The Festival of Four Moons

[Salem Ave]

There are few celebrations on Onderon quite so highly anticipated as the Festival of Four Moons. Every ten years, the planets four moons – Dxun, Dagri, Evas and Suthre – became perfectly aligned with one another and for ten hours the city of Iziz would be plunged into complete darkness. The festival had its roots, they said, in the old and barbaric rites of the beast riders, who used the time of shadow as a weapon to strike out at the Naddist tyrants who sought to oppress them. Though the cult of Freedon Nadd had been long since overthrown, the arrival of the eclipse was no less important.

As a prelude to the event itself, the people threw extravagant parties and parades, lining the streets of Iziz with all manner of curio shops and stalls. No corner of the city was untouched by the festival. Music and laughter filled the air, as people danced and played at games, winning trinket prizes for their sweethearts. There were other games too, where true strength and skill could be put to the test. There were sword fights and marksmanship contests; even the beast riders themselves were in attendance, hosting thrilling jousting competitions.

This year, however, the festival held even greater significance. It was on the third day of the celebration, at the height of the revelry, that the Hapans would arrive...

[Tartarus Eros]

Tartarus was as excited as a child the night before his birthday. Ten years ago, 8-year-old Eros could only scrabble between legs and try to find a good viewpoint for the festivities. He'd spent most of the time perched, looking out on the tournaments where his heroes would fight each other with heart and steel, and others would aim steady with bows and blasters at targets for glory. It was a day long remembered by the street dweller.

And now once again, the young man readied himself for the festival. Except this time, he intended to compete. The winnings, if he indeed won anything, were much needed. Enough to rent a small place of his own would be like winning a palace, of which he would reign king, until funds ran dry. Of course, he would continue to beg, rob and borrow, for that was the youth's way.

Although an excitement gripped Tartarus' soul with the rigour of a rancor, his calm, composed exterior would fool anyone. With his dirty old robes on and his hood up, he paced the streets towards his arena, following an internal call to fame and fortune. Naginata in hand, knife in his boot and bow and quiver on his back, he marched with the poise and strength of a stormtrooper, with a hunger in his heart that would surely be satisfied by the end of this.

[Jecht Tar]

The palace was abuzz with activity. Servants ran to and fro as they prepared for the festivities. They had things to clean, rooms to prepare, meals to prepare, and all manner of other things that had to be done. For the most part, those not involved in the preparing stayed out of the way. The Royal Guards were no exception to this. The entire regiment of Royal Guards had been assembled, dressed in their finest cloth and armor, armed with their less worn weaponry, and placed about the palace and outside it. It could very well be an overflex of military muscle, but Jecht Tar was unwilling to allow harm to come to the royal family.

He had already spoken with the heads of the Onderon Military and local law enforcement, and there was more then enough soldiers and lawmen out on the streets, there to keep the festivities from getting out of hand, and there for protection should it be needed. He had even asked the Beast Riders to play a prominent role inside the city, but they had refused. This was a special time for them, and most where either celebrating along with everyone else, or outside on their usual patrols. Just because they were technically aligned with the Mandalorians did not mean they would let their guard down. They were still getting the occasional attack from the many rogue Mandalorians operating outside of Mandalore's control.

Jecht stood in the courtyard, his armor gleaming in the sunlight. He had abandoned his usual two swords for only one of his blades, which was strapped to his side rather then his back. His thick black hair was tied back to keep it from his eyes. And, of course, his signature blood red sash encircled his waist. He looked quite respectable to say the least, in contrast to his usual more grubby appearance. One found it hard to stay clean when romping around the palace grounds all day.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She stood stiffly in full Mandalorian armor, two Mandos behind her serving as honor guard. With their helmets on, the trio were carefully monitoring the situation in the palace grounds as servants dashed back and forth, preparing for the Prince of Hapes' arrival.

Most of the Mandalorians were out of the city, holding their own celebration of the eclipse in the Wilds as they had done for centuries. Lilaena had already presided over their first day of wrestling matches and weddings, and now was in Iziz City in an official capacity as requested by the Prime Minister of Onderon.

Now, of course, she was just being kept waiting. A few members of the Royal Guard were loitering across the main courtyard of the palace, surreptitiously keeping an eye on the three Mandalorians. Callidus had promised her that she would not have to be Mandalore for the entirety of the festival, and she was looking forward to at least one evening out of the heavy armor.

Lilaena narrowed her eyes inside her helmet, and crossed her arms in front of her breastplate. She wasn't even sure who it was that was supposed to meet her.

[Lucianus Adair]

Onderon.

It sufficed to say that the former Imperial Force Hunter had not stepped a foot on this planet. Until now, the ancient one had relatively little reason to do so, but the eclipse of the four moons definitely piqued his interest. Aside from Iziz City, the lone civil settlement, the planet was relatively barren and consequently of little interest. In the hours he had spent slowly traversing the Wilds on foot since his secretive arrival, he had encountered little resistance. Any potential opponent was considered with the same eye, regardless of what their overall potential was. Mistakes were not likely taken. Passing through the Wilds, he had taken care not to distrupt the centuries old festivities which the Mandalorians held. Even such a assumedly soulless man such as he knew respect. Do not tread where your presence is wholly unnecessitated. Even so, he kept his presence well hidden, so as to avoid any questioning of his being where he was unfamiliar. If that were to have failed, unlikely as it was, his large frame held a small assortment of well-forged and to a great point, indestructable personal weaponry. A longer blade to the left hip, shorter ones on hidden locations, as well as the customary lightsaber of a wielder. That too, was not visible, and was not used unless absolutely necessary. Usually, other instruments tended to suffice.

Heading on towards the city, the noise, the uproar grew. Being a cautious one, a predator will assess the potential dangers that lie ahead. And he did thus, heightening his scope and range of hearing, and filtering the noise to figure just what he was headed into. It sounded joyful, musical, jovial. There was laughter, the patterned steps of dancing, the blend of instrumentation...There was so many tidbits to hear, but what he had heard was enough: Crowds.

Keh. He thought. Nuisance, at best.

But if he were to be welcome on this planet, such an attitude would not serve him so well for the time being. In such a case, the well formed persona of a gentleman, the kind of front that was so well practiced that the shift between man and monster was seamless. Like a switch flicked on in his mind, and there he was. Polite, well-carried, respectful. With that mindset up front, he entered into the crowds, opening his senses to the almighty current of the Force. The populace would not likely notice such a presence, but he had the distinct feeling that there was more than just the ignorant populace. There is...what lies beneath, so to speak.

I despise crowds.

[Razielle Alastor]

Tonight held special importance for the ladies of the royal family. The Festival of the Four Moons was a much loved, and honored tradition among the people of Iziz all on it's own. The fact that dignitaries from the Hapan Consortium were arriving, to further solidify the tender new alliance with Onderon, greatly increased the relevance to Princess Razielle.

It had been her task to begin with, to travel to Consortium space and petition the Queen Mother, Ishara for naval support against pirates that were causing Onderon no small amount of difficulty. The Prime Minister had selected her for the honor, and she still considered herself responsible for making sure that every detail was seen to, to keep the treaty. The celebration within the palace walls, the state dinner, seating arragments, sleeping arrangements, amusments to designed showcase the finer points of Onderon, hunting, gaming.. She had been working on the details nonstop since they recieved word of the Hapans imminent arrival.

At present, she was finalizing the touches on her ensemble for the evening. As was custom for her, she'd invaded the Queen's personal chambers so that they could use the time to get ready, and doubly to have some relative privacy, to discuss last minute details. Every pale inch of her had been dusted by her lady's maid, Lira, with a soft scented powder to enhance the opalescent quality of her skin and give her a silvery, etheral glow. Standing before a full length mirror, the corseted bodice of her black evening gown was being laced, tightly up her spine. Razielle remained motionless for the procedure, but did chat with Adraudia over her shoulder.

"The progeny are not so awful as their mother.. From what I can gather, there is nothing terribly wrong with either of them. Elaine is beautiful and strong, even if her dame is a harpy. And the Prince.. he's alright, he's just not.. not...". she searched for the right word.

"Arkanian..?", Lira supplied with a cheeky grin, quickly tightening the strings to prevent Razielle from answering.

[Adraudia Basillie]

Adraudia laughed at the comment along with her maid Jaynie. Lira had put it quite bluntly but it was true. To the Princess, there was no man that could equal the Prime Minister of Onderon.

Jaynie was also quite as busy as Lira, helping the Queen into the dress that Victer had imported from Chandrila at a steal, (Her Captain certainly knew how to cut a deal on anything). It was the pair to Razielle's, except it was midnight blue instead of black.

"That is comforting. I grow weary of my talks with the Queen Mother since they amount to nothing most of the time. All she is capable of is saying the same thing five different ways as if I'm not intelligent enough to know big words, or some rubbish. It's rather insulting."

[Tartarus Eros]

With a sigh, Tartarus latched onto the end of the registration queu. An annoying, yet neccessary complication. It stretched for a good few hundred people, and the youth could see others making their way to join.

He was amongst the shortest of the warriors, his wirey frame unmatched within the other competitors. Huge, hairy barbarians gave him mocking looks and laughed. Rich, snobbish marksmen did nothing but give the street boy dirty looks. There were others like him, hopeful amateurs wishing for a chance to claim glory, something better than whatever their profession provided for them.

A few hours passed for the boy before he eventually reached one of the registration tables.

"Name?"

"Tartarus."

"Full name."

"Tartarus Eros."

"And which event do you wish to participate in today?"

"Sword fighting, and...can't I enter more than one?" the youth enquired.

"Most of the tournaments play out simultaniously. If you get knocked out in the first round, you might be able to dash over to another" the official responded.

"Fine, fine. Sword fighting."

"Very good. Go that way" he said, motioning off to the right. "Enclosure 15. You'll be called when it's your turn."

"Thank you."

Tartarus gave the official a nod, turning on his heel and pacing up towards the waiting enclosures.

[Aaron Belargic]

In distant space, the Arbitrator entered the Onderon system. The cerulean and gold emblem of the Hapes Consortium shone proudly on the warships 'wings'. From the command deck of the vessel, situated within the ships hawk-like bow, the whole system could be seen laid out as a dazzling array of tiny luminous spheres, almost perfectly aligned. The stellar pattern was mirrored to the finest detail in the holographic star-chart illuminated before Commodore Aaron Belargic.

“Send word to Prince Tristan's adjutant – we are on course to arrive as per our schedule, in approximately five hours time.”

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

:: Aestiva was in her personal quarters, fresh out of the bath and being tended to by her handmaidens. This meeting was an important event, and she had to look her best ::

[Razielle Alastor]

As soon as she was finihsed being dressed, Razielle turned to the Queen's bed and started poking around boxes and packages that were laid there. Deliveries that had arrived special order. Some for tonight. Some just because. Being females, they had elected to rummage thorugh their treasures together. Lira approached with a pair of black satin heels, to match her evening dress. Razielle turned her nose up at them..

"Oh no.. Not those." since when had Razielle done what was expected of her?

With pleasure she opened a box that had been slightly buried. "Bless Victer..", she turned and held up a pair of soft, ebony nerf-hide boots, the sides of which were decorated with jewels. She slid the butter-soft material up her legs and admired the effect they made against her pale shimmering skin, revealed by the high slit up the side of the skirt of her dress. Let's see the Hapans dare that!, she thought with a mischievious grin. Besides.. they were so cozy!

"I ordered you a pair as well, Your Most Stylish Majesty.."

[Adraudia Basillie]

Adraudia shook her head and slipped the boots on. "You always love a culprit in regards to making a statement, don't you?"

The boots were so soft and comfortable, the dye matching her dress impeccably. She admired them by turning her foot to and fro, watching the jewels light up brightly by the candlelight. "The Advisor certainly has good taste."

She stood and finished preening herself with Jaynie's help in front of the mirror. "The delegation should be arriving with the Prince in the next few hours. We should leave here shortly so we can make sure everything is prepared properly."

[Tristan Alastor]

Elsewhere aboard the Arbitrator, and in equal opulence, Prince Tristan was being 'prepared' for arrival. He lay soaking in an ivory-white bathtub, upon whose edges there perched a trio of serving girls. One held a pitcher of wine, which she drained carefully into the goblet in her Prince's hand. Tristan frowned, setting down the glass without so much as a sip. The decadence of royal life did not sit well with the Prince.

“Your Highness...”

Still vexed, the Prince glanced upwards to meet the eyes of his adjutant, who had entered the room with silent soft steps. The young man, seeing the anger in his master's eyes, quickly bowed his head. Tristan's features softened, realizing his error.

“What is it?”

“Your Highness... Commodore Belargic has asked me to inform you that we are to arrival at Onderon on time.”

Tristan nodded, his eyes distant. “Is that all?”

Questioned, the adjutant brightened inexplicably. “Her Majesty Queen Ishara also sends word.”

As his aide's spirits lifted, so the Prince's fell. He stepped forward, bowing as he handed a slim datapad to Tristan. His gaze touched the screen for a moment, recognizing the security seal of his mother. The message was encoded for his eyes only. Tristan's jaw became tightly set.

“Go, then. Inform ambassador Aestiva... send her to me.”

The adjutant bowed and, with a flourish, he departed, leaving the Prince to read the Queen Mother's missive...

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

:: Aestive had finished dressing, and was preening her hair when the Prince's aide came knocking ::

"Yes." she called. "Come."

[Tristan Alastor]

“Madam Ambassador.”

The Prince's aide bowed deeply, perhaps deeper still than he had for his master. As he rose to stand, his chest seemed to swell with pride.

“His Royal Highness the Prince requests an audience with your Excellency, at the earliest convenience. He bids me inform you that we shall soon arrive to Onderon, and seeks your counsel on matters of great importance.”

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

"Tell his Highness I shall counsel him within the arn."

:: Aestiva gave the man a courteous bow and turned to the mirror again ::

[Razielle Alastor]

"....We should leave here shortly so we can make sure everything is prepared properly."
"Nearly ready, Your Majesty.."

Finishing touches were being added to her ensemble here and there. A small tiara of diamonds was set atop her upswept dark locks. An ivory cameo, bearing the image of her mother, Queen Sindel Shadana, was suspended from a black satin-ribbon choker, secured around her graceful neck. She'd opted not to make a big flashy show of jewels tonight, figuring that simplicity spoke louder than gawdiness. Her eyes were cosmetically darkened, lashes curled, and a bit of rose tinted her cheeks and lips.

She did not doubt that all the preparations within the palace would be flawless. The staff had proven to her, after their ease with the short notice of the Masquerade Ball, that they could handle whatever needs their Queen might have. They would not let her down this night either, in the presence of their new allies from the Consortium.

While the Queen finished with her own last minute details, Razielle took the moment to secure a small, sheathed dagger into the lacy strap of one garter, along her thigh. Gazing askance at the Queen, she thought her monarch may dissapprove, but that given the circumstance, she might do exactly the same thing. Razielle had almost lost something very dear to her, following the last grand occaison Iziz hosted. She was not ever going to be unprepared for the likes again.

Stepping back, she took in the image of genteel elegance before her in the full length mirror and deemed herself ready. A ripple of excitment sent goosebumps up her flesh. She knew the cause, their escort for the evening was quite close. A secret smile hinted at the corner of her mouth..

[Salem Ave]

It fell to Lira, maid to the Princess, to receive the guest to the Queen's chamber. As she returned to announce her ladyships visitors, Salem Ave strode confidently into the room. Lira, already flustered, began to attempt a hurried introduction but was spared the embarrassment by the Prime Minister. “My ladies,” he said, bowing his head. “You are both looking quite radiant... I trust that you are prepared and ready to receive the delegates from the Consortium.”

Though phrased as such, there was no true inquiry in Salem's words. The women stood before him were more than capable. As each of their eyes met, an unspoken accord was made. Their silence spoke volumes. Salem paced forwards.

“I wonder, your Majesty, if I might borrow the Princess for a short while.”

Stood behind Razielle now, he touched a hand to her shoulder. Their image was reflected in the mirror the two women had preened and posed before, and in it there could be seen a glimmering of affection in Salem's expression. Reservedly, he was smiling.

“Only a moment, I promise you.”

[Razielle Alastor]

Razielle was transfixed by the image in the mirror before her. Her besotted gaze hadn't left Salem since he had stepped into view directly behind her. With his hand on her shoulder and both of them dressed in formal attire as they were, she thought the imagery lovely and somehow perfect. To be sure, her public face was often a mockery of the danger that lurked quietly beneath the surface, but her pleasure at seeing them standing toegther this way, that was all too real. She wished she could have the moment captured in a picture..

At Adraudia's nod, she turned and gave Her Majesty a respectful bow before departing. The pair made their way to a small parlor that was adjoined to the Queen's private chambers, she used it for receiving purposes, but it was empty and quiet at the moment. As they stepped within, Razielle closed the doors behind them, affording them a stolen moment of privacy..

[Salem Ave]

In the quiet of the parlor, they could hear the sound of nearby preparations underwary and the more distant clamor of the street festivities. Everything was being decked out in the colours of the two royal families. The whole city was alive with colour. With only a dash of crimson at his neck, Salem seemed comparatively austere, dressed all in gray and without the dusting of jewels and trinkets that lent such polish to the Queen and Princess. He took Razielle's hands in his own and smiled, though some of the warmth seemed to have faded from his features.

“I have... some news.”

[Razielle Alastor]

Happy with her hands exactly where they were, Razielle only moved her thumbs, rubbing them idly back and forth against the pulse in Salem's wrists while they talked. She lifted her chin in question..

"What kind of news..?"

[Salem Ave]

“A communication... from Queen Ishara.”

Though he had not spent ample time with the Hapan Queen, as Razielle herself had, Salem knew all too well the fickle favor with which she governed. As the sole ruler, in all respects, of the Hapan Consortium, she had power greater than any of them could – at least currently – dream of commanding. Her wealth was vast, her naval and military power near uncontested. As an opponent, she was formidable, and therefore as an ally she was invaluable. It had become Razielle's duty to pander to her desires and whims as acting ambassador for Onderon, and whilst she had performed perfectly in this regard, Salem suspected that she was about to reach her limit.

“It seems that she has decided to add an additional clause to the terms of treaty between the Consortium and Onderon...”

Salem produced a datapad from his jacket and touched the screen, bringing a holographic image of Queen Ishara to life before them. She looked, as she always did, resplendent. Salem had no conception of her age and suspected that her subjects were equally clueless. Beauty was paramount to the Hapans and it was only fitting that their leader should be the fairest of them all.

It began:

“My dearest Razielle...”

[Tristan Alastor]

Tristan's eyes moved quickly over his mothers words. There were the usual reports of scandals within the court, as well as some distressing news that his sister was soon to be betrothed to a young 'nobleman' of the notoriously lascivious Alcides family. The Prince sighed. His focus on the letter had begun to wane when he came to a section which his mother had entitled: ONDERON.

“It is my fondest wish that we should, in this age of unity and friendship, make a marriage not only of planets, but also of hearts. I therefore, in greatest munificence, give my blessing to the coupling of Prince Tristan of Hapes and Princess Razielle of Onderon. It is my firm belief that through this joyful matrimony, our two sovereignty's can truly be united as one. Although I cannot personally attend the festivities, I shall be with you all in spirit, my heart full of love.”

The Hapan Queen went on to state that provisions for the ceremony were already on board the Arbitrator and, in tacit terms, expressed that her decision was final and absolute.

[Razielle Alastor]

“My Dearest Razielle..."

That was really all it took, the sense of impending doom was already crashing over her. Razielle visibly paled and backed up a step, thinking maybe if she moved quick enough she could escape the trap before it was sprung, but it was too late. This was a foe she couldn't win against, and she knew it.

"...I shall be with you all in spirit, my heart full of love.”

Not a request, or a suggestion. A demand upon which the entire treaty, that she had worked so hard to gain, was made or broken upon. Her eyes blurred for a moment and she saw red, burning red. Her voice was a ragged whisper when it did come out. Not the angelic tones of the Princess of Onderon, but the complete unveiling of Anxia in a pretty dress.. "That... harpy...", she raged quietly.. Pain stabbed through her.. She was caught in a trap of her own design...

[Salem Ave]

The far-off sounds of celebration seemed a mockery now. Salem walked to the window overlooking the palace courtyard and scowled at the sunlight. The court of the Consortium was infamous for its duplicitous games. There was no doubt in the Prime Minister's mind that this declaration was yet another of Ishara's shrewd power-plays... one he had not foreseen. He sighed quietly, and turned to look to the Princess. As he did, it was as if her rage became his. He felt her anger, thrashing beneath his skin, burning in his eyes.

The death-mask of Callidus flickered over his features, hollow-eyed and haunting.

“She has made a grave error in underestimating us.”

[Razielle Alastor]

The equally furious voice of Callidus penetrated the layers of her anger. Probably the only thing that could have, at that moment. Although she was still seething, indignant and ready to start killing things, his voice had a sedating effect on her. The 'Us' in his statement stopping time for her, long enough to unclench her hands before her fingernails could gouge bloody cresent-moon prints into her palms. She still had a part to play after all..

Let that horrid woman plays her games..

Razielle wouldn't be sold off. She already had a Lord and Master..

She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him, in misery and adoration. "I have to go along with it.. For now at least." It wasn't really a question. For now they had to submit to the Queen Mother's command. They would have to find another way out of this pretty Hapan mess..

[Salem Ave]

“For now...”

The painted whore of Hapes had unsettled him, but Salem would not be bested by her. He had, after all, made his career on mastering the art of deception and lies. Already, the cogs had begun to turn in his mind. He held Razielle for a moment longer then, taking a deep breath, lifted her face so that her eyes met his.

“You should return to the Queen now.”

[Razielle Alastor]

She nodded, absently..still remaining a fair bit shaken. She didn't feel very much like celebrating anymore, but the show must go on. Razielle stopped just short of the doors and leaned her forehead against the frame. She inhaled a ragged breath, willing herself to perform well. There were words on her mind to say, but she vowed she would say them later. Right now she needed to be a smart little pawn.

When she did arrive back at the Queen's side, Razielle had lost any look of enjoyment she had previously boasted. Her complexion was too pale and she looked as though someone had died... but only for a moment and then her mask was firmly in place once more. She dipped her head, politely to the Queen.

"We've recieved the most lovely correspondence from the Queen Mother..", her words, though lightly spoken and accompanied by a practiced smile, were laced with poison.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

A servant in spotless livery approached the small knot of Mandalorians after about twenty minutes, murmuring that if Mandalore would follow him the Prime Minister was waiting.

Lilaena inclined her helmeted head in a nod, and her honor guard followed behind as they left the courtyard and entered the inner palace. The Mandalorians were accustomed to waiting outside closed doors by now, and there was only a moment of protest as she was shown into Ave's study by herself.

Standing at ease, she immediately picked up on several layers of extra tension that coated the room as Callidus stood with his back to her, looking out the window. Lilaena shifted her feet, adjusting to a slightly more alert stance as her new master continued to stare into the distance.

[Salem Ave]

“Mandalore...” Salem's lips framed the words almost as if it were an insult, yet as he turned to regard Lilaena, they became a cold, passionless smile. He had smoothed over much of his ire in the time between Razielle leaving and De'Ville arriving, but his cool exterior could not entirely conceal the heat of anger roiling beneath the surface.

“How are things proceeding outside of the city walls?”

[Adraudia Basillie]

The Queen stiffened as a tumultuous shift in the Force was felt. Anger. Such powerful anger had hit her like a slap in the face that Adraudia looked stunned.

"Your Majesty?" Jaynie asked, puzzled by the Queen's expression. One moment their talk was festive, and now Adraudia was fixated upon her reflection, no longer speaking.

When the door to the chamber opened again, the Queen's eyes locked onto the Princess as the blood drained from her face. Razielle was the source of the anger. She could feel her heart beating so fiercely, her blood boiling with the audacity of ... Of what?, she wondered. Something had rattled her childhood friend so deeply that her emotions were leaking out through the Force. Their connection with one another was so deep that it was affecting Adraudia too.


When she did arrive back at the Queen's side, Razielle had lost any look of enjoyment she had previously boasted. Her complexion was too pale and she looked as though someone had died... but only for a moment and then her mask was firmly in place once more. She dipped her head, politely to the Queen.

"We've received the most lovely correspondence from the Queen Mother..", her words, though lightly spoken and accompanied by a practiced smile, were laced with poison.

So her anger was directed at the Queen Mother. But why? "Jaynie. Lira. Leaves us until called for." The two aids bowed respectfully and left without question.

Adraudia stepped forward and clasped her hands around Razielle's shoulders, trying to comfort her friend. "What has happened between you to cause such anger swelling inside you?" She had almost convinced herself that the Queen Mother was finally willing to be reasonable in their negotiations but that obviously wasn't the case any longer! Her emotions were swinging back under control, but not all of the anger had subsided.

[Razielle Alastor]

The minute the girls exited, Razielle's hands reached up to cover Adraudia's, on her shoulders. The Princess was trembling, she was so out of sorts. She was going to have to work extremely hard to keep it together the rest of the night. It was going to be a near impossibility to maintain a cheerful facade when what she really wanted to do was mourn and destroy.

"Ishara just set an unseen stipulation on the cost of her peace..", She whispered, afraid that if she spoke she would start screaming.

"I'm to be betrothed to Prince Tristan, during this royal visitation. It's not a request. The treaty with the Consortium now rests on our alliance." Her words were dull now, resigned..

She glanced over at her reflection. Her skin had lost none of it's sparkle from the dusting of shimmer powder. Her makeup was still flawless, and her dress without a wrinkle. The only visible difference was in her expression, minutes ago she'd been supremely happy in the moment, and now she looked like sorrow personified.

"How am I going to do this...?", she choked..

[Tartarus Eros]

Tartarus grunted, his stomach concave against the thundering fist of his opponent. The youth fell back, rolling on his side away from the brute he now faced. Mud and dirt was caked across his robes, and from them rose a smell that made him heave. The preliminaries were being held in dirty enclosures encircled with wooden beams. Only the best that emerged would move on to a more prestigeous location.

Scrambling to his feet, Tartarus clutched onto his sword with both hands. It had been loaned to him from on the tournament organisers, and it had been some time since he'd wielded such a weapon. He swung wildly in a rising arc, parrying his opponents attack. With the blades out of the play for that moment, Eros delivered a fierce kick to his opponent's groin. It was dirty play, but as far as the youth was concerned, the real world didn't tend to trouble itself with fair play.

The man doubled over. With a swift swing, Tartarus disarmed him, and held the cold edge of his blade to his opponent's neck.

"Eros is the victor! He goes through to the next round!" the referee anounced. The small crowd gave a polite round of applause, before Tartarus retired to his enclosue to rest up for his next bout.

[Adraudia Basillie]

Adraudia took Razielle into her arms and held her, allowing her mind to brush the very outer layer of the Princess' mind in a comforting warmth. Under the ray of that warmth, laying deep within, she could also feel the Queen's wrath. An unmistakable hatred that had only mirrored that towards the previous Mandalore for killing her father.

"Salem and I will be there for you. I promise you, we will find a way around this. The Queen Mother has no inclination to whom she is dealing with, and in her hubris, that is going to be her fatal flaw." Adraudia pulled back and lifted her friend's chin up so they could look at one another. "Until then, you must play along. But you are not alone, Razielle. We will get through this together."

The arranged marriage had nothing to do with Adraudia, but the Queen Mother had the audacity to add another stipulation to their agreement without counsel. It was an affront to Adraudia's person, but she had to go along with it because the Consortium knew that Onderon needed them. In the end, Adraudia, Salem and Razielle would prove how wrong they were to underestimate the power that they possessed. Until then, they had to bid their time ...

[Tristan Alastor]

Any sense of relaxation that Tristan had previously felt had now evaporated. A slow burning anger was kindled inside of him, fueled by his mothers actions. There was a great frustration in seeing through her scheming yet not having the power to defy her. In a fleeting moment of arrogance he felt sure that the entire alliance with Onderon was nothing more than a thinly-veiled attempt to remove him from Consortium space. His presence was a hindrance to a great many of the Queen's plans, most notably her attempts to secure a husband for the Princess. The very thought of his sister, alone and at the mercy of their witch of a mother...

crrrrRRRaaackCLASH!

Tristan flinched, startled. He looked down. Fragments of glass, gleaming with beads of red wine, were scattered across the table and floor. It was the remains of the wine goblet he'd held earlier. He stared into shards, each of them like tiny eyes looking back up at him. How had it broken? Had he bumped into the table?

There was a flurry of noise outside and an attendant rushed in, unannounced, with eyes wide and cheeks red. “Your Majesty!”

Tristan looked up slowly, and for a moment it seemed as if he was not there. The far-away stare in his eyes, the faint furrow of his brow... The servant came forwards and began to clean up the mess, muttering something apologetic about the solar winds in the system causing turbulence. Tristan watched in silence as she swept away the slivers of broken glass, and was only drawn out of his detachment from the situation when a knock came at the door.

The Ambassador had arrived.

[Razielle Alastor]

Razielle nodded, feeling molified, like the child she had once been, by Adraudia's guiding presence. She drew from that and somehow put herself back into the facade of the Princess of Onderon. The dutiful and loyal diplomat, pretty political pawn and sacrificial offering.

There was absolutely no reason for this.

Princess Razielle... although that was how she had been born, it was now nothing more than a courtesy title. She was a kingdomless royal orphan, a ward of Onderon only.. Her inherritance, though impressive by the standards of Iziz, was little more than a pittance compared to the wealth of the Consortium. This had been done out of calculated spite by the Queen Mother, who must have somehow seen right through her..

When they arrived at the festival however, Razielle would meet her fate with quiet dignity. She was determined to do what she had to. She was still on this mission, after all, to secure the Consortium as an ally for Onderon. Like it or not, that had to come first.

"After you, Your Majesty.."

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

:: Aestiva entered the Prince's room and bowed, waiting to be addressed ::

[Tristan Alastor]

Aestiva Ni'Liatoth stood in the doorway to the Prince's chambers. The light from the hallway beyond haloed her in soft light, an almost ethereal glow. In spite of her beauty, she seemed to carry herself with humility. Tristan, having righted himself, smiled thinly at her.

“Ambassador... please, come sit with me.”

A servant stepped forwards with head bowed, offering Aestiva a selection of refreshments.

“Tell me, what do you know of the Princess of Onderon?”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"How are things proceeding outside of the city walls?"

His voice was cool - controlled - but she was still sensitive to the anger he was holding inside. Anger that was not directed at her. Lilaena reached up and unfastened her helmet, pulling it off and settling it under her arm. It did not seem appropriate to be masked in his presence.

"The Festival continues as it has for millenia... so I am told." Her lips curled in a slight smile. "There have been no altercations with the City folk since the beginning of the week, which is something, at least. I would say that the two sides are beginning to trust each other, but I believe that it is only because the Mandalorians have retreated into the Wilds for the celebration. The only ones in the City today are with me."

She studied his face openly, but could find nothing to reveal the source of his tension. "What will be my place when the Hapan contingent arrives? I imagine the Queen will want to show our united front to the Crown Prince."

[Salem Ave]

“Indeed... you are expected to attend the royal feast, though whether you sit alongside the Queen is immaterial. Adraudia has asked that you be garbed as you are,” - he gestured, here, to her armor - “for the Prince's arrival, but following this, you are at liberty to dress yourself in whatever manner you see fit.”

The amount of freedom being afforded to Lilaena was, in part, thanks to Salem. The Mandalorian presence on Onderon was not something that had generated a great deal of discussion with the Hapans, who saw the warrior-society a an fleeting - albeit barbaric - curiosity but certainly not something to make or break a friendship over. Salem had ensured that whilst their cultural importance was made mention of, the Mandalorian's remained only part of what made Onderon 'great'.

“I would like you and a number of your followers could provide a demonstration of Mandalorian hand-to-hand combat at some point during the celebrations.”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She nodded, "I can arrange it to occur tomorrow if you like."

So. Today was going to be boring. The Hapans would probably not even look at her, assuming that she was some sort of barbarian. A barbarian who commanded thousands and could easily take over the City during the celebration... Lilaena's smile grew, but she squelched the thought, fond though it was. They had no respect for the Mandalorians and their war machines.

"I look forward to meeting the Crown Prince," she said.

[Salem Ave]

“Tomorrow would be excellent.”

There was a hectic schedule of events planned for the coming days, with each hour of daylight devoted to some festivity. Salem glanced down into the courtyard once more. Garlands and wreaths were being hung here and there. When he spoke next, there was a hint of venom to his voice.

“The Hapan Queen has informed us that her son will be staying on Onderon for some time, beyond the closing of the Festival. I am sure you will have ample time to speak with him, though I'm not so certain that he will have anything of worth to say.”

[Hawkins Grime]

"Eros is the victor! He goes through to the next round!"

"And our next match today, at Enclosure 15, is between Dirty Gary, bouncer of everyone's favorite pub, the Armpit's Reprieve, and..."

The announcer paled a bit before continuing.

"... And... Wyvern Blake!"

Anyone in these parts of Iziz knew who that was if they had anything to do with the Black Market, or supplying themselves in general in order to survive. The economy outside of the slums in Iziz, even for its city-state like existence, was still too much for the impoverished and low lifes. And while Grime ran the Market, it also provided several other services, to include loans, protection, and transportation. Hawkins had been looking into having e'Drein set up some sanctioned gambling as well but that had been put on hold for this... celebration. Prices had gone up in preparation, and Grime had been setting marks on the competitions and prizes.

Of course, none but his entourage, who were also participating in their own events in the competition, actually knew his name, and even then... Either way, leave it at, the crowd got quiet at the name of Wyvern Blake. However, the sight of the man only matched up to his initial description when Grime had first arrived, the Man with the Pale Face. Hawkins had undercut the former leaders of the Black Market using that name and had reinstated himself after removing them. Now those in the crowd were witness to who ran the slums of Iziz.

He stood slowly, as if suffering from arthritis or simply old age, if only they knew. Hawkins' face was void of any emotion, and not because he chose it to be. If he had his way, it'd be grimacing, constrained with the burden of pain that he wallowed in. Grime would make all of their faces to be like that if he had his way. And they would be in time, in time.

But now for Dirty Gary. Hawkins, in his black metal armor, with spikes and cloak, and his wide brimmed hat towered a good half meter above the stout bouncer. The eyes set in the porcelain face were bloodshot and their gaze was pain to any that matched it. Thus did Dirty Gary, who was wielding a thick piece of metal that Grime thought more of a club than a sword, take a step back, considering Hawkins' height and given reach. With stiff effort, Hawkins drew his long curved blade. It was lithe and had a serrated edge near the hilt. The gem on the pommel gave no gleam or glimmer but seemed more ominous for one reason or another.

"Begin!"

Gary hesitated, mud slid forward with Grime's first step. Gary brought the piece of metal around like a baseball bat and Grime's sword, half way to its mark, deflected the metal. Behind the passive composure, Grime's artificial teeth grinded as the concussive force travelled throughout his frailer body beneath the exoskeleton. Gary grunted though, his blade tossed to the side with seemingly ease, and threw a thick, meaty fist toward's Grime. The exoskeleton absorbed most of the punch but still, Grime's body was knocked aside.

Gary had enough time to reposition himself and launched another attack, bringing his metal slab downwards. Grime, for all of his stiffness and tinker toy mobility, sidestepped with uncanny grace. A metal clawed palm shot out and slammed into Gary's face and carried through, taking the stout fellow to the ground.

The crowd stopped breathing as they heard the sigh of metal sliding between flesh and muscle. Hawkins turned, his blade sliding out from the man's stomach, having been stabbed in upwards and into the more vital organs. Needless to say, Dirty Gary had never felt the muck he'd fallen into.

"Uhhh... our... winner!"

There weren't enough observers yet to have such defined rules. If death came in these darker corners of the competition, and especially at the hand of someone with leverage and power, no one contested it.

[Victer Dejan]

Somehow, Victer had been thrown in charge of much of the logistics of the Festival. It occupied too much of his time, but the results were spectactular. He had called a town hall meeting with many of the local merchants and resteraunts and worked through them to solve many of the solutions for distribution and labor. The royal treasury would suppliment their incomes slightly, on top of the minimal fee they would charge during the festival for their foods. Victer had convinced them that it was an opportunity for advertising, although mentioning some of it would be funded by the crown had made it a much easier sell, and that he was willing to specially import supplies with no tarrifs.

Now that everything was in motion, and the ends were tied as tight as he could, Victer could focus on his more official functions. Jaynie and Lira were in front of the chambers. Lira's face and wide eyes told Victer to stop before knocking.

"What's the matter?" Victer asked the maids.

"The Princess is distraught by some news. We do not know what." Jaynie explained.

"Oh." Victer frowned, and took a step from the door. He suspected the Hapans were behind Razielle's distress, but said nothing.

"I trust all is well, Captain Dejan?" Jaynie asked.

"Yes, aside from the Princess, I guess." He answered.

"You look dashing. I think the Queen will be pleased." Lira added, trying to bring things to a positive light.

"Thank you." Victer said with a slight bow and a half-smile.

[Adraudia Basillie]

Adraudia squeezed the Princess' shoulder one last time with a wistful smile before opening the door. Unsurprisingly, Victer was waiting outside with Lira Jaynie, all of whom were staring at Razillie with concern and curiosity.

To avoid any unnecessary questioning, the Queen dismissed both of their aides and took the good Captain's arm in hers as they walked down the hallway. "Everything is in order then?"

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

:: Aestiva took a seat next to Tristan ::

"I do not know her as well as I ought to, my Lord. Only that she's close with Queen Adraudia. They're like Sisters. She's also highly skilled with a blade."

:: She pouted behind her teacup, cursing the Queen Mother secretly for this arranged marriage. Not only was the man she desired slipping through her fingers, but the entire court of Onderon would view her as an annoyance now ::

[Razielle Alastor]

After reservedly greeting Victer, and falling into step beside the Queen, Razielle fell silent. Her expression seemed vacant, but it was far from the truth. She was mentally going over any and all options that she had.

They were few.

Most ended in even more regret and loss than she was dealing with now. The only option she really had was to observe her fellow pawns and from that point create a strategy.

Her stomach churned distressfully, but her composure remained intact..

[Tristan Alastor]

Tristan looked up, his eyes lit up with curiosity. “Skilled with a blade?”

It was not considered proper for the nobility of Hapes to engage in such barbaric practices, but what the Queen did not know about she could not punish. Fencing, marksmanship and game-hunting were but a few of the pastimes Tristan partook in without his mothers consent.

He took a canape from the selection of Hapan delicacies on offer, chewing it thoughtfully.

“What do you make of all this, Ambassador?” he said, gesturing vaguely. “The marriage... my Mother's intentions are never so simple.”

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

"It is not my place to speak freely, unless you bid me so."

:: She avoided his eyes by reaching for a shellfish ::

[Tristan Alastor]

The girl's bashful demeanor made Tristan impatient. What use was she, as counsel, if she would not speak?

“I asked you a question, Ambassador. I expect an answer.”

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

:: She glanced over her shoulder quickly. They were alone. ::

"Curse your Mother's ambition. I resent it, and I resent this marriage."

:: Impulsivley, she siezed the Prince's lips in a kiss. Then she drew back, cheeks burning at what she had done ::

[Tristan Alastor]

Tristan's eyes flashed in anger.

“And I resent your insolence! I asked for your counsel, not some childish fit of affection.”

[Tartarus Eros]

The number of contenders in Enclosure 15 was thinning. Tartarus himself had fought 5 bouts since his first, and was close to advancing into the knock-out stages of the tournament.

Right now, the youth was tending to a deep cut through his right forearm. During the last fight, he had been knocked to the ground by a particularly brutal opponent. The guy had shown no signs of stopping the onslaught, bringing his blade down in what would have been a fatal blow to Tartarus. In a panic, the boy had lifted his right arm, which took the blow. The blade used hadn't been sharpened sufficiently, and was stopped by the stiff bone in Eros' arm. In that moment, the boy took the chance to reach for his blade and puncture his opponent's stomach, granting him victory.

Tartarus pulled hard on the tourniquet he had applied to the wound, tightening and securing it in place. His next bout was approaching, and once again he had to win. Of the many combatants that had started in the enclosure, only the top 4 would advance, and Tartarus had every intention of being one of them.

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

:: Aestiva flinched, hair whipping over her face as though she had been struck. She couldn't breathe, and wished that he'd stuck a knife in her instead ::

[Salem Ave]

There was a knock at the Prime Minister's door.

“Your Excellency... the Queen and her companions are departing for the city proper.”

Although the festivities were already in full-swing, it fell upon the royals to routinely attend the games. Today, they were scheduled to oversee the sword-fighting tournament. The winner of the days games would receive a trophy blade from Queen Adraudia herself.

“Mandalore, you must excuse me...”

Salem motioned to the attendant, who stepped forward, ready to escort Lilaena off the premises. With the office to himself, Salem took a moment to compose himself. He straightened his tie, smoothed a kink from his hair and, satisfied, departed to meet with Adraudia and the others.

[Tristan Alastor]

Tristan stood, compelled by some sudden restlessness. He paced a few steps then turned, sharply, to face Aestiva once more.

“Make no mistake, Ambassador. I am far from thrilled with this engagement.”

The Prince sighed, and the exhalation seemed to drain some of the anger from him. He returned to stand above the Ambassador and, touching fingertips to her chin, turned her gaze upwards to meet his own. There was a tenderness to his touch, yet his eyes retained a grave intensity.

“But we must maintain our composure... our clarity... at all times.”

[Razielle Alastor]

The Queen's party arrived at the festival, greeted warmly by the people.. The music was jovial, resounding through the streets with rustic chords and a lively beat. Colorful banners draped across the avenues from building to building, annoucing the areas of different attractions, and shops. Street performers and minstrels wandered about engaging the crowds with their arts. The different stalls that had freshly prepared foods, drinks, and wares each called out to the passers-by to sample their very best..

All in all, it was a lovely night.

Princess Razielle barely took notice of any of it. When she was handed a glass of spiced wine, she automatically took a sip, thinking that maybe it would help, but the second the liquid touched her tongue she turned queasy and handed the glass off to an attendant. The aroma of the different foods wasn't doing much for her constitution either.. She was normally of much sterner fortitude and could only attribute her present ailments to the sudden news..

The sound of one street performers stringed melody caught her attention. It's mournful refrains seemed to echo her feelings and so she stopped dead in her tracks to listen..

[Adraudia Basillie]

Her Majesty, the Queen, had broken away from the Princess' entourage as something had caught her fancy. The heavy wooden thuds and grunts of strength had garnered some attention as they did every year. Adraudia genuinely loved watching strapping young men try and out do their elders in the axe throwing contest.

"DOUBLE O'NOTHING!!!"

A rowdy cheer roared as mugs of ale reached to the sky in approval of this bet. Adraudia crept closer in interest, who was garnering some attention of her own.

"My Queen!" said a young lady who bowed deeply. "Ye grace us wit' yer presence."

Others that could hear the young lady speak turned and also paid their Queen with proper manners. Adraudia held up her hand in protest and even laid a hand on one gents arm to raise him to stand. "Tonight is our night. Together we celebrate. Now ..."

Her eyes sparkled at the two young lads up front holding their axes. "... what are your names good sirs?"

"M-m-my name is Caleb, your Majesty, Caleb Harper."

"I be Hank MacAroy."

"What is the bet?" Adraudia asked, looking amongst the crowd for an answer. An older man that was standing on a chair hugging the wooden column for support shouter, "40 credits in favor o'young Hank, my Queen!"

"Is that right? Hmm." She narrowed her eyes, surveying the competition to place her wager. "100 credits on Caleb."

Caleb went white as a ghost and almost dropped his axe. "Ye sure yer Majesty? Ah dun want you ta loose yer money on me."

Adraudia smiled with confidence. "I am quite sure my Champion will do my coin justice."

Caleb visibly gulped as the crowd went mad with new bets ...

[Salem Ave]

Although the Queen had broken away to show her support for some concert, the Princess and her escort walked on. The maudlin strains of music that caught Razielle's attention also arrested Salem. He moved through the crowd, but remained apart from it. There was nothing of the festival in him, his features joyless. Lanterns swung overhead, their light drifting too and fro as the wind shifted the paper shades. Salem and the others passed in and out of their glow, the shadows resting on them only briefly, though they were never out of sight.

The Princess's arm looped through his own, Salem turned his head and spoke faintly, in a voice barely audible.

“I have a task for both of you, later tonight.”

[Razielle Alastor]

Something like a smile returned to her features. Razielle adjusted her arm, lifting her fingers to curl around Salem's biceps, her other hand lifted to rest upon her own grip there comfortably. Fow now at least, no one would think to question her place at his side. No one here, save for the three of them, knew about the betrothal yet. The Princess on the arm of the Prime Minister had become a frequent enough sight lately. Though she might have to cease doing so in the days to come..

Violet eyes narrowed, she refused to think about it right now, opting to salvage some small piece of what tonight may have held.. Right now it was enough that he was here. Besides, she believed him implicitly, and the Queen. Together they would beat the Hapan Queen at her own games.. She'd underestimated her opponents greatly..

A task sounded like just the thing she needed. Trust Salem to have known that.. She smiled at the musician as they moved on. Her gaze flitted about looking for Adraudia. She found her apparently placing wagers on a competition.

"What kind of task..?", she inquired quietly, nodding in the Queen's direction, silently asking if they should join up with her party..

[Victer Dejan]

Adraudia looked to Victer, who merely raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you didn't pull the rug out from under young Caleb?" Victer asked the Queen quietly. She merely nodded and smiled.

"I'm not much of a betting man but I know better than to wager against you." Victer returned the smile. It was the Queen's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"After your continued presence here, I would say otherwise." Her eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief.

"I know a sure thing when I see it. Onderon needed some outside trade. It's not a short term gain, but, I like the ten-year prospects." He managed over the slowly dulling flurry of bets.

'ALLRIGHT!" The shouter said, "BETS ARE CLOSED!"

The smile of mischief had not left her lips as Caleb and Hank lined up at their respective positions. Each round target was divided into rings, and each ring had a corresponding value, increasing to the center.

Hank let fly, a surehanded throw that left the axe in the mid-rings. The crowd roared. Caleb, visibly nervous, took several deep breaths and centered himself. He had a steely determination not to let his Queen down. He raised the axe paused, and threw with a grunt. It landed in the same ring as Hank's.

[Salem Ave]

They joined the party watching the axe-throwing. The Queen's patronage of the event seemed to have attracted a large crowd, though they were happy to step aside to give the Princess a better view.

“You're going to take part in the fencing contest. Not all of the trinkets they're awarding as prizes are worthless...”

[Razielle Alastor]

Above the clamor of the gathered crowd around the axe-throwing competition, the Princess kept her violet gaze on the match before her, but in truth her attention was on the words of the man at her side.. She recognized a command when she was given one. There was something her master wanted her to retrieve from the fencing competition. That would not pose a problem for her..

"Should I be on the lookout for something in particular?", she asked him quietly, nodding in approval of both well-placed throws.

"Some specific trinket..?"

[Salem Ave]

Salem smiled and quietly applauded as another shot hit its target.

“Whilst the first-prize blade is of fine craftsmanship, it is not the blade itself but the jewels inlaid in its hilt that are of real worth.”

[Razielle Alastor]

She very much doubted that the jewels were valued by Salem for their fine cut, or monetary worth, which left only one other conclusion to be drawn.

Razielle smiled darkly, still in pretense of watching the match.. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind..."

[Adraudia Basillie]

"What do we 'ave 'ere eh? Ah tie?!"

Boos and cheers erupted.

The old man quieted down the crowd with his hands full of credits. "Now, now. They git another go at it."

He bowed with a flourish and pointed at the axes. "A'right ye two. Take up yer axes one more time!"

Arms littered the air as bets were frantically being changed before the next toss.

Adraudia daintily scratched at her nose to hide a chuckle and quietly commented to Victer. "Looks like I started something, eh?"

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Mandalore and her honor guard appeared at the festival, creating no small stir as they walked slowly amongst the people in the main promenade. The Queen's entourage was quite visible near the axe throwing contest, but Mandalore ignored them for the most part, making for the ring where the next two fighters were squaring up.

A space was cleared for the Mandalorians. No one wanted to stand next to them.

[Salem Ave]

“I'll leave it to you to inform Creas,” Salem muttered, his intention drawn away for a moment by the sight of the Mandalorians arriving.

“Excuse me for a moment, if you will,” he added with a little more volume. Touching a hand briefly to Razielle's lower back, he offered a smile to anyone who might have been looking, before breaking away towards Mandalore.

[Razielle Alastor]

"Of course..", she nodded in answer to both statements. Taking only one stolen moment to smile at the way a shiver ran up her spine from his parting touch.

Princess Shadana made her way from her former vantage point, ever closer to Adraudia's side, smiling at those who made way for her. Coming up behind the Queen, Razielle smiled slowly.

"You always start something, Your Majesty. You set the precident and it is the style to follow your example, of course."

To prove her point, Razielle matched the royal wager of 100 credits on Caleb, with a grin. She gave the young man her most winning smile and tucked her arm through the Queen's to watch and see if he could repeat his performance, but whispered softly for her ears alone..

"We have something of a task from him..." Who he was, would not have to be explained...

[Victer Dejan]

Victer's ears perked up, but could hear nothing of use. He suddenly felt like the rug might be about to be pulled out from under him. He gave Razielle a curious glance, and instantly knew he was about to be excluded from something. Victer puzzled on it a moment, and concluded it had to do with whatever it was the Queen was not letting on about. After their brief talk, the Queen had not broached the subject again, but it had been several weeks. Victer would bring it up again, if only to quiet the nagging feeling that he was missing a much larger part of the picture here in Iziz.

"Hello my Princess." He said with a smile as Razielle settled by Adraudia's side, finished with their communique.

[Adraudia Basillie]

Caleb's eyes widened at seeing the Princess wager for him. His face lined with fear, he tightened the grip around the axe handle and waited for his turn.

"ALL BETS ARE CLOSED!!!"

Adraudia smiled at her friend and squeezed the Princess' hand. "We'll talk more about the dance later after this bout." The Queen did not like keeping Victer out of the loop with what they were discussing, but until she approached Callidus about his abilities, the good Captain must remain in the dark.

Hank went up to the line and worked out the kinks in his shoulder, preparing to throw. With three practice swings, he let loose his weapon. The crowd held onto their breath until the axe landed into the second row with a thud, but then the erupted with cheer.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Her stomach rumbled as thoughts of a forgotten breakfast crossed her mind, but Lilaena was not about to take off her helmet in the midst of all the frivolity. It would not be proper. However, the vendors hawking fried food and other carnival delicacies from their stalls were making it hard for her to resist.

Granoi touched her elbow, and Lilaena saw a figure detatch from the royal party and head towards her. It was the Prime Minister. She did not walk towards him, but remained where she was, studying some sort of ring throwing game. A smudge-faced child paid a half-penny for a ring, and threw it towards the table that was covered with bottles for a prize. It was a terrible effort, and the ring seemed sure to miss every single bottle and fall to the table below.

Inexplicably the ring caught the lip of a bottle, bounced up, and then landed around it. Lilaena smiled to herself as the child screamed with joy.

[Razielle Alastor]

Returning the squeeze to Adraudia's hand, Razielle smiled slightly, a sure sign to her Queen that she was feeling much improved since their last conversation. "Of course.. The dancing can wait..", she agreed.

Leaning forward, Razielle peeked around the Queen to give the newest of Her Majesty's Advisors a cheeky grin. "Hello again, Victer. Speaking of dancing, I'll be expecting another from you later.. That is... if Her Majesty can spare you.."

The last was state quietly and with no small amount of amusement.. Any reply however was lost to the crowds cheering at Hank's throw.. Caleb looked positively squirmy. Razielle cast a charming smile his way, arching one dark brow aloft as her gaze slid to the row of targets, as if to say.. Well?

[Salem Ave]

“Well done.” Salem smiled and applauded the child's luck, though his gaze soon turned towards Mandalore. He could only guess at what expression was hidden beneath her visor. A smug smile, he imagined.

“Enjoying the festivities?”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Her voice seemed synthetic as it came through the helmet. "As much as can be. Mando'an games involve more... blood."

Granoi leaned close, laughing something in Mando'a to Lilaena, who translated for Salem. "She says she'd be happy to take part in your wrestling games, except it is traditional to do so with a knife in hand beyond the walls." Mandalore canted her head to one side, "Of course, it is traditional to do everything with a weapon in hand, outside the walls."

The female honor guard laughed again, not noticing that she'd scared away the children from the ring toss game. In accented Basic she said, "And we mean everything." One didn't need to see her face to hear the innuendo.

Lilaena waved her off, amused at the woman's mirth, but not wanting to offend her new master. Mandalorians showed great respect to their leaders, but it did not mean that they refrained from ribald jokes or becoming friends with them.

[Salem Ave]

Salem's hollow eyes followed the female Mandalorian as she walked away. “Your people seem to be in good spirits,” he said, as Granoi glanced back towards him, laughing at what was doubtlessly another lascivious joke. She winked and Salem turned his attention back to Lilaena.

“It is unfortunate that the same cannot be said of the royal party.”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Perhaps the news that had upset him earlier had worked its magic on his other apprentices as well. Curiosity piqued, Lilaena turned towards him, impassive under her armor and helmet. "The festivals entertainments are not pleasing to her majesty and her ward?"

[Victer Dejan]

Victer had been looking forward to spending some time by Adraudia's side, and he barely managed to hide a frown at Razielle's request.

"Yes, of course." He said as Caleb lined himself up. He held the axe high, and breathed slowly, desperate to steady his nerves. The crowd went from a dull roar to quiet murmurs. With a quiet grunt, he let the axe fly. The ax burried itself into the target, just an inch of center. Caleb looked as if he was about to collapse from shock.

"The Queen's Champion!" The crowd ignited with jubiliation. Victer looked to Razielle. While she was smiles and pleasantries outside, something ate her inside. He slipped around the Queen.

"What's wrong, Razielle?" Victer knew an indirect approach would take too long to get satisfactory results.

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

There was a tenderness to his touch, yet his eyes retained a grave intensity.

“But we must maintain our composure... our clarity... at all times.”
Turning her burning cheeks away from his touch, Aestiva lowered her gaze, her honey-gold tresses falling forward, shielding her embarassment. She knew when she had overstepped her bounds, even if the Prince was being kind to her now..

"I understand.. Forgive me my impertinence.." and so she would return to pining, always wanting.. never having.. loving him from afar..

[Tristan Alastor]

“You are forgiven.”

Tristan sighed and turned away, one arm folding over his chest whilst with the other he tapped fingertips to his forehead, as though trying to drum some divine inspiration from within. A sudden beeping brought him out of his thoughts. In the centre of the table he and the Ambasssador had sat before, the holographic emitter was flashing. He gestured towards Aestiva and she accepted the incoming communication. It was Commodore Belargic.

“Ambassador,” Belargic frowned.

“Commodore,” Tristan spoke up, and Belargic's posture grew rigid.

“Your Highness... we are nearing Onderon. We expect to be planet-side in roughly forty-five minutes.”

“Very good. See to it that the necessary preparations are made – and ensure that you do not disturb me further until we have reached our destination.”

The Commodore nodded. “Of course, Your Highness... madame Ambassador.” With that, the hologram vanished.

[Aestiva Ni'Liatoth]

"If you have no further need of me, Your Highness, I'll leave you to prepare for our arrival..", she said quietly..

In truth she wanted desperately to escape his company after her unseemly display. How could she have blundered so badly? She had alwayd been so comfortable around him, so careful at concealing her true feelings and then at the news of his coming marriage to lose it all on one impulsive gesture?

The only way she would retain his favor was to make herself indispensable to him on this new world. She had to, or she'd lose him entirely and be sent home to Hapes..

[Razielle Alastor]

"What's wrong, Razielle?" Victer knew an indirect approach would take too long to get satisfactory results.
The soft query, renewed the stab of pain in her chest. No one should really know beforehand about the betrothal, but the Hapans would be arriving soon, unless she was off in her estimations, and Victer would find out anyways. As an Advisor to Adraudia, and someone Razielle had to admit she liked, she didn't feel that appraising him a bit early would change or disturb much at all..

Just as quietly, she spoke to him. "I've just been betrothed."

Victer had known since his first days in Iziz of her great love for the Prime Minister, being there to carry her when she'd taken a dagger to the back - aimed for Salem.. "...To Prince Tristan of Hapes..."

It was unfair and horrible, but it was the way it had to be for now..

[Adraudia Basillie]

The Queen collected her winnings and gave 20% to her Champion, 10% to the staunch competitor, and the rest she divided amongst the people who had been audience to the fun and games.

When she returned to her group, she caught the tail end of the Princess' conversation with Victer. "Ah. I see Razielle has filled you in on the bad news," she said with a heavy frown.

[Lucianus Adair]

The further into the city the ancient one pushed, the thicker the throngs of people got. By this time, he had set aside his displeasure. After a half-hour of wanderings, squeezings, and attentiveness to not squashing those of shorter stature underfoot, the inexplicably taller 'man' came across one competition in particular that seemed to have an undeniable draw on the bystanders. By his very nature, the wiseman-beast was a curious one. One did not find the deeper thngs without an open eye. He too, stopped awhile to watch.

In those moments, the simplicity of this contest of strength was somewhat relaxing to his eyes. He let himself enjoy it a little, as true enjoyment of things from his person was rare enough. And in that rare enough instance, a young boy of no more than twelve took an interest in him. Or more specifically, the finely crafted and dear blade that hung at the man's side. The dark-haired boy thought to touch it, wanting to hold it - his soul seemed to beg so - and thus he oh-so-carefully ran his dirtied fingers down the exquisitely crafted hilt.

This action earned the boy a fiery glare.

"I would not touch that if I were you, boy."

The predator's large hand enveloped the one of the young boy, giving it a good squeeze. The glare darkened, an undercurrent of fire still present. His voice had blended, otherworldy tone to it. Voices within voices in a whisper.

"It is very sharp and would much like to have your hands missing if you disturbed it."

Then he let the boy go, and full of fear, that boy stumbled backwards a step or two, reeled, and fell on his behind before scurrying to his feet and bolting in the opposite direction, back from whence he came. The almost-teen whispered, rather shaken and with high conspiracy to his pals about the flash of a vision that has passed in front of his own two eyes. For a fraction of a second, he thought he had seen bloody stumps where his hands should be, and the face of the man was possessed with maniacal laughter.

The predator calmed, and drew his collar upward to cover the back of his long neck. And when he looked again to the festivities, there were one or two that looked at him.

[Salem Ave]

Perhaps the news that had upset him earlier had worked its magic on his other apprentices as well. Curiosity piqued, Lilaena turned towards him, impassive under her armor and helmet. "The festivals entertainments are not pleasing to her majesty and her ward?"

“They are pleasing. This years entertainments are some of the finest I've had the task of over-seeing.”

It was difficult, with his tone dry, to tell whether or not Salem was being serious.

“Unfortunately, I think they shall soon be somewhat... over-shadowed. Word has arrived from the Hapan Queen that she wishes her son to be married to Princess Razielle.”

[Victer Dejan]

Victer's eyes went wide. He instantly recognized the implications of such a decree. The wheels in his head began to turn. He had been studying Hapan politics and law. Despite their wishes otherwise, once trade is established, information trickled into Victer's hands from the Consortium. There wasn't any viable legal solution to this conundrum, and Tristan was not in favor in his home country.

But that didn't mean it couldn't become an advantage.

"If there is anything you want or need that I can assist with, Razielle, let me know." He said, dropping the honorific on purpose.

Razielle was a particular creature who did not enjoy having her tree shaken. She was, however, highly adaptable, and dangerous when provoked. The Queen of Hapes might have signed her own death warrant.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"A great honor for the Princess, to be chosen by the leader of Hapes for her son." Lilaena tried to picture Darth Anxia in Hapan finery, and decided that her tone of light sarcasm was fitting. And considering how Salem and Razielle had been canoodling all over the city, no wonder he was angry about it. Something even their power, perhaps, could do nothing about.

"If Mandalore can be of assistance in this time of celebration, she will do her best."

[Razielle Alastor]

"Thank you, Victer..", she smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

"..and you, my Queen. I will do what must be done, and with a smile, never fear." To show she meant business, Razielle gave them both a slightly tremulous smile.

She divided her own winnings up and dispersed them, following Her Majesty's benevolent example. She thanked the competitors for the display and then without another word moved along. She might put on a good show, but she was far from happy..

[Salem Ave]

Salem, sombre-faced, nodded to Lilaena, his eyes fixed on the games ahead.

“Yes, I am sure the government of Onderon will have use of your unique talents yet,” he replied, his tone notably dark.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

The royal party seemed to be moving on from the competition they had been watching, the guards clearing a way for the Queen and the Princess as they walked among their people. Lilaena watched them, using her helmet's viewfinder to give her a close up of Princess Raizelle's face. She looked happy, but there was a strange twist to her smile that Lilaena caught just before the other woman turned her face away.

Either she was about to cry, or she was going to kill someone. Lilaena did not pretend to know the woman, but from what she'd gathered, Anxia tended towards being emotional. Perhaps her unique talents would entail sitting on the Princess until she behaved. If, of course, Anxia started acting up.

No, Callidus' apprentices obeyed his every order. There would be no acting up.

"I am honored to serve," she murmured, her voice a strange rumble through the distortion of the helmet. And strangely enough, she meant it.

[Razielle Alastor]

Her mind was wandering, though not in a scattered manner. Although she strolled with a pleasant enough smile on her face, and observed the niceties of the occasional incline of her head to those she passed, Razielle was solely focused on the matter at hand.

Her betrothal. They would be here soon and she would be face to face with Prince Tristan.. Perhaps she could interest His Highness into a sword match and simply cleave his head from his shoulders, on accident of course!

These things do happen..

A devious smile lit her features for only a moment. That was who she'd been all those years ago on Davora. A girl who entertained thoughts of slight mishaps at commanded performances, resulting in horrible deaths. Salem had schooled her better than that now though, and it was only a fantasy. She knew that this was not Tristan's doing..

Her mean tempered musings were cut off suddenly, by a tremor in the Force, followed by a small troupe of adolescents who crashed by and took cover behind the nearest vendor.

"I'm tellin' ya! I touched his sword then he glared at me and my hands were gone!" The boy sounded like he might give way to tears. His fright was all too real. That much she could feel..

"Jus' my bloody wrists were left! Guy's a monster! Uhh... uhh.. a sorceror...", he nodded solemnly.

"Oh come off it, yer fine! Yer hands are fine! You're just a baby...", his friends teased, but Razielle began to wonder..

"Where's he at?", the boy whispered..

"There!" one of them poked their heads out from around the stall and pointed. Razielle's gaze settled on the man in question, one brow lifting in interest.

A sorceror hmm?

If there were other Force users in Iziz, that was information that would need to be validated.

[Lucianus Adair]

After a millenia and a half, he knew when he was being watched. Curiousity had not shortened the life of this cat, and a little more never hurt. A competition of brute strength was only minimally interesting, and much more would have bored the man to tears, if only tears were something he experienced. Not since childhood, before having learned pain and its values, had a single drop of water been shed from his eyes. This was not a thing of sadness, as much as a matter of learned nature. Of habit.

Those eyes, he felt them on his person much like fingers like tendrils, slipping across him. One turn of his head, slow and lacking impatience, matched that gaze. He held it, almost mocking the quirk of her brow by repeating it in his own face. A corner of his mouth tugged upward.

A sorcerer, he heard the hushed proclamation of the boy only seconds earlier.

Indeed. A sorcerer, hmm? How...interesting. He thought. His gaze narrowed, boring into her.

What do you think?

[Razielle Alastor]

Meeting his gaze across the distance, Razielle was shocked to hear his own thoughts in her head, though she did not display so openly. Rather, a slight twist to the corner of her mouth was her only reaction. Slowly, she bowed slightly in the direction of the tall gentleman.. who was not so very gentle when provoked, if the rabble of young boys were to be believed.

Her first inclination was to attract Salem's attention to the fact that there was another force user in their midst, once more, but he was not that far off and may have felt the subtle vibration as well. So until he chose to make some sort of move, she'd keep their intriguing guest, suitably distracted..

Princess Shadana smiled wickedly, then turned to depart, but thought..

'I think you are mighty bold, sir..'

Perhaps a hint of invitation in her silent reflection? But would he follow?

[Lucianus Adair]

Bold? Perhaps.

Your assumption, milady, is what is bold.

The result of someone noticing the ripple he had made in the ocean was the result he desired. The actions of an all too curious boy merely allowed him to take that step, and find out just what the woman he had now connected with would have deduced. That there were other users about was most useful information to have. Especially considering that he was the wolf in her chicken coop.

Any smidgen of emotion in his face soon vanished. Her directed thought seemingly hid something. An invitation, or perhaps the cheese in the mousetrap. Either way, she was a gatekeeper of sorts to what he intended to discover. There was no matter of chance involved. Just choice. Turning only so much as needed, the predator-man approached, followed. He did not do so blindly. His long-legged steps soon had him with her, his proportionally appropriate hands folded behind the small of his back as he walked.

You have come to me, unwittingly answering my call.

The pale blue-white of his irises seemed to fade in the instances of light along the way, flickering much like dancing torches, when he came close enough to look down on her. His long, dark hair was drawn back behind his head, clasped there.

"Now why would you do such a bold thing with an unknown variable such as myself, I wonder...?" His voice, although a bare whisper, retained a deep and even normal tone. The blending the young boy had heard minutes before was not present. With the question, his head cocked to one side, an examining stance, much like a nonsentient bird.

[Razielle Alastor]

His bird-like stance, rather put her in mind of a predator waiting to pounce down upon its prey ripping it to shreds. Of course no such thing would happen here, she was far from helpless. Failing even her own action, there lurked the royal guard keeping it's watch over the Queen and her party..

As to whether or not she was answering his call.. He would just have to wait and see.

"Perhaps, bold sir.. I merely wished to confirm what I suspected...", as a few of the lurking guard moved forward, to investigate the new 'variable' talking to Princess shadana, she waved them off, and shook her head slowly. She was in no danger and she might require relative privacy for anything else that this sorceror had to say.

Mindful of the coming task at hand from her master, her seemingly random strolling brought her ever closer to the fencing circle and the clash of weaponry there..

[Adraudia Basillie]

Adraudia and Victer walked closely behind Razielle and the new companion she had acquired. Creas watched the man, this Sorcerer, intently. The Princess could easily take care of herself, but the Disciple had also felt the strange flicker of the Force when this man had appeared.

She smiled with much enthusiasm as they entered the area that had been cornered off for the fencing matches. This was an event that her Majesty had always been looking forward too every year. The contest was fiercely competitive. Each contestant wanted to be crowned the best fencer in the lands!

"I should try and not call favorites here," she whispered to Victer. "These matches are far more serious. More is at stake."

[Victer Dejan]

Victer stood silent for a minute. He watched the intense combat before he nodded in agreement with Adraudia's assesment.

"No fair spirits here." He muttered quietly. This was a primal battle that nearly boiled down to skill and pride. Each fencer hunted the other; they were beyond thinking of each other as men, but as prey or competing predators. They had the same glint in their eyes as TIE aces. His attention drifted back to his Queen. She didn't merely watch one of the competitors, nor was she just sizing him up. Adraudia was evaluating him on some other level. He could feel it. Victer was hesitant to try to use his recently revealed abilities in situations like these, when there seemed to be something greater in play. His arm brushed against his blaster. He found the weapon to be a comfort in times like these.

[Lucianus Adair]

"I am sure your suspicions are correct, on some level."

These questions were more a toying game at this point. He knew by now what her assumption was, at the very least, and was aware of another pair or two of eyes quite nearly boring into his seven foot plus frame. It amused him, ever so slightly, that there was no fear amongst these ones...merely apprehension. On the other hand, the naivete, the innocence, that they knew nothing of who or what he was and has been before, made it merely unsurprising. Any proper user would be at least minimally wary of that, or those who are unfamiliar, as the noting eyes of this lady's companions were giving away. After his act with the young boy, the man had withdrawn his tendrils, severed his signal on any noticeable level. To any but the most discerning and skilled of seekers, he would merely present as a rather well-dressed, towering individual.

Standing beside Razielle, he leaned slightly to the side on which she stood, his hands remaining clasped behind him, and looked down at her with his next words.

"Yet...I am no mere sorcerer or performer of cheap tricks. Such an insinuation would be insulting at best."

And following that, turned his attentions to the fencing competition, like many of those that surrounded it.

[Salem Ave]

“Your dedication to our shared cause is commendable, Mandalore.”

Even as Salem spoke, his attention was drawn elsewhere. It had been a priority of his, since arriving on Onderon, to pay close attention to those individuals within Iziz who displayed proficiency within the Force. Whilst he had cultivated the talents of Adraudia and Razielle, there were some amongst the populace whom he had acknowledged yet abstained from tutoring. It would have been too much of a risk to bring them into the circle of deception that he had so diligently inscribed within the royal court. Regardless, he kept a watchful eye on them, just in case.

This man, however, he was a unfamiliar variable. Salem was careful to maintain his neutrality, whenever in the company of anyone other than his apprentices, but he remained perceptive of the Force, though not actively using it. This stranger was not being quite so delicate. Razielle would handle him quite completely, Salem had no doubt. He only hoped that she would excuse herself from his company before it became too late to join the fencing competition herself...

[Razielle Alastor]

Her eyes alighted on the prize she was seeking. First prize. The sword with the gems her master so desired. She would have to take her leave of the tall sorceror for now. Intriguing as solving the little mystery of his intentions in Iziz may be, she had work to do. If he liked, he could stay and watch, and learn something about how she did not rattle easily.

"Pray, bold Sir.. I would not seek to insult a visitor to Iziz, whatever your task here is. For now though, I must take my leave of you, I've just seen something which very much catches my fancy..", Oh, if only knew.

Moving off, Razielle refrained from grumbling about Victer still tucked to the Queen's side. This was making talking to Creas somewhat more challenging. From the Queen's expression, Razielle could tell that she too had picked up on the newly arrived Force user. She nodded once, trying to tell her that they needed to speak..

"Victer, I must steal the Queen I'm afraid, I have great need of her.", tucking her arm into Adraudia's, she began a slow walk back toward the fencing competition.

"First prize. Either you must have it, or I. Either way we have to get it..", she said quietly, not bothering to explain further. It should be apparent what she was implying.

"Anyone else to sign up for the competiton?!", came the shouted query.

"Two!", Razielle's sing-song voice carried back over the crowds, as she and the Queen, both gowned and corseted stepped into the ring.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

The moment between them was over, and Lilaena felt vaguely ashamed to be standing there like a dog waiting for a pat and a kind word from her master. She straightened her back even more, and with a flick of her wrist the honor guard came back towards her. They hadn't gone far.

Salem was watching Razielle, who was joining the fencing competition. Fencing. Lilaena rolled her eyes behind her helmet, but Callidus was tied to the two children he had taken as apprentices before he'd met her.

She had so much more to offer him than they did, in terms of raw power. And her control of the Mandalorian contingent gave him great war-making power as well. Onderon's queen did not even hold great political power in the galaxy at large. Wasn't everyone upset because they had to bow to the wishes of Hapes in order to survive?

Lilaena did not care one iota about Hapes or Crown Prince Tristan. If it were necessary for her to marry the man, she would do it without pouting. And arrange for an accident for the petulant prince shortly after the wedding.

[Victer Dejan]

What?!
Victer managed to keep himself from doing more than muttering the word aloud. It was unfathomable that both the Princess and Queen would participate in a dangerous fencing competition. It was beyond strange if they had been on numerous other planets. Onderon was different. Onderon had a history of its Queens charging into battle and leading armies. Onderon's Queens rode beasts and weilded blades.

No, on Onderon, this event would be regarded as a curiousity. While Victer knew both were superb at fencing (and had even invited him to try), there was more too it than a display of skill. Over his initial shock, Victer clapped along with the crowd. His mind immediately turned to the myster of why. There was a reason for their sudden entrance. Victer scanned the fencing arena carefully when his eyes settled on a sword near the judge's booth. It was a prize, obviously. There was something enigmatic about the blade. The craftsmanship, even from a distance, was obviously excellent. The blade felt old. It had a gravity more powerful than it's age, though.

Victer's eyes returned to the Queen and Princess. Adraudia's eyes lit up, as if she had been told a secret of the universe. Her mood changed instantly, her goal suddenly clear.

[Adraudia Basillie]

The announcer was fancied up in a hand crafted suit made of the finest imported silks that Victer's savvy trade negotiations had afforded Onderon.

"Do you hear that ladies and gentlemen?! Our beloved Queen and Princess are joining us!!!"

And there went Adraudia's attempt in not getting involved with the betting of the fencing contest.

The crowed erupted, maddened with delight that they would get to see their ruler demonstrating her fighting prowess. Such a thing had not occurred since King Kelrune had entered the tournament 30 years ago. Rumors had speculated that their Queen held a blade even better then her father, but no one outside the palace had been privileged to confirm those tales. Until now!

Politely, Adraudia nodded to the judges and signed in as an official contestant after Razielle. She offered a little wave towards Victer before calling Lira and Jaynie to their side. "Make haste our weapons and equipment from the palace. The Princess and I have a competition to win."

Jaynie bowed but as she rose up to meet her Queen's face, she paused. The smile that had outlined her ruler's face was out of the ordinary. She looked like a predator as she sized up the other fencers with a the smallest of smirks. Confidence oozed from her demeanor that caused a shiver to go down the maid's spine. Quickly she retreated to fulfill her Queen's wishes and to escape the gaze of Darth Creas...

[Razielle Alastor]

After afixing her her name in her flowery script to the ledger, Razielle's violet gaze flitted over the rows of opponents. Of course being trained from a tender age to fence, ultimately capable disarming her Father's best soldiers in less than a few moves, before her thirteeth year, she was not so very concerned. Still, one never knew when real opposition might present itself.

Staged competitions rattled her nerves. Not because she was unequal to the task, but because it had been a major part of what had driven her down a dark path. She'd been forced to become a spectacle. On command, entertaining those who thought her an oddity.. This was strikingly similar, though she put it from her mind to focus on her goal. The prized sword. She would have it, or Adraudia would.

Anything else was not acceptable.

She paced slowly, hands folded delicately before her, while she awaited her favored weaponry. Her attention left the row of men waiting to be disarmed momentarily to settle on Victer. She supposed she'd have to let him have Adraudia back after this and leave them alone for a while. She gave him a little apologetic smile..

The return of the ladies maids returned with their belongings signalled the beast inside Anxia that it was time. Carefully she unpinned the diamond tiara from atop her head and handed it over to Lira for safe-keeping. She slid two soft black leather gloves over her hands and took hold of a sleek, utterly shinning, katana. Only then, lifting her gaze to the man, just off to the side of the fenced in ring..

[Salem Ave]

The transformation from Adraudia and Razielle to Creas and Anxia was a subtle one, but Salem saw it. Perhaps others did too, but he doubted it. His eyes shifted, imperceptibly, from face to face in the crowd, taking satisfaction in how easily the three of them had pulled the wool over everyone's eyes. When he became aware that Razielle was looking at him, his lips turned into a small smile. Without shifting his attention, he called out to the master of ceremonies.

“Five-hundred credits on the Princess Razielle to win the contest.”

[Lucianus Adair]

So the contest would be beginning...

...and though this particular contest would be more to the taste of this man, he would not be participating. As a newcomer to these parts, he relegated himself to the position of observer only, keeping his pale eyes on the lady he had acquainted himself with, and examining those who appeared to be members of the same court. There was rarely a time that Mars was not gathering information for his personal notations. A 'man' such as he rarely slept - as there was little need for him to do so - and as such, his senses were very well always alert. The morsel which caused him to raise his brow in interest was that of the position of the young lady and the companion of hers that accompanied her into the ring.

The queen and princess. Hm.

Another two, men this time, were observing nearby to him. They seemed connected to these two lovely women. So far, he had only caught the name of one of them: Victer. This one, upon a cursory examination, did not appear to hold nearly the same threatening potential that the two ladies and the other man - an Arkanian - did. Within this small grouping of individuals, there was something much more at work. That much he could be certain of. The women, the man, they were more than the eye would tell. One corner of the predator's lips turned upward. Mere amusement was not the thing which drove the barely existant show of what could be construed as emotion on his face.

The pale left hand of Marsuo'ur'stalis rested unassumingly on the butt of the okatana attached to his hip, and he continued to observe.

[Victer Dejan]

Victer was like a child watching a typhoon through transparisteel. He felt seperated from the whole plot unfolding before him. He could almost touch it, but something kept him from being involved in the machinations of things. These pieces had been set in motion, and he wasn't in play.

No amount of social pressure would make him bet on this. Nonetheless, he watched. There was an almost imperceptible transition that the Queen and Princess went through. Razielle's wild nature boiled on the edge. It nearly poured forth now. Adraudia became cold. She was a systematic predator that searched for weaknesses in her prey.

Victer found them both alluring. Their power was fierce and graceful. It was magnetic. He watched Adraudia as she pulled on her glove and let the tailored armor become a second skin. Was this their true nature? Was it merely another aspect of a much more complex whole?

The Captain had many questions that would come after this night.

[Adraudia Basillie]

Creas stepped forth and presented arms as her male opponent did likewise on the other side of the mat. The two walk forward and as etiquette dictated, bowed to their judge and then each other.

"It is an honor to be facing against, your Majesty." He was taken aback that he was the unlucky one drawn to face Onderon's ruler, but there was an excitement that he couldn't contain. The young man wished for victory and bragging rights! His greed would be his undoing.

"I am honored to participate in our event." She normally would have asked his name, but it would be far easier to best him if he were a nameless adversary.

Creas already noticed that his mind was focused on the future of when he won, instead of the present. His stance was lazy, full of certainty of the outcome, so when his Queen scored point after point after point ... his heart began to sank. As their ruler easily gained the advantage, the audience cheered her on, bedazzled by the perfection of grace and deftness they had never witnessed from her!

It was 13-9 - 15 points scored would be declared winner. The young man's arm had grown heavy, tired from the barrage of attacks he had to parry. Creas had backed him against the end of the mat with the power of her engagement. Any further and he would be knocked out of the designated safe zone and declare a forfeit. He quickly stopped her next attack with a prime defense and riposte, but Creas's counter-riposte was his undoing. He wobbled back and forth, desperately trying to gain a solid footing. In danger of hurting himself if he fell clumsily, he opted to hop down off the stage and bow to the victor.

He smiled warmly, cheeks reddened from the lesson learned. Creas' expressionless gaze melted in to that of his Queen and she smiled. The master of ceremonies bellowed the official score.

"YOUR WINNER!!! HER MAJESTY BY FORFEIT!!! QUEEN ADRAUDIA BASILLIE!!!"

She looked to the other mat where Anxia had just finished disarming her opponent and scored a clean hit against his chest, right at his heart.

"YOUR WINNER!!! BY SCORE OF 15-8 PRINCESS RAZIELLE SHADANA!!!'

The haughty smirk of Creas returned as she bowed in congratulations to her sister.

[Aaron Belargic]

The Arbitrator now hung in orbit around Onderon. On board, the landing party accompanying Prince Tristan and Ambassador Aestiva assembled at the ships shuttle bays. A detachment of ten Miy'til starfighters detached from the Hapan Battle Dragon, with the two landing crafts exiting in their wake. The communications channels inside the vessels buzzed to life with Commodore Belargic's voice.

“We're monitoring your progress from the command deck of the Arbitrator, Your Highness. Should you encounter any difficulties upon making planetfall, simply engage the emergency signal and we will be with you momentarily.”

[Razielle Alastor]

Bringing her sword across her chest with a jaunty swish, Razielle bowed in turn to the Queen, the light of excitment dancing in her eyes. She had not expected to quite.. enjoy this. Somehow the competition had lost it's strained feel and had become thrilling even.

After the roar of the crowd settled once more, the Queen and Princess moved to enter the next round, their opponents drifting back to the sidelines to be clapped on the back by their peers for having the.. manliness.. to engage the royal duo.

The second round commenced after the customary bows to their opponents, and the judge. Razielle kept her eyes on her new opponent, staring him down with a serene smile. Although he had seent he first match, there was still a bit of lingering doubt in his mind that she was as good as she appeared. She could almost hear his thoughts. 'Just maybe, her let her win, since she is the Princess... perhaps it was a bow out to royalty. I can best her..'

She smiled, raising the katana before her in a defensive stance and giving a slight nod, as if to say. 'Try your luck..' She circled the mat, waiting for his attack and when it came she was ready. It seemed that they had an unspoken understanding, she and Creas to not let the matches be over too quickly, rather to make it appear as if they were actually on some equal footing with the other competitors, event-wise.. In truth each hit they did take was a calculated one to make their winnings that much more believable, and dramatic.

The people wanted a showing..they would have one.

She scored. He scored, and so it went, until the moment she was done playing. He seemed to take notice of the change in her restraint a moment before she launched a point claiming frenzy on him, ending with a upthrust to his sword hilt, knocking his blade skyward. She caught it in her opposite hand, and bowed to the judge once more.

"YOUR WINNER!!! BY SCORE OF 15-10 PRINCESS RAZIELLE SHADANA!"

She offered the blade back to her opponent, hilt first. He accpeted it with a sheepish grin and removed himself fromt he challenge mat. No sooner had her glance sought out Creas than her ears were met with the expected sound of her Sister's victory.

"YOUR WINNER!!! BY SCORE OF 15-9 QUEEN ADRAUDIA BASILLIE!!!"

[Salem Ave]

A hand fell on Salem's shoulder, just as the Prime Minister's eyes lifted from the combat rings towards the skies. There, against the midnight blue of the sky, he could see small points of light moving, separate from the static bodies of the stars.

“Minister Ave,” a voice said, quietly. “The Hapan envoy approaches. Commodore Belargic informs us that the Prince's arrival is imminent.”

At this, Salem simply nodded, a smile growing on his lips as he applauded the Queen and Princess in their respective victories.

[Tristan Alastor]

Imminent was putting it mildly. The two landing crafts carrying the Hapan Prince, his guards and advisor's, were just coming in to land. The palace staff, forewarned of Tristan's arrival, welcomed him as they had been ordered to do so – yet the Prince found himself surprised to see that neither the Queen nor his wife to be were amongst the crowd awaiting him. A small frown creased his soft brow, but he smoothed it away as quickly as he could, finding his attention instead drawn to the sound of fireworks in the distance. Turning, he looked down and across the city of Iziz, where the rooftops were illuminated for a moment by dazzling light.

One of Tristan's aides stepped forwards to address him, having convened with a palace guard. “The Queen Adraudia and the Princess Razielle are currently taking a tour of the Festival, my Prince. Perhaps we might join them, and surprise them with your arrival?”

At this thought, the Prince grinned boyishly. “Yes, that sounds splendid” he clapped one gloved hand against the man's back and then looked towards the Onderonian guard. “Lead the way, men!”

[Razielle Alastor]

Of course she'd taken notice of the much expected arrival in the distance. She'd chosen to ignore it, but as she made easy work of another few opponents and her betrothed's presence gree ever closer to her, Razielle's pretty mask of gentility began to slip. Her fencing moves became less practiced..controlled, and more.. aggrressive.

She could feel it again. The vice closing around her. It was nearly time. Cold eyes locked on her opponent. It was lucky for him this was a public display. He might walk away humiliated, but he'd walk away.

Even as the party from the Consortium was entering into her peripheral vision, she was closing in for a final attack, for lack of a better description for the sudden flurry of point seizing. She hit strike after strike in a blur of silver until ulitmately her opponent was driven backward and did in fact topple off the raised platform, landing in an inglorious heap..

As the call declaring her victory was trumpeted to the gathered spectators, another was called from the Queen's circle with similar results. They were both as yet undefeated, much to the approval of the crowd and the chagrin of the other contestants.

Princess Shadana blew a tendril that had escaped her, formerly immaculately coiffed, hair from before her eyes. Bracing herself for what was to come she stole one last look toward Salem, then turned her attention to the arriving party...

[Tristan Alastor]

As they marched on through the streets, in the highest of spirits, festival-goers became caught up in the commotion of Hapan party's arrival, carried as if upon the irresistible tide of a wave. The soldiers of the Prince's guard wore navy blue brocade coats, trimmed in gold, and looked like nothing the Iziz citizens had ever seen, a far and much distinguished cry from the austere city guardsmen. In the lantern light, sharp lines of steel gleamed at their hips, and upon their noble brows sat caps emblazoned with the sun-like insignia of the Consortium.

Amongst the group, there was no mistaking Tristan. He wore blue too, but of a much deeper shade, with only the faintest hint of gold at the collar and cuffs. Though he bore no arms, a thick-chain was fastened around his neck, its medallion laid in the hollow of his throat. His handsome face was alight with boyish excitement and once or twice he even called out greetings to those who stood in awe of his modest procession.

Locating the Onderon royal entourage was not difficult, and soon the Hapan guard were parting the perplexed crowds, clearing a path for their Prince. The fencing competition was, for a moment, forgotten as all eyes turned towards the Hapan Prince and his men, none the less formidable for their fine attire. Grinning with boyish enthusiasm, Tristan swept ahead of them all.

“My lady Adraudia...”

He singled her out with apparent ease and gave an unexpectedly modest bow, his eyes touching on Razielle for a moment as his head dipped. Truth be told, the crowd had no idea what to expect from this man, who they could only assume to be the Prince Alastor.

“I hope I have not arrived too late to join the festivities.”

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena watched the Hapan envoy greet the Onderon royals from a distance. She used the Mandalorian helmet's special features to her full advantage, however, and was enjoying a close up view. In this informal gathering it was not likely that the Prime Minister would be upset that she stayed away.

[Lucianus Adair]

From his position, the predator watched too, in silence. The arrival of the Hapan prince brought a sour taste to his mouth. In all his years, the Hapans had been a haughty annoyance. To this he would not let on, however. Those in the party of Onderon's queen were aware of his presence, and could only guess what he was. The Hapan prince and his company? Not as likely to catch on to anything other than the long hair and unusual height of the ancient man. Unless he were to let them. There were few amusements in the life of Marsuo'ur'stalis - this teasing of 'lesser' beings was on the rare occasion, one of them. As such, he took care not to indulge such unnecessary behaviours.

One large hand remained, still, on the okatana at his hip. Tristan Alastor had about as impeccable a taste in dress as he himself did. Mars' awareness of his personal beauty was merely an advantage to be used. He had never let himsef become vain and narcissistic, outside of once or twice acting the part. As an interested man, he continued to watch the goings-on wordlessly, countless private and unreleased thoughts going through his mind.

[Adraudia Basillie]

The arrival of the Prince came as surprise to the Queen. She was focused on the events, probably too focused, on winning the prize for her Master. Adraudia should have been more mindful of what was happening around her. Instead, it had been the forlorn look of Razielle that had hinted that his Highness had arrived.

Her Majesty sheathed her sword and handed it over to Jaynie for now. She wiped away the dampness of her forehead and stripped the fencing gloves off her hands as the Hapan Prince presented himself.

"Prince Alastor," she began while descending the stairs with palms upward in greeting, "It pleases me that you have taken an interest in our tournament, but the games have already started. In all the years that the fencing tournament has been held, late entries have not been granted. However, our celebration is two fold this time with your engagement to the Princess. Your union to Razielle has brought curiosity to my people."

There were murmurs of agreement and whispers of gossip amongst the crowd as Adraudia's gaze turned to them all. "I think that an exception can be made this time. If her Highness agrees to being your first opponent?"

Razielle would not be able to kill the Prince, but the Queen would be happy to present the Prince as a punching bag.

[Razielle Alastor]

Two decades of learning control and formal behavior kept a mask of demure reserve in place as Razielle, almost meekly handed over her sword to an attendant, and peeled off her gloves. She could not meet her future husband thus!

With her eyes curiously fixed on the man she was to be shackled to, she moved forward to greet him with a touch of ladylike hesitation. Descending the steps to come up along side the Queen, Razielle sank into a picture perfect curtsey, the gown she wore did not float around her like the petals of a flower as a ballgown would have, rather with her lowered position, a hint of the bare skin of her thigh was revealed along with the knee high boots, scandalous attire for such a meeting, but she could not be bothered to care. This was business.

The business of an arranged marriage.

"My Lord...", she breathed quietly, waiting for his pleasure to rise..

[Ethan Vallen]

Well, it's a job anyway... just like any other... Coruscant, Corellia, that party on Ord Mantell... this is better than the Hutt's, but everyone thinks they're as important as royalty so it doesn't much matter if they are or not...

He blinked, letting his mind drift back to the moment. Ethan smiled knowingly, seeing his audience's pupil's dialate then constrict. The considerable credit chit had vanished with well-practice sleight of hand, surprising them.

"And that, is how a magician earns his living, see?" Ethan remarked cheekily.

A smattering of applause reached his ears. Ethan bowed, giving a mock salute to the noble who'd arranged for his presence at the Festival of Four Moons, standing off to the back of the player's tent. As planned, he dropped off the stage, his boots landing solidly in the packed earth. Ethan approached a well-dressed youth and performed one of the most basic, yet enduring tricks; he "found" the credit chit behind the lad's ear and dropped it onto the boy's palm.

"Thank you again, ladies and gents. Enjoy the festival!"

The crowd rose and cast glances toward the magician, smiling and eventually leaving. His "patron" at this festival approached. Ethan slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers, cocking his head to the side.

"Like the show, didya? Told you I was worth the credits."

"You're a boor, you know that right?" Still, he smiled, extending a hand to the magician.

"I do, but you hired me despite that."

"Indeed. Come; there are other patrons to entertain. And I have somewhat for you to see, since you've been so pleasing, Mr. Vallen."

A porter that Ethan had hired when he arrived on-planet already knew his orders and began gathering up what meager supplies he needed for his illusion show. The Trandoshan took direction from Ethan's patron and then the trio was off, headed toward another venue in the midst of the celebration-strewn streets. Ethan understood that this was a "big deal" to the citizens of Onderon and its surrounding moons, but to him, it was simply another job, another locale, another festival. It wasn't that he was adverse to such gatherings; far from that since he made a fortune at each he worked. Still, he felt no connection to the regalia; it merely was what it was.

"Ah, a pity. They've stopped. But--"

Ethan pushed his way through the throng of on-lookers, eyes all affixed on the two duelists and a man whose features were clearly otherworldly, though in a pleasing way. They were all a few meters in the air, upon a stage of their own. Vallen turned back toward the Count, lofting a dark eyebrow.

"You've brought me to the realm of politics?" he asked in a low whisper.

His patron shrugged dismissively, a peculiar light to his eyes. "Just watch. And wait."

[Tristan Alastor]

“Please,” Tristan motioned for the Princess to rise. For a woman to bow in such a fashion would have been scandalous on Hapes, though the crowds of Iziz seemed to find it fairly acceptable. Nonetheless, they were now silent save for a few murmured worlds and the restless shuffle of those trying to get a better look at what was happening. What had begun as a simple fencing competition had quickly grown into something more.

“Would it please you to engage in a little more sport, my lady?”

His eyes shifted to the Queen. “If her Majesty would permit me to make use of her sword...”

[Salem Ave]

Had all not been upon the Queen Adraudia and her guest, someone might have noticed Salem Ave rolling his eyes. In his visit to the Hapes Consortium, he had spent very little time in Prince Tristan's company, but it was safe to say that he had grown quickly tired of the boys flair and formality. It was so typical of the Queen Mother Ishara and her court, this vacuous showmanship, and part of the Prime Minister hoped, irrationally, that Razielle would give Tristan a damn good thrashing.

[Razielle Alastor]

With the palms of her hands against her thighs and her eyes still downcast, Razielle nodded once to her future husband. "It would both honor and please me, my lord.."

At her response, the crowd cheered anew. They were getting more entertainment out of this decades festival than even many of Iziz's older citizens could recall from similar events of years past. The excitement and spectacle was a diversion not often found by the people, and a royal wedding on top of it just made it all the more special.

As she was separated from Prince Tristan, Razielle recovered her gloves, not daring to peek again toward Salem, but knowing very well what his advice to her in this matter would be.

Oh, she would give her new husband a welcome he would not soon forget.

He was Hapan, after all. He should be used to being trumped by his women..

Her weapon placed back in her grasp, Razielle tucked a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, and took her position, awaiting her lord.

[Tristan Alastor]

There was a certain air of ceremony about the manner in which Queen Adraudia relinquished her sword, holding the blade out with the hilt laid in one hand and the tip of the blade in the other. She bowed her head in the offering, a humble gesture which Tristan made sure to mirror.

“Your Majesty...”

With the weapon in his grasp, Tristan approached the raised platform upon which the competition was being held. At the foot of the steps, he turned to look with an expectant smile towards the Princess.

[Razielle Alastor]

He was not just another opponent.

He was the man who stood between her and what she wanted. Every instinct in her screamed to eliminate him. Marry him? Absolutely not. They needed a way out of this, she could provide that right now! If there was a terrible accident, there would be no need for a wedding! She would of course play her part well, let him appear to win the first few rounds even and then.. when it seemed like he had the upper hand.. A tragic twist of events, precision swordplay on her part, of course - a sweet spot along his muscled neck, nicked in just the right way, with just the right amount of pressure and she would let open his veins. His blood will spill forth, bathing the festival grounds blood red, a heathen tribute, even as the moons continued to eclipse all light from the sky! It would be glorious and then...

Then she would have to turn and face the music. No Prince. No wedding. No treaty. All the plans that Salem had put into motion, everything that she had done thus far to help him with those plans; humbling herself before the Queen Mother, constantly flattering her and submitting to her whims to gain this alliance.. It would all be swept aside in the cresting wave of her rage. She would rid herself of one problem, only to find she'd lost it all. Once again her emotions would rule her, the very antithesis of the calm and calculating ways of her Master. In one selfish act, she would throw it all away and in so-doing, the esteem that she had earned by her efforts would crumble to dust.

She would be worthless.

She would lose him...

Nausea rolled through her, as she took her place in the circle, her hands trembled a little, in a way that was not normal for the adept, fencing princess. Battling her urges, and forcing away temtation, Razielle watched her future husband approach her with a little smile, oblivious to the bloody designs upon his life.

"As you like, my lord...", she smiled sweetly and awaited the matches start...

[Victer Dejan]

Victer managed to refrain from rolling his eyes, but the nearby Salemn could hear him sigh. Both were tired of the Consortium's thumping about how wonderous it was and how Onderon should be licking it's boots at every corner. The Hapans were the biggest kid on their smallish block.

"Five minutes of content for an hour of windbaggery." Victer muttered under his breath.

Victer eagerly awaited Razielle's victory.