Komari Vosa hated wearing silk. It clung to her wrongly. It forced her to move like a politician, slow, careful, pleasant. It was one of her old Jedi duties she hated. She had He after leaving that life behind she would never need to do this again....
She watched herself in the mirror anyway, because appearances were weapons, too.
A midnight gown. High collar. A thin chain at the throat that looked decorative if you didn't know how quickly she could snap it and use it like wire. Her hair was pinned back, severe enough to pass for noble taste. Her lightsabers were not on her belt; tonight they rested inside a narrow case shaped like a ceremonial gift.
She blinked once, and the reflection blinked back: calm face, steady eyes. Inside, her mind paced. (Kill her.)
The thought had been drifting around in her mind, it would be so simple, fast and satisfying. She could almost feel the warmth of blood before it existed, could almost hear the last shocked breath.
Vosa's fingers curled around the edge of the dresser until the wood creaked. Not yet. She forced the thought down, not because she didn't want it, but because she feared what came after failure.
Her master's anger. The punishment was always worse when it was quiet. She turned away from the mirror before she could see her own hunger too clearly, the holocomm on the table remained dark.
She slid the ceremonial case under her arm and left the safehouse without looking back.
The Malraux estate sat in one of Serenno's older district, a note she made in her mind incase she needed to come back and snip this loose wire later. The way to the ball was uneventful, Guards stood at the gate. A household that "benefited from the current Regency," the reports had said.
The speeder slowed at the gate. Vosa sat in the back, posture perfect, getting into these events wasnt as difficult as she had expected. The driver leaned out, offered credentials. A guard scanned them, then glanced toward the tinted rear window.
Vosa didn't move. After a while, the gate opened. "Welcome, Lady Varr," the guard said, voice careful. It didn't matter. Tonight, she was whatever the Malraux family needed her to be.
The speeder flew through the grounds, Lanterns lined the walkway. Warm light spilled across trimmed hedges and fountains. At the top of the stairs, two attendants waited. One bowed. The other reached automatically for her case.
Vosa let him touch it. He was young. Nervous. He didn't understand how close his fingers were to death. "Careful," she said softly, and smiled like a noblewoman would when his hands touched hers.
The attendant swallowed. "Of course, my lady." Vosa followed them inside. The Ball's entry hall opened into a wide gathering space filled with voices and fine fabrics and the kind of laughter that never came from the gut. Chandeliers hung above, and paintings of Noble family ancestors watched from the walls.
As she moved through the room, Vosa let her senses stretch. A bright point, A flame behind careful walls. The girl. Vosa's first instinct was to reach, to crush, to snuff that flame out before it could grow.
Kill her. Her fingers twitched, but for now she kept walking. Until her master wanted the girl dead she could do nothing....
She did not look toward the presence yet. That would be too obvious. Instead, she smiled at a passing senator's aide, accepted a glass she had no intention of drinking, and let her eyes scan the room like she was simply taking in the company. The Malraux family had invited the right crowd tonight. People with influence. People who believed their influence meant safety.
Across the room, Vosa finally let her gaze land where the Force had already pulled her.
Count Dooku stood near the center of the gathering, tall and composed, speaking to a small knot of guests. He wore formal black and deep red, his cape immaculate, his posture the kind that made lesser men straighten without realizing why. Would she be able to face him? As things stood right now, it was unlikely but given a few more years under her master, the gap between them wouldn't be that big. And the chance to kill a former Jedi Master would be her's.
And beside him must be Liora. Smaller than the adults around her. She stood with her hands folded in front of her, listening with the serious attention of a child who understood that words of adults more then she should.
Her face was calm. Vosa felt the girl's Force signature, clean, bright, wild but too steady for her age.
Vosa's smile tightened. A shadow slid across her mind, cold and pleased. She flinched internally and forced her expression to remain smooth.
A man approached her with practiced warmth. Lord Malraux himself, if the posture and the confidence were to be believed. His hair was silver at the temples, his eyes keen, and his smile looked forced.
"Lady Varr," he said, bowing just enough to be polite. "We're honored you could join us."
"Lord Malraux," Vosa replied, voice measured, pleasant. "Your invitation was… persuasive."
He chuckled lightly, as though she'd complimented the wine. "We prefer to think of it as respectful."
He offered his arm and Vosa took it. They moved through the crowd with ease, guided by unspoken rules. Guests parted. Eyes followed. Whispers rippled, but none of them carried fear. That was fine. Fear could come later.
"I understand you've done work for… private clients," Malraux said, careful with his phrasing. "Special security concerns. Discreet solutions."
"Yes," Vosa said. "I'm very good at solving problems." His gaze flicked toward her case for a fraction of a second. He assumed it contained something expensive.
"And you're interested," he continued, "in the Count's household." Vosa let her smile soften. "Interested is a polite word."
"Of course." Malraux's voice dropped slightly, as though they were sharing something intimate. "The Regency has… shifted certain balances. Old families find themselves needing to reaffirm loyalties. The Republic likes stability. The Senate likes predictable allies."
"And House Serenno?" Vosa asked. Malraux's mouth pulled into something between a smile and a sigh. "House Serenno is a symbol. A strong one. But symbols are… vulnerable to rumors. As much as anything else."
"What rumors?" she asked, as though mildly curious. Malraux guided her toward a quieter alcove where a small statue stood, an ancient warrior holding a spear, carved from dark stone.
"Some want the Count to rebuild, to return to power," Malraux said. "Not merely politically. Personally."
Vosa tilted her head. "You mean the child."
Malraux's eyebrows lifted in faint surprise. "Ah. Then you've already heard."
"I hear many things," Vosa said. He studied her for a heartbeat. "It's… unusual. Adoption is not unheard of, but to bring a Force-sensitive child into one's household, with the Jedi and the Senate watching—"
"—it creates attention," Vosa finished. "Yes." Malraux's smile returned, but it was thinner now. "Attention can be useful. Attention can also be dangerous, especially for one so young."
Vosa's fingers tightened slightly on her glass. Malraux continued, "The Count has been careful. He presents it as charity, legacy, duty. He speaks of cultural preservation. Of responsibility."
"And you believe him?" Vosa asked. Malraux hesitated. It was small, but Vosa saw it. "I believe," Malraux said, "that Count Dooku is brilliant. I believe he plays longer games than most men. And I believe a child like that—"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to. A child like that could become leverage. A child like that could become a threat. A child like that could change a board. And whoever could get their fangs into her would control the future of this planet.
Vosa watched his eyes while she spoke. "And your family benefits from the current order." Malraux's gaze sharpened. "We benefit from stability."
"Tis the same," Vosa murmured. He didn't deny it. "We hold Republic contracts. We have Senate friends. We ensure the right shipments arrive on time. We keep certain sectors calm. The Count understands the value of such things."
"And you want to know if his… rebuilding threatens your position," Vosa said. Malraux's smile returned, almost relieved. He liked being understood. "I want to know what the Count intends. Whether this child is simply a personal indulgence, or whether she is—"
"A piece on the board," Vosa said. Malraux nodded once. Vosa leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice. "Then we share an interest."
Vosa held Malraux's gaze and let her smile do the work her hands wanted to do. "Then we share an interest." Malraux nodded once, satisfied.
"Good," he said. "Then you'll understand why I don't want… dramatics. Whatever you learn, you bring it to me first."
Vosa's fingers stayed relaxed around the glass stem. "Of course." A lie. Malraux's attention drifted past her shoulder, toward the center of the hall, where the crowd's patterns were changing. Servants began moving. Guards shifted positions, not openly, but enough that an experienced eye could read it.
Something was about to happen. Malraux's mouth twitched. "The Count will speak soon." Vosa gave a polite tilt of her head, as if this were merely a pleasant part of the evening.
Vosa turned slightly, letting her eyes sweep the hall. There were people here who would remember her if they had the chance to get a proper look. Count Dooku was one of them.
If he looked directly at her, if his attention truly settled, her cover would become a fragile thing. She could hide her name and her history from nobles but Dooku had once been a Jedi Master.
He'd only need a second. Vosa shifted her stance so she had a clear line of sight to the hall's focal points, without placing herself where Dooku might naturally look when he addressed the room.
Malraux straightened, composure returning, and moved away to greet someone with Senate insignia pinned neatly to their collar. Vosa watched him go, then let her attention slide across the room again.
Liora was still there, farther off, close to Jenza Serenno now. Liora made Vosa's skin itch. A soft chime sounded. Conversations slowed. Laughter softened. Faces turned toward the raised dais near the far wall, where the Malraux family had placed an older platform of dark wood and carved stone. It looked ceremonial in a way.
Servants withdrew. Guards tightened their stances, as their eyes roamed around the room looking for trouble.
Count Dooku moved towards the platform with a small entourage, Two house guards in Serenno livery at his flanks, a few attendants behind with objects carried carefully between them.
The first was a long case of polished blackwood, its metal hinges engraved with old Serenno script. The second was a cloth-wrapped shape. The third was smaller, held in both hands by an attendant.
The Republic had stripped Serenno of crowns long ago, not by force, but by paperwork and "modernization." It had been called progress. It had been called unity.
((Yes might not be true but for this story sake let say it is.))
Tonight, Dooku brought the old symbols back into the light. And the room's reaction told Vosa everything. Some faces warmed and nostalgia dressed as pride. Some stiffened, with fear dressed as politeness. A few looked offended, as if tradition were an insult.
Senate friends didn't like surprises. Vosa's gaze flicked to the Senate pins, the Republic emblems. She watched their face expression. A man in a pale jacket shifted his weight, lips thinning. A woman with a Republic crest on her bracelet turned her head slightly, whispering to her companion. Malraux's posture stayed pleasant, but his fingers tapped once against his own glass.
The board was moving. Dooku stepped onto the dais. He did not raise his hands for silence. He did not need to. When he spoke, his voice carried without effort.
"Friends of Serenno," he began. "This world has been many things," Dooku continued. "A house of scholars. A house of industry. A house of art. And, for a long time, a house that allowed others to decide what it was permitted to be."
Vosa watched the Republic-aligned guests tighten, shoulders rising a fraction. Dooku's gaze moved over the crowd. Vosa activated her recording device. By pressing a button on her suitcase."The Republic offered Serenno membership," he said, "and in return asked us to surrender our own ability to govern ourselfs."
A ripple moved through the hall. Some nodded while some looked down. Dooku went on, "We gave up our crown. We gave up our internal authority. We accepted oversight that was sold as fairness and delivered as interference. By a corrupted system. And yet," Dooku said, "Serenno endured. Serenno prospered. And Serenno learned what it means to be tolerated, so long as we were useful."
The attendants behind him opened the long blackwood case. Inside lay a ceremonial mantle, dark fabric, heavy with embroidered silver thread and ancient symbols.
Dooku let the room look. Then he spoke again. "The Regency was a compromise. A temporary measure that kept our world stable while others believed it was still theirs to guide."
Vosa's eyes narrowed slightly. So that was the framing. Dooku reached back. One attendant lifted the mantle, and Dooku placed it across his shoulders himself.
The symbolism landed.
The Malraux family had benefited from the Regency because the Regency had been manageable. Negotiable. Influenced by Senate friendships and Republic contracts.
A crown was not negotiable in the same way.
Dooku looked out over them all. "Tonight," he said, "Serenno ends that compromise."
A hush, thicker than silence. "Serenno will be sovereign again," he said. A few guests moved as if to speak, but the room held them in place. No one wanted to be the first to make a scene. Not in a hall full of Serenno guards. Not under Dooku's gaze.
"Trade will continue," Dooku said next, as if anticipating the fear before it could become chaos. "Commerce, shipping, mutual profit, these things do not offend me. The Republic may buy our goods. Our houses may sign contracts. Our industries may remain connected to the wider galaxy. But the Republic will no longer dictate Serenno's internal governance."
He paused, letting the distinction settle. "No Senate committee," he said, "will appoint advisers to my court. No Republic agency will inspect our laws as if they are customs duties. No off-world interest will decide which of our traditions are acceptable and which are 'outdated.'"
The Republic-aligned woman with the bracelet went still, her smile freezing in place. "We will offer treaties," he continued. "We will offer trade agreements. We will offer mutual defense terms when it serves Serenno. But we will not be under the control of the Republic."
Vosa felt the room split into invisible factions in real time. Some nobles looked relieved, like they'd been holding their breath for years without admitting it. Others looked terrified, because their wealth was built on being useful to the Republic machine. Some looked excited, because conflict meant opportunity.
Malraux… Malraux looked careful. He had the sense to hide his panic behind polite calm. Dooku lifted the smaller object at last, the one the attendant had cradled so reverently. A crown.
Metal worked into a pattern that echoed the same three stars Vosa had seen at the gate, but rendered in the true Serenno style. He held it for a moment without putting it on.
And when he spoke again, it wasn't to the Republic. It was to Serenno itself. "Our ancestors once wore this symbol," Dooku said, voice even. "Not to claim superiority over others but to remind themselves that leadership is duty."
He looked down at the crown, then out again. "I will not pretend that a crown is a comfort," he said. "It is weight. It is responsibility. It is the acceptance that every decision made in this court will shape lives that will never enter these halls."
A few faces softened at that. Vosa's stomach twisted with a sudden, bitter thought. Dooku placed the crown on his own head. As if everyone had been standing on uncertain ground and suddenly realized the floor was now stone.
A soft murmur moved through the crowd, many bowed. Others followed a half-second later, delayed by calculation. A few did not bow at all, but they didn't challenge him openly, either.
She kept her posture neutral, respectful enough not to draw attention. She watched faces. Jenza stood with Liora at her side, and she bowed like it cost her nothing. Liora hesitated, a look of surprise and then bowed too.
Dooku continued speaking after the crown settled. "This is not a severing of Serenno from the galaxy," he said. "This is a severing of Serenno from the Republic and corrupted Senate."
A ripple of low laughter, tense, appreciative from somewhere near the center. Someone found it brave. Someone found it funny.
Dooku's eyes remained calm. "If you are here as my friends," he said, "you are welcome in my court. If you are here as representatives of off-world influence, you will be heard, politely, and then you will be reminded of your place."
A few Republic-aligned guests stiffened, but no one spoke. Dooku's voice softened only slightly. "And if you are here because you love this world," he finished, "then understand: your lives will change after tonight. Some of you will lose conveniences. Some of you will gain freedoms."
He paused. "Serenno's crown returns. The Republic's political reach over this world is finished."
The dais attendants stepped back. Dooku gave no grand gesture, no dramatic farewell. He simply turned and walked down from the platform like a man who had just signed an unavoidable law of nature.
Conversations erupted in contained bursts.
Vosa moved sideways through it all. She kept her eyes off Dooku. A Jedi Master would not forget his own. And if Dooku remembered Komari Vosa, then "Lady Varr" would die in this hall.
She drifted toward a cluster of Republic-linked guests first. They were the ones who would panic. A contract representative, thin man with a nervous smile leaned toward a senator's aide.
"This is—" he began. The aide cut him off with a hand. "Lower your voice." Vosa slowed just enough to pass close, pretending to examine a wall painting as if she were a bored noblewoman.
The contract man hissed, "He can't just— this will cause problems. There are procedures."
The aide's mouth tightened. "Procedures aren't blasters. They don't stop a man like Dooku."
"And the Senate?" the man asked. "The Senate will do what it always does," the aide replied. "Argue. Threaten. Offer concessions."
Vosa kept her face smooth. Inside, she cataloged the tone: anger mixed with fear, she slid away before they noticed her proximity.
Near the refreshment area, Malraux was speaking to an older man with a Republic emblem on his cufflink. Malraux's smile was still present, but his eyes were colder now.
"I'm sure it can be negotiated," Malraux said.
The older man leaned in. "Negotiated? He just declared your world sovereign in front of the nobles and Republic officials."
"And how will the Republic respond?" Malraux asked, too casually. The man's jaw worked. "The Senate won't tolerate this."
Malraux's smile didn't move. "Serenno isn't a border world begging for permission. It's valuable. It's stable. It's—"
"It is now out of the Republic and will likely be targeted," the man snapped, then caught himself and smoothed his tone back into civility.
Malraux's eyes flicked briefly toward Dooku's position in the hall. "The Count didn't ask for my permission tonight."
Vosa watched Malraux's fingers tighten around his glass for a fraction of a second. The man was already calculating which Senate friendships would survive this.
He was also calculating who he could blame if those friendships turned into dangerous. Vosa didn't linger. Malraux would be too careful now. She needed looser tongues.
She moved along the hall's edge until she found a group of younger nobles, overconfident, slightly drunk on the thrill of history being made in front of them. One laughed under her breath. "Did you see her face? The Republic envoy looked like she swallowed somwthing foul."
Her companion grinned. "Good. Let them choke."
"And Malraux?" a third asked. "He's always had dealings with the Senate." The first shrugged.
Vosa listened, then walked on, storing names and loyalties, as well as those who were displeased.
Liora remained with Jenza, but the crowd around them had thickened. People approached with smiles and bows and asked questions while giving compliments.
Vosa watched from a distance, behind a decorative pillar, ensuring her face stayed out of obvious sightlines.
A man with a jeweled pin, one of Malraux's allies, leaned down to Liora with a smile too wide. "And you, little princess" he said, "how do you feel about your father's… bold announcement?"
Jenza's eyes narrowed, but she didn't interrupt. Not yet. She was watching what Liora would do.
Liora hesitated for but a moment. Then she answered, voice quiet but clear. "I feel proud."
The man blinked, thrown off by the simplicity.
Liora continued, "He loves Serenno. He wants it safe."
The man chuckled weakly, as if he could laugh it off. "Of course, of course. Well said."
He moved on, but Vosa saw the way he looked back at Liora's face with renewed interest.
That made the killing urge spike again, violent and immediate, less about obedience, more about instinctive removal of a threat before it became complicated.
Vosa's fingers twitched at her side. She forced herself to breath steady. When the crowd thickened enough that movement became cover, Vosa slipped away toward the blue drapes. The corridor beyond was quieter. Softer lighting. Less laughter. Here, servants moved with purpose, and guards stood at specific angles rather than decorative ones.
Vosa kept her pace unhurried. A She passed one door where voices leaked through, two men arguing softly.
"We can't keep the contracts if Serenno—"
"Stop thinking like a clerk. We can still make this work." She continued.
Another door: a woman's voice, sharp, controlled. "I don't care what the Senate thinks. We'll draft new terms. We'll pivot."
Vosa listened for names. Then she found what she wanted: a smaller chamber with its door barely ajar, a servant exiting with a flushed face as if he'd just delivered a message he didn't understand. Vosa stepped in before the door could fully close.
Inside, Malraux stood with two men and a woman, faces she recognized from the hall. Senate friends. Contract players. People who had benefited from a world that didn't rock.
They turned when Vosa entered. Malraux's brows lifted in irritation, then smoothed. "Lady Varr. You're… eager." Vosa smiled, polite. "Only attentive." One of the men, rounder, older looked her up and down. "This is the specialist?"
Malraux nodded. "Yes." The woman folded her arms. "We didn't ask for extra ears." Vosa's smile stayed in place. "Then perhaps you shouldn't have chosen a room still within the ball estate."
Malraux's eyes flicked, warning. Vosa let her gaze soften, just slightly. "Forgive me. I assumed my presence was useful."
The older man snorted. "Useful how? Are you going to assassinate a crowned noble and make this all go away?" The word assassinate hit Vosa like perfume. Sweet. Familiar.
She kept her expression calm. "No." Malraux's jaw flexed. "We need information," he said, voice clipped. "We need to understand the Count's next steps. How far he's willing to go."
The woman's eyes narrowed. "He's already gone too far. The Senate will respond."
"And Serenno will respond to that response, Dooku isnt a weak willed man." Malraux snapped back. The older man held up a hand. "Enough. We need to talk about leverage." Vosa listened, silent now, letting them expose themselves.
"Leverage," the woman repeated, disgusted. "You mean blackmail."
"I mean options," the older man corrected. "We have investments tied to Republic routes. We have Senate friends who have protected us. If Dooku is severing political oversight, we need reassurance our interests won't be crushed under his 'tradition.'"
Malraux exhaled slowly. "Dooku isn't foolish. He said trade will continue." The older man leaned forward. "Trade will continue under his terms. You know what that means."
The woman's gaze flicked toward Vosa. "And you think your specialist will give us… what? A secret? A weakness? Something we can put a chain around?"
Malraux broke it the silencethat came. "We need to know who is loyal to him," he said, more to himself than to them. "Who will oppose him. Who will—"
"Who will exploit the child," the woman said suddenly. Malraux went still. So did Vosa. The older man's mouth tightened. "Don't say that."
"Why?" the woman demanded. "Because it's ugly? Because it's obvious? He stood on that dais and put a crown on his head. But everyone knows the real vulnerability isn't the crown."
Her eyes sharpened like a scalpel. "It's the little girl beside him. She isnt even likely to have any blood of his family in her."
Malraux's throat bobbed. He didn't deny it.
Vosa's vision narrowed. The woman continued, voice quieter now. "The Senate won't strike at Serenno with fleets. They'll strike at perception. They'll turn allies. They'll manufacture scandal. And if they can't touch him directly…"
Malraux's face remained composed, but Vosa saw the small crack, a flicker of worry.
The older man cleared his throat. "We are not discussing harming a child."
The woman's eyes didn't soften. "We're discussing what others will do." Malraux finally spoke, careful. "We need to keep the Count stable. We need to keep Serenno stable."
"And if the child destabilizes him?" the woman asked. Vosa's fingers curled slowly, almost imperceptibly. Malraux's gaze flicked to her case, then away. "That's why Lady Varr is here," he said.
Vosa met his eyes. "Tell us," the woman said, staring at Vosa now. "What do you see? What do you sense? Is she truly important to him, or is she a symbol he can discard if pressured?"
Vosa's smile stayed smooth. "Dooku does care for the girl, and that will become his weakness." Vosa said. Malraux watched her carefully. "So she matters." Vosa inclined her head. "Yes."
Then she asked, softly, "Who here has spoken directly to Senate channels since the announcement?" They all hesitated. Malraux answered, reluctantly, "Not yet." Vosa nodded as if this were expected. "Who will be the first to try?"
No one answered. The woman's eyes narrowed. "Why do you ask?" Vosa's voice remained gentle. "Because the first messenger is the one who gets made into an example."
Malraux's shoulders tightened. "You think the Count will punish—"
"I think," Vosa interrupted lightly, "that new crowns require obedience, and will not tolerate betrayal. "
The older man swallowed. The woman looked away, jaw working. She turned and left before they could demand more.