Party Faces

[Tiberius Anar]

The Chamberlain of the Imperial Household is commanded by Her Imperial Majesty to request the presence of
His Excellency Tiberius Anar, Chancellor of the Empire, and Madam Anar
at a Grand Reception and Ball to Celebrate the Anniversary of Her Imperial Majesty's Birth


There had been a time, it seemed long ago, when Tiberius Anar had welcomed, even relished, attending such events. Then he had been a much younger man and the receptions and balls had been to honour senators and aristocrats. Then he had been on the rise and had seen each invitation as an affirmation of his growing stature.


Now he saw things rather differently. The Republic had fallen into indolence and, in its place had risen the Empire and, with it, Tiberius Anar. Now, he had risen and needed no petty affirmation of his status. Now, he saw such events as no more than a distraction from his work.


But sometimes a necessary one.


This thought had sustained him as his valet fussed about him draping and adjusting, tweaking and shifting, the uniform and robes mandated for this occasion. It sustainable him now as he made his way through the halls of the Imperial Palace to the grand salon where the first part of the festivities was to take place.

[Miranda Tarkin]

Standing outside the grand balcony, Miranda's unfocused gaze tried to find some peace as the bustling metropolis moved on quietly, giving her little comfort. It only reminded her that her people were not solely at peace. That the ceased hostilities between her Empire and the Alliance were forced, neither side able to budge unless they wanted to obliterate one another out of existence. It left a bitter taste in her mouth but it had to be done. Negotiations continued on a periodic basis, just to ensure that everyone was on the same notated page and all super weapons accounted for. It was ridiculous posturing.

What concerned her was Corellia. The planet needed further stabilization. It was the only planet where former members of the Alliance continued their defiance - even killing innocents - to defy her rule. That should be the priority now, speaking to her Moff and coming up with a solution on how to weed out the insurgents further. Not a party. She did know the practicality of it. Offer the people something to look forward to - food, drink, dancing. It would lift spirits for a short time.

"Majesty." One of her knights arrived and bow graciously. "Your guests have begun to arrive."

She offered a curt nod over her shoulder. "I'll be there shortly. Thank you."

With a nod, he departed the balcony and went to inform the staff that the Empress would be announced shortly.

[Tiberius Anar]

The planning of court functions can be compared to the art of origami. The task is to take plain and simple materials (Rooms and people) and make of them a striking and graceful product. The best practitioners of both arts achieve this end by means of a few simple manoeuvres executed without apparent effort.


Sadly our current master of ceremonies is not among the best.


The Chamberlain of the Imperial Household had achieved the position by default. His predecessor's decision to accompany the late Emperor to Endor (to press a complaint against the Chancellor as it happened) had created an opening. Of course, the same events had also rendered the need for such how an office null.


Until recently anyway.


Now he flapped and fussed in an effort to render his value apparent. He also went on move too far in planning events.


This time he had decided that the highest ranked persons (those just below the Empress's and her family) should enter en bloc and take up positions nearest the place where Her Majesty would stand to receive the compliments of her guests.


Thus, Tiberius Anar found himself rubbing shoulders with a dozen or so of the highest in the Galaxy in an ante room.

[Tear]

Earlier, the Government district, Coruscant.

Tear stood at the eye of a murmuring storm. The long retired senate building had been re-purposed and redesigned. Gone was the Republic lavender. Replaced by the cold obsidian of the Empire. In the times of the Republic the Grand Convocation Chamber had been it’s beating heart. The senate delegations would fill their designated repulserpods and stand as representations of their membered worlds. There would be hundreds, all of them lining the walls of the Grand Concourse. All of them with an agenda. All eager to have their say.

Little had changed since that time. Instead of the Republic Senate it was now the Imperial Senate. Instead of elected senators the walls were now inhabited by appointed Moffs. All of them with an agenda. All eager to have their say.

All of them watching as a thirty meter tall podium sprouted from the floor, a single figure occupying it. They didn’t recognizee the man who’s torso was swathed in black save for a cloak, slashed with red, that fell over his left shoulder. The sharp line of red was a written, repeated phrase, embroidered into the fabric, ‘Veritas Vincit’, a remnant from his time as Grand Inquisitor.

Bing. The chamber echoed with a soft chime announcing the guest was about to speak. Small vents opened in the ceiling and out spat several sphere shaped broadcasting droids. Fingers of light reached out from the droids bathing the speaker as his form was recorded for the HoloNet. Monitors across Coruscant, the Empire, and the galaxy at large, if they tuned in, would be able to watch the speech. The storm calmed, and soon the murmurs that had swirled with such interest silenced themselves.

Now speaking, the newly appointed Executor of the Empire.

Tear was silent for a time. His eyes of swirling gold merely staring at the assembly of Moff’s who stared back in return. The brief memory of the last time he held court with a number of Moffs floated to the back of his mind. He had them all killed and cloned. A notion he entertained again, briefly.

“You think your worlds are safe?” The former Grand Inquisitors voice was even and calm. “This illusion of peace. A comforting lie told to protect you. I can see the fear in yours eyes because you know the truth. That uncertainty that stirs in your gut. That in any moment it could all end.”

The chamber was still between Tear’s words.

“Your Empress has been brought to heel. The politicians in her ear whispering about what is best for the Empire. She has chosen to protect you like her children, but you are not children. Nor can you thrive in fear under the shadow of terrorists.

“I am here now.” Each word was a bolt on a door being slammed shut for punctuation. “You will no longer fear the dark.

“For too long we have warred against ourselves. Since your Empress took the Throne she has fought those that would call her usurper. Those who would make claim for themselves. Further, after the peace with the Rebellion, true patriots who continued to fight against terror have been hunted down by our own hand. In the name of ‘peace’.

“No more. No Longer!

“My first order of Executor is a pardon for those who have broken away from the fold. For those who have thrown themselves at the terrorists without our consent or support. To them I say this,come back to the Empire and let us fight together once more. The second will be reforms for our Imperial citizens. In light of the cowardly attacks on Corellia we will now redouble our effort to watch over and keep you safe. If you are a citizen you will be granted the full rights and privileges of the Empire. If you are merely a civilian on our worlds then you will have to earn our trust and pledge your allegiance.”

Tear was silent again for a time

“Terrorists play at Government and they have surrounded themselves with a great many allies. But as your Executor I promise you this,” Tear voice rose with conviction.

“Everything they’ve built will burn! And from the ashes of their worlds we will built a better Empire!”

The holo feed being broadcast across the galaxy ended to the sound of roaring applause.

---

Later that day at the Imperial Palace

“The house of Tarkin and the Imperial palace welcomes former Grand Inquisitor and newly appointed, Executor Tear!” The voice of the chamberlain of the Imperial household rang clear as Tear entered the hall. Through wide double doors he past, his pace was quick and unyielding. No glances were spared to the guests and some unfortunate in his path were quick to jump out of his way.

Feet from the door, where the Empress was expected to emerge from, the Imperial stopped fast and turned about. “Chancellor Anar.” Tear said, as he approached the aged man, garbed lavishly in the uniform of his position. The Executor was quick to acknowledge Anar’s wife, “Mrs. Anar.”

Tear had kept tabs on many in the Empire during his time as Grand Inquisitor. Keeping an eye on many more when he wasn’t. Chancellor Anar had been one he had watched for quite sometime. A man of keen political skill. Not often one to put himself at the forefront of the public but one that was always intimately involved when major events occurred. That made the politician a keen interest of Tear’s, he viewed the man as an ingredient of change and the new executor had a great many things that he wanted changed.

“I’m sure you didn’t know of my existence before today.” Before Tear’s speech at the Imperial senate his career as Grand Inquisitor was a secret of the Citadel, of which only few held awareness. And now here he stood a mysterious man somehow elevated to the level of Executor. “But I know of yours. You’ve done a good many things for the Empire. I would like your help in accomplishing a good many more.”

[Gallus Tagge]

The Royal Suite

A hand settled at the small of Miranda's back. "We're coming towards the limit of what's considered fashionably late."

The smiling face of Gallus Tagge appeared at her side. Where there was uncertainty in Miranda's expression, there was light and happiness in her husbands. He smiled, in the hopes that the expression would be contagious. Perfunctory as the evening could have been, Gallus was determined to inspire at least some small sense of joy to his wife. He knew all too well how little she wanted to spend the evening in the company of the simpering and the sycophantic, when there were so many other matters that required her attention, but there's was a life littered with necessities. Tradition and public perception were not least among them. They had, after all, lead to the union that now bound the two childhood friends together in marriage.

Gallus turned his back to the balcony, leaning against the rail. He wore a light grey suit and white shirt, open at the collar.

"There's cake, you know. They asked me to hide inside one of them - pop out wearing nothing but a bow-tie. I declined... had to spare a thought for the inevitable heart-attacks among the older ministers."

His smiled hadn't faltered. After a beat, he extended an arm to her.

"Shall we?"

[Miranda Tarkin]

Miranda, Empress of the Galactic Empire, burst into laughter. Gallus had the reaction he wanted and Miranda gaze had softened.

Gallus was handsomely dressed, with a bit of casual flare. Even if they weren't married and allowed liberties in how he dressed, he always did what he wanted and Miranda respected that. He never changed since his status was elevated, still the charismatic charmer with a gentle soul. Just like now, he wanted Miranda to find a bit of levity and enjoy her birthday despite the necessity of public appearances.

"Perhaps they can save one of the cakes so I can have a private show later?" she smiled slyly while taking his arm.

To compliment Gallus suit choice, the Empress wore a sleeveless, low back, black dress that clasped her body down to her hips where the fabric loosened to allow for easier movement. A thin, silver, chain rest around her neck that complimented the diamond earring studs. She elected for simplicity on a night that will be anything but.

[Sanya Tagge]

Sanya waited inside, watching as her brother took Miranda's arm. Gallus lead the way inside, smiling even as his eyes met his sisters. Even in heels, she had to look up to him. In a silver dress that outlined every curve and with her platinum blonde hair in artful curls, she had dressed to match Gallus, a deliberate decision to cement in the mind's of everyone who saw them just how integral and close both were with their Empress. She would have preferred to be the one leading Miranda down to the party, of course, but she could reserve some satisfaction in knowing that she might be the one to lead her back to the suite. With that thought, Sanya's smile mirrored the lop-sided one on her brothers lips.

She brought her hands together with a clap of finality, that said: they were ready. It was time to go and greet the adoring masses.

[Tiberius Anar]

Back in the ante chamber the Chancellor offered a polite smile to the Executor.


Ah so this is the one.


Absolute secrecy is an impossibility in any large organisation much less a galaxy-spanning government. Everything and everyone must be paid and supplied. For months there had been hints of...someone...of unusual significance within the Inquistorate's compound. Occasionally there had been signs of that someone's movement to other places, including the Palace. These indications had not gone unnoticed by the Chancellor. After all he held the purse strings.


Well that clears that up. Of course there are other mysteries now.


"Anyone in whom Her Majesty reposes sufficient trust to appoint them to a post of such power is worth listening to."


Starting with why she trusts you so.


At that moment the Chamberlain gave a signal and the doors of the ante chamber were thrown open. With a series of gestures just shy of panicked he began dispatching the dignitaries into the grand salon. As the most distinguished pair present, Anar and Tear were left to last.

[Amés Falcon Liszt]

Amés watched silently, observing the gathering as it slowly unfolded. The invitation to this event had presented an opportunity, not only to rub shoulders with the cream of Imperial society and to be seen among them by the people whose opinions mattered in these sociopolitical climates; but also to do a little noticing of his own. Who came. Who interacted with who. Who arrived together. Which officials and politicians gravitated towards each other. Which ones avoidedeach other, or exchanged significant glances.

Minister of the Interior was his official title: a nebulous and vague description, to be sure. On flimsi he was involved in matters of an internal nature, but for a Galactic Empire that had until recently encompassed most of known space, there were few things that weren't internal. In practical terms, Amés was the figurehead of COMPNOR, and thus found himself responsible for the Imperial Security Bureau, among other assets. His responsibility and oversight spilled over, though. Intelligence. Covert research. Amés had even begun to work with the Knights to some degree. The Minister of Secrets, someone had once dubbed him; Amés liked that. He liked the notion that it was his responsibility to know, regardless of the subject. And at a function such as this, there were so many potential secrets to be seen.

Amés turned his attention to the Chamberlain, alowing himself to be ushered into the adjoining room along with the rest. His focus soon returned to the man with whom Anar had been speaking, however, his keen and curious eyes making note of all the details and subtleties he could without arousing suspicion.

Interesting. Most interesting.

[Tear]

“I’m glad you think so.” Tear’s eyes washed briefly over the pool of dignitaries leaking from the room . “Do you think the rest of the galaxy will think the same?” A step and the Executor’s frame turned to the chancellor in full. Tear stood taller than most, standing just above six feet, his frame suited his height, with a thick neck and wide shoulders. The act was subtle, physically secluding the chancellor and his wife from the rest of the party. The dignitaries were no comfort. Their eyes were else where, enticed by the extravagance of the grand salon. Despite being in a room full of people it was likely Anar may have felt quite alone in that moment.

“Will the Empire?” Tear finished, before stepping to Anar’s side. Ahead, the chamberlain played the part of an air traffic controller, waving his hands like wands and directing the flow of feet into the salon. The pair watched with subdued anticipation as the man motioned for their moment to enter. The Executor paused, “By all means." gesturing to Anar that he take the first step forwards. The Chancellor was quick to reflect the offer but Tear dismissed the hesitation and insisted.

“Together then?” Anar suggested, and Tear inclined his head in agreement. The grand salon suited it’s name. High ceilings which held an elaborate weave of golden chandeliers all strung together by crystals that shimmered like diamonds in daylight. Between parallel lines of nobles, politicians, military men, and people of interest was a red carpet, so rich and crimson it matched the slice of red down Tear’s own cloak. At the end of the carpet rose a dais with steps of ivory. The platform was just high enough to allow everyone in the room a sight line to the Empress, but low enough for her to still be approachable.

Tear walked in stride with the Chancellor, who played the more social of the two, making note of colleague, friend, or possibly even a political interest, the Executor couldn’t be sure. What was clear though, was the fact Anar held a great many connections and with each step they took his web of relations became ever more elaborate.

“Would it be arrogant of me to assume you watched my speech at the Imperial senate earlier?” Tear asked as they approached the end of the carpet. “I mentioned a reform for Imperial Citizens. I would like your help in soothing any reluctance to this reform should anyone come to you with an objection.”

[Tiberius Anar]

I'm sure you would!


"I shall do my duty of course," the Chancellor said blandly as he nodded a greeting to one of the moffs lining the route, "as I have for many years."


A few paces ahead of them Livia Anar congratulated herself on her swift thinking. Seeing before anyone else, even the men themselves, that neither Chancellor nor Executor would give way she had manoeuvred to cede her rightful position at Tiberius's side with minimal loss of face.


Whereas Tiberius Anar disliked intensely court functions his wife enjoyed them enormously. After all, daughters of the house of Idrigen were practically raised in ballrooms.


Now, her hand rested lightly on the arm of a naval officer with rank and title that, in combination with her own status, merited a place in close proximity to her husband and his new acquaintance giving ever appearance this had been the plan all along. While she made polite conversation with her impromptu escorts, she also calculated the small favours necessary to avert the ire of the people her action had displaced, and kept track of the conversation behind her.


For an Idrigen it was child's play.

[Miranda Tarkin]

Gallus had timed their arrival perfectly. All their guests had entered the grand salon and waited for the Empress to arrive as they mingled. The chamber was filled with a thousand voices, many of whom sought out certain parties to rub elbows, get their names known in different political or military circles. Others attempted to chat with rivals to tone down any perception that there was discord. Then there were the guests that just wanted to enjoy the party, happy to be invited to one of the most important social events of the year. The food and drink were high above their pay grade and they looked on in awe at faces they've only heard about or seen in the news. Miranda had made it clear that she wanted fresh faces from COMPNOR and the military here. Just as she had her start there, they were now the future of the Empire and their faces should be known too.

Miranda paused just outside the salon doors with Gallus and reached over to squeeze his forearm. It was her way to focus and remove the troublesome thoughts of her mother and sister from her mind. In a perfect world, they would have been here beside Sanya as she was announced. She loosened her hold as the honor guard took their place in front of her. The three formally dressed chosen stood in formation, holding the banners of their respected branches of service. They would escort the Empress and her family to the dais and take position in front. They would remain there until Miranda made her way into the ballroom.

A series of signals followed between the honor guard and corporal waiting at the entrance to where the entire party now waited. She noticed he was far too clean cut and young, almost had that recently graduate look about him, to have seen any real combat. Perhaps it was family influence that allowed him the honor of announcing the Empress tonight.

"Your Majesty. Highness," said the corporal and saluted. When his hand dropped, guards on either side of the entrance reopened the salon doors that had been purposefully closed so Miranda could make her grand entrance.

The young soldier strode into place as the chime was sounded to alert all guests that it was time.

"Honored guests. I present to you her Majesty Empress Miranda Tarkin the First. She is accompanied by his Highness Gallus Tagge and Baroness Sanya Tagge of the House of Tagge ..."

He went on to include the rest of Miranda's advisers and cabinet members as the honor guard began to march forward. Guests bowed as she walked by and Miranda looked towards them lined up along the red carpet, curious to see who were there to get her attention or just happened to be in the right place at the right time when she arrived.

Two of their guests did catch her eye. Unlike the young corporal that was having the time of his life bellowing the names of the procession, the two young army privates had easily seen their share of combat service. One had his left side of the face and neck heavily scarred from burns and the other held his champagne glass with a cybernetic hand. She gently tugged Gallus and approached them.

"The work you do protecting our Empire never goes unnoticed. Thank you for your service." She gave them a tight, heartfelt smile before she had to move along once again, leaving the two saluting soldiers dumbfounded at their luck!

[Tear]

Tear could have rolled his eyes at Anar’s reply. Since his arrival on Coruscant he had been met with a hail of ‘If the Empress wills’ or ‘For the Empress!’. It had quickly grown less inspiring and more irritating as the day grew on. The former Grand Inquisitor wasn’t entirely surprised at Anar’s response. He was a politician after all and Tear was an unknown variable. Hedging support for a stranger so soon would have been a gamble and in the Empire, gambles were often waged with lives. As Anar knew full well, having been instrumental in Miranda and Valten’s purges of the Imperial brass. Though, Tear considered, in some cases not placing a bet could be more dangerous then not gambling at all.

The pair stood silently for a moment, their eyes tracking Miranda’s progress up the line of men and women. “Tell me Anar, do you enjoy playing games?”

Anar’s focus broke from the line and the pair locked eyes. Anar squinted briefly as he worked to understand the context of what the Executor was saying.

“Dejarik, and the like?” Tear continued after a moment easing the tension.

The politician took a breath, and opened his mouth to reply but Tear, continued, this time speaking past him. “What about you Grand Admiral?” Grand Admiral Brettel, was a stout man. Thick in chest and arm, but short in stature, with legs like pegs from which he leaned back and forth on to alleviate cramping. A thin brush of peppered hair covered a receding hair line and a thick mustache, dyed black, covered much of his mouth. “Do you enjoy those sorts of games? Surely, a game of tactics would interest you?” Tear leaned forward slightly, looking past Anar to confirm the Grand Admiral’s suspicion he was indeed being spoken to directly.

“I have on occasion.” The Grand Admiral admitted gruffly, somewhat caught off guard he was being spoken to by the opposite end of the line.

“He’s got two boards. His wife interjected.” A woman the opposite of her husband, tall, lithe and pale to her husband’s short, and pink.

“Beth.” Brettel snorted, giving her a side eyed stare.

“I’m sorry my lord. I misspoke.” Beth, despite her height shrank behind her husband.

“Not at all, Beth, was it? Do you enjoy games?” The Executor, smiled, turning his full attention to the woman.

“I do my lord.”

“Good. Should we play one now?” Another smile, this one more dangerous then genuine. “It’s simple. It’s a game of the unseen. If you look about this room. Who would you deem the strongest. It doesn’t have to be in might, but intellectually, or in influence. Who would you pick?”

Beth gave her husband a look of uncertainty, her eyes looking for his approval but finding only reluctant irritation. Despite him she gave the room a good look over, a tentative finger pointing briefly to her choice. “The Empress, would be my pick”.

The Admiral gave an affirming nod to his wife’s decision. “Just so.”

“The Empress? Not your husband?” Tear questioned quickly.

“Well, he does command a large fleet, and has many responsibilities but he obeys the Empress’s command.”

“That he does, but lets say, just for the sake of this game, of course, that he chose to tell his ships in orbit to open fire on this building. Who is stronger then?” Tear gave a glance to Anar, who was watching ‘the game’ keenly.

“I would never!” A gruff reply from the always gruff Admiral.

“No, no, of course not.” Tear repeated, “Of course not. But your men are loyal, are they not?”

“Yes, loyal to the empire.” he replied sternly.

“And to you. Should you give an order they would carry it out without question. Perhaps if this building had been compromised by terrorists and the Empress had been evacuated.”

“I see where you are going with this.” The Grand Admiral’s already pink cheeks flushed a deeper red. “I command my men, but the Empress commands myself. Surely, that makes her the more powerful.”

“Does it?” Tear questioned again. “Should those Imperial knights at her side decide to cut down every last person in this room, the Empress included, who’s more powerful in that moment? Or one could weigh influence. Say, a politician whispers into our Empress’ ear. Telling her stories of a Grand Admirals questionable activities supporting Imperial dissidents in the outer rim. Or, one could bet on the more unseen. That waiter for example,” Tear gave a shallow nod to a man in white standing among several other servers, awaiting to usher guests into the adjoining parlor. “An Inquisitor.”

The Grand Admiral began to shift from leg to leg more so then before. Beads of sweat sloping unrestrained down a large forehead to become tangled in thick, unkempt eyebrows. “I thought the Inquisitors were disbanded?”

“There’s danger in the things we don’t know about. Isn’t there Beth?” Tear asked, looking over the Admiral to his wife.

Beth paused, her chin lifted and her lips pursed, unsure of her choice now and oblivious to the drama unfolding beside her. She looked from Tear to her husband and back again, hoping for some insight. “The Empress, still?”

“As all bend to the will of the Empress?" Tear asked.

“Yes. As the Empress wills." Beth answered with a smile, once again confident in her decision.

“And you Grand Admiral?” Tear wasn’t looking to Beth when she replied. Instead his eyes, molten and stirring, were fused onto the stout man standing next to Anar. “Who would you choose as the strongest in this room?”

The Admiral’s gruff exterior melted away beneath Tear’s stare. His rosy cheeks draining to a pallid shade. He looked nauseous. “The T-the...” He swallowed. “The Empress. Of course the Empress. As she wills so is done.” His eyes flicking to Tear’s, as his wife had done to him only moments earlier, hoping not for approval but forgiveness.

Tear merely straightened, facing straight ahead once more. Across the room there was the Inquisitor, playing the role of a waiter, who gave a nod of respect in the Executor’s direction. “As the Empress wills.” The Executor replied to the Admiral in kind. The Admiral and soon the Empire would realize that unlike Vader before him, Tear was not just the agent of the Empress’s will, he would become the very manifestation of it. Changing the Empire into a force that would once more bend the galaxy, or break it.

[Tiberius Anar]

Anar observed what was happening keeping careful check on his curiosity. It would not do to seem to enjoy the discomfiture of another dignitary nor to approve of the Executor's actions. That said, he did note them carefully.

"I for one do not much care for games," he said as thought to change the subject, "I care for work."

And with that he stepped toward the approaching monarch and bowed low in greeting, "Your Majesty." While the Chamberlain winced at this disruption of his over designed pattern this was a mere garnish since the manouevre, if accepted by The Empress, would serve as a mark of the Chancellor's pre-eminence.

Sometimes some games are worth playing just to show one can.