Private Three at the Table

[Lysander von Ascania]

Aurelian Veruna Dominique Vexx​

News of Humbarine must have reached every corner of the galaxy by now, Lysander thought, a pulse of irritation he couldn’t quite shake. The outcome shouldn't have surprised anyone. But maybe success wasn't always the same thing as satisfaction, something he was slowly beginning to learn. Another fractured city. The phrase had a groove worn into it from use. Lysander even contributed gratuitously to that groove, but he wasn't certain how he felt about it now.

For the Republic, perhaps Humbarine would stand as a warning. The Sith didn’t take kindly to usurpers.

Though civility came more naturally to him than to most of his brethren, something felt off today; for it was clear that someone close to him had fallen into Republic custody. Whispers had dogged him since departure from Bonodan.. but reality was a harder pill to swallow. Of course, the logistics grated against his Sith sensibilities. Republic soldiers rended apart aboard the Trinity, only for their executioner to surrender later on? From his perspective, those two facts.. just didn’t belong together. Still, of all the motives that had brought him here, Acier’s name kept rising to the surface.

Granted, the call from his younger sister, Fatine, added another complication.

His shuttle came down hard on a pad near the Pentaplex. Vibrations rippled as landing struts finished their work. District One rose before him as a shrine of excess. Lysander, born to the halls of the elite, was no stranger to such displays. But even he admitted, with a detached sort of acknowledgment, that Denon’s wealth was striking. Impressive, even, if you were the type who enjoyed the sport of chasing credits, one he played with ruthless finesse.

The emissary strolled toward the entrance without hurry. Whether this was the conditioning of the Sith or the erosion of his own soul, no hint of danger registered. After all, he had already walked among the ruins of regimes from the Core to the Tapani expanse. Soon, he drew near one of the security archways; when the sensors chirped their approval and guards retreated at last, he didn't spare a single glance back.

Lysander smoothed the lapels of his peacoat, moonlit pale hair gleaming against a darker palette. Closing the remaining distance, the echoes of his footsteps faded. He looked first at the Denonite, the one who’d arranged this meeting. "Chancellor Vexx." Then he looked over to Aurelian, letting his gaze rest for a long moment. "Your Majesty."

 

[Dominique Vexx]

Dominique stood with both of her hands atop the railing, and her eyes directed out over the city-scape molded and shaped before them. Even the transportation hub had levels suspended over the floor of the District. A luxurious and central spire upon which high valued partners and guests might arrive free of the bustle from Denon's countless, crowded terminals. Fresh air of the resplendent District One passed freely over the open terrace upon which they awaited the recent arrival.

"Why ask for what you can take," Dominique breathed out. "That's what drives them. They feel empowered and wish to exercise their power. I have no illusion I can convince them to cast aside their authoritarian and warmongering ways. Prudence dictates we do what is necessary to reach an equilibrium with them. Then to let nature take its course." The Chancellor turned to look over at Aurelian. "Over extension is the downfall of many governments. It was very nearly the catastrophe of the former Corporate Authorities of Denon."

An indication popped up on the inside of her glareshades. Dominique drew in a breath and lifted her hand in order to turn. Lysander had departed the arrival gate. Her other hand fell from the banister as the High Chancellor clasped her hands at her waist with his approach.

"Emissary." The corners of her lips hiked a hair as Lysander seemed acquainted with his Majesty. "His Royal Highness, Aurelian Veruna , have you the pleasure of meeting Emissary Lysander von Ascania ?" Or perhaps Aurelian reputation preceded himself. "Emissary, the King of Naboo."

"Gentlemen, I offer you a choice: retire to one of our luxurious conference rooms, or a light tour of some of Denon's sights." The Pentaplex itself might be no Malsheem, but it was a tower the width of a city and whose peak literally pierced the sky. The fact District One's 'ground level' was no where near the original sea level obviously helped.