Private Through Flame and Oath

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Mandalorian Fortress
R O O N
Aether Verd Aurelian Veruna

The air on Roon shimmered with heat and promise. From the elevated terraces of the forge complex within the Mandalorian Fortress, the rhythmic shuffle of clan members echoed faintly from below, a living heartbeat of the clans gathering for what would soon become a historic moment: the lighting of a new War Forge.

Sibylla stood beside one of the great braziers that framed the ceremonial grounds. The warm light of the flames highlighted the bronze embroidery on her cream dress, secured at the waist by a thick Mandalorian belt gifted by one of the Elders she deeply respected. Bronze cuffs encircled her wrists, each etched with faint clan sigils given in friendship. The only visible marks of her interim station as Queen of Naboo were the slender gold circlet resting upon her brow and the dark maroon stain of the Scar of Remembrance that colored her lower lip.

The rich length of her chestnut hair was pulled back in a soft ponytail with loose tendrils framing her face, stirred gently in the evening breeze. The garnet earrings that swayed at her ears caught the glow of the braziers, flickering like small embers when she turned her head. She looked every bit the blend of Nabooan grace and Mandalorian respect she had worked so hard to embody.

And yet, the title of Queen still felt strange on her shoulders. Interim or not, it carried a weight she had thought she could step back from. In the wake of Kalantha's kidnapping and the Magistre's death, it was Aurelian who bore that mantle as interim High Chancellor with the same composure he had briefly worn as Naboo's King. Meanwhile, she now held the throne as expected of the Voice, along with the responsibility of being the Republic's Ambassador to the Mandalorian Empire. It was dizzying at times, how quickly the galaxy could shift around a single heartbeat.

Still, she told herself, this was good.

They had spent the past few days on Roon together, seeing to the final preparations for the joint session between the High Republic and the Mandalorian Empire. The discussions had been open, the receptions warm, with the undercurrent of coexisting diplomacy lingering. Tonight, though, the forge would take precedence. The lighting of a War Forge was not merely a ceremony of creation; it was a declaration of endurance, of unity between the clans, and of Mandalore's ability to forge its own destiny anew.

Sibylla drew in a slow breath, her hazel eyes tracing the swirl of banners and the movement of spectators settling into their places. She had seen many ceremonies in her life, but there was something different here. Something new and if she were honest in the light of the experience with Set and Vere and their lore, could understand the Mandalorian's ties to their culture because of it.

A soft smile touched her lips, the kind that reached her eyes and warmed them from within with golden fire. She folded her hands in front of her and let the moment breathe.

As the flames of the braziers danced higher, Sibylla waited for Mand'alor Aether Verd to begin the ceremony to ignite the War Forge. She anticipated Aurelian joining her side and wondered what new chapter would be forged in the glow of Mandalore's fire.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Roon
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes | Aether Verd

Aurelian appeared behind her, moving like a shadow caught in sunlight. His tunic, black silk and open at the throat, was far too elegant for Mandalorian ground. The sleeves were rolled to his forearms, showing a glint of his tanned skin.

He bumped her shoulder lightly, a grin flickering across his mouth as he stood beside her. For a moment, he simply watched with her: the banners, the sparks climbing into the evening haze, the forge masters making their final preparations.

Then he leaned in, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

"Do you want to trade places yet?" he murmured. "Saving the Republic is exhausting work. I much prefer the title of King." That familiar, lazy mischief colored his tone, always just a step away from sincerity. "Though I admit," he added, glancing at her circlet, "calling you Queen has its charms."

He lingered on the thought, then softened, almost imperceptibly. "You look lovely by the way."

The silence stretched, humming with the forge's deep rhythm, before he tilted his head toward the towering, unlit structure. "So tell me," he said, a hint of impatience in his voice, "what exactly is this spectacle of theirs? A new way to test our patience before supper?"

​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

MANDALORIAN FORTRESS, ROON

The fortress at Roon had grown swiftly in recent months. Its terraces and foundries no longer echoed with the hum of mere preparation, but with the thunder of rebirth. In the wake of the Diarchy’s betrayal and the Galactic Empire’s global declaration of war, the Mandalorian Empire had turned its gaze inward and upward. Every wall, every armory, every forge had been reinforced in anticipation of the fire to come. And tonight, beneath the vast banners of crimson and gold, that vigilance would take form. The War Forge stood at the center of it all, a colossal structure of black beskar that loomed like a sleeping titan, waiting to breathe flame.

Before it stood the Mand’alor.

Aether’s armor caught the light of the ceremonial braziers, its charcoal sheen broken by the crimson cloak that flowed from his shoulders. The fire painted the plates in shifting tones, like veins of lava running through iron. He stood silent for a long moment, letting the murmur of the crowd rise and fall until it was time.

Then he raised his fist. The sound across the terrace died at once, replaced by the crackle of the flames. Aether reached into the nearest brazier and drew forth a torch, its head wreathed in living fire. The heat licked across his gauntlet as he lifted it high above his head. His visor swept across the gathered assembly: the lines of armored warriors, the banners of countless clans, and at the edge of the platform, the Nabooan delegation, Queen Sibylla and the Chancellor, Aurelian Veruna. He gave them each a nod before speaking.

His voice carried like rolling thunder. “Our people are no stranger to war,” he began. “It is the fire that molds us. The hammer that shapes us. It is our god, our heart, our Way. The lighting of this War Forge is not the birth of industry, it is the renewal of faith. Each strike of steel, each breath of flame, is a prayer to Kad Ha’rangir, God of War. May He be pleased. May our ancestors in the Manda be pleased. And may we fight with ferocity and die with honor.”

His fist came down upon his chestplate with a resounding crack. A thousand warriors followed suit. The courtyard rang with the roar of metal upon metal, a living heartbeat that reverberated through the forge itself. Then Aether turned.

He lowered the torch into the fuel channel that snaked toward the massive structure. The line ignited in a swift, brilliant surge that raced toward the heart of the forge. A moment later, the War Forge came alive. Fire surged through its inner vents, climbing until it roared through the topmost vents in a geyser of light. The air trembled. It was as if a Mythosaur had awakened beneath their feet and screamed its defiance to the heavens.

The Mandalorians erupted in cheers.

Aether turned back to them, raising his fist once more. “For Mandalore!”

The answer thundered back, voices joined in fierce unity, a chant that filled the sky with conviction. For Mandalore. For Mandalore. For Mandalore.

When the echoes finally subsided, Aether replaced the torch in its brazier. The celebration began to shift into motion. Warriors and artisans moved toward their stations. Some carried shards of ruined beskar’gam, remnants of fallen kin, to be reforged into armor for new warriors. Others prepared molds and tongs to receive the molten metal that would soon pour from the Forge’s blazing heart. The rhythm of Mandalore resumed, purposeful and alive.

Through it all, one truth was made plain: Mandalore was ready to fight.

As the noise softened into the steady hum of labor, Aether removed his helm and turned toward the guests of Naboo. The firelight caught the gold in his eyes as he approached, expression calm yet warm.

“Your Majesties,” he greeted, inclining his head. “Welcome once more to Roon. Much has changed since our last meeting.” His gaze moved between them, a flicker of curiosity and quiet respect behind it. “Tell me, how are you faring, in these days of Chaos?”​

Sibylla Abrantes , Aurelian Veruna

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

MANDALORIAN FORTRESS, ROON
Aurelian Veruna | Aether Verd

Sibylla cast an amused sidelong glance toward Aurelian in the wake of his shoulder bump, her lips curving as a faint chuckle slipped free. His compliment lingered pleasantly in her chest, though his teasing tone earned him another quiet laugh and a slow shake of her head.

"Mmm, please," she teased back, her tone light with mild amusement, "I think you rather enjoy having the Republic in the palm of your hand."

Those hazel eyes moved to trace over him, from the familiar dark curls of his hair down to the loose black silk tunic that softened his usually composed image.

"You look quite handsome yourself," she added warmly, with a ghost of a smile, in a casual, affectionate tone, her arching brow revealing just a faint touch of amusement. He did look handsome. Well, he always did. It was getting easier for her to accept his compliments and return them, especially when she could see he genuinely meant them.

When his following quip hinted at impatience, a wry twist caught her mouth, but she answered him with patience of her own. Aurelian might not always possess endless tolerance for traditions beyond Naboo, yet the fact that he asked, even behind a joke, meant something.

Before she could say more, the forge came alive.

A roar of fire surged through the vents, spreading like molten veins across the heart of the structure. The ground trembled beneath them as the flames burst skyward, a geyser of light and heat. The echo of hammering on metal chestplates grew into a thunderous rhythm, and the crowd's chant for Mandalore rose in unison. Sibylla's smile widened with awe as the spectacle washed over her.

"It's the igniting of a War Forge," she explained softly to him, her voice carrying a reverent undertone as she watched the flames twist and climb.

"Is symbolic not only in the act, but in what it creates. The weapons and armor forged here will strengthen Roon and the nearby Mandalorian worlds. But more than that, it's a way to honor their ancestors and build for the future."

She gestured subtly toward a group of Mandalorians approaching the forge, each bearing shards of ruined beskar'gam.

"When a Mandalorian falls in battle, their armor is brought home, no matter how small the remnants. Those fragments are melted down and reforged into armor for new warriors, sometimes for foundlings or orphans with no clan to claim them. It's how they pass on not only their faith, but their history and identity from one generation to the next. Each piece carries a legacy, a memory, a life."

Almond shaped eyes softened as she continued. "In that way, a Mandalorian's mark on the galaxy never fades. As long as one stands, Mandalore stands with them."

It was then she caught sight of Aether's approach through the crowd. Her smile brightened as she stepped forward, dipping her head in greeting.

"Su cuy'gar, Mand'alor. It is good to see you again, as well," she said, her voice touched with genuine warmth. "It feels like it has been far too long since our last council, though I see Roon has thrived under your guidance and that of Warden Renn Vizsla ." There was a glimmer of familiarity in her eyes, the easy kind that came from shared hours in debate and laughter in quieter moments.

"Much has changed, indeed," she added with a deep breath, glancing over towards the War Forge, the fires flickering flames across her hazel eyes, "While it delights me to see a new War Forge ignited for your people, circumstances across the galaxy seem to grow more troubling each day."

Sibylla's words carried a quiet honesty, one she seldom afforded freely but had given to Aether under his tutelage as she served as Ambassador.

"There is much to discuss, but I will defer to you on when and where those talks should begin. Will Warden Renn Vizsla be joining us?"

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Roon
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes | Aether Verd | Renn Vizsla

Aurelian leaned close, letting his voice slip between the rise and fall of the forge's thunder.

"Between us," he murmured, his lips curving, "I hate this title. Chancellor." The word tasted bitter on his tongue. "It sounds dignified until you realize it mostly involves people talking too long about things you don't care about. I miss being King. When I ignored someone then, at least it felt intentional."

His gaze flicked back to her. The grin softened as her compliment truly registered. For a rare beat, his words failed him. Her open praise hit deeper than he expected. He studied her for a moment, absorbing the warmth of her eyes in the firelight, then cleared his throat and turned toward the ceremony.

The Mandalorians beat their chests in a synchronized roar. Aurelian tilted his head, watching the spectacle with barely contained amusement.

"Ah, yes," he muttered dryly. "Nothing like the sweet sound of self-concussion to honor warriors." His tone was light. "I suppose this is the part where they melt something, shout about blood and steel, and then hug until someone loses a tooth."

The chanting grew louder. He winced, rubbing one ear. "'Fight with mercy, die with honor,'" he quoted under his breath. "I'd rather fight with wit and live with style."

But as Aether approached, the grin vanished instantly. Aurelian straightened, his posture easy but precise. The diplomat's mask fell into place with polished grace.

"Mand'alor," he greeted smoothly, offering a courtly slight bow. "An impressive ceremony. Congratulations on your remarkably shiny new forge." His tone was perfectly polite, though behind the smile, his thoughts were less charitable. Shiraya, how many more speeches until supper?

When Sibylla finished, Aurelian inclined his head in agreement, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

"Yes," he added, his voice measured and edged with curiosity. "We would be honored to meet this Warden of yours. I've heard much about Vizsla's influence here."

​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

MANDALORIAN FORTRESS, ROON

Aether’s chuckle rolled through the air like gravel under thunder, deep and full. It was not often that the Mand’alor found amusement in the words of nobles, least of all those from Naboo, but Aurelian’s "shiny" remark had struck him true. For the first time since their acquaintance began, the gilded tongue of the Republic had said something that genuinely made him laugh.

His eyes, bright with quiet humor, lingered on the man for a moment before softening toward Sibylla. “My thanks to you both for being here. It means much to my people that the Republic bore witness to this night. The War Forge stands ready, gleaming in all its glory. Though I do hope, one day soon, to see Naboo’s own light shine just as bright.”

The warmth in his tone was genuine, though as he continued, that commanding timbre so natural to him returned. “As my Warden, Renn Vizsla took the vision I gave him for the South and turned it into reality. Roon thrives because of his discipline and his fire. You will see that for yourself soon enough.”

He inclined his head, then gestured toward the great hall behind them. “There is no time like the present to discuss. Walk with me.”

With that, the Mand’alor turned and began leading them through the Fortress. The echo of their footsteps mingled with the low hum of machinery and the distant rhythm of hammers still striking metal in the forges below. The corridors were broad and austere, lined with banners of crimson and black. Between them, torches burned in bronze sconces, their light dancing across the beskar walls.

As they passed through an archway, Aether tapped a control on his vambrace. His voice carried low through the helm’s comm. “Warden Vizsla. Meet us in the Shield Hall.”

Moments later, they entered the Shield Hall itself. The chamber was vast and solemn, its walls adorned with shields of every shape and size, each one marked by the sigil of a clan. Some bore deep scars from battle, others gleamed as if newly forged, each a fragment of Mandalore’s story. At the far end stood a long rectangular table laid with light refreshments such as spiced loaf, dried fruits, and small flasks of tihaar.

Aether removed his helm once more and took his seat at the head of the table, gesturing for his guests to join him.

“Warden Vizsla will be with us shortly,” he said, his voice calm but purposeful. “Until then, perhaps you might indulge my curiosity.” His gaze moved between them, sharp yet cordial. “When last we spoke, Veruna, you were King. And you, Sibylla, served as Ambassador to our people. Now, if my sources are correct, your stations have both shifted quite considerably.”

He folded his hands upon the table, his tone softening to one of genuine interest. “Tell me, how fares the Republic these days? And, if I may ask on a personal note...how are you faring?”​

Renn Vizsla , Sibylla Abrantes , Aurelian Veruna

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

MANDALORIAN FORTRESS, ROON
Aurelian Veruna | Aether Verd | Renn Vizsla

The more Sibylla got to know Aurelian, the more effort it took to keep her composure around his constant peanut gallery remarks. She had managed admirably so far, but his 'shiny' comment about the new War Forge was her undoing. A sharp snort escaped before she could stop it, and she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, mortified.

A flush of heat rushed to her face, but to Sibylla's immense relief, Aether seemed more amused than offended. Perhaps her lapse had gone unnoticed, or at least forgiven.

Soon after, they were guided toward the Shield Hall, where long tables gleamed beneath suspended lights and the air carried the mingled scents of roasted nerf and spiced grain. Sibylla took her seat beside the others, grateful that food would soften the edge of what was sure to be a heavy discussion.

The challenge was knowing where to begin.

With a slow intake of breath, the interim Queen began from the beginning. She detailed the attack on the Naboo Assembly, the kidnapping of High Chancellor Kalantha, and the brutal assassination of the Magistrate, along with several Senators caught in the chaos. From there, she explained how the Republic had struggled to steady itself in the wake of the Empire's reveal of the Death Star III and its devastating assault on Atrisia. The chain of events had forced the emergency appointment of Aurelian as interim High Chancellor, leaving Sibylla to assume the crown of Naboo in his stead while maintaining her ambassadorial duties with the Mandalorian Empire.

It was then that she paused, another breath to collect herself, but it was evident that her faint smile was tinged with weariness. The weight of it all, the sudden burden of leadership, and the looming shadow of war pressed with a heavy weight at the edges of her composure.

"The galaxy is in motion," she said at last, in a somber but thoughtful tone.

"And with it, the awareness that our choices will touch billions of lives across hundreds of worlds. I had prepared myself for conflict with the Sith or even the Black Sun, but seeing what the Empire has done, seeing the destruction of entire worlds, that is something else entirely."

Her hazel eyes lowered briefly as her voice softened.

"The thought of losing a planet, an entire population, billions of lives in an instant… It's something I don't think I'll ever grow used to. To realize that kind of power exists, it still feels surreal."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: ROON
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes | Aether Verd | Renn Vizsla

Aurelian blinked. Sibylla, usually so composed, let out a sudden snort. His brows shot up. For a moment, he just stared, a mix of shock and amusement playing across his face, before his mouth twitched and he leaned toward Aether.

"Please forgive Her Majesty," he said, his voice low and perfectly solemn. The teasing glint in his eyes, however, gave him away. "She's still adjusting to the gravitas of her new crown. It seems my... charming wit has yet to receive proper royal training."

The corner of his mouth curved, just enough to show he was joking. He wisely dropped the subject, but not before noticing the faint blush on her cheeks. He'd remember that for later.

Inside the Shield Hall, Aurelian's thoughts turned to more immediate matters: food.

As Sibylla began her careful recounting of assassinations, kidnappings, and empires gone mad, he quietly helped himself to a slice of spiced loaf and some dried fruit. If he had to endure another round of diplomatic formality, he'd do it on a full stomach.

When she finally fell silent, her grim words still echoing in the hall, Aurelian set down his drink. He swallowed the last of his loaf, cleared his throat softly, and wiped his fingers with deliberate slowness before he spoke.

"The situation is exactly as Her Majesty describes," he said. His voice was smooth, but edged with steel. "While we've been busy rebuilding the Republic's internal stability, our intelligence reports suggest your people have had a closer look at this new Imperial toy than most."

His gaze, now sharp and humorless, fixed on Aether. "The Death Star. We've seen what it can do from a distance. I want to know what the Mandalorian Empire has seen up close."

​

 

[Renn Vizsla]

R O O N

Tag: Aether Verd | Aurelian Veruna | Sibylla Abrantes

Spoiler: Wearing

​

The Warden's office was a fortress in miniature, walls of matte durasteel etched with ancient Mandalorian sigils, a narrow viewport casting the glow of the city's molten lights across a blackened beskar desk scarred by years of use. A holomap flickered faint blue amid neatly stacked datapads, his helmet resting like a silent witness to a lifetime of campaigns. Trophies lined the walls: a cracked blade, a dented plate, a tattered banner from Concordia, each a memory forged in fire. The air carried the scent of oil, ozone, and cooling caf, while the quiet hum of shield generators filled the room. In that stillness, the Warden sat unyielding, the weight of duty pressing heavily on his shoulders.

The silence was cut by the sound of his comm's static as it activated.

“Warden Vizsla. Meet us in the Shield Hall.”

Renn listened, his brow raised as he knew that Aether had been hosting members of the High Republic and had not expected a conversation from him until at least the morning. His finger pressed down on the button as he responded, "By your will, Mand'alor."

Leaving his office as it was, he moved out into the hallway and towards the Shield Hall, each turn and movement swift as he had done it countless times, his shoes making the distinct, clacking against the metal floors as he moved. His mind wandered towards the reason for his request to attend the meeting that was taking place. He shook his head as he rounded the corner, the Mand'alor's Lawkeepers flanking the door as he gave them a nod before entering.

Renn stood at attention, his hands held behind his back as he stood just beyond the entrance of the room, his eyes shifting between his Mand'alor and the Royal Monarchs of Naboo. Renn was not much for statecraft, but he had been forged by his years of heading his Clan that one could not get anything done if everything was settled by combat, skills that came especially handy in his appointment as the Warden of Roon. Even still, events like the one he had been invited into made him, uncomfortable although he would never let this fact slip onto his face, his expression unreadable as he made his entrance.

His attention turned towards Aether first as he spoke, his hand coming to his chest, "Su cuy'gar Mand'alor, I did not expect to grace your presence today." As he finished speaking, he turned his attention towards the Monarchs, "Olaram, your majesties, it is an honor to be in your presence."

Just Another Day in the Office.​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

MANDALORIAN FORTRESS, ROON

The moment Sibylla’s snort cut through the air, Aether’s head tilted slightly beneath his helm. It was rare for the Queen of Naboo to let her composure slip, and rarer still for Aurelian to respond with such theatrical gravity. The Mand’alor felt laughter stir in his chest, low and rumbling, though he fought to keep it contained. When Aurelian leaned closer, his voice solemn but clearly hiding amusement, Aether finally gave in.

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said, his tone rich with humor. “If one cannot smile in the presence of comrades, then are they truly comrades at all?”

With that, the Shield Hall beckoned, and the gathering settled into the rhythm of diplomacy.

Sibylla began her recounting, and the air in the Hall grew still. Aether listened without interruption, his eyes focused on her every word. The story she painted was one of tragedy and upheaval: assassinations, kidnappings, and the violent reshaping of the Republic’s heart. He had known the Black Sun Syndicate to be bold, but kidnapping Kalantha was audacity on another level. And the Empire’s revelation of the Death Star III, paired with its declaration of war on the entire Galaxy, had thrown Naboo into the center of the storm.

When she finished, Aether’s silence lingered for a few breaths. The flicker of the torchlight cast sharp patterns across his armor as he sat deep in thought. Then came Aurelian’s voice, smooth and cutting through the air like a blade. Aether’s gaze shifted toward him, noting the slice of spiced loaf on the man’s plate. A faint smirk ghosted over his lips beneath the helm, a mental note made for future visits. The humor faded quickly, replaced by solemn understanding.

Before he could answer, the heavy doors opened, and the Warden of Roon entered the chamber. Aether rose slightly in his seat and struck his chest with a solid thump. “Su cuy’gar, Warden.” His voice carried with pride. “Your timing is impeccable. Your perspective will be valuable for what we are about to discuss.”

As Renn took his place, Aether leaned forward, his hands forming a tent before him on the table. The light caught the edge of his gauntlets as his gaze met that of his guests.

“The power to erase entire worlds,” he began, his tone deep and steady, “has always haunted the Galaxy. Every generation births someone or something willing to destroy planets in pursuit of dominance. The Death Star III is only the newest face of an ancient hunger. But because it exists, we have adapted. Mandalore has accelerated its arms development. We will fight fire with fire, destruction with destruction. Soon, we will have our own answer, a weapon to rival the Death Star III. Such is the face of war in our age. And such is how Mandalore will endure it.”

He paused then, his expression softening as his attention turned toward Sibylla. “I hope that High Chancellor Kalantha is recovered swiftly, and that peace is restored within the Republic before long. And to you, Queen Sibylla, I offer this. If ever you need a port in the storm, I am only a message away.” His voice was warm, a quiet sincerity beneath the iron. “You have earned that regard, my friend.”

Then his gaze returned to Aurelian, the sharpness of command returning to his tone. “As for the Death Star itself, we have seen it up close. My forces were contracted for a joint operation and participated in boarding the battle station. It is vast and terrible, yes, but it can be reached. Our breaching teams encountered resistance, but not impossibility. We struck deep within its hull before extraction. We could not fell the beast that day, but we learned something vital.” He paused, letting the words settle. “It can be boarded. It can bleed. And if it can bleed, it can be destroyed.”

His hand gestured toward Renn. “Warden Vizsla, you fought there as well. Share what you will of your experience.”

Finally, Aether turned his gaze back to his guests, his expression thoughtful. “And what of you? How is the Republic preparing for the storm that looms?”​

Renn Vizsla , Sibylla Abrantes , Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Roon
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes | Aether Verd | Renn Vizsla

Aurelian rose with a casual grace, half-inclined to bow, half-inclined to saunter. He stepped forward, offered a clipped nod to Renn, and attempted a greeting he'd heard. "Oh-harem?" he stammered, baffled at his own tongue. Was that it? He almost laughed, then tasted the room's seriousness and swallowed it down. Primitive language...

He returned to his seat with deliberate ease, fingers curling around his cup until the rim pressed a white crescent into his palm. The fatigue in his shoulders was honest now; the weight of speeches and crowns sat heavy. He let his jaw soften into a practiced smile as Aether spoke, leaning in just enough that his dark eyes caught the torchlight.

"No doubt your clans can meet that thing blade-to-blade," he said, his voice steady but threaded with something raw... respect. "If anyone can board it, it's Mandalorians." He looked to Aether with a frankness that almost showed the weariness beneath his charm. "My worry isn't getting boots on its decks. It's what comes after; how you strike at a thing designed to erase worlds."

At Aether's wish for Kalantha, Aurelian let the words slip past his lips under his breath, a rasp closer to a confession than a comment. "You and me both." He tilted the cup and drank, the movement small, meant to hide the tremor he didn't want seen.

When Renn was named, Aurelian's posture tightened a fraction. He turned his head, eyes sharpening on the Warden. "You fought there," he said, addressing Renn and Aether both, each syllable measured. He set the cup down with a faint clink and pushed off the table with the flat of his palm. The motion was practical, grounding.

"If you were in the hull, did you recover anything useful?" he asked, his voice low but direct. "Schematics, access plans, a layout; anything that tells us where its weaknesses hide?" He let the question hang, then added, softer, urgent: "Because boarding's only step one. If we can't find the heart, all that bravery just buys time, not victory."

There was a brief, taut pause as he searched their faces for answers, the humor drained away. Under the showman's polish, Aurelian's eyes were steady; hungry for leverage, and tired of promises without a plan.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

MANDALORIAN FORTRESS, ROON
Aurelian Veruna | Aether Verd | Renn Vizsla

Sibylla made a mental note to repay Aurelian for his earlier comment. She only just managed to keep a straight face when he butchered Warden Renn Vizsla's greeting.

Oh, Harem, really?

She blinked deliberately through it, smoothing her expression into one of polite composure as Aurelian continued speaking on behalf of the High Republic. Her attention shifted when the Warden of Roon approached. It was their first meeting, and she wanted to make a good impression. Yet instead of the armored figure she had imagined, she found herself greeted by a tall man dressed more for a business engagement than the battlefield.

Curiosity flickered across her eyes before she inclined her head in a warm greeting.

"Su cuy'gar, Warden Vizsla. It is a pleasure to finally meet you." She smiled, but she gave herself another mental note that she really did need to teach Aurelian a few basic Mando'a phrases. He would likely protest and argue her about it quite loudly, but everyone had their price. Perhaps she could barter with something he wanted in return.

Once the formalities passed, Aether began to speak, sharing his insights and what his forces had experienced firsthand. The accounts made Sibylla's expression sober, her mind already piecing together implications that went unsaid. The longer Kalantha remained missing, the less likely they were to find a trail. No ransom, no demands, nothing. That silence was as telling as any threat.

She could only hope the High Chancellor was still alive.

When Aether turned his attention back to her, his words held the same steady sincerity that had always grounded him. If you ever need me, I am only a message away. And then, You are my friend.

It took her a moment to find her voice. That kind of trust, personal rather than political, was rare. It was not just respect for her position but for her as a person. It meant more than she could easily put into words.

"Thank you, my friend," she replied softly, a genuine smile curving her lips. She then brought her glass up to take a sip, quietly listening as the conversation continued, grateful that this was one they could have open without the typical court Dejarik acts that seemed to be prominent with Naboo nobility or other politics.

"Perhaps," she added in a thoughtful tone after Aurelian finished, "there might be clues hidden among those your forces encountered. Individuals we could discreetly place bounties on for information, those who might know more than they should...It is worth exploring, if only to widen the net."

 

[Renn Vizsla]

E N T E R T A I N

Tag: Sibylla Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna | Aether Verd

"Su cuy'gar, Warden Vizsla. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

The Warden responded to Sibylla Abrantes 's greeting with a nod, The pleasure is all mine, your grace, I am the one who can be graced by your presence." His face exposed a polite smile as he spoke before turning his attention to the conversation unfolding.

Renn stood behind Aether Verd , listening as he spoke, his ears perked up at the mention of the planet killer, the Death Star III. The Warden and his Death Watch had been there during the fighting that took place over the skies of Atrisia. His mind thought of the ones he had lost whilst fighting the Death Troopers and their Commander, Maera Dren , his face managing composure as he pushed down the anger that had swelled inside of him.

His hand gestured toward Renn. “Warden Vizsla, you fought there as well. Share what you will of your experience.”

He nodded towards Aether as he began to speak, "I cannot say much of the actual function of the weapon, but I can tell you of the mettle of their Corps of troopers. They will fight tooth and nail for every meter of ground. Stormtroopers might die by the millions, but they will make sure that every kilometer is earned by the blood of their enemies. Each step is taken over the corpse of ten stormtroopers." Renn's voice was level; he spoke factually about the occurrence he had experienced, but his eyes flashed with the scenes that had unfolded, the sounds he had heard, the bone-chilling sound of bones snapping like it was but a common twig a child would find out in the forest.

Letting himself take a larger breath, he continued, "But besides, their advanced troopers are no common foe to be naive about taking on with an inexperienced group. They will easily take the greenhorns and teach them to never underestimate an enemy. Many lost their lives that day in the hopes that their Beskar'gam would protect them from anything a foe might have for them, but unfortunately, that is not the case."

Renn's attention turned towards Aurelian Veruna , "My liege, I understand your vigor in finding a weakness to exploit, but I can with all of the certainty I hold in my heart tell you that to underestimate this enemy will leave you and yours broken. I fear even the forces under the Mand'alor would struggle to take on such a foe by ourselves. Every step moving forward is tilted towards finding a weakness to exploit in this planet-destroying monstrosity. Even if there is one to be found, we cannot go into battle blindly, as just assaulting the weapon is a fool's errand." As he spoke, his expression darkened, letting each word emphasize the danger of taking on such a weapon without any semblance of a plan.

To be a Fool, Meant Death.​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

MANDALORIAN FORTRESS, ROON

Aether said nothing at first, content to watch as Aurelian attempted to greet his Warden in Mando’a. The sound that left the King’s mouth was a spectacular failure, but one that brought quiet amusement beneath the Mand’alor’s helm. It was a rare and welcome thing to see a foreign ruler even try. If that was not proof that the relationship between Naboo and Mandalore was growing, then little else could be.

When Aurelian finally took his seat, the Mand’alor regarded him with a measured calm. “You strike a station designed to destroy worlds,” he said evenly, “by targeting what makes it function.” His voice carried the weight of certainty, like a blade dragged slow across stone. “What I saw above all else aboard the Death Star was the number of personnel it held. It is not automated. It is not a machine of droids. It is operated by people. And anything dependent on people can be exploited.” He paused briefly, his sable eyes flickering beneath the low light. “Or destroyed.”

For a moment, his attention lingered on the cup in Aurelian’s hand. The exhaustion beneath the King’s polished charm did not go unnoticed. Aether could only imagine how it would feel to have one of his own leaders taken, to live each day knowing an ally might already be lost. He said nothing further for now, allowing the King to direct his questions toward Renn, his Warden standing as the living memory of those battles.

When Sibylla spoke, her words warm and sincere, Aether inclined his head in acknowledgment. Her calling him friend meant something, and he did not take it lightly. “The construction of such a station,” he said, “must have been a monumental effort. The sheer scale of it, the speed with which the Empire rose and struck, suggests that its foundations were laid long before the war began. To your point, Queen Sibylla, perhaps our efforts should turn to finding those who built it. Somewhere, there are engineers, financiers, and laborers who made it possible. If we can find them, we can learn where its armor is weakest.”

His gaze shifted to Renn as the Warden spoke, every word steady and deliberate. The recounting of the Death Troopers and the battles fought within the monster’s heart filled the hall with quiet gravity. When Renn finished, Aether nodded once, his voice low and firm. “Well spoken, Warden. You remind us of the truth that many forget. We cannot rush headlong into a battle of that scale without understanding the field.”

He leaned forward slightly, folding his hands upon the table. “The time we spent aboard the Death Star was brief, but it taught us much. There are still many unknowns, and those must be answered before any plan is born. Until then, though no formal contract binds our nations regarding information, Mandalore will share whatever intelligence we gather with the High Republic freely. This threat does not belong to one world. It hangs above us all. And if we do not face it together, it will attempt to devour us one by one.”

The words settled into the air like the echo of a forge hammer, steady and final.​

Renn Vizsla , Sibylla Abrantes , Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Roon
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes | Renn Vizsla | Aether Verd

Aurelian leaned back as Aether finished speaking. The Mand'alor's words resonated deeply. Firelight caught the gold at Aurelian's cuffs, but his face had sharpened, becoming more private. The room felt heavy with the weight of death stars, armies, and alliances. Yet, all Aurelian could focus on was his weariness from constantly balancing diplomacy with desperation.

He took a slow breath, letting his cup tilt in his hand, watching the liquid inside. "Then that's where we begin," he finally said, his low voice cutting through the silence. "We find the builders. The people who poured its foundations and wired its core. If the Empire constructed this in secret, someone out there remembers how it was done."

He looked at Renn. "Your Warden is right. Rushing this would kill us all. But if they're flesh and blood, they can be bribed or frightened. Either approach works." A faint, humorless curve touched his lips. "We start pulling threads, Mand'alor. The engineers, the financiers, anyone who disappeared after the Empire rose. I'll assign my top people to this when I get back to Naboo."

He rose slowly, his movements unhurried yet precise, and set his cup down. His charming facade slipped for a moment, revealing a restless current beneath him, an exhaustion that had teeth. "You're right that this threat belongs to all of us," he stated. "But I'll be damned if the Republic sits by while someone else carries the fight."

He leaned forward, his hand brushing the table's edge, eyes locking with Aether's across the room. "You share what you find. We'll do the same. No politics, no ceremony. Just information and intent. And once we've mapped that monster's heart..." He exhaled quietly, a dangerous sound. "Then we can start talking about how to kill it."

Aurelian straightened, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if to release some tension. "In the meantime, Mand'alor, I suggest you keep that spiced loaf recipe handy. You'll need something to feed your allies when we gather for war."

The humor was brief, softening the edge of his words. Still, his eyes lingered on the Mandalorians.

​