Thyferra had been one of those things that Ravion had watched from afar. He had observed the reports coming in as the situation escalated, his hand forever pressed over his mouth in both shock and concern. He had made sure that the senate had remained informed, or at least those that had to know did and then when the order came to retreat out of the system. The High Republic was a vast territory of freedom, yet then and there Ravion saw the crack that had began to spread through his carefully curated Republic.
He had watched governments fall before, it always fascinated him how there was never a great declaration from a senate balcony, how there was never any time to do the ceremonial lowering of flags. It was so unlike the stories where the clerks hurriedly scratched the final line beneath some historic decree, where they vowed to fight until the very end. No, Governments died in smaller moments than that.
It died with a bottle breaking against a shield and the smashing of a window nearby. Republic’s died when clone soldiers stood before the citizenry they defended with blasters held as if it was on the warfront of the Sith advance.
From beneath a marble archway, Ravion Corvalis watched another cobblestone sail over the clone security cordon where it struck one of the great pillars that loomed above him with a sharp crack.
The noise did not make him flinch.
The Magistrate of the High Republic stood several metres behind the security line, Kayrce was somewhere further in the safe zone, doing her own work among the officials that were gathering further back. Advisers had been pleading with him and some of the other senate employees for the better part of twenty minutes to return inside.
Ravion ignored every single one of them instead taking in the chaos that was amassing around them, listening as thousands of voices had become one great, rolling thing among the requests for Bacta.
VEXX OUT.
VEXX OUT.
VEXX OUT.
Ravion slowly adjusted the cuffs of his coat and watched as nearby someone tried to calm the crowd. Interesting. To the more Imperial minded fear was useful. Fear made populations obedient. It made needed emergency legislation palatable and military expenditure necessary. Ravion had learned that properly cultivated, fear could accomplish in a week what political negotiation might fail to achieve in a decade.
This wasn’t fear however and the Republic wasn’t an Imperial Bloc as hard as they tried to get a seat. This was anger, and anger was different.
"I will address them."
The Clone Security Commander beside him stared at Ravion silently, his helmet not showing any emotion. "Yes Magistrate."
"The gates," Ravion repeated. "Open them."
"Sir, they're throwing missiles."
"Then I suggest you remain particularly alert." His gaze remained upon the crowd. "Open the gate."
The order passed down the line and side by side clones moved in to surround the Magistrate as he took his tentative steps out into the crowd. His appearance meant that the reaction was immediate; the crowd surged.
The Clone Security tightened ranks, rifles held across armoured chests. Ravion walked out from between them before anyone could decide whether physically restraining the Magistrate constituted treason.
A bottle shattered somewhere to his left and something struck the marble near his boot. He didn’t hesitate and continued on until he reached the ground level of the steps and he was among the start of the crowd.
"YOU ARE RIGHT TO BE ANGRY."
His voice carried across the plaza, it was loud and it was clear. It would not be enough to silence them, yet perhaps that is what they needed. That is why he fell silent. He had spent enough of his life selling worthless things to wealthy people to understand the value of silence.
"The bacta is gone. Your hospitals know it. Your sons and daughters lying inside those hospitals certainly know it." His eyes travelled across the sea of faces. "And I will not insult you by standing here and pretending otherwise."
There was attention being given to him now, not silent passive attention. The sound of cracking glass and rocks still littered the air, but Ravion had his audience.
"Thyferra has fallen. The Sith came from beyond their wall and burnt it to the ground." Ravion risked a step forward. "You were told that you were safe. You were told that the war was distant."
He took another step and felt the hesitation of the Clones behind him. "You were told that the High Republic fleets were sufficient, that our borders were secure and our preparations adequate. You were told that there was no risk."
He stopped now, close enough to see their eyes. The staring eyes of the scared and angry people of Naboo, the eyes of his people.
"You have been lied to."
There it was. No mention of names, not from him, not yet. They would finish the sentence themselves.
"But the bacta you need is not inside there."
His voice hardened as he pointed back towards the marble walls behind him.
"I know it and you know it. We all know upon whose lap this sits. Who stands to profit from allowing Naboo, our heritage our home to be vulnerable." For the first time, something approaching genuine contempt entered his expression. "So be angry."
Ravion spread his hands as the words rolled strangely across the plaza.
"Demand responsibility from those whose duty it was to prepare this Republic." A knife slipped delicately between the ribs. "Demand answers."
His voice rose.
"Demand ships. Demand soldiers. Demand a government worthy of the people it claims to protect."
Ravion allowed the crowd to rile and for several moments, Ravion simply stood there unprotected, within throwing distance of anyone who wanted to. Behind him, the security cordon remained rigid.
"MAKE YOU'RE VOICES HEARD!"
He knew precisely what tomorrow's headlines would say. He had not called for Dominique Vexx's resignation, he had made sure not to condemn her at all, in fact he had not even spoken her name.
And that was the beauty of it. He didn't need to.
Dominique Vexx
