The relationship between The Republic and The Protectorate had been mended, thanks to the initiative of Jedi Master Tefka's meeting with Ayden Cater. For a while, Kiskla had been nervous about her alignment. For someone who always acted with such resolve, she fretted she'd have to choose alignment; as long as the two factions were on agreeable terms, she could continue her transition between the two. Albeit, only one in the galaxy knew she was both a Jedi Councillor and Sheyf of Kiffu. And he was as trustworthy as they came; her worries were unfounded as of yet. Still, she kept her identity as Kiskla Freya, Princess of Kiffu and second-in command to the Guardian Army a secret.
This secretive soul stirred when a message relayed through the private comm channel of the Kiffex Guardians in charge of prisoners. As usual, when she was on-planet, her father redirected trivial pursuits to her. Things that he considered weren't worth his time; and if it had no selfish rewards; it wasn't worth his time. Apparently, some dark aristocrat was seething at the arrest of one of their members; which didn't mind her in the slightest because in actuality, the Kiffex prisons were for prisoners that demanded reinforcements, not typical drunk-tank civilian arrests. It was what made theur unique selling point so...
unique and most likely kept Kiffex in the interest of the Omega Protectorate.
The blonde stirred in response, gathering together the fabrics of her Guardian
uniform and fitting them properly about her slight frame. Slight frame that was quite in contrast to the soldiers that gathered behind her as she made her way to the shuttle that would transport herself, and her officers to Kiffex. The Guardians were big boned, muscular beings with dark hair and tanned skin. Kiskla, unfortunately, didn't mirror these features and instead had a softer look about her; obviously inheriting her mother's Nabooian features. She did, however, have a dark black strip that ran across her face; marking her tattoo as the heir to the Kiffu throne. This was not a tattoo she displayed beyond the L-14 Azurbani system, as it would jeopardize her position. Being a Jedi Master, and a councillor no less, and a princess of a planet?
That was a dangerous bargaining chip in the enemy's paws. So far, she had done well to disguise her heritage, only one being in the galaxy knew of her cross-existence.
The heels of her boots echoed as they clicked along the gangway ramp, and she paused to await the arrival of the perturbed conversationalist.
@[member="Lucien Cordel"]