Faction Symposium [ THR Great Houses ]

[Oriana Indupar]

INDUPAR ROYAL ESTATE DINING HALL
​

There wasn't much Oriana could do about the plight of the Tapani Nobles. First, she was vastly uneducated about the situation. Sure she had rubbed elbows with a few of the families back when her husband was in power but that had been when she was first married. Faces blurred. Time faded names. Second, as a Duchess and lower noble within the family, her voice only carried so far. Her father was the King and his word law. As a lower noble and a woman her job had been to be the perfect spouse and produce heirs. With only one heir and a deceased husband, Oriana found herself in an odd position. For now her pioneering cause was education, especially for refugee families and especially a push for forms of higher education beyond the basics.

Acceptable. Expected of her.

So Oriana was viewing this as a type of educational endeavor. She and various other nobles would learn of the plight of Tapani and discuss next steps to help. If there could be any help given. Purse strings tended to be tight across the Great Houses and Indupar was no exception. Her father, if she was being honest, was a little worse than most of the ruling families located inside the High Republic. Indupar came first before all others.

As the host, she had reached out to Lord Evandro Wenelle to give a speech and, if he was up to it, give a small question and answer period during dinner. Oriana had chosen a less formal method for this, eager to put Lord Wenelle at ease and to get the real story of what had occurred. Every piece of news had their own spin, she found it better to go straight to the source.

Her fork tinked against her glass to get the attention of those assembled. Lord Wenelle sat at the head of the table, many awaiting his speech.

"Lord and Ladies, thank you for your presence this evening. I have called upon Lord Wenelle to give us his account of the horrors on Tapani. It may be difficult to hear and digest but finding the truth will be the only way forward. As Great Houses we need to stand together, especially as so many have fallen." Oriana gave a small pause. "Lord Wenelle, I yield the floor."

 

[Evandro Wenelle]

​

A young man stood at the side of the Duchess Oriana Indupar , dressed in fine clothes of his own. Shades of green trimmed in gold, the traditional colors of his House. Medium-length strands of gingered-blonde hair crowned his. There was little doubt this was the son of Ulysse and Salomé. The Tapani noble bowed his head when his host introduced him. He soon found himself addressing the crowd.

"Esteemed members of the Great Houses, and fellow guests. I am Evandro Wenelle, Count of Pavia." He spoke confidently, "I would like to thank the Indupar family for making this possible."

The Count gave a polite applause, others following his lead. He turned once again to speak to his audience.

"I come before you as one of the lucky ones from the Tapani sector to share and inform of what is going on there." He lectured on, "As some of you may know, my home sector was unexpectedly and brutally attacked by a force calling itself the Sith Covenant."

He steeled himself. The imagery was still fresh in his mind. The carnage of loyal Tapani soldiers being cut down by crimson blades. His childhood home in blazes. His family in ruins.

"My father....sorry..." His voice wavered, the wound still fresh, "Like many from the Tapani worlds in that Sith campaign, lost their lives. Others of us were forced to flee."

He took out a kerchief from his breast pocket, and dabbed his eyes. It was clear that this ways genuine emotion. He took a deep breath, confidence returning.

"Indeed, I am lucky, as I found safe haven in my kin on Naboo." The Count affirmed, "But my people are in disarray. I come to you on their behalf. For resources to help those refugees who were not as lucky as I...."

Then came the biggest ask of them all.

"And, Force willing, the might necessary to retake our home." He concluded, "Thank you for any support you can give."

He bowed, standing to the side once more. Hopefully, this display would be enough for his fellow nobles to use their resources toward a good cause.

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Oriana Indupar Evandro Wenelle
​

Elian Abrantes had been sitting patiently on behalf of House Abrantes, hands folded loosely before him, posture relaxed in the way of someone accustomed to formal settings but not fully at home in them. He listened as the words passed across the table in careful succession. Some reached him clearly. Others blurred together, lost as his thoughts drifted elsewhere for a moment, to images of burning homes and scattered families that felt uncomfortably close to his own recent memories.

A gentle nudge at his elbow brought him back.

"Master Elian," Caleb murmured quietly.

Elian blinked, then inclined his head slightly. "Yes. I am sorry," he whispered back, forcing a polite smile as he straightened. He lifted his glass just enough to give a soft clink against its rim, the sound drawing attention without demanding it, and rose slowly to his feet.

He did not attempt grandeur. That had never been his way.

"I know that no words I offer can ease the loss you have suffered," Elian said, his voice steady, earnest rather than polished. "Grief like that does not listen to speeches, no matter how well intentioned."

His gaze settled briefly on Lord Wenelle, respectful and direct.

"I simply wish to offer my condolences, and to state plainly that you have the support and the faith of House Abrantes. If there is anything within our means that we can do, we will be there."

He inclined his head once, sincerely, then lowered himself back into his seat, the weight of the moment lingering even as the room quietly absorbed his words.

 

[Isley the Younger]

NABOO
[-| INDUPAR ROYAL ESTATE |-]
TAG: Oriana Indupar Evandro Wenelle Elian Abrantes
___________________________
_______​

Isley the Younger had listened in silence, his presence composed and deliberate among the gathered nobility, eyes attentive without ever drifting into spectacle. He had heard the reports long before this evening, fragments of devastation carried through secure channels and whispered across diplomatic corridors, and he had already stripped them of their poetry. Tragedy, yes, but tragedy alone had never been enough to move the machinery of survival. Around him, sympathy flowed easily, nobles recognizing the pain of nobles, mirrors reflecting mirrors, but Isley’s mind remained anchored elsewhere, in consequence, preparation, and the cost of assuming protection would always come from beyond one’s own borders.

Tapani had once stood comfortably close to the Galactic Alliance, basking in the assurance that proximity to power was protection enough. When that Alliance fractured, there should have been urgency. Fleets expanded. Garrisons hardened. Warriors trained not for ceremony but for war. Then the Galactic Empire rose, brazen enough to unveil a weapon that could erase worlds, and still Tapani did not act with the ruthlessness the age demanded. Comfort had lingered where vigilance should have taken root, and now the Sith Covenant ruled the aftermath of that complacency. Isley did not deny the cruelty of it, nor the pain etched into Lord Wenelle’s voice, but he could not ignore the lesson written in fire.

This was not a time for romantic heroics or grand gestures meant to soothe the conscience. It was a reminder, sharp and unforgiving, that the High Republic survived only so long as its Houses chose endurance over indulgence. There was a season for banners raised in righteous fury, and another for walls thickened, supply lines secured, and children taught to live beyond the reach of mercy. Isley’s thoughts rested firmly in that latter season.

After House Abrantes offered their words, heartfelt and sincere, Isley stepped forward, the movement unhurried and assured. He inclined his head in courtesy, acknowledging both host and speaker, before allowing his voice to carry across the space.

“House Verd offers its sincere condolences.” Isley said, his tone measured, resonant, and unmistakably earnest. “The loss of family and the loss of a home are grievous wounds to the heart and soul, and no House that endures through history is untouched by such scars.”

He let the words settle without haste, neither pressing forward nor retreating from their implication.

“We mourn with those who have suffered, and we will remember them.” he concluded, eyes steady, unflinching.

With that, Isley inclined his head once more and stepped back from where he had stood, offering respect without promise, sympathy without silver. House Verd did not open its coffers for distant absolution. It fortified its own walls, so that its people would never need to beg beneath another’s roof.

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Oriana Indupar Evandro Wenelle Isley the Younger
​

Elian listened carefully as Isley spoke, taking in each measured word and the restraint that shaped them. When the man stepped back to his original position, Elian felt the weight of what had been said linger in the air. House Verd. The name settled in his thoughts, sharp and deliberate, carrying a very different kind of promise than the others offered that evening.

He shifted in his seat, glancing briefly toward Caleb.

"Excuse me, Caleb. I will be right back," Elian murmured.

"Yes, Master Elian," Caleb replied without hesitation.

Elian drew in a steady breath as he rose, shaking his head faintly at himself. This was ridiculous. He was not a child. He did not need a constant shadow, even if that shadow belonged to someone he respected deeply. Nothing against Caleb. Truly. But tonight demanded initiative, not hovering restraint.

He made his way across the room toward Isley, posture relaxed but purposeful. When he reached him, Elian offered a polite nod, his expression open and unguarded.

"You spoke well" Elian said, an easy smile accompanying the words. "Although, sometimes I feel differently." Elian admitted with recent events, have caused him to think more about how things were going.

He extended his hand slightly in greeting.

"My name is Elian Abrantes. If I heard correctly, you represent House Verd?"

 

[Oriana Indupar]

Brows furrowed slightly as Count Wenelle spoke and two others - a older man and a young boy - spoke of remembering Tapani. The boy, an Abrantes, spoke of support. Support. The word was battled about like a shuttlecock on a fine spring morning. Soaring through the dining hall yet not landing with any real weight.

Condolences uttered, Oriana went for the real heart of the matter. What she had wanted to know since the horrible event occurred that no one seemed to have an answer for. Vague was the name of the game in these things which she always hated. There were ways to tell the truth but delicately.

"Count Wenelle, when you say support, could you enlighten us on what that means? Support can be a frivolous as thoughts or as grand as a battle cruiser."

Isley the Younger | Evandro Wenelle | Elian Abrantes​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Indupar Royal Estate
Tags: Oriana Indupar | Evandro Wenelle | Elian Abrantes | Isley the Younger

Aurelian sat at the far end of the table, fork nudging food that had gone cold. A troubling time, he thought, though that felt like an insultingly small phrase for what Tapani had become. He had heard the reports early, not filtered through salons or softened by distance. He had seen it. His ships had escorted refugees out of the Core, hulls scorched, cargo holds packed with frightened families who had once dined under chandeliers just like these. Boyhood friends among them. Faces he knew. That made tonight harder to swallow.

Around him, nobles performed grief. Condolences passed like ritual cups, polished and empty. Aurelian resisted the urge to sigh. The Count had not come all this way to collect sympathy like commemorative plates. No one fled burning worlds for pity.

He glanced toward Wenelle. The man held himself well, but the strain showed. Aurelian felt it too, coiled in his chest. He did not understand the posturing, the careful distance some kept, as if tragedy were contagious. If Tapani could fall, so could anyone. That was the lesson, wasn't it?

When the Duchess Indupar pressed for clarity, Aurelian's attention sharpened. Good. Finally. Someone asking the question that mattered. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. He felt the eyes turn toward him, curious, wary. He did not bother to soften his expression.

"Yes," he said, voice carrying easily over the murmur. "Sorrows. Sorrows. Prayers. The usual offerings."

A flicker of a smile touched his mouth, sharp and humorless. He glanced briefly at the gathered nobles, then back to the Count.

"Excuse my forwardness," Aurelian continued, "but has the King of Indupar truly convened us here to sulk together?"

A few breaths caught. Good.

"Speak plainly with us," he said, tone steady now. "Those of us at this table command fleets, credits, and influence within the Republic. If Tapani is to be more than a memory recited at dinners, then say what is needed."

Inside, his thoughts churned. Walls and coffers meant nothing if no one dared to use them. "Let us decide, here and now, how we intend to act," Aurelian said, "and if so, how. I would very much like to see Tapani free one day. I doubt I am not alone in that thought."

​

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Evandro Wenelle Oriana Indupar Isley the Younger​

"but has the King of Indupar truly convened us here to sulk together?"

"I highly doubt that, but a bit of reassurance can be needed."

Elian gave a brief look back to Isley before facing the those present. The Sith Covenant was a menace, growing and rising in power. Elian was no jedi, but even he could feel it in his bones, this was going to break out into a bigger conflict. But where should the High Republic stand, with the whole of the galaxy against oppression, or perhaps deal with anything that crosses their borders, as part of him felt it should. That was a more selfish part of him though, because aide wasn't a one way street.

Something good, and also something bad could be returned to them.

"What does the sector need more than anything?" Elian asked.