The grand banquet unfolded throughout the night, a vibrant tapestry of laughter and conversation woven between the attendees as friendships and partnerships blossomed amidst the flickering candlelight. Events like this were not merely occasions to celebrate; they served as fertile ground for forging vital connections.
Connections were the lifeblood of advancement. The Duke, in his youth, understood this implicitly. He had skillfully navigated the intricate web of relationships with clans, businessmen, and politicians to cultivate the stature he now enjoyed.
As he strolled through the elegantly decorated hall, the Duke greeted familiar faces with firm handshakes and hearty toasts, weaving through a crowd of old friends, strategic allies, and bright new acquaintances. With each introduction, he ensured that Satine—his thoughtful protégé—would inherit a network of connections that would serve her as she eventually took the reins of leadership over Mandalore.
Satine, for her part, thrived in this lively atmosphere, adapting with ease and grace as she was introduced to a multitude of individuals, many of whom held ties to her family's legacy. She exchanged smiles and shared laughter, passionately advocating the pacifist ideals instilled in her by her father, her voice ringing clear and sincere amidst the evening's celebratory hum.
Across the expansive hall, Elyse and Katrine sat comfortably with a circle of elegantly dressed women, their gowns shimmering like the stars above, each representing various businesses, allied clans of House Kryze, and a mix of neutral factions. The air around them was filled with the light scent of perfume as they laughed and chatted.
Among the gathering, women in the business sector animatedly discussed the recent resurgence of Bacta supplies, which, after two long years post-Stark Hyperspace War, were finally returning to stable levels.
Meanwhile, clan representatives candidly shared tales of caution, recounting how their members had become selective in undertaking riskier jobs, wary of the severe injuries that could occur. The prohibitive costs of Bacta loomed large, threatening to eat into their profits and savings if extensive usage was required.
Elyse and Katrine exchanged glances, acknowledging the shared challenges their clans faced. Elyse proposed an idea: each clan create a stockpile not only of Bacta but also of other essential resources that would prove crucial for their survival.
She suggested a target—a formidable stockpile capable of sustaining their clans for a minimum of six months to a year. This buffer, she argued, would serve as a safeguard during the turbulent times that surely lay ahead.
The women at the table nodded in agreement. They discussed how preparing for potential future conflicts, such as war, would help them immensely. They planned to talk about it later with their husbands and clan leaders.
The conversation then shifted to discussing their husbands and children, as each of the women began to subtly boast to one another subtly. Elyse joined in, sharing the story of how she met Varn and talking about Rayden and all that he has accomplished so far. A proud smile spread across her face as the ladies enjoyed their meal while sharing their achievements.
In another corner, both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were surrounded by people interested in learning about the Jedi, as this was their first encounter with one. Given the long history between the Jedi and the Mandalorian people, the onlookers wanted to know how these Jedi compared to the ones they had heard about in stories while growing up.
Qui Gon used this as a teachable moment. How to handle talks with people from the upper echelon of society. How to be neither too arrogant nor too submissive in these talks. As these people would use any chance they had to one-up and take advantage of others when they can.
Obi-Wan greeted each person respectfully and paid attention to their conversations, a habit of scratching his chin beginning to form. It's just too bad he doesn't have his beard yet.
An hour went by as everyone enjoyed themselves, as the banquet had reached a pleasant time of night. The wine had loosened people's tongues, but not enough to slur their words.
A string quartet switched from formal music to a lighter, more wistful feel; they played a traditional Mandalorian waltz. Couples began to drift toward the center of the hall as the chandeliers dimmed, creating a serene and calm atmosphere for the couple to dance.
Obi-Wan, feeling a bit tired from discussing with the curious people about his old missions, the Force, and other Jedi topics, found himself alone when an elderly countess took Qui-Gon away to dance.
That gave him the chance to walk away, to relax and enjoy the banquet, finally. He exhaled, rolled his shoulders as he'd seen his Master do many times, and turned to almost walk into Satine Kryze.
She wore a deep midnight blue dress with a purple silk shawl over her shoulders. The shawl sparkled whenever she moved, just catching the light perfectly. A silver circlet held her pale hair back. Obi-Wan thought she looked like starlight.
"Padawan Kenobi," she said, smiling a bit, "you look like someone just asked you to mediate between a Wookie and Trandoshan."
"Close," he admitted. All the questions felt never-ending.
Obi-Wan sighed. "They wanted to know if Jedi dance."
"And do you?" Satine's head tilted slightly as she had a small, amused look on her face.
He thought about lying, but chose to be honest. "Poorly. But I'm told willingness counts for something."
Satine laughed—quiet, surprised, and genuine—and reached out her hand. "Then be willing, Obi-Wan."
He took her hand. Her fingers were cool and steady. As they stepped into the crowd of couples, he remembered the basic court forms he had learned on Coruscant, but Mandalorian dancing felt different: closer and more grounded, like a duel without weapons. Satine moved gracefully, guiding him when he stumbled, her hand light but sure on his shoulder.
"You're not as stiff as most off-worlders," she said after the first turn.
"Lighsaber training helps with my footwork and being relaxed," he replied, and she smiled again as they continued their dance.
Across the hall, the Duke spun Katrine under the chandeliers, her emerald dress flowing like fire. He said something that made her laugh the way she must have when they were younger, and life seemed easier. Satine watched them over Obi-Wan's shoulder, her expression softening.
"They look happy," Obi-Wan said softly.
"They are," Satine responded. "At least tonight. My father says happiness is a currency—spend it generously when you have it because tomorrow it may be gone."
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reply—likely something earnest and awkward about the Force—but then chaos erupted.
The first shot hit the Duke in the right shoulder. The sound felt out of place in the elegant hall: a sharp crack that clashed with the surrounding decorum. The second shot shattered the chandelier above the Duke and Duchess, sending glass raining down like deadly confetti toward them.
For a moment, the orchestra continued to play. But when the musicians finally stopped, everyone reacted. The room erupted in screams as guests ran for cover or toward the doors, while the guards raised their shields and staffs. Some of the guards tried to calm the panicking crowd, while others rushed to check on the Duke and Duchess.
Elyse moved quickly to shield herself from the falling glass. Her black overcoat billowed as she spun, lightsaber ready but not yet ignited—she didn't want to draw attention yet. She leaped over a table, landing gracefully, and ran toward the Duke. Katrine shielded him with her body, blood and burned skin already staining the emerald fabric of her dress.
Before the shards of loose glass could hit them, Elyse and Qui-Gon quickly called upon the Force, holding the splintering fragments in place. This gift of time allowed the guards below to carefully maneuver the injured Duke out of the line of danger.
A dozen guards raised their protective shields high, effectively concealing Adonai and Katrine, who lay on the ground, shielded from the chaos unfolding around them.
Satine and her younger sister, Bo-Katan, screamed in horror as they witnessed their father's injury, the shock of the blaster bolt etched on their faces. Obi-Wan, ever the calm presence in moments of crisis, held Satine back firmly yet gently, assuring her it was not safe to approach. His lightsaber was already in hand, its hilt cool against his palm, poised for any further threats but not yet ignited.
Bo-Katan was restrained by a couple of guards, her small frame trembling as tears streamed down her cheeks, emotions raging as she cried out for her father.
Elyse and Qui-Gon cautiously set the jagged pieces of glass aside and rushed over to assess the condition of the Duke, their training evident in their swift, methodical approach.
Katrine cradled her husband's head in her lap, her heart pounding with fear as she wept softly, her fingers trembling over the wound. The blaster bolt had struck Adonai directly in the shoulder blade, leaving a deep, singed wound that marred his skin, reflecting the severity of the damage done to his flesh, nerves, and muscle tissue. A guard with medical training knelt beside them, his expression grim yet focused as he examined the Duke's injury.
"He took a high-powered bolt to the shoulder," he announced after a tense moment of assessment. "There is severe damage externally, and we must prioritize getting him to a medbay to evaluate his internal injuries. For now, he's unconscious, but he is alive. We cannot afford to delay treatment, Duchess."
Katrine's heart lifted slightly at the hopeful prognosis, a glimmer of relief mingling with her anguish. Though deeply distraught, the strength of her Mandalorian upbringing surged within her, steadying her resolve. She took a deep breath, her expression firming as she stood tall despite the disarray of her dress and her red, tear-streaked eyes.
"Good. Then let's move him now," she commanded, voice steady but still a little broken up, "Elyse, Master Qui-Gon, can you help escort us to the medbay in case of another attack?" A pair of guards quickly approached, bringing a hover stretcher to transport the Duke safely.
Both Elyse and Qui-Gon nodded in unison, positioning themselves on either side of the Duke. Elyse took the left side alongside Katrine, her brow furrowed as she studied the chaos happening in the banquet hall. She pulled out her communicator to contact her clansmen outside.
Qui-Gon took his place on the right of the Duke, closest to the window from which the shot had come, his senses alert for any further threats. His lightsaber is also already in his hand, ready to be ignited at a moment's notice.
As the group hurriedly prepared to take the Duke for medical treatment, Katrine's gaze settled on Bo-Katan. She felt a surge of urgency—she couldn't have her youngest daughter in such perilous surroundings, not when chaos loomed.
"Bo-Katan!" the Duchess shouted, her voice cutting through the frantic energy like a knife. "Get to the shelter!" She turned sharply to the guards who were still keeping the child restrained. "Make sure she gets to safety and stays there, no matter what!"
The guards, recognizing the necessity of her command, nodded decisively and swiftly carried the crying Bo-Katan to safety, her small form a stark emblem of innocence in the face of danger.
At that moment, Satine and Obi-Wan joined the tumultuous scene, with Obi-Wan moving subtly to stand next to his Master, calm and ready, while Satine rushed to her mother's side, enveloping her in a tight embrace. The concern in her eyes mirrored the depth of her distress as she gazed at her father's prone form, uncertainty clouding her thoughts.
As they loaded the Duke onto a stretcher, a group of 20 guards surrounded him for protection. Blaster fire echoed from the hallway as a force of 25 armored men and women blocked their path. Each warrior displayed sigils representing different clans, including some from the most prominent martial traditionalist families.
Just as the group braced for a fight, a new set of figures came flying through the windows.