Zail’s dress uniform was tight and ill-fitting, and was still stiff and uncomfortable from only having been worn a handful of times.  He had left Raseven back at the hotel, and proceeded alone by speeder-taxi to the Vast Empire Embassy in the government district of Qualdeenia City.

While the rest of the rundown capital did contain a few delicate towers of white steel and permacrete, the official centre of the VE’s ambassador was markedly different.  It was a low wide building of black marble, almost pyramidal in shape.  A great wall surrounded the compound, with Stormtroopers on patrol and on guard at the gates.  Serpent identified himself to the security detail and was directed inside.

He crossed a courtyard filled with hover-limos and other expensive vehicles, and approached a large flight of wide steps up to the Embassy entrance.  Pherik joined in the gentle stream of people headed inside in ones and twos, many dressed in elaborate suits and gowns.  Into a grand entrance hall and corridor, lined with holograms and statues, and he was amazed at the decadent opulence of the place.  Are all VE Embassies this rich? He wondered.

Finally, past another pair of Stormtroopers, and he passed through some large doors and into the party proper.

Zail’s jaw dropped at the spectacle.  A short wide flight of steps led down into a grand ballroom, with gold and red tiles upon the floor, and a great mosaic ceiling supported by twenty-two crimson pillars.  Dozens of people in outfits both impressive and lavish danced upon the floor, while a small orchestra off to the side played classical music of Core world origin.  Those of the great and good who did not dance instead sat or stood near to the buffet tables, nibbling foods as rich as their suits and conversing on matters both grand and trivial.

Serpent just stood and stared for a few long moments, wondering just what he was meant to do at such a gathering.  Suddenly, a voice from his side caught his attention.

“And what have we here?”

Zail turned at the sound of the cultured and clearly Core World accent, and beheld a woman of sublime appearance.  Her clothes were a set of flowing red and gold robes, hugging her body tightly in some parts and flowing loose in others.  Her face was proud and well-formed, beautiful maybe, regal certainly.  Curls of brilliant auburn hair cascaded down her back, immaculately groomed.  It did not take much for Pherik to guess her to be a noble.

“Chief Warrant Officer Pherik Zail,” He introduced himself, throwing in a bow for good measure.  He had hardly interacted with members of the upper class in years, but as a child on Alderaan his parents had taken him to enough parties that he could recall the correct behaviour.

“Consul Sharana Denaron,” She introduced herself, extending a hand which Serpent promptly bowed to kiss.  The gesture allowed him to turn his face to the floor, thus concealing his surprise.  This was the ambassador?  He was expecting someone male, and, well, older.

“A pleasure to meet you, Consul,” Said Zail, recovering his composure as he released her hand and rose to meet her gaze.

“Oh the pleasure is mine, Chief Zail,” Said Denaron, her cultured voice positively purring.  “I read your book, and found it quite fascinating.  When I heard that you were visiting I just couldn’t pass up the chance to meet you.”

“You read military history?” Asked Pherik, surprised that his biography of Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik would appeal to a diplomat.

“You’d be surprised,” Said the Consul with a playful wink.  “My family are equal parts politicians and equal parts military leaders.  Just because I followed one for a vocation does not mean that I am ignorant of the other.”

Zail found himself wracking his brain, but could not place the Denaron name.  As if guessing what he was thinking about, the ambassador helpfully said, “My family are from Esseles.  The Denarons are not nobles, alas, but we were a proud family held in high esteem by many.”

Ah, thought Serpent, she was an Esselian!  That would explain the regal bearing and Core World’s accent, and a good education from that proud and cultured planet would also explain how she had achieved the position of ambassador despite barely being in her thirties.

“I note that you use the past tense there, Consul,” Observed Pherik.  “Your family has not fared well recently?”

“My father was a great believer in Emperor Palpatine,” Said Denaron.  “He fought in the Clone Wars and in later years became an Imperial Governor.  The rebels assassinated him just before Esseles shook off Imperial rule.  Myself and the rest of my family fled and sought refuge in the Vast Empire, and have been rebuilding our wealth and power ever since.”

“The Galactic Civil War has a knack for tearing families apart,” Mused Zail, thinking of his own lost home and dead relatives.

“Anyway, enough of this,” Said the Consul, “I wished to discus you and your book, not myself.”  Extending him her arm, Denaron said, “Would you walk with me, Chief Zail?”  She asked.  “The buffet table is calling.”

Serpent glanced around at the horde of guests, most of whom were keeping an eye on the ambassador and, by extension, him.  Pherik did not like being noticed by so many powerful people, and their collective gaze was a little unsettling.  “I’m sorry, Consul, but the table looks quite crowded, and I do not wish to offend your guests with my presence.”

Denaron smiled at his shyness.  “Do not worry about these poseurs, Chief Zail,” She said dismissively.  “The great and powerful of Qualdeenia City would not dare look down their nose at you, even if you are not a full officer.”  So saying, she gestured to the medals and awards on Serpent’s dress uniform.  “Those make you worthy to be here.  None of these people know the courage and honour of military service, but even they respect it.”

Emboldened by her words, Zail took her arm and fell into step with her.  “Very well. It would be my pleasure to escort you, Consul,” He said, and they headed off to get something to eat.

-----

An hour later and Pherik had to admit to himself that the evening was going pretty well.  Consul Sharana Denaron proved herself to be a fascinating conversationalist, and she certainly knew her military history.  The two talked at length, not only of Zail’s book, but others they had read.  From there their chat steered towards family, a proud if painful topic for them both, and the time flew by.

Walking as they conversed, the duo did a lap of the party, refraining from joining those dancing but still enjoying the fine orchestral music.  They sipped frequently of sublime Kuati wine, savouring the smooth and rich taste.  Serpent had lost track of how much of the drink he had imbibed, as living servants (rather than droids) refilled his engraved crystal glass frequently.

“So this is your first assignment?” Asked Zail, as they turned to talk of their careers serving the Vast Empire.

“Pretty much,” Said Denaron.  “Father used his connections to enter me in the Imperial Diplomatic Corps, and I attained the rank of Consul just before the Battle of Endor.  When I relocated to the Vast Empire, they found a good use for my skills, and I have been on several assignments.  However, Qualdeen 4 is my first as full ambassador in my own right.”

“And do you like it here?” He asked.

“Maybe,” Said the Consul, confessing to ambivalence.  “So much of this world is ugly, but here and there are flashes of true beauty.”

“I have seen,” Said Pherik, recalling his approach to the City and beholding its jumble of architectural styles.  “So you see potential here?”

“Definitely,” Denaron agreed.  “There is a hunger among the people to turn this planet into something special, but the government is weak and unable to deliver.  I firmly believe that the Vast Empire can give the people the leadership they deserve.  My task here with this embassy is to slowly persuade this world to join us willingly, and embrace the benefits of VE membership.”

“Interesting,” Mused Zail.  “Conquest without battle?  Consul, I do believe that you are trying to put people like me out of a job,” He joked.

She smiled at his words.  “The Vast Empire will always have need of men of your calibre, Chief Zail.”

“Thank you, Consul,” He said, pleased by her compliment.  “However, feel free to call me Pherik.”

“Very well, Pherik,” Said Denaron, though she did not extend to him the same courtesy of first-name use.

The two were still walking, and Serpent was too focused on the ambassador to pay much attention to where he was going (and the alcohol in his system could not have helped).  With a suddenness that caught him totally by surprise, a passing figure bumped into him, and Zail’s glass slipped from his hands.

A smash of crystal on the floor, a round of gasps from the nearby observers, and Pherik found himself staring in horror at the wine-soaked dress uniform of another guest.

The next thing that Zail noticed was that the dress uniform was of a familiar cut and style, but not Vast Imperial.

“What the frak have you done?” Snarled the man in an Imperial Remnant Navy ensemble.

With a sinking feeling, Pherik realised that the VE was not the only embassy on Qualdeen 4 vying for its allegiance.  He looked up into the enraged face of the Empire’s ambassador, and wondered just what sort of diplomatic incident he had just caused...

OOC:

1615 words.  And so I present the new love interest for my character, the previous one having been written out in my previous Personal Story, Publishing Problems.

After Action Report: Serpent attends the party at the Embassy, and there makes a friend in Consul Sharana Denaron of the Denaron family of Esseles.  All is going well, until he spills a drink on an ambassador from the Imperial Remnant, and now Serpent fears what will happen next.

Battered, bruised and utterly exhausted, Pherik sagged to the ground.  The sky was dark over Qualdeenia City, and the garden behind the Vast Empire Embassy was illuminated only by the light of the pyramidal building’s large arched windows.  Standing before him, un-fatigued from hours of combat, the Duellist Elite droid, Lupus, stood ready and waiting for another round of vibrorapier engagement.

One would not be coming.

Consul Sharana Denaron had been checking on Serpent throughout the day, but her official duties as ambassador to Qualdeen 4 had kept her busy.  She emerged from the grand building’s elaborate doors and crossed to where he was sat upon the grass.

“You kept at it far longer than I expected,” She said, regarding him casually.

Zail looked up at her wearily, as if raising his head was a grand effort.  “I’m full of surprises.”

“And so am I,” Said the Consul.  “Come on inside.  Lupus, return to the barn and recharge.”

As the combat training droid strode gracefully off to comply, Serpent slowly made his way into the Embassy.  His own droid, Raseven, was close by, ready to catch his master should he fall over.

Passing Stormtrooper guards and other Embassy personnel, they made their way to a room on the ground floor.  Stepping through the finely polished Kashyyyk-wood doors, Pherik’s mouth fell open at the sight before him.  It was a dining room, but one that he had only dreamed of.  The table was long enough to seat twenty (though only two places had been set at the head of table), and was adorned with fine silver cutlery and golden statues.  Chandeliers hung overhead, bathing the room in brilliant yellow-white light, and several servants stood by ready to serve them.

“Please, Pherik, have a seat,” Purred Denaron, and Serpent fell into a chair that a servant pulled out for him.  Raseven simply held back, a protocol droid who was well aware of his place in such situations.

The ambassador sat gracefully in the seat opposite, and gestured for some wine.  As their glasses were filled she ignored her underlings and focused instead on the Warrant Officer.  “So, I’ve been watching you when I can.  You are getting better.”

He shrugged.  “Long way to go yet,” Said Zail, stifling a yawn.  He was so tired he was afraid he’d collapse asleep before the food arrived.  “I just hope I can wake up tomorrow to resume my training at a decent hour.  I take it that I can use Lupus again?” He asked.

“Of course,” Said Sharana, swirling her glass slightly before partaking of the Kuati wine within.  Pherik noticed that it was the same sort of wine served at the reception the night before and figured it to be a favourite of hers.

“Three days of fencing training,” Mused Serpent.  “Not how I planned to spend my vacation.”

She cocked an eyebrow.  “You never did mention,” She prompted.  “Why did you come to Qualdeen?  The military history?” She guessed, having read the book he had written.

Pherik nodded, and was about to answer when they brought the entrée.  The soup was piping hot and he could smell the sweet aroma of Roba meat in it.  Hungry though he was, he had enough self control to hold back from eating until the ambassador began.  Only then did he tuck-in with gusto, the conversation momentarily forgotten.

When the first course was done with, Zail dabbed at the edges of his mouth with a napkin and, taking a few more sips of wine, was ready to speak again.  “Yes, as you were saying, it’s the history that drew me.  I would love to be able to check out the Admiral Veltraa Memorial Museum.  You know, before I have that duel to the death in two days,” He added glumly.

Consul Denaron studied him for a moment, wondering at the Warrant Officer’s words, and unable to deduce if he was making light of the impending threat to his life or not.  Unable to reach a conclusion, she simply said, “Very well.  I shall escort you there myself tomorrow evening when your practice is done.”

Pherik frowned.  “Doesn’t it close early?” He asked, having researched the open hours of all his holiday destinations in advance.

“I am a major donator to the museum,” Said the ambassador, “And am even on its Board of Governors.  Trust me, they’ll let us in after hours.”

Zail was suitably impressed.  “Thank you,” He said, genuinely appreciative.  “Just the two of us?” He asked, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

“And my bodyguards,” She said, not responding to the light in his eyes.

“And your beast of burden,” Quipped Raseven from nearby, knowing his fate.

Serpent shrugged.  “Still, it sounds delightful.”

And with that the main course arrived and conversation was once again forgotten.

-----

Pherik did not think that his muscles could have ached any more than they did after his first day of fencing training, but by the end of the second day he realised how mistaken he was.  He had slept well, granted, but had woken stiff and in pain, and a day getting swiped up by a mechanical killing machine had not helped.

But quitting was not in him.  The more Zail practiced, the more his desire to improve grew.  He would master the vibrorapier, or die trying.  And with a duel looming, the threat of ‘die trying’ was no idle one.

As a point of pride, he managed to stand when, after nightfall, the ambassador came to meet him in the garden.  “Feeling okay?” She asked.

Serpent tried to sound blasé but failed.  “Eh, I’m fine,” He said.

Denaron nodded, playing it cool as always, but he saw the amusement in her eyes.  “Please, go to the bathroom and get cleaned up.  Take your time.  My limo is ready and waiting at our convenience.”

“Thank you,” He said, and hobbled off.

Pherik took a quick shower in the exquisite bathroom, feeling the hot water rinse the fatigue from his body.  When he emerged, Raseven was waiting for him with a change of clothes that he had brought along for the occasion.  It was a set of red and black formal clothes, of military cut and style but devoid of any naval insignia, and as nice as he owned without using his dress uniform.

He had just finished getting dressed when his droid said, “And this, sir.  Complements of the ambassador.”

Serpent frowned and noticed what the RA-7 was holding.  It was a belt with sheath attached, within with was a vibrorapier.  Rather than the mundane training weapon he had been using, however, this was a far finer design.  He took it gently in his hands and inspected the weapon with awe.

The grip was real animal hide, possibly wampa leather, and was comfortable to hold.  A full cup hilt of polished steel offered protection for his sword hand, and it was engraved with images of Imperial warships, from CR-90s up to ISDs.  He drew the rapier from its sheath to inspect the blade, and saw that the metal was tinged with shining azure, giving it a cold look not unlike his own blue eyes.  He held it, studying it, for a full minute before he remembered himself and finished getting ready.

When he emerged from the bathroom, it was with the weapon displayed proudly on his hip.  The Consul was waiting for him, admiring the sight before her.

“You like?” She asked, gesturing to the blade.

“I do,” He said.  “Thank you for letting me wear it.”

“It’s yours,” She said simply.  “A gift.”

“No... no I couldn’t accept...” He stuttered, protesting.

“Yes you can,” Said Denaron firmly.  “If not for me you would not be in this mess.  Wear it tonight, and tomorrow train with it.  When you duel Landak I want you to look as magnificent as he.”

“So you are doing all this,” Said Pherik, referring not just to rapier, but to the museum trip and the training, “Out of guilt?”

“Perhaps,” She replied coyly.  “I’ll leave you to guess at my motives.  Now, let us be off!” And so saying, she led the way out to the limo.

-----

The limo, a sleek dark speeder with a lush interior and fully stocked mini-bar, wound its way smoothly through the streets of Qualdeenia City.  Zail found his eyes drifting towards the ambassador, opposite him and not so much sitting as lounging in the seat.  Her gown for the evening was shimmering green, down to her ankles, but a slit up the side gave him a clear view of her crossed legs.  His gaze ran up her body, to where the top of her dress was hooked over one shoulder, and a chain of diamonds clung to her neck.

“Yes?” Denaron asked, noticing his attention.

“Er...” Pherik mumbled, trying not to admit he was staring, “I was just thinking... of... the rapier!” He said, gesturing to the weapon.  “Who made it?  It’s exquisite.”

If she was upset by his change of topic, the Consul did not show it.  “It was made by one of the finest craftsman in the Senex/Juvex,” She said.  “It is one of three that my late father had made.  My brothers have the other two.  I am a fine swordsman but nothing compared to them.  I do not do that blade justice, but I hope that you will.”

“Well, it matches my eyes at least,” Said Serpent, flattered by the gift.  “You mentioned your elder brother before as having won competitions.  What about your younger brother?”

“Lucadis is equally adept as Mekel,” Replied Sharana.  “Though without the other’s hunger for tournaments.  He competes against other pilots though, and has embarrassed more than one duellist in the VE Starfighter Corps.”

Pherik nodded, noting the name.  “So fencing runs in your family?”

“Oh yes,” She said with a fond smile.  “My mother used to teach us while my father was away on assignment.  Emperor’s Bones but she was fast!  I never saw a human move like that.  Few people could match my mother for the beauty of her swordsmanship...” She trailed off.

And just like that, the smile faded.  “One day the New Republic will suffer for killing her and my father,” Said Denaron, pure hatred blazing in her eyes.

Zail did not know what to say, so said nothing.  The rest of the journey to the museum was in silence.

-----

The museum security gladly let the duo in as they arrived and walked up the wide marble steps to the entrance.  Serpent was instantly struck by the grandeur of the building, a towering edifice of white stone that dated back over three thousand years.

They had their run of the place, un-harassed by anyone save a quartet of Stormtrooper escorts who shadowed the ambassador at a discreet distance (two far in front, two far behind), giving her and Pherik plenty of space to talk privately.

And talk they did.  As they walked from exhibition hall to exhibition hall, they saw complete hulls of small starfighters, and sections of larger ships.  In one chamber antique Aurek-class strikefighters were on display, while in another the engine core of a Foray-class blockade runner.  They were all dated from the time of the Jedi Civil War and later, the Great Galactic War, a period that held a great fascination for Zail.  And, it seemed, for Consul Denaron.  The two spoke at length at what they saw, commenting on the history and great battles of that long-lost time.

They finished their self-guided tour in one of the larger halls of the museum, which had been built around the command deck of a Harrower-class Dreadnaught.  They stood on the deck of the ancient warship, all that remained of a vessel that once served in the Sith Empire, awed by the history of it.

“I love it here,” Said Sharana.  “This is my favourite exhibit of the whole museum.”

Pherik nodded.  When he spoke his voice was lowered to a whisper, as was hers, treating the place like others would a holy place.  “I can see why.  This is amazing.  You can see the old control systems, and make out the precursors to the modern-day duty stations.  The steps leading up in tiered platforms to where the Captain must have stood, all very formal and hierarchical as one would expect of the Sith.”

She nodded.  “As much as I love the current warships of the VE, I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like to see a ship like this in battle.”

“Or to command one,” Mused Zail.

After a few minutes thoughtful silence, the two humans turned their gaze from the ancient bridge and to each other.  “Thank you again for bringing me here,” Said Pherik softly.

“My pleasure,” Said the Consul.

Their eyes met, and Serpent felt something.  He was nervous and excited, and... and... he wasn’t sure what else.  Finally he asked, “Is this a... a date?”

An amused smile spread across the ambassador’s face.  “Would you like it to be?” Asked Denaron, not answering.

“I would,” He confessed.  “But I’m not sure you would want to be romanced by one such as I.”

She cocked an eyebrow.  “Is this going to be some speech about fleet officers having no time for relationships?” Asked Sharana.

He nodded.  “I’ve seen it hurt others,” Said Pherik.  “And I’m not sure I want to do that to you.”

“I’ve lost so much to the war,” She told him.  “It has taught me that there can be no joy without risk.  I am willing to take a chance on you, Warrant Officer Zail.”

“Very well,” He said, leaning in closer.  “Then I will take a chance on you too, Consul.”

“Call me Sharana,” She whispered, and their lips met.

OOC:

2303 words.  The slow-burning romance subplot is taking form, and we have now arrived at the ‘relics’ part of the title.

After Action Report: Serpent continues training for his upcoming vibrorapier duel with Lieutenant Commander Ricus Landak, but needs to take a break.  Consul Denaron takes him on a tour of the local museum and they get better acquainted as they tour relics of the Great Galactic War fought some three and a half thousand years past.