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When facing utter annihilation, the urge to survive will cause any soul to flee. When faced with the choice between death and life, most would do whatever it took to continue breathing. Oftentimes, it matters very little how long one has spent upon their homeworld. It matters not how many memories - joyous or ill - were made upon its surface. For survival, Home can and will be left behind. Fleeing in such a manner robs a soul of all stability. The few and the lucky, they can rebuild in another world. By wealth and by clout, the way is paved for them. But for the majority?
They must rely upon the charity of others.
The Southern Systems had, for many years, seen fit to be that charity. When Coruscant was razed by the rise of a Sith Imperial fleet, its peoples were welcomed with open arms. When Eshan was butchered by Mandalorian hands, here they found reprieve. For every tragedy, there was always an option in the South. Though the journey was long and the process sometimes slow, those who fled in order to survive had an opportunity to begin anew in the Confederacy. Yet. What happens when the Galaxy itself erupts into conflict? What happens when even charity itself is stretched to its upper limits?
The elected representatives of the Confederacy now gathered to answer these very questions.
Peace was an illusion in the modern Galaxy. Nearly every nation was involved in waging war against another. Light against Dark. Conquerors against Victims. Gone were the days of sporadic conflicts between neighbors. Begun had an era of absolute Chaos. And with the madness had come an influx that none could anticipate. Previously, a single world had been designated within the South as a sanctuary: Monastery. And for years, it had beared the burden of a new beginning without issue. Yet, the sudden tsunami of fleeing souls quickly turned the tranquil escape into an overcrowded mess.
Even now, thousands of vessels were harbored within the system, awaiting clearance to begin anew. Yet, due to the demand, they were bereft of any movement. The most Monastery could do was send up corvettes bearing vital supplies so that the refugees did not starve in orbit. But even these assets were running out. Fast. Time was not the ally. A way forward needed to be forged, and this day and answer would be obtained.
As was custom, the Viceroyalty chambers were called into order. The joint session housed representatives from every corner of the nation. Most notably, all three branches of the state were in attendance this evening, and each would be able to speak their minds regarding the current predicament. Yet the decision, as was the case for true democracy, rested in the hands of the people. As the many filed into their seats, the Speaker of the Viceroyalty approached the center of the room. The portly Twi'lek briefly motioned towards the center console, which manifested an azure projection of Monastery's plight. Of the vessels moored in orbit hoping for relief. From thence, he rallied his fellows.
"Esteemed members of the Viceroyalty. Honored members of the Presidium. Stalwart members of the Knights Obsidian. We are gathered this evening to address a crisis of the likes the South has never seen before. At our doorstep are countless souls fleeing the recent chaos - and Monastery is unable to meet these sudden demands. Today, we must pave the way forward. I hereby call this joint session into order. The floor is open for debate."
Draelos wasn't even sure what he was doing at this gathering. A meeting to discuss the CIS hosting refugees? His whole planet was refugees at this point. In fact, Draelos had barely finished finalizing the reclassification of Vylmira from member world to colony world. So he imagined that his input on the matter would...be inconsequential. New face in the chambers, new position on the world, and new classification as "We don't matter." It would be an uphill battle to make Vylmira's voice heard.
But, he sat here all the same. His people had spoken. He was to be their voice. And so, he would do his duty. He traveled to Naboo to speak on the matter he had been called to speak on. He wondered, as he took his seat in the chamber. How would the leaders before him have handled this? How would Master Vuul have answered? How would Voph? Draelos frowned at this. Voph should have been the one sitting here. A great leader, unlike him. He'd barely finished his university classes when he first traveled to Vylmira those years ago. Back when Vylmira had only first been rediscovered. To watch as Voph helped craft a future for the world was enlightening.
Vylmirans had become known for their resolve and heartiness. But now, Draelos wasn't so sure that was a good thing. The council had departed Vylmira, taking the Miralukan people elsewhere for safety. Now, all that was left was wilderness and humans. Humans that had decided Draelos knew what he was doing. He didn't belong here. But it was his job. So he'd do the best that he could. It was all he could do. And all he could hope for...
These words, uttered in passing, were enough to steel the Mandalorian. As his armored form strode throughout the gilded halls, he happened upon a sight that he had not witnessed in quite some time. That of his Mother. Darth Elyria
was always a midnight presence. A shade perpetually connected to his sire. This day was no different - for she kept in step with the Vicelord on their way to the joint session. With the changes of recent, Aether did not know whether or not to approach the woman. Yet, he waved. Smiled. She manifested before him.
Her hand graced his cheek briefly. Her voice - steady as a mountain - advised that he simply remembered to breathe. And that was it. A mere bat of the eyelid and she was gone. His duty remained in her wake. Only mere weeks ago, Aether's shoulders became burdened with newfound purpose. Krant, the seat of his family's power, had been entrusted to his leadership. As its King, as its Viceroy, he had the responsibility of seeing them through any crisis.
For there was a storm upon the horizon, and the heart of their family needed to weather it all. Remember to breathe.
In short order, Aether entered the chambers to do just that. Today, the assembly had gathered to address the growing refugee crisis. Monastery was effectively overrun. And now Aether had to ask himself - would he offer Krant as a sanctuary? Would it harm his people - his kin - to offer such charity? Or was it better to turn them away. For, at the end of the day, they were not of Southern origin. They were not their people. In a crass sort, they were not his problem. Aether's nostrils flared as he huffed, settling quietly into his seat.
The floor was opened, but he did not yet have an answer. Rather, he waited on his peers to speak.
Every time Monastery came into casual conversation the Exarch felt an irritating ache that could not be denied. The first time she had ever walked the pleasant pathways and shied away from the Light Sided Nexus that plagued the area had been with a lightsaber in hand. With a weapon that was used to quell creatures that had begun to over-populate and tear into the general public. She had managed to sew a young woman back together with the force to keep her intestines from spilling out of her; but there was nothing to be done for so many others.
The mutated Nightshrikes were too plentiful in those days. Moreover, they were always hungry.
The humble-homes and dome-topped buildings seemed as if they had regained some sort of peace since the Confederacy left them their deserved and well-earned autonomy. It had not become the busy neon-light landscape of Coruscant, nor Naboo, but there were certain similarities that were growing more obvious with every passing moment. Overcrowding.
Much of Naboo was designed for this very eventuality. Even they could not keep up.
One planet could only support so much when the Bryn’adûl sent sentient beings fleeing from their homes in droves. Every Empire had endured so much war and bloodshed that it was almost impossible these days not to find someone with a sad, terrible tale. Many had lost all they had ever gained. Srina could internally recognize their strife; but she was not a creature designed to feel. She thought through her problems and it was painfully obvious that she saw the situation through a rational lens. She had never wished to be more than what she was; An Echani, an Apprentice.
Command, leading, being an Exarch—Did not excite her. It held a certain fascination but she neither longed for it nor feared it. It simply existed. With that in mind; she would always do what logically needed to be done. It was something that many of the Viceroy had found frustrating. Either her hand was too stern or too soft for their liking. In this instance? A lack of data prevented her from choosing a side one way or the other. She was certain the silver-tongued cretins wouldn't approve of that either.
How many more refugees were they expecting? How much longer would these wars unseat all those who called this galaxy home? What could the Confederacy afford before their own citizenry began to suffer? How many planets would sign on? Moreover—How would this affect Confederacy First?
That was the real question. Certainly, they could crunch numbers and find enough surplus supplies and adequate if potentially temporary housing.
Was it time for their mandate to change?
Srina sat in a high-backed chair awaiting the rest of the Viceroy and assorted delegates to arrive with a sense of mild disinterest. She was neither for nor against this movement in the moment. Insufficient data invited atrocity, danger, and it was with that she hoped to hear from more knowledgeable minds. The silvery woman wore a long black dress that held to her every curve. A thin black veil hid her head though slips of milky-white skin could occasionally be glimpsed.
The Tapani sector had not sent a high representee. The young and ambitious noble Lady Pawla Arsec of the Lorenz system was the envoy of the mighty, but isolationist senate of the powerful and filthy rich sector.
The message she would bear was clear and not a subject to debate: The fortress sector would only take a fair share of refugees when all other members of the Confederacy would agree upon a sophisticated distribution plan.
And they would take in only humans and selected species. The mistrust of barbarian races with inhuman habits run deep in the minds of the paranoid Tapani commoners and their ruling class.
Especially the House Mecetti Lady Arsec was part of was not very liberal and had voted against the opening of the borders.
At the contrary: The senate of the noble houses and the free world league had recently boosted their border defences even more.
And even if the rest of the Confederacy would moan about the isolationist cold politic of the rich sector, the usual contribution would appease them: money. Tapani would contribute enough money to the cause - whatever it would be, refugee integration or closed borders - to silence any protesters.
So the petite and pretty young lady was only here to show presence and deliver the vote of her sector. She wore the spotless uniform of the navy of her house and hold the ceremonial rod of the envoy. The journey to distant Naboo had been uneventful, but dangerous nonetheless even for an over weaponized Tapani warship.
Naboo, was an upstart planet with only 5000 years history. A constituted monarchy that seemed like a mockery of the honourable traditions of Tapani with its 12 000 years of splendid isolation.
But the architecture was nice and almost as pretty as the palaces of Procopia, Barnaba or Pelagia.
Lady Arsec longed for the aftershow party.
If there was one truth of the galaxy it was that devastation seemed to hit randomly, anywhere and everywhere it could. You could see it every time you opened your newsfeed, the scrolling words telling stories of disaster and war that swept across the galaxy. From minor sparks to massive conflagrations that seemed to threaten to sweep across worlds and consume all before it. The reporters would talk about the effects of galactic politics and the economy, They never really spoke about the lives that were wrecked, the people who found their homes and dreams shattered and broken by the disaster they found themselves in. Countless families and individuals who found themselves cast adrift, dependant on the charity of others for their survival.
It was a position that no-one ever wanted to find themselves in, especially those who had spent their entire lives building a life only to have it torn out of their hands by forces beyond their control. The whims of politicians and emperors on far distant planets or the heartless causality of nature. It made no difference to those who lived on the ground, who had lost everything, they needed help and for years and years the Confederacy had answered the call. Supplies sent to those who needed, and a safe port for those who needed a chance to catch their breath.
A single world designated as the centre for sanctuary and peace in the Southern Systems, a clarion beacon of light that burned bright against all that the darkness could throw. Fuelled by those willing to give their time and resources, to sacrifice in the name of the greater good.
Only, one world could only give so much.
John had seen it, his agents, his ships reporting back on the world, on the congestion and overcrowding that had taken over the once pristine sanctuary.
And who could blame them?
The state of the galaxy was one of a near constant state of war, from the campaign waged by the NIO to the west to devastation wrought by the Bryn’adul to the east the flow of refugees in the galaxy had never been greater. A flood of those who were fleeing the devastation and terror that seemed to haunt them, to chase them through space. The spacelanes leading to Monastery were filled with vessels, large and small, all crying for help, for peace.
The question before them today, would the Confederacy find the supplies, the sweat and blood to provide for all these innocents, or would the calculations of cost prove to be too expensive. Or would darker motivations and ambitions take hold. Not every politicians was altruistic, was benevolent. When you had nothing to offer but gratitude, how would the political calculus swing?
Dark eyes flicked to the side, at the man walking next to him as the doors swung open, the viceroyalty guards nodding at the Exarch and the Viceroy next to him.
“So, everyone has their own way of dealing with public speaking and the stress of it, but as long as you manage to avoid tearing your shirt of or shooting everyone out of hand then you’re probably gonna come out ahead of some…though there are some days where these meetings can really make you wish you had a stiff drink…don’t drink there either. And don’t trust anyone, everyone here has a game or two up their sleeve, mine is chess but I do love a good game of dejark or sabacc if you can find people interested.”
A brief grin lit up John’s face for a second, a moment of genuine warmth that shone through before the mask of the Exarch slammed down over his features, patting his brother on the shoulder before he stepped thorugh the door.
Raven was a quiet woman, her presence was minimal for she wanted her plans to go unnoticed- at least for the moment and it was working. Her palace was being built and plans for waystations were underway. There was also a section of her planet on an island separate from the mainland intended for refugees; away from the Felacatians. This was because her people were extremely anxious when it came to new people. Except these plans had been put into motion ever since The Abrion Pact had been established and Voph had given some news about the devastation of his people and Vylmira. She had offered to house the refugees of his planet until they could rebuild and return. The man hasn’t taken up the offer, but it has been extended nether-the-less. After that meeting, she had kept to herself and redoubled efforts on the building efforts.
For now though, her heels echoed upon the stone floor as she walked through the hallway that would take her into the Viceroyalty chambers. Behind her, her two bodyguards Nadia and Nala followed behind. Their steps were far quieter than the whispers of the material of the black gown that she wore, yet the vampiress could still hear the soft beats of their hearts and pinpoint their location based on that sound alone. Both were far more at ease as the Confederates had all but gotten their cloud under control and peace had finally found their small section of the galaxy, but the Viceroy knew that such a thing would end and this meeting was the first sign. A sign that the short lived peace would turn over and be forgotten about.
With a flourish, the pale woman entered the chambers and soon found the seat for the Viceroy of Felacat, while Nadia and Nala took up positions behind her. Her right leg lifted and with that movement, the black material of her dress slid against her skin as she crossed one knee over the other. Chocolate brown eyes touched upon everyone that had decided to attend such a meeting, but the 3,000 year old being was already bored; even when the speaker began to talk and present the issue that had brought them forth from their home planets.
Refugees were upon their doorstep and those currently present, did not say a word when the floor was opened up. Did the Viceroy wish to speak? She could, but she wasn’t at all sure that anything said would fix the sheer volume of refugees fleeing from the conflict that was arising with each planet under siege from another faction. The galaxy was at war, but it was the usual war. Sith against Jedi, good against evil, but it seemed as if the Jedi or the morally grey Jedi were the ones that had become the aggressors in a war that would never have an end. Both sides had moral standards that differ to the other and would never see peace when they couldn’t leave well enough alone. The Confederacy was a testament to the fact that both sides could coexist, through understanding and tolerance that was guided by a code of conduct.
For now, the woman had opted to stay silent, even though the floor was open.
Slowly, she lifted her right hand so then her elbow could rest upon the armrest. Her hand drifted upwards and flipped to reveal the palm of her hand. Her chin dropped slightly to rest into the offered palm, while her left hand held a datapad within pale fingers. Her gaze focused upon the azure projection, but she listened to the small sounds of everyone’s movements; of the whispers of material moving, the soft sighs and heartbeats. The woman even noted the gentle rasping sounds of the intake of breath as everyone seemingly took stock of their thoughts.
What was the solution to overcrowding? Diplomatic or a fighting stance?
The childe as of yet remained uncorrupted. Seemingly.
But he did belong to her, thusly, it was only a matter of time.
Her form pulled itself back together in wispy remains of primordial dark that seemed to cling to its surroundings before it solidified. Her hand settled on the arm of Darth Metus
and long tendrils of hair the shade of bitter night wrapped habitually around his wrist. The slender woman breathed in and the exhale that followed was thick with almost touchable power. Once upon a time, she would have relished in an influx of undesirables. No one noticed when a few unwanted souls went missing in the middle of a calamity. Her companion, however, begged her patience and frugality.
Elyria was not a prudent woman nor was she patient, however, she endeavored to appear as such. The Vicelord had gifted her the one thing she had never had. Life. Blood of her blood.
The younglings that she had minded within her eternal slumber had grown to their fullest potential with her silent influence. They were her children. They always would be, even though, some of them didn’t even know she existed. She would protect them for all time.
This was new—A gift.
“He will do well.”, Elyria announced to the sable-skinned man at her side. Her tone was the same sensual, otherworldly essence that held the weight of eons—But it was touched with a little silver of undeniable pride. She didn’t think twice about advising her son nor offering some sort of comfort when his blood pressure began to rise. Was it his first meeting of petulant minds?
Elyria did not envy him.
“What have you decided? Surely, your mind is already settled.”
The act of holding court to make decisions that impacted the entirety of the nation confused her greatly. This was one of the reasons she had accompanied the Vicelord on this droll endeavor. To learn. She didn’t know how it was that they got anything done, ever, when their lips never stopped moving and tongues never stopped wagging. Why Isley did not simply take his dissenters and place them in a meat grinder was beyond her. He made so much work for himself.
To what end?
There was a reason she made no governing decisions, she supposed. Elyria told herself that it was because she was far too efficient and that she wouldn’t leave any work left for the Vicelord to do. And he so desperately loved his paperwork and laws. Eyes with the capacity of a black hole settled on his beloved apprentice and she heaved a sigh. “…Your white-rabbit is present.”
She sneered. “And calling for you.”
The telepathic missive had gone to Darth Metus
but she was just as connected to him as the rabbit. Sometimes, when in close proximity, she could feel the inane banality of her thoughts and wished to reach through them and strangle the life from her.
Another session of the Viceroyalty was called, and once again Gerwald felt life drain from his eyes. Politics. Gerwald hated politics. There was nothing he hated more than getting in a room full of talking heads and seeing nothing happen. Many of the sessions of the Viceroyalty were nothing more than debates which led to no action. Why was Gerwald there? Security and input from the Knights Obsidian if needed. It was rare Gerwald ever spoke or opined, his last entrance had been a false accusation against the Viceroy of Ra’Katha, @Basitlle Romer.
He would sit in the booth looking on as everyone gathered together. Each paraded in as though they were something important, and perhaps they were, but Gerwald did not see how anything would ever be accomplished with so many. Democracy was not efficient, yet, it was the preferred form of government for the Confederacy. The warrior would never understand why, but he would also not argue.
Eyes turned to the one who accompanied him. Oleander Webb
accompanied the Lord Commander most days when security was needed. His ability to use the shadows to remain virtually unseen was more than an asset in the troubled times the Knights had faced as of late. Gerwald would not be lax on providing the best he could to keep the Viceroyalty safe from whatever threat could be posed to them. Just because he hated these gatherings did not mean he wished ill will upon them… most days.
“Anything can happen,” he said to the Anzat. “I remember one meeting before I had my shifter armor…”
Gerwald let Oleander put the rest of that story together. The message was clear, however. Oleander needed to expect the unexpected.
Today they would debate what to do with refugees. It seemed Monastery was overcrowded, unable to meet the demand being placed upon it. What would the rest of the Viceroyalty do to answer this issue? If Gerwald had his way it would not be a matter of vote, but executive decision. There some planets which remained mostly unsettled within the southern systems, and others which readily took in refugees already. Certainly with a stroke of a pen they could come to a quick and speedy resolution.
His eyes fell on the Echani Exarch. She was a friend in a crowd of faces which were mostly unfamiliar to him. Their relationship was likely the most odd Gerwald could account for, but he did not consider it to be hostile in any way. She was not friendly or kind, and yet she was protective. There was something about Srina which contradicted everything about who she seemed to be, and yet it was that which made her whole. His thoughts drifted to her mind in his usual greeting.
“How long do you give it before this meeting dissolves into endless debate and inaction? Why does your master insist on something so insufficient as letting them all have a say?”
His eyes would find hers across the way as the other Exarch joined her side. He knew them both. Another face, one becoming more familiar to him, John’s brother, the new Viceroy of Stewjon. Gerwald was curious about this one. It had been some time since the Stewjoni people had put forward their own representative. They needed a good delegate. Would this one do?
As a proud member of the Abrion Pact, the agriworld had taken it upon itself to aide in the plight of its neighbor. When Vylmira was beset by disaster, the Pact rose to offer aide. Even now, there were many denizens of the broken world who yet tarried upon Ukio - and they would continue to be welcome. In the eyes of the Overliege, the planet was in a prosperous position. Thus, it was only right that they share that fortune with those less fortunate. After all, if calamity befell Ukio, every soul would pray for such kindness to be extended to them. Thus, the Viceroy of Ukio entered the assembly at the appointed hour. The finite details of the growing crisis were vague, but even conservative estimates spoke of a simple truth.
Monastery was completely overwhelmed. Should the matter persist for much longer, the world and its people would be ruined. Even with prosperity, there had to be caution in extending the goodwill. Reckless abandon would only do more harm than good.
When the Speaker called the session to order, the floor remained quiet. There was only the light murmuring of the politicians filling the air. While the spotlight was literally anathema to Agravain, he took it upon himself to speak. Ascension gripped him thusly, and he raised his dominant hand in greeting. "Greetings one and all." he began, pausing only to render a polite nod of his head in the direction of the Speaker. "Before I begin, Honorable Speaker, could you please share with the body the current estimates for how many refugees are on Monastery?"
The portly Twi'lek obliged, tapping the console a few times to produce the intended data. Once obtained, he answered: "Exact counts on the surface are vague, given the circumstances. Accounting for those in orbit, the conservative estimate is 80 million souls." The situation was far worse than Agravain had imagined. Yet, the Speaker continued, adding further context. "As an added note, the latest census data from Monastery puts the typical population at approximately 35 million."
Effectively, Monastery was dealing with more than double its population in refugees. With more arriving each and every day.
"The number of refugees is certainly higher than Monastery can handle. However, if we all come together, the number becomes exceedingly manageable. There are hundreds of member worlds within our great nation. If we each committed to housing but a fraction of those who are currently here, we can relieve Monastery and end the immediate concern instantly."
"Perhaps then, we can formulate a comprehensive strategy for weathering the next influx. Do you find this proposal agreeable?"
And with thus, the Viceroy of Ukio yielded his time.
Elsasca's face looked like it was carved from ice - cold and stoic - as she glided through the familiar halls of Golbah Hill towards the chambers of the Viceroyalty. The monarch of Linuri greatly hoped that this particular session would be worth pulling her away from her planet at a dire time like this.
Ice-blue eyes scanned the room as Elsasca took her assigned seat. The Linuri escort, quiet and stone-faced, did the same behind her. "Caio, any news from home?" she quietly asked her Captain of Guard over her shoulder. "None as of yet, Majesty. I am certain that, if the situation spills over into our system, we'd be the first to know." he answered her in an equally low voice. "Of course. You're right. Yet I can't help but worry how it will affect our people." she whispered back. "I would expect nothing less, Majesty." he smiled at her, but fell quiet as the aged Twi'lek spoke up.
A sigh of relief escaped Elsasca's lips.
It seemed this session would address the very topic of her frets. It seemed she would not waste her time after all.
Straightening up, she listened with a lofted brow as Agravain
spoke. When the man yielded the floor, The Queen of Linuri rose to her feet. "The esteemed Viceroy of Ukio makes a valid point. However, I respectfully find it somewhat bold of someone to state thusly when the affects of this influx have not yet started to affect his own planet." she said, inclining her head at Agravain
. "As a neighbouring system to Monastery, Linuri and her sisters have started to feel the pressure of this sudden refugee influx. Extra provisions have been requested from us already to help relieve the pressure on Monastery's own limited provisions. As an agricultural world, Linuri is able help, but we are starting to feel the pressure, as the demand for this is growing faster than we can deliver. As a small planet, we can't truly accommodate a vast number of refugees." her voice rang cold across the chamber. "I do, however, agree with the Viceroy of Ukio that, if more worlds and systems offered a helping hand, it would relieve the pressure on Monastery and its immediate neighbours. Linuri would be able to aid some worlds with higher percentages of food and textiles." Nodding at the Twi'lek, she then yielded the floor to others.
Matthew stood beside his brother as they made their way into the proceedings that were about to commence, he closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath, he knew he was going to be fine, but he was never much of a politician, to begin with. Maybe that made everything a little easier, for him the fact that he didn't have to play any games of his own, just work as best as he can and navigate through the politics that were sure to begin as the talks began between the different Viceroys and even the Exarchs.
His attention turned towards John Locke
for a moment, "You never did figure out why you could never win any games when we were kids. The man who plays fair is always the man who is willing to cheat on himself, the man who plays dirty will always get what he wants. I used to smuggle you blind."
Placing his hand on his chin he listened to the proceedings as they started, a brief pause to begin with before Agravain
stepped in and began to discuss the topic at hand. The words hit Matthew's ears and he nodded, it was a very good point to be made for sure, but with Elsasca Selcoc
input he could see where some of the smaller planets in the systems could be at risk with such a sudden influx of refugee's could do to the less stable of planets.
Doing some mental gymnastics Matthew tried to figure out how many Stewjon could even take if it was applicable. He had gotten some information from his aides before this meeting was to begin to give some rough estimate for him to work with, which was a lifesaver in moments like these. He figured Stewjon could take a million or so of the refugees without major issues arising. Knowing what he did of Stewjon he knew that anyone moving there would have a good chance of a little bit of everything, with good fishing all the way to large shipping businesses that were housed and exported goods off of Stewjon. Which allowed for a variety of different types of people to be allowed to immigrate there. Having talked it through already with some of the other politicians in Stewjon he knew what he was allowed to do in this conference.
With a gulp, Mattew clenched his jaw before he rose and began to speak, letting his words carry. "The Planet of Stewjon is willing to take up to two million refugees from the current crisis on Monastary, as a planet we have not felt the effects as strongly as some of those that are closer to the issues at hand. Going through the proper calculations with my staff and accounting for variation we gather that there are enough rooms in both our dense areas and our extensive sparse reason to safely hold that amount without taking a major hit to our production and our food storages. We understand that this number is not very considerable in terms of the overall refugee population but we hope that even a small contribution will allow for safe and quick resolution of the issue at hand."
Attire:Stylish Location: Viceroyalty Chambers Golbah Hill, Theed
Names had power, and Dynastical names had gravitas - that much was true - and for the young woman, she feared what her name meant or would mean for others. She was certain that many in the chambers, if not all of them, had known or knew of her mother in some way or another and it was a simple truth that absolutely karking terrified the young woman. By comparison, they were as stark as the night and day - her mother - a stunning woman with long silver locks that easily towered over many individuals, and whose experiences in conflict were as varied as the stars in the night sky; best known for having held the position as Grand Marshal of the Confederacy Naval Command. The young woman though was much more meek, short in stature, much smaller than her mother - with near strawberry blonde hair, and a small hint towards her own differing heritage, those slightly pointed ears that would easily denote her as a member of the Eldorai species.
Truth be told, she was unsure of her own parentage, knowing that Amelia von Sorenn
was her mother - she still had no clue as to who the other half was, and perhaps that was for the best. She was under enough stress as it was being Imperia von Sorenn, the meek pacifist daughter of the [argueably] War Hero, former Grand Marshal von Sorenn. It was a name that would be difficult to live up to - and even as she stood in that crowded chamber - she thought back to a simpler time. There had been a planet she had visited when she was younger - and there was such a stunningly peaceful waterfall that she had enjoyed. Of course, there was one more thing she had found on that trip - and even now her heart still fluttered when she thought of Fiore
and the time the two had spent, even with the trip having become as entangled and strained towards the end. Even as she stood there in awe at the sheer fact she was in the presence of the leaders of the Confederacy and its many member worlds, she found herself worried more about Fiore and what had happened to the lovely young woman than what was happening in the present.
She didn't belong there - she thought to herself - as she just narrowly dodged bumping into another Viceroy, her hands lightly gripping at the hem of her dress out of a nervous habit than anything else. Her confidence in wearing a stylish dress as she was showed that she was - at least in part - still her mother's daughter. A nervous smile slipped across her lips, though her hand quickly covered her mouth before the hint of her fangs could be seen. Oh, why was she there? She had only become a Viceroy because of Von Sorenn Industries and their presence on Vandelheim - and her own need and desire to win over her mother without knowing that the woman was already so proud of Imperia.
Looking on in amazement at the many other species and individuals that had arrived, she was starstruck and nearly ceased any and all functions when she finally saw her - a woman that in beauty could have easily matched or perhaps even surpassed her mother.
"At least their hair matches..."
Imperia whispered to herself as she admired Srina Talon
as though she [Imperia] were a young schoolgirl gushing over a crush on the playground. Finally managing to find her position, she quickly took her seat and settled in - always self-conscious and worried about how others would see her given that she appeared to be far too young to be there among many of the other individuals. She even worried that someone might see that her feet weren't touching the ground once she had hopped up into her seat, rather, her legs were dangling down and her feet were lightly kicking the air...
The shuttle arriving from Fondor had only arrived a few minutes ago, it would figure the first time he had managed to come back to the Viceroyalty in some time he would be late. Hazards of interstellar travel aside he quickened his pace to hurry to the viceroyal chambers. On a normal day he would not mind being late, even in some cases he would even attend via holocall but this particular topic needed not just the appearance of but demanded his genuine attention.
No effort was made to greet any of his peers, there would be time for that later. As he entered into the chambers proper he removed the earpiece that he had been listening on and entered the ever familiar pod that was marked for the represented of Fondor. Pulling out a datapad from under his jacked he leaned into his seat and began to listen as he reviewed the text of the earlier speakers. Nearly eighty-million displaced that they knew about, the numbers were likely even higher than that and thats just what had come flooding to their doors.
For Fondor, the likelihood of anybody fleeing to an industrial world was low but the influx of traffic along the Rimma Trade Route was undeniable, personally he had no data on it but he would assume the hyperlanes were seeing more activity than normal. Between the Sith Wars and the Bryna'dul campaign of genocide as well as the new imperial orders conquest of the Sith Empire everything pointed toward the situation only deepening. Signaling the speaker Jordar awaited recognition then rose to address the assembly.
"Members of the Viceroyalty, Exarchs, Vicelord." he gave a respectful not the dias on which the Exarchs and Vicelord would usually find themselves before turning his attention back to the assembly. "While Fondor itself is far removed from the current crisis point, and likely moving millions of people to Fondor is untenable. We would be willing to accept a limited number of refugees however, Fondor is not a garden world those we bring would need to be able work in Fondor's industries. Additionally I would like to offer our support to any world that takes in refugees. We would be prepared to assist with any emergency construction of facilities or ships if needed." he gave a respectful bow and then took his seat. The reality is a mass movement of people to Fondor was unfeasible but a selective movement of skilled refugees would help boost Fondor's growth. At the end of the day Fondor is an industry, this decision? It's just business.
Though the circumstances had been the furthest thing from conventional, Darth Elyria had stepped into the role of mother instantly. This should have come as no surprise to the Vicelord - for she had watched as she kept watch on many of her "children" before. Yet this was the first time, at least that he was aware, that she had one of her own flesh and blood. Isley was no stranger to the gift of fatherhood, having sired a small army by the present day. Yet his mate? This was the first. And though jumping for joy wasn't exactly her style, he could see that she was exceedingly pleased. It was almost as though there was a pep in her step.
That is, until current events came knocking.
The very nature of Isley's role had steeled him for the session. The world of politics was a battlefield that he now frequented daily. Thus, he was ready - and patient - when it came to the posturing and proceedings. His partner? Well. He knew she had half a mind to devour them. Literally. However, because he asked she stayed her hand. And at the appointed hour, the shadow of her presence crept upon him. Her hand settled upon his waiting arm - her hair coiled about his wrist as per the usual. And thus, she was greeted with a smile. When she spoke, it was first of Aether. Of their son. And when she did? Pride colored every word.
He will do well. she remarked. "Of course he will. That's our boy." Ah, it was a beautiful feeling. Pride in someone else. Unfortunately, it was overshadowed by the current crisis. As they began to walk towards the chambers, his partner posed a question. What had he decided regarding the refugee situation? Surely, your mind is already settled. she concluded. Ah, she knew him quite well. "You know me all too well." he began, offering a light smile. "You'll see shortly. Though, I won't say until he has had his time."
It took no time at all to enter the chambers. As they arrived, a hefty sigh graced his ears. Elyria sneered, clearly "overhearing" the thoughts of his Exarch Srina Talon
. Your white-rabbit is present. And calling for you. Isley cocked an eyebrow - and without missing a beat said. "Ah yes, the Kaden to my Elyria is right where she is required. She's such a good daughter, don't you think?" She could sneer, he could sass. And they'd do it both with class. In short order, he led her to their seats and settled down beside the Echani. His free hand reached out and simply brushed her shoulder in greeting. She'd know the meaning.
And for the moment, the Vicelord would simply listen.
The journey to reach the chamber that would soon be hosting quite the array of Viceroys had not been a smooth one, even with as short lived as it was for the young Queen of Naboo. There had been plenty of things that had happened since the weight of the crown was placed upon her head, and because of these things, changes still needed to be made around her. Safety of the people was always at the forefront of Svana's mind, but the young woman was also aware that she herself needed to be more aware of her surroundings. Less lofty, less trusting of others, and always mind the company she kept.
Company that mostly always included the captain of her Guard now. Poor Aeson Rora
would find himself far more busy than Svana had ever intended for him to be. Not because the Queen was all over the place or purposefully doing idiotic things to put herself into danger, but because if something as sacred as a naming ceremony could become such a hostile, dangerous environment, then no place was sacred or safe.
It was that very bit of paranoia, paired with the nerves of attending her first Viceroy assembly that had Svana all twisted up into knots. Clumsy knots at that. More than once along the way she had nearly fallen on her face. Be it from tripping over her own feet, or someone else's for that matter. It seemed the more nervous the young Queen became, the more clumsy it made her, and this continued all the way to their destination.
It wasn't until they were outside of the chamber directly that the brunette finally stopped and had to take a moment just to breathe. "I'm going to make a fool of myself..." she complained to Aeson, both hands rested against her hips while her eyes remained cast downward while she tried to get a grip. "I've dealt with plenty of large crowds, but I haven't been in a room full of so many important people, from so many different places, dealing with Shiraya knows what." One of her hands lifted so that she could momentarily press it against her forehead. "But this is bigger than myself, right?" Now her gaze lifted to look at the Captain, and it was clear she was trying to steel herself rather than spiral further. "This is about what others need?"
She may have sounded uncertain, but she was right, this was bigger than her own personal problems right now. It was why they were all gathered here today. And that seemed to be exactly the train of thought she had needed to get herself back into some sort of order. Svana's posture straightened and her chin set, and while the nerves did not quell entirely it was still just as easy to see the difference between bumbling Svana, and Queen Liviana. Despite this fact, she still reached out to take hold of Aeson's arm before they made their way inside.
"Please don't let me fall..." she did at least quietly ask of him as they breached the chamber. Already others were speaking, though there didn't seem to be any heat in the discussion yet. Which meant they were late, but not overly so, and the young Queen could live with that - even if she would have to listen for a time and catch up before she put her own opinion into the matters that were going on.
This wasn't Oleander's first dealing with the Viceroyalty. No, he'd been present when the knights were sent to apprehend Bastille Rommer
, still a fresh face to the knights, only recently woken from his forced slumber. He'd also dealt with a viceroyal or two or individuals in their offices in far less public venues. Now, however, he was once more in the public eye, seated beside the Lord Commander at least for the time being. Slumped in the booth, head down and arms crossed, to the regular passerby, he could pass for dozing on the clock. In actuality, however, the Anzat was as diligent in his job as ever, mentally mapping out the area, getting a feel for the attendees both present and arriving.
Once finished with the initial mental scan of things, he shifted to sit up more in his seat, yawning as he did so. Perhaps he could've gone for a quick nap if not for the task at hand. But alas, that would have to wait. His shoulders rolled back, neck moving from one side to the other with an audible pop. Half stretching, half a display of incompetency, meant to lower the guard of any who might be looking to assess the security detail. Disgruntled, half-asleep, hardly traits one would expect from a natural killer.
As Gerwald's words trailed off, Oleander was still a moment more before his head ever so slowly turned to address the Lord Commander with a brow raised as if to ask 'Do I even want to know?'. "Thank the Force you're wearing it now, then," He responded, voice rough after his usual long hours of silence. Unfortunately, whether he wanted to or not, he was fairly certain he knew where that story was going.
As more members of the Viceroyalty shuffled in to find their seats, he became more and more aware of just how little he knew of the Confederacy's leaders. Some names he'd heard of in passing, same with some faces. But save for Gerwald, names and faces were all the vast majority of these people were. And here he was, meant to protect them. The thought had him leaning over toward the Lupine, voice barely above a whipser. "Do you actually know any of these people?"
Location: Theed Viceroyalty Chamber Objective: Do Viceroy things Wearing: Dress clothes
Draconis was a little peeved that he had been called away from the force deployments of his troops on Lorta for a "emergency session" of Viceroyalty but such a call couldn't be ignored. Not when he was the sitting representative, rightfully elected by his peers, for his system. He had time to change out of his battle armor, shower, and properly get into his dress clothes so that he could look a bit presentable for the occasion. After all it wouldn't do for him to arrive to the chambers still clad in full combat dress, stinking of swamp, gore, and otherwise looking very uncivilized. His "aides" were following him briefing him as he walked to the launch bay of his vessel and took their shuttle to the chambers, the mention of the humanitarian crisis with the refugees from surrounding sectors and governments taking a toll on the Confederacy's own put in place measures to handle such issues. The galaxy it seemed was at war, with surrounding governments on fire as they waged war against each other or fought the scourge of the Bryn'adul.
The very thought of those animals would set Draconis's jaw into a light clench as he thought of the atrocities those monsters committed. If they visited the CIS, they would find that unlike the Silver Jedi, the people of Surric weren't so soft. The SLDF would fully deploy its full might to annihilate the would be invaders, their ships, fighters, and ordinance would blot out the very sun itself on whatever planet they decided to invade. Their time in civil war had served to harden them into the very best conventional fighting force inside the CAF, a Hobbesian Leviathan capable of tackling any foe. When they visited CIS shores, they would find them waiting, with the ground seeded and ready for war. Behind every hill, valley, or blade of grass they would have to worry about finding a bayonet, bunker, tanks or walkers.
He banished the thoughts as the shuttle touched down and the entourage made their way hurriedly into the chambers, presenting their IDs to the guards to allow passage as they continued to speed walk. The Sith, The Imperials, The Silvers, even the Galactic Alliance were at war with each other. The Outer Rim was even burning, and as the rest of them all fought, only The Confederacy had stood as a symbol of peace and stability. And now all of these people clamored to her for safety, for refuge from their delusional, hate filled, or otherwise outright foolish leaders. To say that Draconis was unsurprised, was the understatement of the millennia. And now the place that these people sought refuge, was the very place they had so very eagerly demonized, talked down to, and otherwise denigrated on a daily, if not hourly basis. He would sit quietly and wait for the others to speak. He would watch, and listen intently as he heard several proposals about fixing the crisis but watched as none dared actually approach the problem. None of them broached the issue at hand. None dared speak of the potential evils these people were capable of, none of them dared think of the repercussions of such actions. And while he enjoyed that his fellow Viceroys were quite the optimists, even Fondor knew not of the consequences of such actions. A fellow border world, a bastion world no less, designed to be one of the major strong points of defense alongside a fall back position for the CIS in times of catastrophe. And one that because of its historical significance would draw much of the people's following. Many of his military planners and operations personnel had predicted that if the Alliance were to strike, it would be at Fondor first, not because of strategic significance but simply because of its history. Were the shipyards of Fondor impressive? Quite, but they were not the only ones, especially with the people of Surric increasing their own shipbuilding, maintaining, and vastly improving their own infrastructure and innovation. He sighed as he rose, waiting to be acknowledged by the speaker, patiently waiting for the other Viceroys to finish until the speaker to acknowledge him.
"The Viceroy of Surric has something to contribute?" The Speaker eyed him suspiciously, knowing Draconis had a little flair for the dramatic at times.
"Aye that I do Speaker,"
"Proceed, Viceroy of Surric," The Speaker would nod to him letting him know it was okay to now speak.
"Exarchs, Viceroyalty and Vicelord of our glorious Confederacy. I stand in awe of your generosity and optimism in the face of such a plight. We are truly blessed in this great Confederacy of ours to have leaders such as you that are willing to lend a helping hand to those in need. But I must implore you to stop thinking of this as simply a humanitarian crisis and look at the problem at hand as it sits. Our Confederacy is more than capable of handling such a crisis as this without major pause, our own Bastion class Stations are an example of this. But therein doesn't lay the true issue at hand. Today we hand out supplies, we give food, clothes, water, and medicine to these people who come to our borders seeking refuge. Seeking sanctuary from the chaos, madness, and ideocracy of our neighbors and threats to peace and safety. But these people our not ours. They are refugees, they bring their own ideals, their own morals, their own laws, their own problems to our shores. Do you simply suggest we let these people in en-masse and just set up shop in our sectors, on our planets, our stations, in our very homes without any kind of assurance they won't bring said issues with them? The people of The Sith Empire value order above all, meaning they will do whatever it takes to ensure it, bringing harsher punishments for the smallest of crimes. The Imperial Order values the state above all, meaning that their very civilians can be turned into weapons, and I have seen the intelligence reports of NIO Operatives deploying to worlds to radicalize and weaponize a planet's civilian population to be used against their enemies. The Silver Jedi Order promised to support all in the fight against the Bryn before succumbing to outside pressure from a non-governmental organization because they just so happened to align themselves with a different sect of the same cult that many force users subscribe to. And the Galactic Alliance on a daily basis debates whether they believe it is more convenient to, and I quote, 'allow us to exist with an evil Sith overlord' or not. And this comes with the added history that they threatened us not so subtly to demand planets be turned over to sate their territorial desires! What we give freely today will be taken, and then demanded of tomorrow. These refugees must be seen as they are, while they are people, they are not Confederates! They know nothing of the hard work, the blood, sweat and tears that our everyday people shed to make such a glorious congregation of free planets, with free people. Their own corporations, governments have threatened us with terrorism, genocides, and economic ruin because they see us as a threat to their power. I implore you, you must see past the possible good feeling you might receive initially for performing such a great deed charity and good will. Because where were they when Ryloth burned, and Siskeen was threatened by terrorist agents? Where were they when Rodia and Talay were attacked causing entire habitats to be compromised, and hundreds to be killed?"
He paused as he let the tears start to well up in his eyes as he held out his hands, remembering the twi'lek woman from Ryloth.
"I held one of our people on Ryloth. I tried to comfort her as she passed as a casualty to such barbaric acts. I had to bear her to the shuttles to be taken away, to never see her child ever again. I had to tell the child that she would never see her mother again, and try to find the words to say it would be okay.I WAS THERE while our cities burned. I fought tooth and nail for our cities, our people. Never again. Never again can we allow for such acts of violence to threaten our people! I implore you, nay I demand, that these people must be held accountable. We cannot just allow them to flood through en-masse. We cannot allow them to bring their ideologies, and their wars to our doorstep. To do so would place the lives of our constituents at risk, and for what? So we can claim a moral victory to no-one that will care or listen. The Galactic Alliance is a puppet of the Imperials, who themselves are just rabid dogs looking for something to savage. The Silver Jedi are at the whims of the Jedi Order in the Galactic Alliance, and the planets of the rim change their flags like they change their socks! Only when these governments and their people can be held accountable, and made to follow our laws can we hope for peace. I beseech you all to see reason, and if such reason can be found the Surric System shall accept any and all who wish to become naturalized citizens in our space. We have the room, and the stations to accomplish such a task, but these people must forget their past allegiances, fealties, and ideologs. They must become citizens of The Confederacy of Independent Systems first and foremost! Only then can we hope to actually fix this problem that is before us,"
He paused as he let his shoulders relax, the speech and subsequent memories having taken a toll on him. He'd done a lot to forget her. How she bled out in his arms. How she
Perfect! As well viceroy Wolf as Fondors leader Varkscel were making a point she could support. As viceroy - a titel so meaningless to the Tapani nobles like the planetary governors of the Glalactic Empire of old - of the League of Free Worlds Varksel has nonetheless impact even if he represented only Fondor.
Lady Pawla Arsec was not even that, ruling only the backwater planet Grindera. But she was the envoy of all the nobles of a thousand worlds and spoke for the senate of the oldest continually existing political body and constitutional monarchy of the galaxy.
She hoped her word if she would be allowed to speak would be seen as exactly that.
How they had gotten to the Viceroyalty Chambers, Aeson did not know.
Ever since leaving the Palace, he was running after his Queen to try and stop her from landing on her face. It was like trying to bathe a Loth-cat - his nerves were fried. They had reached the Chambers in time, or he would have thrown her over shoulder just so that she could stop falling over her own feet.
Yes, he knew he was most probably a caveman in his previous life.
As they stood outside the locale while some of the Honour Guard made sure there were no snipers lurking around anywhere this time, Aeson listened to Svana fret about oddities. He honestly sometimes marveled at how quickly she could change from a stumbling mess of nerves to a regal monarch. If only people knew how vulnerable she really was.
The Captain of the Guard suppressed a sigh before attempting to set her mind at ease. "Highness, you'll be fine. You care far too much for your people to make a fool of yourself. You won't let them down." he said, finally cracking a reassuring smile at her. He still felt iffy about sending her into this den of wolves, however.
He sighed internally. He was warned about this before he got appointed as Captain - this over-protectiveness over the Queen. You'll go above and beyond the line of duty for her, Rora. Be careful not get swept up in it like the last one. It didn't end well for anyone.
Yet here he was, swept up in it.
All he could do now, was ride it out. So he allowed his arm to be lifeline for his Queen. "You won't fall, Majesty. Not this time." he answered her just as quietly as they walked into what he could only describe as a frying pan.