Private The Balance Distinguishes Not Between Gold and Lead

[Corazona von Ascania]

"And you see, then, after my holdings in Larr Shipping didn't pan out, I returned to…"

Cora kept a polite smile pinned to her face as Baron Hresvelg droned on about his investments on Denon and Coruscant and Empress Teta. It had become somewhat fashionable among Ukatian nobles to have interests in the fine worlds of the core and inner rim – from goods to friends to company shares.

None of it had amounted to much, really. Not to anyone off-world. Even the wealthiest aristocrat on such a backwater planet still lived on a backwater planet.

Cora did not care for his blathering. Still, like a good Ukatian noblewoman, she remained prim and polite. A carefully cultivated air of quiet interest hung about her, the sort that kept her expression from glazing over. It helped that there was a mask covering the upper half of her face, hiding any lines or creases of discontent around her eyes.

"Hmm," she said. Another twenty seconds passed. "Ah."

The masquerade was thrown by an up-and-coming Duke. A commoner who'd owned a distillery, he'd recently come into the king's good graces. It was, perhaps, a few steps down from the sort of event her father would've allowed her to attend. Cora had a hunch that some of the women caked in rouge were harlots. They laughed loudly, clinging to the arms of equally inebriated men, the edges of their skirts hitched into the hikes around their slender waists.

There was also a rumor that the new Duke had come into the possession of a few illegally obtained Force artifacts.

The Jedi had not come with the intent of allowing dull conversation to wash over her, but it was as good a cover as any.

Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

Surrounded by the tragic parade of theatrical capes, feudal tunics, and scandalous gowns, Razmir's suit held up as a shining diamond of elegance—sharp, clean, and unmistakably meant for a better age. Hand-cut. Impeccably tailored. Defined not by trend, but by truth. Relaxed, but far from casual. The wool was shorn from sheep that traced their lineage to a family native to Alderaan, long before its first apocalypse nine-hundred years ago.

Wearing the suit, Razmir didn't simply look sharp. He was untouchable.

Why, then, did it bother him that he couldn't tell whether the people here kept glancing his way because they admired his forward-thinking sense of style or because they were gossiping and laughing behind his back because he stood out?

Grumbling under his breath, he snatched another glass of the local wine blend from a passing waiter and started back towards the duke's table. As he walked, he glanced to check up on some of his crew to distract himself from the rest of the backwater yokels.

Carver, the elderly Defel with dark brown fur, had cornered two victims to torture for the night—though, perhaps torture was too strong a word. The old couple he conversed with seemed genuinely smitten by the endless stream of pictures Carver produced of his kids back home.

A couple groups further he could see Crowbeak mingling with the younger nobles. His black beak stood out against the red plumage flaring out from beneath his attire. Both Carver and he had chosen to wear something more local to better blend in with the other guests. A particular hurdle that had proven too much for Raz to overcome.

He took a sip of the wine, scrunching his face at the sour note it left on his tongue.

He didn't spot Yeza or Sil anywhere in the crowds. He hadn't seen either of them since the crew first entered the ballroom and split up. Most likely, he considered, they snuck off to check out the duke's security systems, taking advantage of the fact everyone else would be too busy mingling and socializing. The two had always been the most effective duo of their crew.

Raz smiled. Perhaps tonight he and Cardinal would finally one up them. He glanced to his tall friend seated next to a shorter figure with red-brown hair. Cardinal wore long white robes, trimmed in black and gold-clearly marking him as a man of the faith. He had managed to draw their host, the duke, into a deep conversation. The conversation likely covered the finer points of Force theology and its implications on society in great depth and detail. The duke, apparently, was well versed in such matters, and Raz knew Cardinal was more than happy to indulge.

As long as Cardinal remembered to work in the few conversational hooks they'd prepared to nudge the duke toward their deal, Raz didn't begrudge the distraction. If anything, he felt a strange sort of relief. Cardinal had always craved someone who could match his depth of knowledge on faith and philosophy. Maybe the duke was doing more good than they'd planned.

With a smile, Raz eased into a nearby conversation-close enough to stay within the duke's line of sight. Close enough to keep up the subtle touch of emotional pressure.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora was not fully enthralled in the Baron's monologue. Not was she expected to be - openly hanging on someone's every word would be considered a display of nativity. Instead, it worked to her benefit to let her eyes wander every third sentence or so, accompanied by a sip from her glass or a gentle flutter of her fan.

Some men never learned the art of conversation.

During those little intervals where she could glance toward the rest of the ballroom, Cora's focus quickly honed in on the non-humans. One, hairy as a Wookiee but shorter, with less intense musculature. Another, an avian species of some sort.

Ukatis' population was homogeneous. Only a handful of offworlders lived here, and they were often merchants residing in one of two large cities. To see at least two non-humanoids attending the party? It was either a sign of progress, or some backward spectacle.

Cora couldn't work out which it was. Especially so given that their host was occupied by a clergyman of sorts.

"I see." Another sip of deep ruby wine. "Is that so?"

The Baron's voice was actually quite pleasant, like a sort of white noise if you tuned the meaning of his words out. It almost made her a little regretful that she'd soon leave his company, given who she spotted next.

A humanoid male, wearing a suit cut in the modern style of the core worlds. That caught her attention - but what kept it were the subtle features of his face. They were refined, almost. Subtly aristocratic, almost.

The Force shifted. Again, subtle. On Ukatis, there was much meaning in subtlety. Cora decided to let it guide her.

"Excuse me," she smoothly cut into the end of the Baron's run-on sentence. "Our conversation has been pleasant, but I must powder my nose."

She smiled, tilted her head in a brief bow, and drifted away. Her feet carried her not in a beeline, but in a gentle meander too practiced and elegant to be called languid.

Perhaps, her shoulder would absently bump into Razmir. Perhaps, a little splash of burgundy wine would escape her glass.

Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

Words rolled off Razmir like rain on stone. His conversation partners had acknowledged him. They exchanged a compliment or two, then he started looking away to signal his disinterest.

"Fascinating. I'll have to try that sometime."

He recited politeness by rote, replying without the slightest hint of commitment. He was merely a passenger to their conversation, and that suited the others well.

They'd been embroiled in a petty game of posturing and politics. Razmir's arrival had threatened to upset the careful balance they'd reached. He was an outsider, to boot, which had made him both threat and playing chip. By making his complete neutrality clear early into the conversation, Razmir had saved himself the polite needling and unpleasant questions. That spared him the mental capacity to maintain his emotional manipulations of the duke without seeming like a blundering plebeian.

The duke, by contrast, was making a less adequate showing. He broken several rules of propriety during his conversation with Cardinal: first he'd invited a man of lower station—by all means a stranger to his court—to sit by his side, then by dismissing nobles who came to pay their respects to him, and finally he'd completely neglected his duty as host to make the rounds this evening. By Razmir's estimation he'd been talking to Cardinal for the past hour.

Unfortunately, Razmir suspected that careful maneuvering of his wouldn't be noticed. He wasn't an expert on customs at events hosted by the nobility, but the general level of noise at this masquerade seemed far louder than what he was used to from high-society. The amount of alcohol served seemed to similarly exceed the average. Between the boisterous laughing and the occassonal laughing shriek from the guests, the scene felt more reminiscent of a high-end cantina than a refined event for high society elites.

Razmir sipped the wine, frowning. Backwater planets and their uncouth customs.

He took some comfort noting that he wouldn't be needed here beyond this evening. Once the deal went through, he'd be dealing with the duke through external contracts. They would handle the bulk of shipments funneled through the estate and Razmir wouldn't have to step another foot on the world. His task would be simply keep the duke sold on lies and misdirection while providing meaningless trinkets from obscure Force traditions. A bargain compared to what he would be gaining when shipping through Ukatis.

Razmir risked another glance at the duke. The trust between him and Cardinal was beginning to really solidify. A little more pushing on his emotions was all it would take to-

Someone bumped his shoulder and nearly sent wine flying on his suit. He flinched barely in time to avoid the wine from the offending party's glass. The offending party in question being a short blonde woman in a dress several cuts above the others' in quality and sense of good style. Razmir's gaze lingered on the stitching of the skirt, or rather the lack of its visibility. Was that oro-weave embroidery? And the drape of the dress seemed to actually add shape to her silhouette rather than lying dead limp against skin—

He snapped his gaze back up to greet the newcomer with a practiced smile that conveyed the proper nonchalance, mixed with polite forgiveness for the intrusion.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Oh!" Cora gasped. She wobbled on her heels before steadying herself. A few drops of wine had sloshed from her glass, landing on the floor instead of Alderaanian wool.

A flush crept along the edges of her mask, a bright pink border against the harsh black lines resting over her nose and along her cheek bones. Her lips pursed, twisting in a sorry sort of smile.

"I do apologize," she said, and it sounded genuine enough. Cora recognized the look he gave her. She'd practiced it in the mirror dozens of times.

"I wasn't watching where I was going."

Just a young woman, perhaps a touch ditzy, at a raucous party. Perhaps a debutante from an important family who longed for something a little more interesting than the stuffy balls and galas of high society.

"I didn't get you, did I?" Cora craned her neck, peering at the lapel of his suit. "It would be a shame to soil such fine fabric. And in a garment so unique."

Blue eyes flicked down to her glass, into the deep red surface of the wine before she took another sip. A pleased hum sounded from the back of her throat, and she smiled.

"For a place like this, anyway."

Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

"It's alright. No harm done," Razmir gave a small wave and lifted the suit jacket—the side without a thin vibroblade tucked away—to reveal the still-immaculate shirt beneath.

While the young noble sipped her wine, he traced the trajectory of the spill to where it now posed a minor slipping hazard, and retrieved the handkerchief from his suit pocket. He knelt by the wine spill and began soaking the liquid up into the fabric.

"Yeah, I didn't know until I set foot inside the hall that my choice would be breaking all kinds of dress codes here on Ukatis," he gave a small laugh.

He took the moment to glance toward the duke's table. A new figure now sat with Cardinal and the duke. From their preparation, Razmir recognized the woman as one of the duke's advisors. She'd settled in with Cardinal and the duke while Raz had been distracted, and from the look on her face, she wasn't too pleased with about the duke or his new friend.

F— a round of boisterous laughter garbled the thought.

Still kneeling, he glanced back to the noblewoman, finishing up with the wine spill.

"The invitation didn't mention anything about house uniforms and long flowing capes," he said and stood again. "Just masks."

His own had been a mostly neutral choice. Simple black wood, covering half the face, though with a slight Corellian flair added in the shape of a segmented gold line. He had trouble resisting the addition of idiosyncrasies into everything he did. It wasn't a wise habit for someone constantly evading the law, but part of him liked that his business partners could figure out who had made them a small fortune of credits lighter if they were good enough.

That, and perhaps he had a bit of an ego problem.

"Your dress is fantastic, by the way. Cut or two above the rest. I take it you're from here? Ukatis, I mean," he said, inspecting the kerchief now sporting a large pink stain and glancing around for a way to get the cloth off his hands.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Oh," Cora said as he revealed the crisp white of his shirt. Her relief was rather genuine. "I'm glad."

She watched him, curiosity piqued for a new reason as he bent to clean up the spill. If the suit hadn't given it away, he was most assuredly not a member of the Ukatian aristocracy. They did not bother with mess. That was for the help to attend to.

"I was wondering if it was intentional. Sometimes, we Ukatians sometimes forget that not everyone has an innate understanding of our customs." Her eyes flicked to the Duke, flanked by a man of the cloth and a stern-faced advisor. Cora took a cursory sip of wine, her bearing now quite steady. "Isolation had its benefits. Cultural competency was not one."

Twenty years ago, some of the Lords had rebelled against the king. Ukatis had never been a wealthy or technologically advanced world. Being relatively restricted from the rest of the galaxy had hurt both their food stores, and their capacity for understanding anything that wasn't them. Thankfully, they seemed to be changing.

Cora's focus moved back to the man in the suit. She smiled. "I am, and thank you. I'm quite fond of the shimmersilk threads woven into the fabric." With her free hand, she pinched one pleat of her skirt and drew the cloth outward. It reflected the light, giving the dress an almost iridescent appearance. "Too much would be gauche, but just the right amount can lend a touch of luster to something so matte."

Her eyes slid along the curved surface of his mask as she waved a servant over. They arrive quickly to take the soiled handkerchief from the gentleman.

"Might I ask where you hail from? Somewhere lovely, I'd imagine, given the impeccable tailoring of your suit."

Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

Razmir handed the kerchief over and tossed the servant a coin as a tip. He noticed too late that he'd tossed the boy a gold clip. Ah, well, there went a sixth of his current cash.

Razmir forced a smile, turning his attention back to the noblewoman.

"I'm from Corellia, though it's hardly a lovely sight. Too much industry and too many young hotshots with an inflated sense of bravado running that industry," Razmir said.

The lie became easier every time he spoke it. He'd never known his birthplace, not because he didn't want to know, but simply because it had been denied him. As a bastard child born of an affair, he'd been a threat to his father and been sequestered to the Outer Rim along with his mother.

"Mesan Tirell, pleasure to make your acquaintance," he gave a warm smile and held out a hand.

This woman spelled trouble. Unlike most of the guests tonight, she had the bearing and mannerisms of a practiced socialite. It had been no accident that she'd bumped into him. That one was a classic opening from his own playbook. Open with a clumsy entrance to force a conversation, then work your mark for information or an angle you could leverage. He'd done this exact routine enough times to recognize it, and recognize she was good at it. Her genial politeness did well to disarm, and that pretty face did her plenty favours too, even if that scar was liable to make more astute targets remain on guard.

He could see through the clumsy socialite act well enough to know this woman had more on her mind than idle small talk. There was always a reason for such a maneuver, and he'd expected some interference on this job. He'd successfully managed to identify the metaphorical hand holding the knife, what came next was uncovering where it wanted to strike, and why.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora glanced down to the proffered hand. Corellian indeed.

"Likewise, Ser Tirell." She took his hand, perhaps a bit clumsy with the gesture. On Ukatis, men only shook hands with other men.

"Odette de Girodelle," she offered her own pseudonym and shook his hand once. Cora wasn't too fussed about uncovering the man's real name, if it could even be done. A curtsy was offered, because it would not have felt right to forego such a movement in such a fine dress.

There was the Duke, too, of course. But he was still occupied, and so Cora's focus remained largely on Mesan Tirell. He had a pleasant affect about him, one that didn't seem manufactured. Perhaps a bold streak, given the type of outfit he was wearing at an event like this. She couldn't yet discern whether or not his confidence teetered into arrogance.

"Tell me about Corellia? I've never been. I haven't...been anywhere that wasn't Ukatis, really."

The subtle flush of her cheeks was genuine. At one point, that had been true.

Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

"It's a stubborn old place with plenty charm. I particularly enjoy the harbor districts of Coronet. It's always a busy place, between all the industry and the sailors, but there's a peace in all that chaos. You can really lose track of time out there. When the bustle fades and you're staring out across an endless sea, breathing that salty air," Razmir's expression became wistful.

He'd never actually been to Coronet, or Corellia for that matter, but stories came easy to him. A few details, vague enough that they seemed plausible, and you could sell the lie.

"I can take you, if you want," Raz elbowed Odette, grinning, and took another sip of the wine.

By the duke's table, the situation declined. Cardinal sat resigned in his chair, a yielding expression on his face, while the duke and his advisor had entered into a barely-contained heated debate about something or another.

Razmir held the wine glass by his lips, humming quietly. He reached out to the advisor, delicately diminishing her anger. He couldn't make that emotion disappear completely, nor could he control thoughts. He wasn't one of the wizards with their fancy tricks. Instead, he'd realized some time ago that he could subtly influence and direct the emotions of others. If done with skill and tact, his method could create comparable results, but with a lessened risk of his targets realizing they'd been influenced afterwards.

Next to the duke, the advisor opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. Even from his spot a few dozen paces away, Raz could watch the spite in her expression give way to what looked like a more controlled exasperation. She must have kept from saying something that could have truly incensed the duke. Whatever she said instead made him deflate and start to rub his temple.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"A stubborn old place with plenty of charm…" Cora repeated thoughtfully. She took this opportunity to indulge in another sip of wine. His wistful tone and little details made the explanation sound genuine enough, and there was no reason to believe that he was not from Corellia.

It was a big planet, after all.

"Sounds a little like Ukatis," she mused. His elbow dislodged a little giggle from the back of her throat. "I wouldn't mind being whisked away someplace else."

There it was again. In the comfortable silence that followed her laughter, the Force shifted. Like the gentle ripple of a pebble dropping into a the clear face of a still pond.

Steps away, the Duke and his advisor argued. Cora couldn't hear what they were saying, but their expressions - particularly the shapes their mouths made - had her thinking of harsh words and reprimands. Then, the advisor seemed to think better of what she wanted to say.

"Looks like a deal gone wrong?" Cora gestured towards their table with her wine glass. "I don't believe that man is from the Ukatian clergy - another outsider trying to exert their influence, perhaps."

Her eyes caught the light, glittering for just a moment as she looked back to Mesan. The sound of violins sounded from their left, signaling the start of a string quartet's performance.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Have you ever danced a Ukatian waltz before?"

Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

"I haven't," Razmir replied, a small tilt of his head indicating curiosity. For now Odette might have caught on to his interest in the duke, but she likely hadn't guessed the why or what. Lingering by the duke might play his hand more than he wanted.

The dance floor was far enough away that Raz had doubts whether the duke would fall outside his ability to influence. Cardinal might not be able to fend for himself against the advisor's arguments. During their preparation, Raz had learned the advisor was quite sharp and not as easily duped. He'd proposed a plan to permanently deal with her, but Cardinal had specifically requested they not do anything to harm the duke's people.

A request that Raz now regretted honouring.

Razmir resisted the urge to glance Cardinal's way to check how the mechanic was faring against the advisor. Raz had always stressed the importance of the mission, that it came above all else. Now he was about to deviate from the agreed-upon plan. If he refused the dance, he might be blowing his cover. If he accepted, he might be endangering the mission.

The violins settled into a pleasant melody, accompanied by the laughter of guests who'd gathered by the dance floor to watch or participate.

Razmir smiled and extended his hand in a formal gesture of invitation.

He had to trust that Cardinal could play his part, even without back up, and in turn receive the trust of his crew that this deviation was mission-critical, and not a frivolous whim to go dance with a pretty debutante.

"Would you be willing to teach me?"

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora could almost see Mesan weighing the pros and cons of a dance with her; what he was measuring them against, she did not know.

Color her interest piqued.

When he accepted, her face brightened. It was the sort of smile that would've come genuinely to her perhaps six, maybe seven, even ten years ago. Now, she wore it just as easily, in the same way she'd practiced the delicate motions of a curtsy over and over in the mirror.

"I'd be delighted to."

Cora slipped her right hand into his own. White gloves, stitched with opalescent threading, covered both of her hands. In truth, her outfit hadn't needed the extra accessory, but they obscured the prosthesis of her right fingers.

Mesan might feel the smooth, hard surface of metal digits behind the cloth. Her wine glass would be collected by a passing servant as she lead her quarry to the dance floor.

"We'll start with the basics," she began, letting go of his hand with her right then raising her left. "Give me your right hand, and place your left on my shoulder. I will lead until you get the hang of it." After grasping his right hand with her left, she'd place her own right hand on his left shoulder blade. As the violins sang, Cora guided him through a box step.

"First, we go back, then to the side, then close." The pair moved slowly with her sounding out each step. "Then forward, to the side….and close. Just like that, you move in a square."

Their respective covers were a shroud pulled down, obscuring the little details of who they were. Cora couldn't help but get some genuine enjoyment out of guiding a man through a waltz – rarely had she been allowed to lead, and most certainly not with a Ukatian man.

"This reminds me of the King's gala last winter," she sighed. "They were playing the same song, too."

Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

Razmir followed her instructions, holding onto the persona he'd crafted by feigning a little imbalance in his step here or overstepping slightly there. But as the violins played on, those conscious efforts gradually disappeared.

As they stepped--forward, sideways, closing, back--Razmir sensed the layers of distance blur, and he could almost grasp a certain satisfaction in the attention Odette gave to guiding their dance. To his relief, she was rather good at what she did, and their dance soon became an effortless sequence. The steps flowed to the rhythm which the quartet's violins set, and it turned steadily more easy to get lost in the simplicity of those four steps.

"You had a chance to attend a King's gala? What was it like?" Razmir asked, smiling wistfully. It might have lacked the sincerity he'd meant to imitate. Discerning between Mesan and Razmir became steadily more difficult past the layer of genuine sincerity bleeding through the muscle memory of dance.

On the final step of their next sequence, he lightly nudged her shoulder, giving a small nod toward the dancing pairs moving along the ballroom--an invitation to break out of their static box and join the flow of dancers.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Mesan picked up on the dance with relative ease. A box step was not particularly difficult to master, but the way he moved made her think that perhaps, he knew more than he was letting on.

Cora was rather certain of that, actually. She just didn't know what. They had both recognized the game afoot, and it was not unique to the courts of Ukatis.

"Oh," she sighed longingly. "I've only been once, to the Life Day ball. It was the most extravagant party that I've ever been to! The food was so rich that I fear I went up a dress size the day after."

Odette giggled as he nudged her, an unspoken offer to join the other dancing couples. Her answer was a relinquished control, allowing him to now lead the dance now.

"You know, there are some people on Ukatis who think that the king's lifestyle is too lavish." Her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, as if she were sharing a secret. "Have you ever heard of such a thing? Kings are supposed to be grand!"

Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

Razmir assumed the lead the moment he noticed her offer. After a moment their rhythm transitioned to a more complex pattern. His steps claimed more space and added a rotation into the movement of their sequence, which demanded a greater measure of attention from both dancers to maintain perfect coordination.

As they broke from the sidelines and onto the dance floor proper, he leaned in closer on a forward step to whisper his reply.

"Who'd want to overthrow them if they weren't?"

And when he stepped sideways and back, adding distance again, he was smiling, lips curled into a mischievous grin while his eyes retained an edge of earnestness.

Their sequence led them into the greater crowd of dancing pairs. Most managed an adequate waltz, and Mesan and Odette began to blend in, despite their attire. Razmir appreciated the sense of anonymity of belonging to a crowd, though being given the opportunity to dance again gave him even greater joy.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Aristocrats spoke in subtleties. The fluttering of a pair of lashes or the tightening of a smile conveyed more than any platitude ever could.

There were two conversations happening. The first was of spoken word; the second lived in the spaces between, in the rhythm of their dance. Where Mesan added a layer of complexity to both, Cora hummed thoughtfully. A cover as both her mind and feet took the time to catch up.

A faint dusting of pink surfaced on pale cheeks as he leaned in close. It was a genuine reaction, but one that would sell her girlish cover.

Odette giggled as he drew back.

"I suppose seeing someone have all that power might make it all feel…a little unfair."

They moved as easily as candles blowing in the wind, shifting in sync across the polished marble floor.

"After all, the only thing that men like more than having power is taking it away from someone else."

She was careful to keep her voice just playful enough, her smile cheeky, but there was an unsettling weight to her words.

Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

Razmir laughed, genuinely and brightly.

"Ah, it seems you have me, Odette," he said, grinning.

Lying came easier the longer they danced. The Ukatian Waltz differed from the dances Razmir had learned, involving some complexity in its step sequence, but by comparison it was a tame dance. Conservative and reserved, as all proper Ukatians seemed to be.

He could settle and think for a brief moment on how best to proceed. He'd noted the heartbeat-long pauses where Odette's eyes seemed to scrutinize him, and he'd recognized too much of her scheme to be drawn in by the occasional giggle or blush. For their mission to succeed, he'd need a way to deal with her.

"I am a no good, power hungry usurper," he continued.

By the dance floor's edge, the string quartet reached a part of their performance that swelled in harmony and rhythm, bordering, almost, on intense. An addition, Raz figured, that seemed reserved for pieces performed for the lower classes, never for the kings and princes. The common folk tended not to be quite as inhibited as their supposed betters.

Raz began to formulate a rough plan.

The strings built and built in a climbing crescendo. In keeping with the strings' mandate, Razmir gradually intensified his movements, adding a lean and a tilt, transitioning into sharper, more emotional steps placed with greater precision.

"Forever envious of what others have that I don't," he said through the breaths that came with the added strain.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Mesan played into her lighthearted accusation. Cora hadn't been caught off guard by that - it had been expected, to a degree - but the crescendo of the violins was just unexpected enough.

There was a moment where her feet stuttered, unable to keep up with his sharper movements. The pitch of the violins was a little more coarse than she'd remembered, and it was only now that she realized it had been intentional.

Cora adjusted, falling into step.

"You're a remarkable liar," she teased.

There was a slight sway to their dance as he leaned in, tilting her back. Her eyes caught the light, glittering with a curiosity that was no longer guarded.

"What would a man from Corellia have to be envious of in a place like this?"

To his sharper movements, she answered with swift feet. Following along in her own way, but following nonetheless.

"Perhaps you just like the chase."

Razmir Tezhyn

 

[Razmir Tezhyn]

Razmir found Odette keeping step with him. She adjusted her tempo and balance to match his exaggerated movements. It struck Raz as curious that she would managed to switch her style so easily. She had to be trained in one combat art or another, surely. That made her more dangerous than he'd anticipated, which was an important detail to note.

"Lying is a hazard of the trade, I'm afraid," he grinned.

The added risk only added a certain thrill to their double masquerade.

"And power can be found anywhere, even here," Raz answered her question, absentminded.

He turned his attention to the crowd around them. That energetic style of dance of theirs had begun garnering some attention from both bystanders and the other dancers. The unconventional style of dance, and the innovation that came with it, had begun raising brows. Whether it was an avant-garde sort of interest or mere traditionalist antipathy, Raz couldn't entirely tell, but he pushed on that growing excitement. He wanted them to see.

Toward the edges, individual pairs gradually came to a halt to watch as Razmir and Odette pushed cultural boundaries. Quiet whispers erupted even as the music swelled. The musicians weren't immune to Razmir's influence either.

"But you have to be willing to seize it."

Corazona von Ascania