A Toast to Naboo

[TAC]

A Toast to Naboo​

[fancybox4="http://i.imgur.com/pCu6ZmG.jpg?1"]
Theed, Naboo.

The Royal Estate.

The Grand Ballroom.

Formally gathered for the first time since the inception of the alliance that put the House of Jafan into power, the families, nobility, and highest echelon of leadership in the royal dynasty all found themselves in the Grand Ballroom of the Royal Estate in Theed. Seen mingling were some of the most successful and powerful beings that called Naboo - statesman, businessmen, nobles and commoner alike. Those who held the titles of nobility were so indicated by a deep crimson sash across the men's breasts and a flower or broach of equal color and location on the women. Nobility outnumbered commoners here 2 to 1, but success was not limited by noble blood or title on Naboo.

The crowd mixed and mingled, snacking on Hor d'oeuvres or some of the best of the Jafan's wine stock. All were dressed in their finest tuxes, dresses, and uniforms, not a paltry garb to be seen. These assembled had been called here by the King himself, to celebrate their union, and to look forward through the turbulent times ahead.

Naboo was the closest it had ever been to planetary unification. His Highness, King Jafan Gio Berenko had nearly rallied all of the noble houses to his cause, long before winning the support of a majority of Naboo's voting citizens. But complete control yet eluded him, and thus far a relatively bloodless civil war denied him true sovereignty over the prosperous world. A few noble houses, both major and minor, denied him as King and rightful ruler. Some, quiet in their dissent, stood among Jafan's strongest supporters here in the Grand Ballroom. Others were noticeably absent.

The final steps to unify Naboo would be set out here, tonight, by the yet absent King Jafan.

--

Michael Trenton had been one of the first to arrive. Dressed sharply in the formal attire of the Naboo Diplomatic Corps, his suit was simple - devoid of the many medals and commendations he had won while previously serving in the Naboo Royal Security Force. The ex-soldier-turned-diplomat surveyed the room as he entered, beaming widely as he took note of the guards, their positions, and areas he considered to be weak spots. Old habits died hard, and tonight was too important of an evening to take risks.

As famous as the diplomat was, very few eyes focused on him as he entered the room.

"The Honorable Michael and Maegan Trenton," the Majordomo announced. The crowd turned to view the two. Michael was a handsome and well-known diplomat, but his wife - dressed in a gorgeous gown that drapped on the floor - was well known in her own right as both a woman of unparalleled beauty, and, more importantly, a spokeswoman for the royal family. "Mae, you're cramping my style," Mic commented to his wife underneath his smile, and she responded with a graceful smile and laugh. Even more heads turned towards the couple.

"But keep up the good work," he added, turning to his wife and winking. She responded with a small kiss as the continued on to the dance floor. The music was already playing, and Mic loved to dance. The two continued to garner some petering attention as they moved gracefully through the dance floor, swirling and twirling. "You're just jealous I get to wear maroon," she said to him as they began. As if even possible, the man responded with an even wider smile. "They don't give that colors to pirates, do they?" Maegan replied only with a mock look of shock at the revelation. It was a long time since Mic had been called a pirate.

"There's my first target," she commented, barely even glancing at the on-lookers. Mic's smile continued, but somewhat more subdued. "Always working. Good luck, girl."

The song ended and the two bowed. Giving him a kiss on the cheek, the spin-master gasped in exasperated glee. "Count Ishlabalm!" she declared, moving over to a rather plump and sweaty looking count who controlled a majority of the mining operations on the planet. Mic couldn't help but chuckle to himself as moved over to the bar, leaning up against it and scanning the crowd. "What can I get you, sir?" the bartender asked.

"Your finest glass of water," Mic said, glancing back briefly before returning his gaze to the vast ballroom. "I'm on the clock tonight."
[/fancybox4]

This is a social thread for the new Indie Naboo faction. All others, please PM me to [ASK] to join.
@AutoFox @Herrith Hendarsin @Padmé @Sangga @Zaphod Norblebrox

 

[Herrith]

A masked woman stood in a doorway, wearing decently appropriate clothing for the event.

Naboo. She wasn't much of a talker, and the planet seemed to love talking.

Which didn't bode well with a woman raised to kill.

She strayed near the edges of the party, eyeing everyone, especially security. Nobody could be trusted until she herself deemed so.

The woman casually grabbed a water and stood in an edge of the ballroom.

They had hired her to defend ideals. Ideals weren't worth anything. Credits were. She'd learned that quickly. And credits were plentiful for assassins in a time of corruption and war.

 

[AutoFox]

X3R stood impassively, his silence occasionally broken by the whine of powerful servos as he swiveled his cranial turret, sweeping his photoreceptors over the crowd. Literally over them, as indeed, he stood significantly taller than any of those assembled.
This alone made him not at all an inconspicuous, although there were other things, of course. As per the occasion, he had had his hull and fittings buffed and polished to a mirror shine, his dark grey-green duranium armor and golden death's head gleaming in the light from the ornate light fixtures overhead. Magnetized to the right side of his breastplate was the crest of the Naboo Royal Security Force, his current employers.
Most of the guests gave the towering war droid a wide berth. X3R, for his part, scrutinized them all minutely, but professionally.
That was the job, of course.

The droid had wandered the Galaxy as a mercenary for almost longer than his memory banks could recall. He had come to Naboo to participate in the bloody civil war which had long consumed the planet. Upon his arrival, he had been swept up in a popular revolution against a minor noble in the planet's northern territories, helping to lead and coordinate the rebels; after the uprising had succeeded in deposing the hated leader, the new government had thrown in with Naboo's de facto ruling monarch.
X3R had joined the NRSF shortly afterward. Though the rebel leaders he had fought beside urged him to take a position of leadership, possibly even a title, the droid had no wish to do so; a soldier he was, and a soldier he would remain. The lands he had come from were at peace, for a time at least, and so he moved on.

X3R watched as a masked female strode over to stand in an alcove nearby, holding a water glass and looking, to his eye, tense. He recognized her as a fellow security operative; not so much because he knew her identity, but due to whatever droid equivalent of instinct he had cultivated over millennia of service.
Professionals knew professionals.
His vocabulator grated as he spoke.
"Have you spotted anything suspicious."

@Herrith Hendarsin

 

[Herrith]

The woman eyed the crowds until a large droid came into view. Instinctively, her hand reached for a blaster on her back that wasn't there.

She'd learned not to trust droids. Then it approached and spoke.

The assassin took a moment to realize it was talking to her. Of all people.
"Have you spotted anything suspicious."

The woman looked up. It seemed, by the way it talked, it was also security. She hardly eased up. Partially cause she didn't recognize the model. It looked similar to something you'd find in history logs.

She glanced up again, finally speaking from under her mask.
"Everything's suspicious. Till it isn't."

Then she went back to scanning the room.


@AutoFox

 

[Sangga]

Away from the ballroom, along a corridor, there were officials. Aides, majordomo's, and staff. They all swirled around, handed missives through the crowd, and seemed to fuss over one individual. "Look, this can wait until tomorrow, I need to be in the ballroom as soon as I can." Several devotees were fastening buttons, and polishing buckled shoes. "I'm sorry, but tonight is a celebration. Affairs of state will have to wait for one night." He began pacing as soon as the outfit was in order. The mass moved with him, and brushed his shoulders, ensured that his pony tail was centred.

At the top of a tiered staircase a pair of Tuskcat cavalry trooper came to attention. The orchestra stopped and a fanfare was played after a long drum roll. As the the first few notes sounded, a fur trimmed cape was draped over his shoulder. He stepped out and smiled at those gathered, as the trumpeting ceased he turned to his retinue and bowed then looked back over the crowd. "My Lords, Ladies, and esteemed guests. Welcome to Theed..." Jafan began stepping down the marble stairs, his heeled buckle shoes glimmered in the glow of so many globes and candles. "...a city that looks to the future. A future in which I see co-operation at the highest order..." his cloak almost poured down the steps behind him by several paces, spending the time to bow before dignitaries such as the Earl of Vis, Mr Trenton of the RDC, and others. "...a future that sees every man able to stand up and be counted, on there own..." with that the King moved to some of the 'lower' society member's clamping a hand on their shoulder. "... or more importantly with their friends and family. We will stand steadfast against any, and all that will stand in the way of this future; and welcome all those that wish to strive with us toward it."

With that said, he looked over a shoulder to bring forth an attendant and then removed the cloak. His light brown suit, with knee length breeches. "You are all expected to enjoy yourselves, make friends, and talk to old ones." With that he signalled the conductor and the orchestra swelled into life. He was swarmed once more, his life always in the centre of these micro-maelstrom.

 

[Herrith]

The masked woman watched as 'King Jafan", the person she was tasked with both protecting and killing for, was introduced.

"My Lords, Ladies, and esteemed guests. Welcome to Theed..."

The woman scoffed. This was King Jafan? She'd seen worse pompous asses in the Imperial Legion. Far worse. Until she blew their heads off, of course.

As he continued his speech, the woman couldn't help but smile. Blah blah blah. Diplomacy and politics. What a joke. She knew the difference between words and blaster, and blasters normally came out on top.
"You are all expected to enjoy yourselves, make friends, and talk to old ones."

The assassin supposed it was time for her to introduce herself. They hadn't hired her to sit around. She approached the king, gliding like water through the crowd and less than roughly pushing through people.

She walked up to the king, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible, which was difficult.

The masked woman narrowed her eyes abd reached out a hand to shake to the king, regardless of guards.

"Greetings, King Jafan. I am the...helpful person you hired."

Her mask moved as she spoke. And she nodded subtly. Hopefully he understood.

 

[AutoFox]

X3R watched the masked female depart, his photoreceptors whirring softly as the droid focused on her.
Ancient logic gates tripped, and slowly, he strode after her, noting her trajectory in the crowd, and moving far enough behind her that the way his presence parted the sea of guests was not readily apparent.
And then the King arrived.
To X3R's thinking, King Jafan was nothing special. Automatically, thanks in large part to the hard-wired loyalty subroutines which governed all of the droid's interactions with authority, the King could be nothing but the lesser of the living god who had commissioned the droid so many millennia ago: the glorious Despot, Whose Fist Would Enclose the Stars and Whose Name Would Outlive Time.
The name was not coming to him at the moment, and the banks containing the extent of his conquests only worked occasionally. X3R would have to get that looked at, eventually.
The speech concluded, and the droid returned to a more professional demeanor. He moved through the crowd thronging the King, receiving briefly alarmed looks from fellow security personnel, though he was let through the loose cordon unchallenged. Rank had its privileges, but nearly three meters of glossy duranium had even more.
The droid halted at the King's side, looking down at Avlin, and then back over at the noble.
"Helpful indeed." He commented. "But if you were to sneak up on our employer again in such a manner, I would not hesitate to employ a heatbeam first and perform interrogations later."
His cranial turret swiveled toward King Jafan.
"An excellent speech, your Majesty. Succinct and uplifting."

 

[TAC]

Guests continued to file into the grand ballroom. Politely, Michael nodded to a few and shook the hands of even fewer. Many people he had never seen before stopped and quietly discussed who he was, although few were brace enough to actually come up and introduce themselves to him. He was cordial to all of them, smiling widely and enjoying his cool glass of water as he did so. Quite close to him an odd, masked warrior woman and a huuuge robot mingled, and Mic tried to not look too curious at the strange couple. Who wears a mask to a party? Among the extremely well groomed participants, the pair stuck out like a thumb. 'Not very stealthy security,' he mused to himself.

Finally, after quite some time, the King made his grand entrance. Along with the rest of those assembled, Mic turned to watch the man to whom he owed his allegiance saunter down the steps. Mic set his glass down and stood erect, smooth his suit jacket as he did. The King spoke as he descended the beautiful staircase, and the diplomat listened carefully to his words for a deeper meaning future for their cause. At least to him, it was difficult to distinguish clearly any hints of what might be in store for the citizens of Theed.

Somewhat to his surprise, as the King walked through the room and paid his respects, the nobleman bowed to the diplomat. Naboo had sometimes unfamiliar customs to Mic - there was noble blood, but also needed to be elected. The diplomat bowed back to the King, ensuring to dip even lower than his boss, as he assumed would be customary. An adopted citizen of Naboo, their customs were still sometimes strange to him. As the King pressed on through the crowd and with his short remarks, Mic caught the eye of his wife, who raised an eyebrow at him. A bow from the King? it said.

Apparently, the Michael Trenton stock was on the rise.

Following his remarks and after the conductor rounded up his crew to continue their steady but sweet march, Mic decided to pay his respects to the elder statesman. As he approached, however, he was a bit turned off by the crowd surging around the King. Perhaps not.

Again, however, he noticed the odd coupling - the masked woman and her giant robot friend. Their discussions with the King were... odd. Somewhat uncomfortable. Mic looked around for the King's top adviser, Rand, to help alleviate the strange circumstances. Strangely enough he was nowhere to be scene.

Sighing a bit to himself, he pressed through the gaggle. "My king!" he exclaimed with a smile, bowing to Jafan again. "An excellent speech, King Jafan. If I'm not mistaken, sir, and if your guests might pardon me, I do believe the Duke of Southerly was looking to entertain you with the latest news on the progression of the new alloy mines his men discovered directly to the south of Westely."

The diplomat, with his own sense of humor, beamed at the King.



typed on my phone please forgive any syntax/cohesion errors

 

[Sangga]

The parting of the courtiers was something of note. He turned whilst finishing a remark. "I hope you're son... is... well..." The towering, shining droid was certainly the first thing to enthrall his attention. As the guards closed in, a woman's arm was shot out before him.

"Greetings, King Jafan. I am the...helpful person you hired." Jafan looked to his guards, then back to the hand, there was no weapon. But poison was transferable.

"Madam, I have very helpful people on strength. Nevertheless..." he looked to the guards and raised an eyebrow slightly. "I'm sure if you wanted me dead, at this range." He took her hand lightly, bowing his head to the assassin.

"An excellent speech, your Majesty. Succinct and uplifting." An eyebrow rose toward the droid that had just threatened the woman, and was now complimenting his speech.

"My! A combat droid of significant capability, that can also understand the minutiae of speech craft." Suddenly a voice employed him from behind his ear, his head leaned back. "Ah, well, if you'll excuse me. The Duke is one of an excitable tempremant; yet has a weak heart. Your health." The King was whisked off to by the sharply dressed diplomat.

 

[Herrith]

It took the woman a moment to realize why he hadn't shook her hand. Ah. Fear of poison. Oh well. Her eyes flicked down to her hand then back up as he shook it. She returned the gesture.

"Poison is the least of your concerns. There's so many guests here that you'd have been stabbed and bled out before your guards had noticed."

She turned as the droid spoke.
"Helpful indeed. But if you were to sneak up on our employer again in such a manner, I would not hesitate to employ a heatbeam first and perform interrogations later."

She smiled under the mask.
"I'm sure you would. I've employed more than a few heatbeams and performed interrogations later as well."

The woman did her best to mimic its voice, then turned as the king was drifted off. Oh, well. Always time for conversation later. Not that she was saddened by any means about that. She'd learned about humans through a sniper scope, and gleaned more from it. Like how their guards reacted when their client's head vaporized.

Oh well.
She grabbed another water.

 

[Vosh Deo]

Parties. Why did they always have to be so grand here. It was never like this, not when Par grew up. Parties where something you did to get drunk, shoot a few wamp-rats and call it a fun night. Yet these parties always seemed to cause trouble around every corner. This night was no acceptation, dressed in his nice Class-A Military Suit with his hair slicked back. The Captain of the Guards had kept a close eye on the king. For a moment as he saw the small group almost engulf the king he would have stepped in, he was only a few paces behind the king at all times. He looked to the guards to the left and the right as he saw the hand shake, nothing seemed to be the issue but they'd take tabs on the masked one. Nodding he took another long sip of his drink. Always watching. Waiting. Finally he saw the king had ripped himself away. Off he went close behind the king. Holding a strange drink in his hands he took a quick sip. While one of the many workers walked past Par placed the glass on the tray now free with his hands.

Before him was a large crowd, yet you could always telll were the king was. People parted for him, bowed, whispers here and there. All of this put the man on guard to the highest of settings. He could't recall a time he was more stressed than parties. He was part of the civil war, in the battles he had lost count of, but this is what was going to give him a heart attack. He rubbed his hands together before he pushed himself through the sea of people. He hoped that it wasn't too late to check on the king.

"These parties are going to be the death of me I swear..."

 

[AutoFox]

X3R was swept back out into the crowd shortly after his encounter with the kind and his - apparently - hired assassin. He was not especially happy for her presence, insofar as a droid could be unhappy about anything; to his thinking, assassins, especially assassins for hire, could not be counted upon. There was always someone willing to pay twice what your current employer was, and a mercenary's loyalty was only as strong as their professional integrity, something many lacked.
True, X3R was a mercenary himself, but he was a droid. His professional integrity was above suspicion; he was hard-wired that way.
Then again, if some being were to offer me enough credits, would my risk-reward co-processor override my loyalty matrix? I do not truly know...
The droid spent the next few moments running probabilities and figures in his head, until suddenly, his visual recognition system gave him a ping, and his cranial turret swiveled.
It was the Captain of the Guard, approaching the king, either to exchange pleasantries or impart information.
I will have to speak with him afterward...

 

[Herrith]

The woman eyed the giant robot. Odd. A hired robot? Rare. She'd have to research it. Then the thing looked at someone who seemed to be a high rank. She recognized the face from her research.

Captain of the Naboo Royal Guard. How funny. The woman shrugged and looked back up to the bot.
"What's your problem? Don't trust a fellow hired gun? Don't worry, I don't sell out."

She smiled under the mask, then walked along the edges of the crowd, noting guardsmen that appeared competent, whilst scoffing at lax ones.

Hopefully the King would allow her to further their knowledge of surveillance and whatnot.

Some definitely needed it.

 

[TAC]

Michael walked with the king a few steps, careful to put several people and many conversations between the rightful leader of the Naboo people and those he had just been conversing with. Both the assassin and giant murder robot had been pleasant enough, and certainly did not seem intent on causing King Jafan any harm, but their presence might be harm enough. The Naboo were extremely particularly people, and Michael had long ago learned that there were extremely specific ramifications for unfiltered conversations. Perhaps the King should be talking to that particular duo, but the diplomat was quite sure it wasn't in the middle of a party that Jafan was using to solidify some nasty political troublemakers.

"I apologize for the joke as I pulled you away, your Majesty," Michael said, making polite conversation as they drifted. The joke that would be obvious to them but not to the strange duo from before was that there was no Duke of Southerly, Westerly, or issue to the south of Westerly. It was all a rouse. "I did not mean to be rude, but I was quite sure that conversation might not have thrilled some of our already skiddish guests. Do you know where Rand is, sire? He should be around somewhere, he was supposed to be help corralling your unofficial meetings before dinner began." The diplomat craned his neck around to look, but the King's right hand man was nowhere to be found.

Frowning a bit, he did however see the Captain of the Guard. The two had brushed shoulders many times through their service to the crown, but Michael could hardly count the man amongst his friends. Nevertheless, he would work as a deterrent to keep more questionable parties away from the King. He should've already been doing that, Michael decided, annoyed. He let the thought pass and beckoned Par over. "The Captain of the Guard might well substitute, my lord. If you'll excuse me." Stuck with the dirty job again, Michael passed the Captain and muttered to him, "keep him out of trouble," before weaving through the crowd.

Unsurprising to the diplomat, he saw the masked assassin and robot having some sort of discussion about who knows what on the far side the room. Sighing to himself and forcing his signature cheek-to-cheek grin, the diplomat worked through the crowd and to the edges to speak to them.

"Someone tell you it was a masquerade ball? You got suckered," the man said. He nodded his head to both the assassin and then the droid. "Or do you not come with interchangeable heads?" He jokingly asked the robot. Mic wasn't sure if they'd see the humor. "I don't think we've had the pleasure, but I assume Rand Xexil must have hired you? I'm Michael Trenton, I work for the King as well. What is it that you two do for King Jafan, again?"

 

[Herrith]

The woman glanced towards the newcomer. Oh, great, another politicia-

She realized she nearly said that out loud, then shut her mouth. Luckily the mask would muffle anything that had been said. The woman scanned behind him, then looked at his jacket for any weapons. Out of habit. She'd done these things for so long...ever since she was a child...

The assassin wrinkled her nose. Stay focused. Then the man spoke.
"Someone tell you it was a masquerade ball? You got suckered. Or do you not come with interchangeable heads?"

She scoffed.
"If this was a 'masquerade ball', I would have chosen a better mask. Showing my face isn't the most intelligent thing to do at this time. Especially in a period of tension such as this."

Her voice imitated formality, yet she did so more out of a habit than anything else. She'd talked to many politicians before. Right before she killed their competition. The formal accent helped get her a better price every now and then. Something about 'manners'. Something she more or less knew.

Her father didn't exactly teach her to keep her elbows off the table, after all.

"I don't think we've had the pleasure, but I assume Rand Xexil must have hired you? I'm Michael Trenton, I work for the King as well. What is it that you two do for King Jafan, again?"

The woman thought for a moment. What was she hired to do? Something about being the 'Blade of the King'. What a joke. Essentially she was just to murder anyone who opposed him. Or that's what it seemed like. She hoped to talk to Jafan or Xexil later.

"My name is of no importance to you, only my skill-set. Xexil did hire me, yes, Mr. Trenton."

She paused for a moment,

"I kill people."

How formal.

 

[Nor'baal]

Rand loathed parties, especially when he was not the center of attention for them, however, since his somewhat unflattering fall from grace on Zonju (or because of it), he had been required to make a change in his approach to such things. Settling down on the peaceful colony of the Naboo, he had become a farmer, before finding himself employed by the household of the King of Theed as an Engineer, and later as a member of his Royal Guard.


It was in the later capcity that he had attended today, prim and proper in his Uniform a simple MHBP-001 Pistol at his side as he walked into the room via one of the side doors, spotting the towering droid and the so-called ‘hired help’ talking to one another in the least subtle way imaginable. Other members of the NRSF stood dotted around the room by the doors and windows, their blasters in their holsters, standing ramrod straight at the sight of their King.


’’Jafan is in the area.’’ he mumbled into his commlink ’’Close the cordon.’’ he added, his command being issued up to the central command node of the Palace. Outside, the entrnce security, armed with most stun weapons, calmly closed the gates and informed visitors to leave the area, most complying without incident.

Outside the main ballroom, armed officers equipped in their padded armor and Lifeline Series vests, grenades, and 2L - Blaster Rifles, stood at guard positions in the corridor outside, lining the route to the throne room should the King desire to make a rapid exit. Rand was pleased with the security thus far, effective, yet as a discreet as one could manage. He spotted the diplomat off to one side (@TAC), and nodded a subtle greeting, before contining his obervations of the King.

 

[J-Wash]

Captain Sukie Bathors had spent barely thirty hours on this world and already she wanted to be back in the Relient's air-conditioned corridors, even if they did smell of old feet. The orientation materials said this planet was 90% water, and the humidity in the room made Sukie believe it, feeling sweat prickling under her high collar. The other attendees were mostly locals, tall and strapping third-generation colonists who could still split their own firewood if necessary which was a problem for a space native like herself. If she didn't want to spend all evening adressing everyone's torsos, she needed to find higher ground. She elbowed her way towards the stairs, giving a businesslike nod to the guard on duty. She surveyed the crowd from the second step as though checking for security threats, shielding her eyes from the crystal chandeliers.

Security was tight tonight, and blatantly so. The nine-foot tall armoured droid made a sure statement, while the dangerous looking woman beside it looked like the kind of bad-tempered antisocial assassin that came ten a penny across the Outer Rim. Guards in uniform and plainclothes men and women with bulky shirts stood about the room, eyes alert. The other guests seemed to be politely avoiding the subject. Most were in local fashions, and Sukie couldn't tell easily who and who wasn't a foreigner like her, but at least the king was obvious, floating about the room like a good-natured balloon bouncing from person to person surrounded by a ring of security personnel. Sukie clocked his path and set out to intercept him. Although she did have a contract of employment (drafted while the Relient's engines were still warm), in a backwater like this personal diplomacy counted for more than any piece of paper, and she felt that it'd be best to meet the man in person.

She emerged from between two six-foot-two Viscounts in front of his majesty and cleared space for herself by swinging her arm out in a salute, keeping her wine glass steady in her off hand. There was an easy metre or so between her and his nibs, enough to prevent any security personnel from suffering an immediate heart attack.

"General Sukie Bathors, your majesty," she said, smiling and standing to interest, if not attention. "Your representative hired myself and my company last night."

 

[Herrith]

The woman tensed up as guards occupied their posts, and reached for a blaster pistol on her hip that wasn't there. She was too used to working alone. Anything out of place set off her suspicions.

Then she noticed an odd woman walking towards the King. The assassin nearly went to stop her, but noticed no weapons, or at least not ones that guards would see.

She leaned against the wall again and continued scanning.

 

[Sangga]

"I apologize for the joke as I pulled you away, your Majesty," Before the King could reply, he and his wake of onlookers moved around the room, guided by the machinations of the RDC diplomat. All he could do was look to the man, that had him by the arm, and keep pace. "I did not mean to be rude, but I was quite sure that conversation might not have thrilled some of our already skiddish guests. Do you know where Rand is, sire? He should be around somewhere, he was supposed to be help corralling your unofficial meetings before dinner began. The Captain of the Guard might well substitute, my lord. If you'll excuse me." Such questions, such an array, and once more the diplomat wisked off and Jafan turned to the Captain of the guard, composing himself as he made the turn. A soft bow of the head would suffice.

"Captain." His mind reeled at the questions. Where was Rand, he had his own business with him, in fact he had business with a lot of people here. "Captain, that man... Trenton... a most diligent member of the Royal Diplomatic Corps. Could you personally ensure that your commanding officer is found, and makes his way to the staircase... for an audience..." his tone oozed social grace, until the last phrase. When this was uttered it began to harden to the persona of the Head of State, and Commander in Chief of the Jafan Dynasty. It was followed by a final phrase akin to a block of marble; decorative, and solid enough to do damage. "... at his convenience." He was about to head toward the staircase when a voice peeled out from the crowd.

"General Sukie Bathors, your majesty, your representative hired myself and my company last night." it reminded him of his old tutor's he re-actively straightened up at the first utterance. Turning he saw a woman, that had seen too much. A woman wearing the uniform of the RNSF, no doubt. But hired? Surely the RNSF member's were recruited, and trained?

"Charmed, I'm sure... General?" There were no Naboo generals... the RNSF didn't even have Commanders... yet. He moved around the woman, and then nodded softly. "Now I must make an announcement, and then have a few formal audiences." Just a few steps back brought him to the stairs, he asceneded and glanced around for someone that had yet to make his presence known. Where was he?

 

[Kaylon Neroka]

When Helia was told she was expected to attend the social function of the formal gathering at the Royal Estate, her first thoughts had been on the crowds and the important guests going about the event with little attention on security.
Standing to the side she was right about the crowds, looking out at the sea of people around her with a diverse array of colours and fashions that both rich and poor were able to prepare for such an occasion.
Her own attire was her dress uniform, her most well-kept clothes she owned. It filled her with pride to wear it, and the badge of the airforce upon her breast. With pride came courage, and she'd need it if she was expected to mingle with so many people.
Her peers had stated her attendance was mandatory as the Wing Commander of the King's Own, and she'd declined in favour of spot checking the whole hangars for the second time that day. By way of a counter-argument, her former commanding officer remarked how she was answerable to the king for her actions now, and that he was expected to attend. That had been enough to bring her along, but she was already regretting it.
Looking about, trying not to look uncomfortable, her eyes caught sight of so many different outfits she wondered where they must have come from. One graceful woman moved through the crowds with a face concealed behind a mask, a mask that looked very finely made, and likely from off-world. Eyes still wandering, she saw the towering hulk of a robot parting crowds with its presence and its intent to move through them. Apparently the guests would have attention on security tonight.

To say that the goings on that were happening didn't interest Helia was untrue, she had nothing against meeting such people, she was just never sure how to go about it. Phrases such as introducing what she did for a job often led to her describing her place in the military command hierarchy, something neither she nor her guests would likely have time to cover over a drink. She cleared her throat and kept her back straight, surveying like a member of security, though she clearly wasn't one. It hadn't been until a passing couple bumped into her on route to the dance floor where the orchestra was playing a lovely piece, that she found herself dragged by weight of passing people into the mess of political conversations and strategic social networking.
"Hello my lady" One fine gentleman gave her a confident smile and bowed curtly, taking her hand as though she was a dame or noblewoman. Did he not recognise she was in uniform and clearly not for wooing? She declined his attention in both a clipped and appropriate fashion, thinking instead on how she'd been expected here because of the king. And yet, the further she came to approach him, the further she was pushed away by his supporting guards and the redirection of his majesty by another man.
In full dress uniform, with her hat tucked between her elbow and her side with fingers grasping its rim, she could feel the press of body heat, and the aroma of mixed perfumes as man and woman alike shared in the collective body heat.
She tried to keep her nose from wrinkling, it was reminiscent of the training yards when she'd been drilled with other military personnel, if each man and woman had instead produced the smell of a different spice or alchemical fragrance, too fine for her tastes.

The robot had stopped, as far as she could see. Acting like a breakwater with its presence even now giving it a wide berth from the guests. She pushed on towards it, trying to excuse her indelicate travel to the robot before at last entering the vacant space around it and hastily restoring her composure: brushing a few dishevelled strands of hair from her eyes and ensuring once again that her dress uniform was as neat as it could be.
Up close, she could see why such a berth was afforded to the robot. It's pristine frame and intimidating presence gave it an air of power she could only imagine intimidated noble-folk. It's deaths head was a frightening visage that was stunning to behold, but her own training had her attention shifting elsewhere a moment later.
"I've come to talk to the king" She spoke, both to the robot and to anyone who would listen. The throng of people had given way to another onlooker that she'd failed to notice amidst all the other people, only noticing now how he'd come to be standing there only a few moments and that the woman with the mask was no longer at a distance, but instead moving to a wall from where Helia had just reached. The practiced elegance of her movement through the crowd, without stepping on the hem of a dress, or a nobleman's toes was something to envy, at least to her. That she was now leaning against a nearby wall and surveying as she herself had been not too long ago told of how she wasn't the only one apparently with higher priorities than bantering with nobles.
"How would one go about acquiring an audience with the king?" Helia spoke out. She still wasn't sure who to direct the question to, the chaos of a soirée was nothing like the organization of a parade ground, and in her defence it was her first time at such a gathering. If there was any pattern or organization to the ebb and flow of people, she failed to notice it.
Trying to look on at the king, it seemed his attentions were elsewhere, though a number of close guards were never more than a few strides away. Maybe she could talk to one of them?