It didn't matter what title came before Salem Ave's name.

No honorific in the Galaxy would convince the Chume'doro to admit him before the Hapan Queen with any amount of speed. Since the attempted assassination of the young Queen and her Regent, the layers of security between the Hapan population at large and their monarch had become so deep and dense that Salem realised he had found it easier to acquire an audience with Empress Miranda Tarkin.

When he was finally permitted entrance, a compliment of statuesque women formed a box around him ushered him into the presence of the Regent. Their ostentatious blue and gold armour was completely at odds with Salem's dark suit. He had foregone the Onderonian half-cloak that had so long been a fixture of his wardrobe during visits to the Consortium. Instead, his only accessory was a lapel pin in the shape of the Alliance Starbird.

“Your majesty,” he said, an unusual note of uncertainty in his voice as his white eyes shifted between the figures of the Chume'doro encircling him.