Grand Advisor Kian Sharpe stood in the dimly-lit atmosphere of one of the many conference chambers which lie spread throughout the Hall of the Commonwealth, one of the most venerated buildings on all of Fresia. It was on its very grounds, in the most prominent land feature on the planet, that the last battle of Fresian unification had been fought more than twelve centuries before. The building had taken decades to build, and had stood as the prime symbol of Fresia’s government throughout its history. Sharpe thought it was interesting to note that Fresia, having never been internally governed by any body other than a republic, was now under the rule of an empire; his empire. And considering the coming power and prosperity it implied, the people were ecstatic about the conversion. Well, mostly ecstatic.

Sharpe stood with his two direct underlings, High Executor Tencus Nambek and the Advisor to Fresia, Althos Verrin. There was another present, a human female captain of the army named Lena Ekstyn.

He spoke evenly to the officer, “I trust the operation went down as planned, Captain Ekstyn?”

The woman, clad in the army blue uniform with gold braid and gray trim, answered. “It did, Advisor. I took a hundred-fifty men from the Solstetia garrison and neutralized the rebels. Their position was in a manor house exactly where our intelligence had suggested, sir.”

Sharpe nodded, turning his head to the side to look Advisor Verrin in the eyes, as he was the one who had given the order. Verrin took this as his signal to speak. “I am to assume then that those on the island of Lestia understand fully what will happen in the event that another planned armed rebellion is instigated?”

Kian narrowed his eyes at the man as he spoke in his delicate yet calculating tone. Verrin had used his direct jurisdictional powers to order the pre-emptive strike against the rebels in order to prevent their taking up arms against the Commonwealth. This all had occurred without Sharpe’s knowledge; the Grand Advisor was forced to issue post-facto legitimacy to the Fresian Advisor’s orders so as not to create a rift in the ruling body.

Ekstyn replied to Verrin’s earlier probe, “Yes sir, no prisoners were taken. The operation was completed eighteen minutes after the initial landing.” She paused, “That’s seven minutes faster than allotted, sir.” She continued to stand at attention, fixing her gaze on Sharpe, as it was no doubt his turn to speak.

“Excellent work captain,” Kian stated in a false and wooden tone, “you are relieved.”

As the woman turned to exit the room, Verrin called after her, “Extended weekend passes are to be given to the men of the Solstetia garrison who participated in the operation.”

Sharpe had kept a cool demeanor throughout the entire session, but inside he was less-than-pleased. Even if the rebel faction based on the island of Lestia had been planning an uprising, it would have been more prudent to have sent in negotiators in order to see if they could reach an effective resolution or compromise. However he was not willing to show his displeasure to the officer or Executor Nambek so had waited until they were long gone before having a word with Verrin.

Sharpe leading, the two walked silently toward the Grand Advisor’s office, down the elegant and cavernous black and dark gray marble halls lined with dark blue-green columns and navy blue carpets. Once inside the similarly-colored office, Sharpe gazed out the panoramic window at the city and oceans beyond while Verrin waited behind him just inside the door. “Your humble servant, sir,” the man said, hollow.

Kian needed to make it perfectly clear that the imperial administration would not use its power unjustly. He spun on his heel and predatorily walked right up to look Verrin in the eyes. The man spoke in a low and powerful tone, knowing that his words would be heeded. “You will never again issue such a command without proper authorization from me. Your,” he pointed at Verrin’s chest with his left hand, “rank is ‘Advisor,’ mine is ’Grand Advisor.’ In recognition of the adjective, one is to understand that you bring those matters to me, your superior.”

Verrin tried to respond, “Sir traitorous activity will not be tolerated.”

“Of course not,” Kian said more warmly. “Now I know you are a capable leader; I’ve seen you in action. I trust you. Understand that this leadership functions as a whole, meaning you bring the matter before the rest of us.”

The Fresian Advisor attempted to speak, but Sharpe slowly held up his hand and there was silence. “The executors will not learn of our exchange here, nor will I speak of it again. I know the reason we instituted planetary advisors was to give us a degree of decentralization of government, making us more flexible. However when I am on-world, especially when the matter in question is so grave, you must bring all relevant parties abreast of the situation. The lesson is learned.”

Althos Verrin nodded. Sharpe abruptly turned and walked back over to look out the window before seating himself comfortably resting his feet, crossed at the ankles, on the top of the marble desk.

“If it would please the Advisor, I shall take my leave. There are many administrational works to be done,” Verrin said somewhat subdued.

Kian held up a hand. “By all means, go.”

The other man bowed and then moved to leave, allowing the massive automatic door to slide into the ceiling.

Sharpe called after him. “Althos?”

“Yes sir?”

“Try not to be so damned formal.”

“Very good sir.”

---

A few hours later Sharpe walked into the main offices of the Foreign Affairs Executor, Anthon Corvallus, after having called ahead from his office in another part of the Hall.

The office was a hub of activity, with various droids and underlings running to and fro with datacards, flimsies, and datapads in their hands. He looked to the secretary droid seated behind its marble desk, and it told him he was expected in Corvallus’ office. Black cape flowing behind him he walked past computer banks and thronging information gatherers through a doorway where he found himself in the presence of his Foreign Affairs Executor, seated at his desk working on his computer whose holographic screen was projected above the desk itself, displaying an enlarged map of the Core worlds of the galaxy.

Kian stopped in front of the man’s desk and crossed his arms, looking on expectantly. “Well? Find any suitable candidates?”

Broken from his work trance, Corvallus stood, clothed in the same type of uniform that Sharpe was, and delivered his findings with a smile. “We have done research on and have compiled a list of five worlds that should be most willing to open negotiations with the Commonwealth.”

Kian smiled back, walking up to the front of the desk, resting his palms on the top and leaning over to see Corvallus’ work. “Pantolomin, Foerost, Cinnagar, Ruan, and Metellos, eh?”

“Yes sir, after considerable strategic evaluation they are indeed the types of systems that we seek. Pantolomin and Foerost are shipbuilders, Cinnagar and Metellos are your standard ecumenopolises, and Ruan is possessed of a vast agricultural network. I need only your word before sending out the teams, sir.”

Sharpe nodded and looked the information over that Corvallus had given him. Everything looked to be in order, and all of the planets were in close proximity to Fresia, meaning a very secure and tight ring inside the Core. Such was also in keeping with the Commonwealth’s Core Influence Policy, or CIP. Staring at the map of the Core, he gave consideration to his territory’s galactic left flank, and focused his attention on a star cluster through which ran the only hyperspace routes around the Core on the galactic western side of Fresia.

He pointed to the hologram of the cluster, located in the Farlax Sector, “The Koornacht Cluster. Full of Yevethans right?”

Corvallus thought a moment before responding. “Yes sir, approximately two-thousand star systems are in there but only a hundred or so are inhabited. They’re controlled by the Duskhan League, and they really aren’t to be trifled with. Huge xenophobes; not worth our time or trouble.”

Sharpe’s eyes narrowed. “It says here their capital is N’zoth. Why don’t you send a diplomatic team with significant guard there to open negotiations. We can possibly get them to secure our flank, albeit unknowingly.”

Corvallus laughed. “I like the way you think sir.”

“So it will be done then. Send out messages to those six worlds informing them that our diplomatic shuttles are on their way; direct all responses to my personal datapad.” He picked up his comlink as it began to beep. “Sharpe here.”

The voice on the other end was of one of his landing control officers. “Advisor, there is an old Corellian transport here sir. I granted them landing clearance and they desire to speak with you and you alone sir.”

Sharpe cocked his head. “Wire them I’ll be there immediately.”

“Yes sir, they’re on landing pad Alpha-9.”

Sharpe cut the connection and proceeded briskly to where the vessel was cleared to land.

---

The Grand Advisor of the Commonwealth moved straight down the walkway, eyeing the newly-arrived ship the whole time. Beyond the grounds of the Hall Kian could see the beautiful Concordia, the capital of Fresia. Its graceful yet towering classical marble edifices were enough to awe any visitors. The snobby Muuns and their similar architecture couldn’t hold a candle to Fresia or her people. He felt privileged to be their leader.

A man who looked like the pilot of the vessel walked down the gangway ramp, accompanied by others. Sharpe didn’t feel threatened by them, and it wasn’t because of the fact that he had security cannons trained on them and a response team waiting close by; they just seemed mild.

Sharpe walked right up to the pilot, hand outstretched. “I trust you come in peace, no? I am Grand Advisor to the Fresian Commonwealth, Kian Sharpe. What brings you to our watery world?”

IC as Duke Carmine Vallese

She always did this! She was a hawk, Jana was, and the Duke was tiring of it. Her constant meddling with his personal affairs resulted in this micromanagement. Carmine knew she wanted him dead, and she was well aware of that fact. Hans had a hard enough time dealing with security on their new home of Endor without having to worry about internal conflicts.

"Jana!" he called down the hall. It echoed off the stone walls, reverberating even more with each passing moment. This place was too impersonal. "Jana!"

He strode briskly to the corner. Hearing footsteps, he slowed, pausing out of sight of anyone coming. Whoever it was, they were in a hurry. As the footsteps neared, Carmine heard the distinctive sigh of his sister. He frowned beneath his mask.

"There you are!" snapped Carmine, stepping out from behind the corner. Jana jumped, surprised, as her shock gave way to anger.

"What is it, Carmine? I'm very busy." she hissed. Carmine clenched his teeth.

"Hardly. I take it you've heard of the readings Hans' men picked up?" he asked coolly.

Jana's eyes flashed, and Carmine knew. She'd heard, and most likely was behind whatever it was. "No, I hadn't. Gerren's just paranoid, an old, paranoid man. Now I must be going."

Jana's lithe form turned around, and she stormed off in the direction of her quarters. Carmine sighed beneath his mask, every sound amplified by it. Sickness forced him to wear it, but it also put up an emotional barrier between him and those he cared for. Like Morgan, and Giuseppe... thought the Duke.

He'd have to warn Hans about Jana.

---

IC as Giuseppe Vallese and John Forrest

"So we've come to an agreement with the locals, then?"

"They supply us with a compliment of bombers as long and we let them go about their lives as they normally would. Of course, we would've let them live in solitude anyways..."

"True, sir. However, we still need more...conventional defenses. AT-ST's may be a wise choice, given the terrain and their history here."

Giuseppe Vallese, six feet in height and sharp featured, gave John Forrest a look that said, plainly, not a chance. "We've just allied ourselves with the locals - let's not be the cause of a civil war because of a military faux pas."

John Forrest let out a short chuckle. "I hadn't thought of that, sir. Perhaps some aerial support is in order, then?"

Giuseppe shook his head. "Ground support first. If we're going to get an army going, we'll need actual soldiers, not pilots. That can wait - this can't."

---

IC as Hans Gerren

Hans Gerren, at sixty-two years of age, had passed the prime of his life. Tall and athletic, the man's body wasn't what it used to be. His mind was as good as it been twenty years ago, if not better. And that was why he did what he did.

"Captain, this is HQ - what's the situation, over." barked the Defense Minister into his comm.

A speaker hissed, and squawked to life. "Three down, sir. We're not sure how many of them there were to begin with, but they're as good as caught."

Hans smiled grimly. Good. "Excellent. Clean up the rest. Make sure we get one alive for questioning."

Hans' aide, Brann, looked at him quizically - Hans rarely let scum like this live. Something was different this time 'round.

---

IC as Captain Kire

"Roger that, sir." said Kire, taking his thumb off the comm. "Sergeant! Flank!"

Kire took a step forward. "In the Name of the Duke Carmine Vallese we demand your surrender!"

One of the hostiles called out a response: "Show us your leader." Kire frowned. This was a set-up for something.

"I'm here. Lay down your weapons and move out slowly."

Tag: Sith_Lords for the Assassins

Cradda strode down the corridor, various prison cell doors aligned in a staggered order, creating something of an uneasy sensation upon moving to fast. The farghul was far to upset to be bothered by a mere optical illusion. Someone had made an attempt on the life of the crown prince, and his own nephew. This foreign devil had better give me a very, very good reason for this act, or the rest of his short life will be decidedly unpleasant. He found himself smiling at the thought, deciding to make it something of a personal play time.

The rest of the contingent had been wiped out, or suicided themselves. For some reason this one's pill hadn't worked, for which Cradda found himself amazingly grateful.

Finally arriving at one of the maximum security cells, Cradda motioned for a guard to enter the cell with him as the door opened. Upon his entracne the Farghuls sensitive ears were overwhelmed with a scream of, "Who the hell are you!"

His ears laying back, the Head of Intellegence retorted, "One with far better manners than yourself." Forcing his ears back into a relaxed state, he continuedm, "My name is Cradda, Head of Intellegence for the Farfin Technocratic Aristocracy. I do believe you know why I am here, and what we're going to do. If you do not cooperate your life will be made miserable, do you understand?" The Felinoid narrowed his eyes menacingly.

Taking a seat on a folding chair that had been brought in by an assistant, he looked over how the being before him had been treated. He looked reasonably well fed, as well as if he'd recieved an adacquite amount of sleep. The Farghul were not monsters, and you could certainly attract more flies with honey than with vinegar. "Now, if you would be so kind as to tell me your name, we can see where this conversation will take us. I hope it's somewhere that will be mutually profitable." Extending one of his razor sharp claws, Cradda absently scratched at his chin.