​

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Like a predator, his gaze was often sharp and uncomfortable - it was almost the fictional trope of a banker, sharp and dangerous as a knife. He stood within that outline remarkably well making him feared in the world of business; and his notable monetary acumen was something nobody could deny. It was why the IGBC now owned the vast majority of the Galaxy's biggest companies - and their close ties with various governments still kept them the largest corporation in the galaxy.

Afterall, it still remained true that every war machine built in the last ten years had either Jaeger or Locke and Key within it - and Dorian had a heavy hand in both.

"I understand you've departed from the Confederacy, and to strike it out on your own nonetheless. Tell me, how does that fair?", he asked curiously.​

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Hester Shedo​

 

[Hester Shedo]

Veles Oshu

She smiled sweetly, taking a seat like the genteel lady she was, a charm exuding from her graceful demeanour like a content kitten.

It was always a ruse, of course. She was as voracious and ghastly as they came but the presentation was everything. Keep calm, tilt the head, show off the teeth, giggle when necessary.

The number of people Hester had removed from all walks of life under her Ministry was a large and ugly list.

"My home, and first love, will always be Scarif. Having spent a decade in service to her, building her cities, defending her borders, climbing her social whirl to the dizzying heights of Cabinet office and Ministerial obligation, I decided that outliving two Vicelords was quite enough and didn't fancy warranting attention from a third..."

She allowed her eyes to sparkle somewhat, her coquettish manner a convincing ruse to most. Not to Dorian.

"I had imagined that one a troop of little marching feet would be heard descending onto my office and I didn't want to wait to see what would be on the other side of the door when they did. I've always enjoyed the simple pleasures of life; freedom, liberty...the ability to breath."

Her eyes darted back to Dorian, trusting he would understand quite how grave the threat to her life may have been, had she remained in one of the highest positions within the cabinet of the Confederacy.

She gave out a faux gasp, feigning distress at the very thought of being arrested by some angry dictator, bent on revenge for her part, or lack of part thereof, in the coup d'etat that had seen him unceremoniously hounded out of the Presidium., branded a Sith and a traitor. How things had changed...

"I'm seeing how best I can serve the galaxy. You know I live to serve, though I've made the somewhat selfish decision to serve myself a little first before I help the people."

He knew she was a conniving and rampant narcissist, to be sure. She figured it took one to know one.

"How about you? How goes the world of banking, robbing every single miser in the known galaxy?"

She tapped her hand on the exquisite desk.

It was immaculate.