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Thread: Royal Proclamation

  1. #1
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    Thread Semi-Open Royal Proclamation

    Her Imperial Majesty Miranda Tarkin and Baron Gallus Tagge
    cordially invite you to the annual Children's Gala
    ~~~
    Hosted at the Imperial Palace.
    Promptly RSVP.
    Palace Doors Open at 1800

    The Children's Gala occurred at the same time every year since Miranda became Empress. Donors contributed heavily towards the future through the Empire's children in their formative years. This allowed expansion for after school recreation programs that catered to the child's interest, but it also served to assist families that may not have the income to properly care for their child. Food, medicine, and supplies were provided through an assistance program that helped fast track those children into military or Sub-adult leanings. Miranda wanted to groom the upcoming generation into service by feeling gratitude and acceptance by the current rule. Not all loyalty had to be earned by fear. A simple grant that lessened the cost of higher education for the Imperial Academy made many families willing to send their young man or woman into a life of service.

    It would be another night to remember - food and alcohol overflowing as the credits poured directly from the bank accounts of Moffs and Admirals. Auctions would entice more credits to be spent on luxurious vacations, exotic foods, and a high end speeder donated from TaggoCo.

    There was also an important announcement that had to be made and Miranda was going over how to deliver the news as she preened in front of a body length mirror in her suite to make sure her dress was perfect. She pursed her lips and smoothed the fabric over her torso and abdomen, enjoying how she looked. She was practically glowing.

    "Gallus? Sanya?" She pat the thin braid that weaved around her pinned bun. "Are you both ready yet?"

    The Gala had already started but it was customary for the Empress to arrive once guests had been mingling for awhile, though there was a fine line between her anticipated arrival and being late. Her guests would only be appeased with hors d'oeuvres for so long!

  2. #2
    Clothes may not quite make the man, but they help to frame him just-so.

    Baron of the Empire Tadriin Ketterzau arrived to the gala in a bespoke suit with enough of an austere cut to qualify for officer's dress. His rank bar and code cylinder fit smartly, but it was the Star of Coruscant weighted prominently over his heart and held around his neck by a scarlet ribbon that accentuated the look. A gentleman's hair must always be well-coiffed, and his mustache equally so. Still, there was a way to minimize the effect and to disarm everyone he mingled with. Baron Ketterzau was hardly aloof and haughty. He smiled with his eyes, gave a proper handshake, and gabbed with anyone. Though he was permitted by class to carry a Baron's command baton, the ornamental piece spent most of its time tucked under one arm as an afterthought.

    "Well, you see the Battle over Antares began as a rather desultory affair. More a boarding school scrap than a battle. We hadn't expected to find the rebels and the rebels hadn't expected to find us. Neither of us owned the sky from the outset and at first, there didn't seem to be a cracker-jack way to take it."

    Baron Ketterzau accepted a canape, though did little other than gesture with it mildly as he talked.

    "What really peeled the onion was that we both rather haphazardly figured out at once that it was a dash important bit of sky, and well, it quickly became a full-on donnybrook from there. Which is how I like it, I must say. That feeling when your margins are slim and you can't afford to make a mistake, there's nothing like it on solid ground."

    Around him stood a half-circle of ten or so guests. The Baron had cultivated a persona as one of the Empire's most decorated aces, and he didn't mind playing the crowd at all. They usually asked him to.

  3. #3
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    “Of course.”

    The image of Sanya Tagge, shoulders bare in a black dress, was reflected in the mirror, a short distance behind Miranda. Just how ‘ready’ Sanya was for an occasion such as this was something that the Baroness Administrator of Bespin had no doubt about. That she had been adopted, rather than born, into the Imperial aristocracy didn’t diminish the overwhelming sense that standing within the Imperial Palace was her birthright.

    Having been raised almost entirely by the Sub-Adult Group, the charitable cause set to benefit from the evening was one that was close to Sanya’s heart. It was gratifying, to know that her actions would help a new generation benefit from the same unparalleled upbringing and education that she herself had received. Still, as much as she was proud of what the night would achieve, she was prouder still to be standing behind Miranda Tarkin, her Empress.

    “You look…” she began, but her words were cut short as her brother emerged from an adjoining room.

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    “Stunning!”

    Gallus was still in the process of fastening a cufflink on his suit jacket as he leaned over Miranda’s shoulder, placing a kiss on her cheek. When their reflected gazes met, he grinned. “As always.”

    “Do you think we’ve kept them waiting for long enough?” the Baron asked, throwing a glance to his sister before stepping closer to Miranda, wrapping an arm around her.

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    Commander Bette Davis of the Imperial Starfighter Corps, leader of the elite Shadow Squadron, first female pilot to graduate from the Imperial Academy on Carida, daughter of a knighted Chandrilan war hero ... was not about to be defeated by a dress. She tugged at it in the stretch-speeder she was sitting in, being delivered to a stuffy charity gala like a side of beef, or a bouquet of flowers, or something else vaguely demeaning.

    Giving her chest one more adjustment, the double-sided fashion tape keeping everything together still valiantly doing its job, Bette tapped the invitation in her hand. Her father, Sir Charles Davis, had paid for her ticket in - and his as well, although a last minute scheduling conflict had prevented Sir Charles from actually attending.

    Convenient.

    The speeder slowed and stopped, and Bette extricated herself from its depths. The worst part of the slinky silver dress she found herself in was that there wasn't room to store a flask. Ducking back in she made sure she didn't owe the driver anything ("All paid for up front, miss.") and then she was faced with the walk up to and then inside of the Imperial Palace.

    It was awe inspiring, a stunning edifice that proclaimed the Empire's might, and she'd never set foot inside it before. One last wiggle to make sure the dress was not going to just fall off, and Bette walked confidently into the gala, presenting her ticket in and immediately looking for the open bar.

    yo ho yo ho a pilot's life for me

  6. #6
    Nelaa Kyris wasn’t really the type to attend big fancy events. As an Imperial field agent, she’d spent most of her adult life in hostile territory. As harmless as this little gala was, she still felt like she’d be safer undercover in a rebel base, wondering if she’d somehow blown her cover.

    Tonight, however, was not optional, so she approached it like she would any mission. She created a little character in her head, then committed to it. Her clothes were the first part of the charade. She wore a sleeveless black dress with dark silver accents that smoothed her curves rather than accenting them. A small necklace hung around her neck, nearly the same color as her skin, with a small black stone inset into the pendant. To complete the look, she dyed her hair brown, figuring her usual red would stand out a bit too much.

    She didn’t know many people here personally, but she recognized most of the faces she saw. Most of them weren’t that interesting, really. That was, until one of them was. She started moving through the room casually, stopping at times to mingle on the edge of a group before moving on. At some point she’d acquired a glass of champagne that she kept as more or a prop than a drink. She was in no big hurry to confront the person she’d suddenly taken interest in, but she did want to be nearby if the opportunity came up to speak with them alone.

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    Standing mostly alone and to the side, a figure watched everything with a cold, icy gaze that made the owner of those eyes seem far colder than the high winter of Hoth. Raven hair had been allowed to fall, styled in a simple cut that framed the face. There was no gown worn - rather a simple suit. Black as the night, and a thick, high-necked overcoat that had been embroidered at the edges. Tinges of gold could be seen shimmering in accent, and the earrings of unassuming golden studs seemed to finish the ensemble. It was nothing more and nothing less that was expected of the Director of Imperial Intelligence.

    One hand held a champagne flute, and the other was folded back.

    She saw the man, Ketterzau, as he entertained the flock that had gathered around him. She watched the comings of those just arriving. She watched the furtive and smooth looks of the others. All seemed as normal as any such event.

    A deep breath, and Esalis lifted the delicate Coruscanti crystal to her lips, taking a demure sip.

  8. #8
    "Good evening, Director."

    Another figure affixed to the periphery of the gala, less interested in conversation and more in observation. Unlike Esalis, Schreiger's attire had not changed from his usual appearance, maintaining the cream and black uniform of an ISB officer. A waiter approached to offer Wulfgarn a flute of champagne. A teetotaler by habit, Director Schreiger refused it.

    "I hope you are having a pleasant party." Wulfgarn had a way of speaking that was both polite and cold. He used the affectations of emotional response when it suited him, but on closer inspection, it all seemed to be artificial, like he was wearing a mask. "It's quite a large one, isn't it? So many interesting people in one place."

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    If not for appearances to keep, Lise was fairly certain her daughter would have burned her mother's invitation. Having been part of many philanthropic endeavors for Imperial children, it would appear odd and ignite gossip that mother and daughter were not aligned. It was the last thing either of them needed with court or material for slanderous holozines and talk shows. She played her part as the proud mother, dutifully organizing fundraisers for the family, and denouncing everything her other child stood for.

    Miranda knew the truth in her mother's heart that deep affection for Navaria remain and she did not share the same feelings in rehabilitating her Jedi twin despite being very vocal to the contrary.

    So another ball and pretending to play nice.

    She made her way through the crowd, champagne flute in hand, mingling with guests. Offering polite smiles and welcomes, idle chatter of topics that she was well versed in but didn't actually care for. Rubbing shoulders with high military personal who loved to share stories about her late husband, Captain Andron Tarkin, that Lise had heard hundreds of times, but she had the same practice poise of finding the stories endearing with a plastic smile...

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    While brother and sister Tagge fawned over the Empress in her splendor, a figure stood patiently at the door, completely still until beckoned. Lady Vissica's armor had been updated with a veneer more suitable for court. The light in the room caught on its silvery profiles, accented by the asymmetrical shawl cape that draped over her shoulders and left arm. In addition to bolstering the Empress's security with her own Royal Guard, the Selonian Knight was herself available as a bauble for Miranda to show off to her guests, if needed.

  11. #11
    There was no mistaking Reinhart Thul for anything other than what he was. Standing head and shoulders above many of the Empress’s guests, the sight of the Inquisitor was like a cold splash of water in the face for some in attendance. He wore the maroon, zeyd-cloth cloak that had been the hallmark of the Inquisitor’s during Emperor Palpatine’s reign, the blood-red fabric a heavy mantle around his shoulders. It was the only badge of office needed, and seemed to be acting as a warning flag to anyone who might think to engage him in conversation. A waiter, who had moments before unsuccessfully tried to offer a drink to the Director of the Imperial Security Bureau, approached with a tray still laden with glasses - but when his eyes met Reinhart’s, he turned mid-step, in search of a friendlier face.

  12. #12
    Cadet Par'Vizal supposed he should be rather proud to stand where he currently did, with hands clasped behind him and his eyes attempting to focus forward rather than glance at the royal entourage. To be alongside the likes of Lady Vissica at an event, on an evening such as this, was one of those tasks that he was supposed to brag about, surely. However, when the questions of "Why you?" had come from his fellow cadets, Jensen had only been able to answer honestly, "I was told to." Oh sure, he allowed himself a secretive smile at how their reactions had ranged from baffled to enraged, but no more than just a fleeting satisfaction at how it perturbed his peers.

    Now that he was here, adorned in his all black formal dress uniform, it was hard to forget that he was not here to socialize or be part of the revelry. This was an assignment, prestigious yes, but the same as any other in that it was to be completed to the best of his ability. It was, however, far easier to remember that his very continued existence - and those with similar once outlawed gifts - was allowed to endure at the pleasure of the Empress when she was quite literally standing in the same room as him.

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    "And what will the lady have?" The bartender was human, not a droid as Bette had half-expected, and easy on the eyes with curly blond hair.

    "Whisky. Just a whisky, I don't care what kind it is." She awkwardly leaned an elbow on the bar, and then straightened up, still trying to figure out how to move around in the dress. Apparently you're not supposed to do anything but take small steps and stand in place like a porcelain doll.

    Bette had had a collection of heirloom quality porcelain dolls when she was a child. The value had been drilled into her because it was what her nanny had shrieked whenever she'd found one face down in a mud puddle or lined up for target practice on the outdoor range at the estate. "These are heirlooms!"

    Bette turned gratefully when the glass appeared beside her, taking the drink and sipping it while she tried not to view the crowd like the strange specimens that they were.

  14. #14
    "Excuse me, please."

    The Baron kindly untangled himself from his current cluster of conversations, spying better game in the general vicinity. He raised his baritone voice slightly.

    "Commander Davis?"

    When she turned at the sound of her name, Ketterzau's smile showed teeth.

    "A pleasure to meet you, at last."

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    Bette nearly dropped her drink when she saw who was standing behind her. Eyes going a little wide, she juggled her whiskey into her left hand and stuck out her right.

    "Kath Hound? I mean, sorry, Baron Ketterzau. Uh, shit." Bette could hear her father sighing in her mind. "I read almost all your missions when I was in the academy."

    It was the real, live, honest to gods Baron Ketterzau and he knew her name. Well, why wouldn't he? You're the new ace. Ketterzau shook her hand, and when he released it Bette took what she hoped was a casual sip of her whisky.

  16. #16
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    With a throaty chuckle, Miranda leaned against Gallus. "I think enough time has passed."

    She cast a delighted smile up towards her husband that towered over her before bringing her gaze back towards Sanya. Miranda adored the Tagge siblings. They had been friends since childhood and she couldn't have been prouder in calling them family. A marriage of convenience and strategic maneuvering had quickly transformed fondness into love for the both of them. It was just a pity that Sorsha couldn't have reined in her jealousy to embrace what the union of Tagge and Tarkin had created.

    Unconsciously she touched her stomach at the thought, momentarily angered by how her relationship had ended with the former Black Sun Vigo. The small creases of discontent faded as there was a party to attend and with it, a very important announcement to give their honored guests.

    "Let's make our grand entrance, hm?"

  17. #17
    After mingling through the crowd, Nelaa began making her way toward her mark. She had been eyeballing Commander Bette Davis since the woman had entered the gala. Most people there would know Bette as one of the Empire's best pilots (the best, if you didn't hold being a woman against her), but Nelaa was probably one of the few who knew her as the one who'd brought in the plans for the Starkiller weapon system. Just as she was about to approach, however, someone else had taken notice of Bette and followed a more direct path to get to her.

    At first, Nelaa was content to wait the man out until she realized who it was. Damn, Ketterzau. If he starts telling war stories we'll be here all night. Nelaa showed no outward signs of it, but her mind was off to the races, reformulating her plan and weighing consequences. After a few moments she altered her path and took a detour to the bar. She pounded back a shot of something strong and brown and swished it around in her mouth a few times before swallowing. With a little extra purpose in her stride, she made her way directly to Bette, brushing by Ketterzau as if she never even saw him.

    "Oh my god, Commander Bette Davis, I did NOT expect to see you here! And oh! This dress looks AMAZING on you!"

    The sway in her posture and booze on her breath made her seem as if she'd indulged in the open bar a bit too much. Bette wasn't even remotely hiding the absolute horror on her face as Nelaa completely invaded her personal space and began actually tugging at the side of Bette's dress.

    "You know I was going to go strapless to but I decided not t..."

    She stopped mid sentence, suddenly noticing Baron Ketterzau. Her hand shot to her mouth.

    "Oh god, I am SO SORRY I didn't even notice you were talking to someone." She turned to Ketterzau. "Please forgive me, I hardly know anyone here, and before I saw Bette I had just been wondering around..." She glanced back to Bette for a moment. "...like a nomad."

    The two women locked eyes for a split second before Nelaa turned back to Ketterzau.

    "Oh! You must be Sir Charles Davis. It is an absolute honor to meet you sir. You must be so proud of all your daughter has accomplished!"
    Last edited by Nelaa Kyris; May 21st, 2019 at 10:10:33 PM.

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    Bette had no idea what was happening any more. As Kyris interrupted her conversation with the Baron and then began adjusting her dress for her Bette’s mouth dropped and intense social horror began to wash over her.

    She had barely comprehended the agent’s use of the word “nomad” when Kyris turned to Ketterzau and called him Sir Charles. Bette, trying to casually sip her whisky to gain some semblance of control, choked on the drink, burning her nose.

  19. #19
    Whoever this woman was, she was brassy, uncouth, and at least three drinks past decorum. Of course, it wasn't his duty to police the Empress's guests, but she had committed the ghastly mistake of confusing him for someone else entirely. Even if that someone else was the well-esteemed Charles Davis.

    You must be so proud of all your daughter has accomplished!

    "I must be." Ketterzau's grin didn't show teeth, but it was polite, buoying the fringes of his mustache as he cut a curious expression towards Bette.

  20. #20
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    As the Empress’s entourage descended through the Imperial Palace, sounds of the gala began to reach Gallus’ ears. The low, muted hum of traffic from Coruscant’s upper levels gave way to the strains of music, to the buzz of conversation and laughter. It was not often that the doors to the Palace were opened to so many, and rarer still was the occasion when the ranks of the Empire gathered to celebrate. Even the joyless expressions of Miranda’s personal bodyguards could not chase the smile from Gallus’ face.

    “Here we are,” he said, his sister at his back and the ranks of the Imperial Knights arrayed around them all. All that stood between the Empress and her people was a single set of admittedly rather impressive doors.
    Last edited by Gallus Tagge; Sep 15th, 2019 at 07:57:43 AM. Reason: bump

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