Faction The Tsar's Box - Samovar (OPA/Open)

[Anesha Astapova]

Melekess, Samovar
Lazdinay Theater

It was an unusually cool evening in late spring when Anesha returned to Melekess. She had been sequestering herself in the nearby resort town of Bobriki, avoiding everyone and staying out of the way—that is, until her brother Andrei had called her back.

“The Tsar wants to speak to me,” he had explained over the comm. “He’s asked me to meet him at the Theater tonight. I want you by my side.”

She didn’t even think to refuse him, but other things worried her. Namely, the slight tremble in his voice. “Are you sure you’re well enough to go? You don’t sound very good.”

There was a long silence before he replied, “I’ll be fine as soon as you’re here.”

There was no time to get herself settled in at home. She dressed in a hurry, then jumped back into her speeder and drove to the Lazdinay Theater.

The building was visible from miles away, all lit up against the darkening horizon. Stepping out, she pulled her jacket more tightly around herself and scanned the entrance. At last her eyes fell upon her brother leaning against the wall, his shock of blond hair standing out under the lights. He was flanked by two guards, dressed in similar formal wear that hid their weapons.

“Andrei!” she greeted, running over and giving him a hug.

His reaction was delayed, and when he finally did return her embrace he was stiff, almost reluctant.

“Am I late? I came as soon as I could,” she said, pulling away from him. “...Is something wrong?”

Andrei shook his head. “I’m just worried about what’s going to happen.”

“Well, you can tell me all about it along the way.” As brother and sister proceeded into the Theater, she hooked her arm through his. “I already know a little bit, just based on rumors and hearsay.”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “Like what?”

“Like we may soon be joining a certain faction,” she said, keeping her voice low. They were passing through a lavish hallway populated by staff, security, and various chattering guests.

“The Tsar is taking what happened very seriously,” Andrei admitted. “He wants to avoid anything like it happening again.”

What had happened? A few months ago, their late father had purchased a mysterious crystal at an art auction which turned out to be a highly dangerous Sith holocron. Not only had the holocron itself done plenty of damage to everyone it came into contact with, it had also drawn the attention of several unpleasant types, particularly two agents of the Sith Empire.

“So what can he do about it? Regulate the sale of undocumented art pieces in the future?” Anesha muttered bitterly. “Or place a travel ban on anyone affiliated with the Sith Empire?”

“The Sith didn’t advertise their loyalties when they arrived,” Andrei pointed out, leading her down a hallway reserved for the most elite theater patrons. The long, wide, beautifully decorated passage led straight to the Tsar’s private box. “One claimed to be a Duke of Serenno, the other… well, the other was quite open about his Sith connections. He even had an Imperial Destroyer parked further out in the system.”

Anesha hadn’t known that. “They could have laid waste to the entire planet if they wanted to,” she murmured, her brow furrowing. The knowledge only served to further her convictions. "An alliance with a larger faction would certainly be beneficial, if only for added protection.”

“But will it be one of these ghastly star empires, like the CIS or the EE?” he asked, turning toward her. They were stopped right outside the door at the end of the hallway. Beyond it, she could hear the orchestra warming up.

“The Outer Planets Alliance is known for not being just another star empire," she said, speaking with the naive confidence of one who read a Wikipedia summary on the Holonet. "They’re more of a… loose conglomerate of various worlds. We’ll be left to govern ourselves, and the Tsar will have his trade routes established.”

“I see you’ve already bought into their spiel,” he remarked with a raised eyebrow. “Did some representative from the OPA come to see you in Bobriki?”

“Possibly,” she said vaguely. “But that’s not why I support joining the OPA. We may be considered a backwater forgotten world to the rest of the galaxy, but that doesn't make us any less worthy of peace and freedom. What happened with the holocron proves that they don't respect us even that much.”

A strange expression came over his face. She frowned, not liking what she saw. The orchestra had fallen silent; the show was about to begin.

“Well, you’re the Count,” she added in a somewhat lighter tone, reaching for the door handle. “The Tsar is waiting to hear from you, not me.”

Spoiler: OOC

While there is a central storyline to this thread, y'all pretty much have free reign to do as you please. You can explore outside the Theater (or hell, you can even go outside the city. Want some precious gemstones or kyber crystals? I hope you like subarctic temperatures and volcanoes, cause it's the region of Izhma for you), cause mischief, do some worldbuilding, or embark on your own adventures (as long as it's within reason, of course. Don't go around massacring innocents or threatening to blow up the Theater.). It's also open to more than just OPA people, so hop on in here and RP.

 

[Janick Beauchamp]

Samovar was much like Orto Plutonia or Alzoc III: that planet was inhabited and had very cold climates. In that sense it was only somewhat hotter than Hoth, but what exactly brought her to Samovar was the promise of meeting with another potential witch for the Utai Magic Circle. The other witches in the coven seemed to specialize in all sorts of areas: Alyssa was more chemistry-oriented, Dumelie was more about electricity, Tamana was from whom she gained knowledge of the Bolts of Hatred. For some reason, the coordinates given to Janick for this led to some... dilapidated mansion in the Izhma region? What kind of events would lead someone's mansion to be in such a condition? Was the witch in question someone from one of these blue-blood families that lost almost everything in some dramatic way? What would the Circle promise her that would make her life better? Were there legal consequences to any sort of relief plan that must be incurred for that relief to proceed? These were questions that weighed heavily on Janick's mind but for which she'd rather have Dumelie on hand, due to arrive a day or two later.

 

[Tiland Kortun]

In most cases, Tiland went where the Force guided him. Sometimes, he went where people asked him to be. Not always, of course. He couldn't be going around and getting a reputation as being cooperative and amenable. But in this case, the Force was giving no guidance and had no hints at where it was pushing him, so he went along with it.

The planet Samovar. Never been here, and it was certainly an interesting place to visit, albeit a bit cold for most sentient mammalian creatures. Tiland just tucked his robes a little tighter around his body, cradled a thermos of tea in one hand, and used his breathing to raise his body temperature enough to not feel the cold beyond skin level. There were many techniques taught by the Jedi and Matukai that the holovids overlooked, despite their practical value, which he considered unfortunate.

The street he was on was fascinating, centralized around a grand theater. It had been a long time since he'd visited worlds like these. Isolated, almost backwater worlds, who had fully developed themselves and turned themselves into centers of culture and arts. Granted, it had been a while since he visited a world with any kind of civilization or culture. No, he himself tended towards worlds that were sparsely inhabited, if at all. This was a pleasant change of pace.

 

[Anesha Astapova]

One’s first impression of the auditorium was of golden warmth. The glow of the lights, designed to replicate the softness of candle flame, reflected in gilded paint and refracted in crystal fixtures. Anesha and Andrei entered the Tsar’s Box in the midst of that moment of delicate stillness when the audience fell silent in anticipation. There wasn’t even a rustle of fabric or a sniffle to echo in the grand space.

The silence was so perfect, both brother and sister hesitated to approach the Tsar. Instead they lingered at the back of the box, awaiting the opening notes of music that would herald the start of the performance.

In the orchestra pit below, the conductor slowly raised his baton… then brought it down swiftly. The overture began with brassy horns. Anesha placed a hand on her brother’s arm, breaking the trance, and the two strode forward to meet their host.

Guards eyed them as they passed through the thick velvet curtains which screened the royal family from view. Anesha’s eyes were unwittingly drawn to the back of Tsar Yulim Koschei’s shaved head, faintly shining with sweat under the lights. She stared at it, gathering her wits, until he swiveled around to look at the newcomers.

“Ah, Count Astapov!” he bellowed over the orchestra. Noticing Anesha, he inclined his head slightly. “And Lady Astapova as well! Come, have a seat—we are glad you could join us.”

“We are glad indeed,” a gentler but no less imposing voice added. Anesha’s eyes darted to the chair at the Tsar’s right, where the Tsarina sat in a billowing cloud of white satin. Unlike her husband, who was quite plain in a black tux, she was adorned with plenty of jewels, including her royal crown of stacked pearls and diamonds. “It is wonderful to see you both.”

While her brother gave them each a full bow, Anesha merely curtsied before the royal couple on her way to the extra seat provided for guests. The rest of the Koschei family sat in descending order in front of their parents. Only the two eldest, the crown prince and his younger sister, craned their necks at the Astapovs’ arrival; the rest were totally immersed in the music. Anesha realized the prince’s gaze was lingering on her for much too long. She made a hideous face, hoping it would scare him off. Instead, he grinned back at her.

The Tsarina turned toward Anesha. “How is your mother?”

“As well as can be expected,” Anesha replied. Their mother had not been the same since their father’s suicide.

“I pray that she will recover,” the Tsarina said, her tone laced with what certainly sounded like genuine sympathy. “With the miracles of medicine, the mind remains largely a mystery, but there is always still hope.”

“You look good!” the Tsar’s tremendous voice reached Anesha’s ears even though he was addressing Andrei, not her. “Have you been practicing more often? And where on this ball of snow did you manage to get a tan?”

It may have just been the lighting, but now that Anesha got a proper glimpse of her brother, she realized he did look rather healthy and robust for someone under so much stress. Andrei was considered handsome, albeit in more of a “boy next door” sort of way than a nobleman’s patrician grace. Only the haunted look in his sapphire-blue eyes betrayed that something was wrong.

“I have been practicing,” Andrei agreed in a toneless voice. He only seemed to come alive when there was something to be done which he could put his mind to. “Your Majesty, I believe I understand why you wanted to see me, but I’d like confirmation.”

“Ah, of course.” The Tsar rubbed his hands together. “Right down to business. You guessed that I wanted to speak to you about the Sith, yes?”

Andrei nodded, his gaze darkening at the mere mention of the Force creed.

“Then you are correct!” The Tsar held up one finger. “But I do have one trick up my sleeve as well, which I will save for the latter half of our conversation tonight.”

“What sort of—”

“Pardon me,” the Tsar interrupted, leaning forward in his seat. “This is my favorite part.”

On the stage below, a clear, deep voice sang (and the Tsar along with him):

“I’ll never know why men come back from sea
The sea is cruel, but the sea is clean
The cause of this vast purity must be
That men at sea are few and far between”

“It is the same with space—there can never be too many people out there dirtying the heavens, polluting the stars,” the Tsar mused aloud. “Full of boundless dangers to make the monsters of the oceans cower in terror.”

“Some of those monsters are nearer to us than others,” Andrei murmured darkly.

The Tsar folded his hands in his lap. “You have dealt with them first hand. So tell me—what are the odds that the Sith will come here again to harass our people? How many Sith Lords can there possibly be in the galaxy?”

“How many colors are in a rainbow gem?” Andrei asked figuratively. “How many lightsaber crystals are there buried beneath the Gorodok Volcanoes? How many more of these holocrons have already been sold as ‘art pieces’, and now sit gathering dust in the untouched private collections of long-dead nobles?”

The Tsar countered his idioms with a smirk. “Or hell, why not just come here for a nice cup of tea? I hear hatred and bloodlust make for cold bedfellows. Or at least, they have icy feet.” He winked at his wife, who rolled her eyes even as she smiled.

“How can you make jokes out of this?” Andrei replied, stiffening with anger. “It’s no laughing matter. The two Sith who came here looking for my father’s holocron were able to take control of my mind and force me to do as they wished! What’s to stop the next one from taking control of yours?”

“Forgive him, Your Majesty,” Anesha cut in. “It is a personal matter for us. The loss of our father...”

“I noticed,” the Tsar replied with a raised eyebrow. He tugged on his collar. “I was inconsiderate of your… experiences. The fault is mine.”

She chewed her lip. “With all due respect, we were told that you were taking the possible threat of further attack completely seriously. Is this not the case?”

“Oh, it is definitely the case.” He sighed. “We live on a twilight world in a nightmare universe. My forefathers knew this day would come as they cultivated this planet and unearthed her few treasures, but they never had to face it themselves. They never had to decide what to do.” Adjusting his jacket, he straightened and looked at the Astapovs. “Well, what do you suggest I do about these meddlesome space mages? Aside from praying that their precious Force blesses them and keeps them far away from us?”

Janick Beauchamp | Tiland Kortun

 

[Janick Beauchamp]

The witch in question had no retainers left, only some family members still living in the same place. So, when Janick arrived, they swiftly became afraid of her, but they will realize soon enough that Janick had no involvement in their misfortunes. In fact, she was foreign to the world's aristocracy. In the end, it was obvious what caused their misfortunes when Janick arrived: the damage to the property was consistent with a volcanic eruption. Volcanic ashes were everywhere and Janick needed to blow them out of the alley before the witch could come up. And the roof being pockmarked like half-eaten Emmental cheese from Barkhesh made the premises as cold as the Hoth Naval Yard. And then the witch finally arrived at the doorstep, wearing tattered, worn-out thermal robes.

"State your business" the witch asked, in a very gruff tone.

"I would like to rent out some space in the mansion"