Faction The Free Worlds Unity Summit (OPEN TO ALL)

[Voice for Choice]

CONFEDERACY OF FREE WORLDS

THE FREE WORLDS UNITY SUMMIT

​

Raxus Secundus

The galaxy had spent centuries being shaped by the ambitions of the powerful.

Empires had risen. Republics had fractured. Warlords, corporations, alliances, and ideologues had all promised order, prosperity, or security. Some had delivered. Many had not. Yet through every age of upheaval, one truth endured: the fate of a world was best decided by those who called it home.

That belief had drawn delegates, dignitaries, merchants, military observers, activists, explorers, and curious citizens from across known space to Raxus Secundus.
The invitation had been simple.

Come as free worlds. Leave as something greater.

Hosted by President Corvin Veylan, the Free Worlds Unity Summit represented the first major gathering held under the banner of the Confederacy of Free Worlds. Though the organization itself remained young—and its mysterious founder remained conspicuously absent—the movement had already begun attracting attention throughout the galaxy.

Some came seeking allies.
Some came seeking opportunity.
Some came seeking answers.

Others came simply to see whether this new Confederacy was destined to become a lasting force or merely another idealistic dream.

Across the capital, banners of participating worlds hung beside those of Raxus. Conference halls buzzed with diplomatic activity. Security forces maintained a visible but measured presence. News organizations broadcast around the clock. Trade representatives exchanged business cards faster than some senators exchanged speeches.

For several days, Raxus would become the center of galactic attention.

What happened here might shape the future of dozens of worlds.

Or it might simply be remembered as the place where conversations began.

Either way, history was watching.

OBJECTIVE I
THE UNITY SUMMIT

[[OPEN TO ANY SYSTEM REPRESENTATIVES SEEKING INFORMATION ABOUT MEMBERSHIP]]

Within the grand halls of the Raxus Assembly Complex, delegates from governments, planetary coalitions, independent systems, frontier settlements, and established powers gather to discuss the future of interstellar cooperation.

The Confederacy of Free Worlds seeks dialogue with potential member systems and partner organizations. Panels, debates, private negotiations, trade discussions, security forums, and constitutional workshops are taking place throughout the summit.

Will your representatives advocate for membership?
Will they oppose the Confederacy’s vision?
Will rival powers attempt to influence proceedings behind closed doors?

Or will entirely new alliances emerge from conversations held in the corridors between sessions?

The future of the Confederacy is being written one discussion at a time.

OBJECTIVE II
THE REBUILD TION GALA

[[OPEN TO ALL]]

As evening falls, the summit’s most prestigious social event begins.

Hosted in support of the Rebuild Tion Coalition, the gala serves as both a fundraiser and a symbol of recovery for worlds still rebuilding from conflict, instability, and economic hardship.

Nobles mingle with industrialists.

Celebrities share tables with military veterans.

Corporate sponsors compete for attention while charitable organizations seek support for reconstruction efforts across the Tion Cluster.

Auctions, performances, speeches, and private donations fill the evening’s agenda.

For some attendees, the gala represents an opportunity to help those in need.

For others, it is the perfect venue to secure business arrangements, political connections, or influence among the galaxy’s movers and shakers.

Not every deal is made in a conference chamber.

Some are made over fine wine beneath crystal chandeliers.

BRING YOUR OWN OBJECTIVE

The summit has attracted thousands of visitors from every corner of known space.

Perhaps your character has arrived to negotiate a private agreement.

Perhaps they are pursuing an old rival through crowded convention halls.

Perhaps they are showcasing a new product, recruiting personnel, investigating rumors, gathering intelligence, covering the event as a journalist, performing security duties, or simply enjoying the festivities.

The summit grounds, surrounding city districts, hotels, markets, entertainment venues, and orbital facilities are all open for exploration.

The Free Worlds Unity Summit is more than a conference.

It is a crossroads.

And at a crossroads, anything can happen.

 

[Orla Soren]

FRONTIER VOICES​

A FRONTIER INSTITUTE BROADCAST • INDEPENDENCE • INTEGRITY • DISCOVERY​

THE UNITY SUMMIT

• Location: Raxus Secundus
• Attire: This
• Tags: OPEN

The security checkpoint was not quite what Orla Soren had expected. Not because it was excessive. If anything, it was exactly what one would expect when heads of state, corporate leaders, military representatives, and political hopefuls from across the Outer Rim all gathered in one place. Security personnel moved with practiced efficiency, scanners hummed quietly, and attendees flowed through in an orderly procession.

Still, she approached the desk with confidence, producing her press credentials. The officer glanced down at them before offering an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, ma'am. Press isn't being admitted to the Summit."

Orla blinked. "That's odd," she replied. "I was asked to attend."

The officer looked up. "Name?"

"Orla Soren."

The security officer tapped a few commands into a datapad. A moment later his expression changed. "Ah. There you are. Guest of President Veylan."

Orla raised an eyebrow. "Well, that explains it." The officer slid a visitor credential across the counter.

"Welcome to the Summit."

She accepted the badge with a shrug. Whatever the reason Corvin Veylan had put her on the list, it apparently outranked her press credentials.

Just as she started to move on, another security officer pointed toward the small camera drone hovering dutifully at her shoulder. "That won't be permitted inside."

Orla looked at the droid. The droid looked back. "Sorry," she said with a small smile. "You'll have to sit this one out." The drone emitted an unhappy series of chirps. "I know. Terrible injustice. Wait outside." After a brief moment of protest, the droid reluctantly drifted away toward the designated holding area.

Orla adjusted the visitor badge and continued through the checkpoint. The sight waiting beyond it brought a grin to her face. Representatives from dozens of worlds filled the summit hall. Some were familiar faces she had interviewed before. Others were names she had only ever encountered in reports, briefings, and political rumors. Conversations rose and fell throughout the room as alliances, partnerships, and possibilities were explored.

For years she had written articles arguing that independent systems needed stronger ties with one another. That isolated worlds were vulnerable worlds. That cooperation offered opportunities no single planet could achieve alone. And now someone had actually organized a summit around the very idea.

She couldn't deny that she was excited. What she couldn't quite figure out was why she was here. Orla held no office. No military command. No corporate empire. She wasn't a governor, president, senator, or ambassador.

She was a reporter. A reporter who suddenly found herself standing among people who could shape the future of entire star systems. With a quiet chuckle, she looked around the gathering once more.

"Well," she muttered to herself, "guess I'd better figure out what I'm doing here."

ORLA SOREN • Director, Frontier Institute • Host, Frontier Voices
"Understanding begins where assumptions end."
​

 

[Aurelia Pantilles]

THE REBUILD TION GALA

Aurelia Pantilles had spent enough time around politics to recognize irony when she saw it. Just beyond the walls of the gala, delegates, presidents, ministers, and representatives debated the future of free worlds. New alliances would be forged. New promises would be made. The shape of a growing democratic movement in the Outer Rim would begin to take form. And she was not in the room.

The thought lingered as she stepped from her speeder and into the elegant halls prepared for the Rebuild Tion Coalition's fundraising gala.

Aurelia understood why. New Alderaan had not yet decided what it wanted to become. The election remained unfinished. The future remained uncertain. Until the people spoke, she represented no government but only herself and the ideals she championed.

Still, she would have preferred a seat at the summit table. Instead, she settled for being as close to it as possible. The young noblewoman entered the gala beneath towering banners of green and white, the colors of the fledgling Confederacy standing proudly among displays dedicated to the reconstruction efforts throughout the Tion Cluster. Crystal chandeliers and suspended starlight illuminators cast warm reflections across polished floors while wealthy patrons, diplomats, industrialists, and philanthropists mingled beneath them.

Aurelia looked every bit the part of a galactic aristocrat. Her gown flowed in layered folds of deep navy and black, accented by intricate gold embroidery that caught the light with every movement. The high collar and elegant neckline framed her features while long draping sleeves and a sweeping train gave her an almost regal silhouette. Gold jewelry adorned her wrists and neck with understated refinement rather than excess. Dark hair had been gathered into an elegant updo, save for a few carefully loose tendrils that framed her face.

The dress had been selected to project confidence. It was unfortunate that confidence was considerably cheaper than campaign advertising.

Aurelia suppressed a quiet sigh.

Most of her personal wealth had vanished into the machinery of a democratic movement that many still believed impossible. Organizers needed funding. Outreach required transports. Volunteers required supplies. Every credit spent on New Alderaan was a credit she could not casually donate tonight.

That fact bothered her more than she cared to admit. The reconstruction of Tion was a worthy cause. Entire worlds and communities were still struggling to recover from years of conflict and neglect. She fully intended to contribute what she could. It simply wasn't as much as she wished it could be.

As she accepted a glass from a passing server, Aurelia's gaze drifted toward the direction of the summit chambers. Somewhere beyond those walls, discussions were already underway. Somewhere in those discussions was Orla Soren. A small smile touched her lips.

If anyone could find herself in the middle of important political developments while technically not being part of them, it was Orla. And if information began flowing from the summit floor, Aurelia suspected her friend would hear it before most official channels did.

For now, however, there was little to do but wait. So Aurelia turned her attention back to the gala, offering warm greetings to those she recognized and polite introductions to those she did not. She moved through the crowd with practiced grace, listening more than speaking, collecting impressions, rumors, and opinions from every corner of the room.

The summit might be behind closed doors. But politics rarely stayed there for long.

Aurelia Vaene Pantilles

• Location: Raxus Secundus
• Objective: Mingle, support democracy, hope for news.
• Outfit: Gala Gown
• Company: OPEN

 

[Miraya Thaine]

Tags: <Open>
Location: Raxus Secundus

Men in ornate blue uniforms filed into the security checkpoint, members of the Almanian Defense force. Their blue and gold outfits harkened back to older uniforms, ones from centuries ago when fighting was about chivalry and strength of character. Their reason for being here was to make way for Miraya, leader of their forces.

Moments after the men in blue entered the halls of The Unity Summit, a woman in an rather rustic blue coat walked between them. In leu of heels, she wore more military-styled boots. Much had changed since she sat atop the hierarchy of Karlinus. The High Republic was no place for her, it was too clean, too posh for someone that craved the direct path.

She adjusted her black beret, looking back at the soldiers. She gave them the at-ease sign so they could clear the path for others to enter the hall. Overall, things were progressing well enough. Perhaps the presence of soldiers was a bit much for some of the snootier folk.

Miraya walked to the security checkpoint for a pat down. No surprise, they're wasn't anything to find on her. She was here to fight with something much more dangerous than any blaster or blade. The arena of politics was one where men and women fought with words, those words could sink ships, and set whole planets alight.

"Right, now I just need to make an impact with the Confederacy... Shouldn't be too hard, no pressure, only the fate of a world at stake..." Miraya spoke under her breath, stepping through the doors into the summit proper. Today she would see if she still had any sway in the galaxy.

There was nothing left behind her, only the shame of losing her seat in the senate. She could only push forward now...

 

[Aurine Werr]

Tags: Orla Soren | Miraya Thaine | Open
Location: Raxus Secondus
Outfit: Clothes

The night would hopefully be one that would help forge a new power. Well one could hope. Aurine walked through the security checkpoint without even breaking stride, after all her families corporation had been building the assets of defense and war for centuries. Once within she headed to her spot where her chair was pulled out by one of her aides. Aurine gave a smile and nodded.

But here, this gathering offered a cooperation that was based on the rough ideals of the Confederacy of independent systems almost a thousand years ago. But unlike that time this new confederacy wouldn't be puppeted by Sith Lords. But instead stand up to them, given the fact there were now two different factions of them expanding in the galaxy.

Aurine took a drink of champagne before finishing collecting her thoughts. Ugh time for the opening speech, Still hate this stupid public speaking. Taking another swig before standing up.

Aurine walked to the podium with a look of practiced and measured grace, stopping at the mark preparing her holonotes.

With a small breath to calm down she began.

"Greetings to all. I am Aruine Werr, CEO of Werr Drive Yards and Chancellor of the Tarisian Republic. As the current head of the founding members it is necessary I greet you all.
The Confederacy of Free Worlds stands for the principal that a people should not be bent under the Yolk of a galactic power. They should have the right to exist as they choose.... A right to determine their own peoples future. Not be burnt to ash under the heel of foreign powers.

That's why tonight we are looking to expand membership and draft our first confederate constitution. Our Articles of Confederation, the foundation of how our worlds will help each other not be trampled by the Sith states nor the Mandalorian Empire. And just as importantly how to help worlds damaged & beaten up by collapsed powers recover.

Now for my part, the Tarisian Republic has voted in its two chambers, and I have ratified the bill to give use of our droid army to help those worlds who need it. Also to help defend the growing Confederacy of Free Worlds.

With that we are all off to work towards this glorious future!"

With that Aurine steps down from the podium and heads back to her seat. Unfortunately, or fortunately stopping to talk to who ever stops her.

 

[Voice for Choice]

CONFEDERACY OF FREE WORLDS

THE FREE WORLDS UNITY SUMMIT

​

OBJECTIVE I
THE UNITY SUMMIT

Raxus Secundus
Miraya Thaine | Aurine Werr

President Corvin Veylan rose from his seat after Chancellor Werr concluded her remarks. He waited for the applause to settle before offering the assembled delegates a warm smile.

"Thank you, Chancellor Werr."

His gaze swept across the hall, taking in the representatives gathered from every corner of known space.

"Distinguished delegates, honored representatives, citizens, and guests—welcome to Raxus and welcome to the first Free Worlds Unity Summit."

"Chancellor Werr has spoken of the vision that brings us here. A vision rooted in self-determination, mutual support, and the belief that no people should be forced to surrender their future to the ambitions of distant powers."

"I am proud that Raxus has the honor of hosting this gathering, and proud to stand among so many leaders willing to invest their time, effort, and political capital into building something new."

His hands settled lightly upon the podium.

"Every world represented here possesses its own traditions, its own history, and its own priorities. That diversity is not a weakness. It is the very reason this summit matters. We are not gathered to become identical. We are gathered to discover what we can accomplish together while remaining true to ourselves."

"Some of you have come seeking membership. Others seek partnership. Some are simply here to listen and learn. All are welcome."

Veylan nodded respectfully toward Aurine.

"The Confederacy of Free Worlds is fortunate to have leaders willing to place principles into action. Chancellor Werr and the founding members have already demonstrated their commitment through tangible support, not merely words. The offer of assistance to recovering worlds and the willingness to contribute to our common defense embody the spirit of cooperation this summit seeks to foster."

"Over the coming days, delegates will debate constitutional proposals, discuss membership, negotiate trade agreements, examine security concerns, and lay the groundwork for future cooperation. These discussions will not always be easy. Nor should they be. Lasting institutions are built through honest disagreement followed by principled compromise."

A faint smile crossed his face.

"Fortunately, we have also provided receptions, dining halls, and a fundraising gala to ensure diplomacy may continue in the more traditional manner."

A ripple of laughter moved through the audience.

"On behalf of the people of Raxus, I thank each of you for being here. Whether this summit marks the beginning of a new chapter for your world or simply the beginning of a conversation, your presence matters."

He spread his hands toward the assembled delegates.

"May your discussions be productive, your partnerships enduring, and your vision for the future worthy of the generations that will follow us."

"Welcome to the Free Worlds Unity Summit."

"Let us begin."

 

[Brimiya Kyubi]

Current Outfit

As Orla Soren was heading towards the gathering, she could see a Fox-like woman leaning against a pillar, the sunlight reflecting off her light blue suit. The woman stared at Orla through her silver mask as if sizing her up. "You must be Orla Soren: Reporter for the Frontier Institute," the woman spoke in a plain yet professional tone. "I've heard a great many things about you. How you will do whatever it takes to get a scoop, how you always seem to be in the wrong side of a Blaster Pistol."

She walked towards Orla still examining her. "But you have a strong sense of justice," the woman said. "I like that but a person who seeks the truth may not like what they find. They might see information that is hidden for reasons of state."

The woman stopped right in front of her thin lips straightening. "There are people who are after you Orla," she said. "Ones who like their secrets to remain hidden, others have a more...... devious intention with you. I suggest you get what you need and leave immediately."

 

[Orla Soren]

FRONTIER VOICES​

A FRONTIER INSTITUTE BROADCAST • INDEPENDENCE • INTEGRITY • DISCOVERY​

THE UNITY SUMMIT

• Location: Raxus Secundus
• Attire: This
• Tags: OPEN | Aurine Werr | Miraya Thaine | Brimiya Kyubi

For perhaps the first time in recent memory, Orla Soren was genuinely caught off guard. Most people approached her with either enthusiasm, suspicion, or the occasional threat. They rarely opened with a remarkably accurate summary of her career.

A smile slowly found its way onto her face. "I've been on the wrong side of more than a few blaster pistols," she admitted with an amused chuckle. "Occupational hazard."

Her expression softened as Brimiya spoke of truth and hidden secrets. "My job is the truth," Orla replied. "And the truth can be dangerous. Sometimes for the people uncovering it. Sometimes for the people trying to bury it."

She considered the warning for a moment before tilting her head curiously. "So what brings you to a summit like—"

"Ah, you've already met." President Corvin Veylan stepped smoothly into the conversation, offering both women an easy smile.

"Orla Soren," he said, gesturing toward her, "head of the Frontier Institute." His hand then turned toward the masked woman. "Brimiya Kyubi, lead security advisor to the Confederacy of Free Worlds."

The introductions complete, Veylan gave each of them a courteous nod. "I'll leave you both to it. Enjoy the summit." As quickly as he had appeared, the President disappeared once more into the growing crowd of delegates.

Orla watched him go for a moment before looking back toward Brimiya. "Well," she said with a grin, "I appreciate security warning me against reporting the truth." A playful note entered her voice. "But I suppose that's one way to know you're doing your job."

She lightly tapped the visitor badge clipped to her jacket. "Fortunately for everyone involved, I'm technically here as a civilian guest today... not a reporter." Whether that distinction actually changed anything remained an open question.

Before either woman could continue, the room gradually settled as Chancellor Aurine Werr of Taris stepped forward to address the assembled delegates. Orla turned her attention toward the podium, listening as the Chancellor spoke of liberty, self-determination, and worlds choosing cooperation over domination. She found herself smiling again. It was the sort of speech she had hoped someone would give.

Without taking her eyes entirely from the speaker, she quietly asked Brimiya, "What do you think?" Her gaze drifted back toward the fox-like woman. "About freedom overcoming Imperial tyranny."

It wasn't a reporter's question. Not this time. It was simply the question of someone who had spent years watching ordinary people struggle beneath governments that had forgotten they existed—and wondering if this gathering might actually become something different.

ORLA SOREN • Director, Frontier Institute • Host, Frontier Voices
"Understanding begins where assumptions end."
​

 

[Ulyra Kestane]

THE REBUILD TION GALA

The black speeder came to a quiet stop beneath the illuminated portico of the gala venue. A valet moved to open the door before Ulyra Kestane could reach for it herself. She almost wished he hadn't. Stepping onto polished stone in formal attire felt more dangerous than walking onto the bridge of a warship before an engagement.

Her hand immediately drifted to the side of the midnight-blue dress, subtly tugging the fabric where it wrapped across her waist. It fit perfectly—far better than she cared to admit—but that somehow only made her more aware of it. High collar. Sleeveless. A tasteful slit that still felt several centimeters too high in her opinion.

This is ridiculous.

She had stood watch on a starship's bridge as reactor alarms sounded and battle damage reports poured across tactical displays without betraying a hint of nerves. Yet one evening in a dress had her checking every seam every twenty seconds.

The invitation had never really been optional. When the Tion Militia's senior officers had selected a representative to attend the Rebuild Tion Gala, her name had risen quickly. She represented more than her own command; she represented the thousands of citizen-soldiers who had chosen to defend their homes without becoming another standing army beholden to distant politicians.

The gala wasn't about military prestige. It was about rebuilding. Infrastructure. Communities. People. Those were causes worth supporting. So she'd swallowed her objections, accepted the nomination, and allowed several exceedingly persistent aides to convince her that appearing approachable at an event like this would ultimately do more for the Tion Cluster than another speech ever could.

She wasn't convinced. But she was here. The grand ballroom opened before her in a wash of crystal chandeliers, orchestral music, and conversations that floated somewhere between diplomacy and commerce. Representatives from every imaginable walk of life mingled effortlessly beneath banners celebrating the restoration of the Tion Cluster. Military veterans laughed beside industrial magnates. Charity organizers spoke with corporate executives. Politicians drifted from conversation to conversation with practiced ease.

Ulyra felt like she'd wandered into hostile territory. Not because anyone here meant her harm. Because nearly everyone seemed to know exactly how to belong.

She did another quick inspection of the dress—making certain the wrap still lay flat across her hip—before catching herself. Stop doing that.

Straightening her shoulders, she adopted the same composed posture that had steadied frightened militia recruits more times than she could count. Armor or silk, command was still command.

Her expression settled into its usual calm reserve as she stepped deeper into the gala. If conversations tonight could secure funding, goodwill, or new partnerships that would strengthen the independent defense forces protecting frontier worlds, then enduring a few hours of elegant discomfort was a small price to pay.

Even if she was already looking forward to changing back into her uniform.

Ulyra Kestane

• Location: Raxus Secundus
• Objective: Shill for funding, hope not to vomit.
• Outfit: Gala Dress
• Company: OPEN

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Objective: 2
Tag Vulpesen @open

Wars always ended the same way.

The speeches celebrated victory. The historians recorded battles. Politicians debated treaties and borders while monuments were raised to those who had fallen. Then, once the crowds dispersed and the banners were lowered, someone still had to rebuild the hospitals, restore the power grids, reopen the trade routes, and ensure that relief supplies reached families who had long since stopped caring which government claimed responsibility for them. Reconstruction was never glamorous. It was measured in cargo manifests, engineering crews, medical shipments, and countless ordinary people quietly choosing to build rather than destroy. That was why Ra'a'mah had accepted the invitation. The gala was more than an evening of fine clothes and expensive wine. It was an opportunity to place resources into the hands of those determined to put worlds back together.

The ballroom reflected that purpose beautifully. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light across polished marble floors while musicians filled the air with quiet orchestral melodies that never overpowered conversation. Nobles and industrialists mingled effortlessly with military officers, philanthropists, and corporate executives, each conversation carrying the potential to become tomorrow's relief effort or reconstruction contract. Ra entered beside Vulpesen, her midnight-blue gown flowing gracefully to her ankles, its deep color catching subtle hints of silver whenever it passed beneath the lights like starlight reflected across a calm sea. The design was elegant without excess, its clean lines and modest neckline favoring refinement over spectacle, while delicate silver embroidery traced the cuffs and waist in patterns reminiscent of constellations. She wore little jewelry beyond a pair of sapphire earrings and a simple bracelet, allowing the gown to speak for itself. As she accepted a glass from one of the passing attendants, her gaze wandered across the room, lingering not on the celebrities or dignitaries but on the representatives from charities, reconstruction agencies, and shipping concerns already engaged in conversation. A faint smile touched her lips. "This," she observed quietly to Vulpesen, "is where recovery actually begins. The speeches inspire people. The conversations afterward rebuild worlds."

 

[Vulpesen]

"The wheel turns again, finally taking leave of the rocky roads of war. Hopefully this time, the smoother road of peace can last," Vulpesen murmured as he strode next to Ra'a'mah . Straight backed but with an easy gait, his tails swished at his heels to occasionally kick up the back of his coat. His outfit was a new addition to his wardrobe and a product of a series of admonishments issued by his advisors. Apparently, it didn't do for a head of state to arrive at every party, meeting, and function in the save suits and coat for years. Something about needing to show the prosperity and culture of his world. He'd found the process to be tiresome and tedious with the multitude of measurements and meetings with his personal tailor, a man he honestly had rather forgotten existed.

The look on Ra's face when he had greeted her had made him rethink that assessment of the process. Perhaps there was something to be said about having someone on staff who's entire job was to bring out the best look possible, not that he would be bursting his considerably sized closet any time soon. "Any plans for this meeting? Or shall I simply assume we're to make friends and strengthen ourselves with additional allies wherever we can find them?"

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah glanced toward him, the faintest smile finding its way onto her face as she took in the new attire once more. She had noticed it the moment he arrived, though she had deliberately refrained from commenting until now. It suited him. Refined without becoming ostentatious, distinguished without sacrificing the ease that had always seemed to follow him wherever he went.

"I was wondering how long it would take before your advisors finally won that particular battle," she said with quiet amusement. "I have to admit..." Her eyes traveled over the tailored coat once more before returning to his face. "They made an excellent argument. You clean up rather well, Vulpesen."

She accepted another glass from a passing attendant and set the empty one on their tray before letting her gaze wander across the ballroom, watching conversations begin and old acquaintances reunite beneath the chandeliers. It reminded her of countless gatherings over the years, though, thankfully, this one held the promise of rebuilding rather than preparing for another conflict.

"My plans?" she echoed softly before giving a small shrug. "Meet and greet. Rub elbows. Speak with the people who are actually rebuilding worlds rather than simply talking about rebuilding them." A faint smile lingered as she looked back toward him. "You know the routine."

Her head tilted just slightly, the expression becoming a touch more playful than diplomatic.

"And perhaps..." she said, allowing the briefest pause, "...if you're up for it, good sir, we might find ourselves on the dance floor again."

The smile broadened ever so slightly before she returned her attention to the gathering ahead.

"It has been too long since the last time."

Vulpesen

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen was careful to keep his expression schooled. Though, behind him his tail was swishing through the air, narrowly missing the attendant who's tray had been unburdened by the duo as Vulpesen snatched himself a drink as well. Perhaps it was the fact that there was nothing in the glasses that allowed the man to dance around the tail with an annoyed grimace rather than a clatter of crashing glass. "I had to do something to keep up. How could I and I couldn't keep showing up in clothes that reeked of blaster fire."

Ra's plans were precisely as he expected. Neither of them had ever been the sort for needless platitudes. Speeches meant nothing unless words were followed by actions. Such was the goal in such places; to find men and women of action.

"I suppose I shouldn't let that skill gather too much dust. Turns out, having the proper partner can make it quite a bit more enjoyable." The polite diplomatic smile he wore took a wry turn as he made his response to her ideas on a later excursion to the dance floor. He rose his glass to his lips for a small sip and his eyes darted around the room, taking in sights of those who had gathered for the gala.

Ra'a'mah

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah couldn't help but notice the movement of his tail from the corner of her eye, followed almost immediately by the attendant's practiced sidestep. Years of attending functions such as these had taught her to watch everything at once, and the exchange drew the faintest hint of a smile to her lips.

"I don't think your advisors have managed to convince your tail that this is enjoyable yet."

There was enough warmth in the observation that it carried no criticism. She had known Vulpesen long enough to understand that while he could navigate diplomatic functions with grace, they would never be where he felt most comfortable. He preferred purpose over presentation, action over ceremony. Ra, on the other hand, had spent so many years attending receptions, negotiating, and attending state dinners that they had become almost second nature.

"I've grown accustomed to these gatherings," she admitted, lifting her glass slightly as her gaze swept the ballroom. "Every conversation begins the same way. Pleasantries, compliments, careful observations." Her eyes settled briefly on a pair of delegates laughing together across the room. "The interesting part comes about fifteen minutes later, when people begin forgetting they're supposed to be networking and start speaking honestly."

His remark about dancing drew another small smile.

"I'll take that as progress," she replied. "Years ago I would've expected three reasons why dancing was strategically unnecessary." She looked at him with quiet amusement. "Now you've almost made it sound enjoyable."

Her attention followed his as it drifted across the room, taking in the sea of unfamiliar faces and familiar archetypes that filled every gala regardless of which government happened to host it.

"Come," she said softly. "Let's go see who's here to rebuild worlds... and who's simply here to be seen rebuilding them."

Vulpesen

 

[Aurelia Pantilles]

THE REBUILD TION GALA

The gala had begun to settle into its natural rhythm. Conversations ebbed and flowed beneath the soaring chandeliers as glasses clinked softly against one another and a restrained orchestra filled the spaces between words. Aurelia Pantilles moved through it with practiced elegance, exchanging introductions with industrialists, relief organizers, and diplomats whose names she carefully committed to memory. Every face represented another thread in the web that was slowly being spun across the Free Worlds.

She smiled when appropriate. Asked thoughtful questions. Listened more than she spoke. It was what politics required. Still, her attention drifted often toward the summit itself. Somewhere beyond these polished walls, representatives were debating the future of a region that had spent generations beneath Imperial shadows. It was precisely the sort of conversation she wished New Alderaan could already be participating in. Instead, that world remained caught between what it had been and what it might yet become.

Soon, she promised herself. If democracy truly found fertile ground here, perhaps it could flourish elsewhere as well. That thought lingered until two familiar figures caught her eye across the ballroom. Recognition came almost instantly.

Not personal familiarity—she had never formally met either of them—but anyone who followed galactic affairs with more than passing interest knew their faces. They had been present during Alderaan's recent chapter of recovery, and both had earned reputations as leaders who measured success less by territory won than by lives rebuilt afterward.

Ra'a'mah. Vulpesen.

Aurelia watched them only a moment as they spoke together, sharing the easy rapport of old friends. Their attention wasn't fixed upon celebrities or wealthy patrons but wandered naturally toward engineers, relief coordinators, and the organizations doing the difficult work after the headlines faded. Exactly the sort of people worth meeting.

Smoothing an invisible crease from the flowing emerald-black fabric of her gown, Aurelia crossed the marble floor with measured confidence. The gold embroidery along her cape shimmered beneath the lights, and the star-shaped pendant resting against the front of her dress swayed gently with each step.

When she reached conversational distance, she offered both of them a respectful inclination of her head. "Forgive the interruption." Her voice carried the composed warmth expected of a noblewoman, though genuine admiration colored it. "Lady Aurelia Pantilles, of Alderaan."

A pleasant smile settled naturally across her face.

"I don't believe we've met, though I suspect many of us who have followed the history of Alderaan feel as though we've met you both already." Her eyes moved between Ra'a'mah and Vulpesen. "Your work spoke rather loudly."

There was no flattery in the observation—only honest respect. "I hope your presence means you are thinking of investing where reconstruction matters more than recognition. Force knows there are plenty of places in the galaxy that can use investment. The Tion Cluster and my new home of New Alderaan are still finding its footing after years of upheaval, and it is encouraging to see leaders who understand that peace is measured not merely by the end of war, but by what comes afterward."

Aurelia glanced briefly around the ballroom before returning her attention to them. "This summit gives me hope. New Alderaan has yet to determine exactly where its future lies, but seeing so many worlds choosing cooperation instead of domination..." She smiled faintly. "It makes one believe that representative government still has a future in this corner of the galaxy."

She folded her hands lightly before her. "I hope I'm not intruding. I simply couldn't pass up the opportunity to introduce myself to two people whose reputations for rebuilding have traveled farther than either of you probably intended."

Aurelia Vaene Pantilles

• Location: Raxus Secundus
• Objective: Mingle, support democracy, hope for news.
• Outfit: Gala Gown
• Company: OPEN | Ra'a'mah | Vulpesen

 

[Binn Toskros]

Tags: Orla Soren | Aurine Werr | Miraya Thaine | Brimiya Kyubi | Voice for Choice |



Binn walked into the gathering. The plan was simple, go in and pledge the support of her corporation and of the Quarren people of Minntoonie. But arriving there was so many more people than she expected.

Looking around there were so many droids that were new and flashy. Ones that looked like they could even the playing field between themselves and that of the Imperial war machine. Her mind wandered for a moment to her late husband. What would Thacgern think? How would he approach this? Can I live up to his example and his memory. He always lead from the front.

The memories stung, but she remembered that if he hadn't been testing a new ship when enemies appeared... ones that turned out were goaded by the Imperials. That he would be here right now, he would be leading this for the Quarren. She sighed that Quarren sorrowful sigh that only loss can bring before arriving at the station for pledging.

A young looking Sephi Female was typing things into a holo terminal as a few other important people spoke then walked away.
She looks up smiling her almost white hair pulled back into a pony tail "Hello. My name is Kilitth, are you here to pledge a new member world?" her hand ready to go.

Binn smiled as well as a Quarren can back at other species "I am here to pledge my company and the People of Minntoonie, the displaced workers of Dac, and whatever Quarren come to our banner."

Binn beamed as the Sephi female typed the information in. With a smile she gave a CFW puck to her "I have entered in the information. Go and mingle, and speak at the podium if you feel like it."

Binn clasped her clawed hands together "Oh thank you thank you!"

With a heap of new found anxiety Binn walked up to the podium "Hello. I Am Binn Toskos of Toskos Shipwrights. Mintoonie sent me here to pledge our support for this cause. And I pledge ships for the struggle to come."

With a wave she departed the podium towards Orla Soren
"Hello, I hear you are press? Are you going to broadcast to Quarren space?"

 

[Orla Soren]

FRONTIER VOICES​

A FRONTIER INSTITUTE BROADCAST • INDEPENDENCE • INTEGRITY • DISCOVERY​

THE UNITY SUMMIT

• Location: Raxus Secundus
• Attire: This
• Tags: Binn Toskros | Aurine Werr | Miraya Thaine | Brimiya Kyubi

Orla applauded along with much of the gathering as another name was added to the growing roster of worlds and organizations joining the Confederacy. Minntoonie. Another voice choosing cooperation. Another people deciding they would rather stand beside their neighbors than face the galaxy alone.

She found herself smiling. Every addition gave the movement a little more weight. A little more legitimacy.

The applause had barely begun to fade when the Quarren woman approached. "Hello, I hear you are press? Are you going to broadcast to Quarren space?"

Orla gave an easy nod. "I suppose that's close enough." A faint grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Officially, I consider myself a distributor of truth." There was enough humor in the statement that it was difficult to tell where the joke ended and the sincerity began.

"The Frontier Institute produces documentaries, interviews, investigations, and historical features. Once they're complete, we make them available to anyone in the galaxy who wishes to watch them." She gestured lightly around the summit hall. "We're less interested in being first than we are in being accurate. So live broadcasts are actually fairly rare for us."

Her eyes briefly swept across the assembled delegates before returning to Brinn. "And this gathering is off limits." She tapped the visitor credential resting against her jacket. "I wasn't invited as media. Cameras aren't permitted inside, and I'm not allowed to record or broadcast what's happening here." There was no disappointment in her voice. If anything, she seemed grateful for the opportunity.

"My role today is less reporter and more witness." She extended a hand in greeting. "Orla Soren."

Her smile brightened. "And congratulations. Minntoonie joining the Confederacy is going to matter to a lot of people. Shipyards don't just build vessels—they build connections. Trade routes. Jobs. Communities." She tilted her head curiously. "What convinced you that this was the banner worth rallying behind?"

ORLA SOREN • Director, Frontier Institute • Host, Frontier Voices
"Understanding begins where assumptions end."
​