Delgado stared out of the panoramic window of his penthouse apartment, a grim expression on his face as he regarded the dark scar that carved through Coronet's skyline. He would not have been able to see it from the administrative buildings: that was why he had requested to have his offices and accommodations moved here, to serve as a constant reminder of why Corellia was so deserving of his undivided attention.

It was a shrewd move by the Resistance. Coronet was a vast city, but they had chosen their target well. They had struck during a parade to celebrate and demonstrate the might of the Empire: a parade that the Empire had demanded as many citizens as possible attend, leaving the warehouse district into which the Star Destroyer had impacted largely empty of it's organic inhabitants. For an attack that had crushed more than a square mile of the city, civilian casualties were remarkably low; even the jobs of the working class were largely protected, the Empire redeploying it's labour force to help with the recovery efforts. There was some unrest about the inconvenience of it all, but for the most part an already disgruntled working class found it all too easy to approve.

The real blow was what had lain beyond the industrial district: residential areas for Imperial officers, slowly bleeding into the more luxurious residences of Corellia's social elite. Most of those homes had been vacant too, their residents involved in the parade itself; but the blow there was personal, an attack at the heart and resolve of the Imperial forces; and at the same time, it jabbed at the wealthy upper class who the masses blamed for the Empire's presence in the first place, accusing them of capitulation and for profiting selfishly from the misfortune of the working man. There had been more casualties in the residential areas than elsewhere, and not all of them were welcomed: Delgado doubted that the death of Jacob Tur'enne and his wife, two universally popular figures in Corellian society, had been intentional; yet even that worked in the favour of the Resistance, eliminating a popular figure expected to run for political office, whose views were moderate enough to help shift public opinion in favour of the Empire. The other gains though - weakening the wealthy's faith in the Empire's ability to protect them, diminishing their resolve to side with the Empire over the objections of lower class - seemed to be worth the price that the Resistance had forced Corellia and the Empire to pay.

A subtle chime in Delgado's ear alerted him to an incoming comlink. "Go ahead," he spoke as he tapped at his headset.

"The Knights are here, sir," reported the voice of one of his security detail.

Delgado's mouth drew into a thin line. He had sent a request to the Minister of the Interior for more resources in helping to root out the Resistance. Since the initial attack they had continued to disrupt Imperial operations: ambushing salvage teams, sabotaging communications, stealing supplies, and generally causing chaos. Each individual event had minimal impact, yet in combination they kept the Empire constantly off-balance, and kept the public constantly aware that they were present, and active. Delgado had hoped that the Minister would deploy a task force from the Security Bureau: expert investigators to bolster CorSec's efforts to identify the terrorists responsible for these attacks; strike teams specially trained for raids against the kind of safehouses and strongholds the Resistance no doubt had.

Instead, the Minister had sent him Imperial Knights. Not a battalion of them. Not a task force. Two.

Whether more resources would follow remained to be seen, but the entire situation made Delgado deeply uncomfortable. He had an inherent distrust of the Knights, and of Force users in general. The Minister had not been forthcoming about the identities of these Knights, so the Moff was unaware of their backgrounds; whether they had been Inquisitors before the Treaty, or otherwise. Either way, Delgado distrusted anything that possessed an advantage that he could neither match nor guard himself against: dealing with anyone who had mind tricks and a lightsaber at their disposal was not a situation to be entered lightly.

"Very well, Sergeant, send them in. And have Lieutenant Ixxent prepare my shuttle: I'm sure this won't take long."