Rugs and Fromikeable like this
Post by Meira on Mar 2, 2019 15:02:28 GMT -5
The opening day of the Summit had been a long and arduous ordeal, full of bureaucratic formalities, press releases, media ops and all around bullshit. It was late into the evening, Prazhi standard time, before Renata found herself aboard the Caldera once again. She'd retired to her Imperial suite immediately, welcoming a brief moment to relax and refresh herself. But only a moment. For the Empress, the business of her Empire never ceased and this night still held perhaps one of the most important tasks she could possibly perform, even above the negotiations with the Republic. Until this task was completed, her Empire was imperfect. It had been since the death of the previous Praetor Magnus.
Darth Regis had been, perhaps, the most blindly loyal member of the Inner Sanctum. Her loyalty to Renata had only been matched by her ruthless pursuit of victory. Much of the success the Sith reveled in during the war had been brought, in large part, due to Regis and her insistence on pushing her soldiers beyond what they had wrongly perceived as their limits. Beyond that, She'd led by example, wading into battle side by side with her subordinates. She had been an icon of the self-sacrificing Sith who yearned for the glory of the Empire above any personal exaltation. Her death at Af'El rippled through the Empire, leaving a painful crack in the foundation. Renata knew, as the Pristine Heart of the Four Cults, she could not allow that crack to spread. The stability of the Empire must always be at the forefront of her thoughts. Luckily, though the loss of Darth Regis was a painful thing, it was not unprepared for. The nature of her position, coupled with the nature of the woman herself, necessitated the need to plan her succession, if and when such was needed. To that end, Regis kept in constant communication with the Empress, relaying her assessment of the various Praetors under her command and their viability as her possibly replacement. When the day finally came, that decision was refreshingly easy. The offer had been made and accepted. The only thing that remained was to make it official.
The main deck of the Caldera consisted mostly of the large throne room with the entire ceiling made of transparasteel so that the grandeur of space beyond might play a proper backdrop to the grandeur of Her Imperial Presence. This night, that backdrop consisted of a full view of Prazhi, its dark surface marked by the illumination of its cities. Many IMperial officials had ferried up from Soldon, and even a select few members of the media would be granted limited access after the conclusion of the ceremony. The guests mingled in the wide space of the room, chatting over drinks as attendants moved through them all carrying their trays. Each Ascension was unique. Where some passed in quiet solemnity, others were grander affairs. Considering the timing of this transition, it seemed only appropriate that it be given equal pomp and circumstance to the rest of the political theater occurring that day.
At her leisure, Renata arrived at the hall's entrance in quiet solemnity. She wore a black gown with long sleeves and a high collar, over which a stylized bronze gorget was worn. The gorget, formed by a repeating pattern of star shapes, symbolized the Cult of Strife. Her procession into the hall toward the dais where her throne awaited was preceded by the hushing and then silence of the crowd as they were made aware of, and then bowed to, her presence. As she stepped onto the platform and turned to face her assembled subjects, Renata swelled with pride at the unity they displayed. Many would not understand the strength that their collective submission demonstrated. They misunderstood to their own peril. Now, more than ever, the galaxy was learning what the might of true unity could accomplish. In that aspect, Renata had nothing but respect for the Archeri Chorus. Indeed, it was a pity that their kind could not be brought to heel. She had not entirely given up hope just yet, but she knew the wisdom in preparing for the worst possible outcome. And so the Empire would prepare to crush the Archeri into extinction, but held to that secret hope that some new knowledge might still be gained from the encounter.
"Citizens of the Empire, Noble advisers, faithful members of the Order... friends, We welcome you to our humble vessel. Tonight, with the hope of continued cooperation between the Empire and the Republic fresh in Our mind, We must also tend to the wounds of Our heart. We mourn the loss of Our faithful Praetor Magnus, Darth Regis. She was a beacon of the faithful service all hope to exemplify. She is honored, remembered, and cherished most deeply. In her memory, and in her spirit, We endeavor to promote her ideals of service and sacrifice, and so take no time now for selfish displays of sorrow. We lift Our head high and declare that the might of the Empire lives on with the support of Darth Regis' own chosen successor. Let him come forth!"
Darth Regis had been, perhaps, the most blindly loyal member of the Inner Sanctum. Her loyalty to Renata had only been matched by her ruthless pursuit of victory. Much of the success the Sith reveled in during the war had been brought, in large part, due to Regis and her insistence on pushing her soldiers beyond what they had wrongly perceived as their limits. Beyond that, She'd led by example, wading into battle side by side with her subordinates. She had been an icon of the self-sacrificing Sith who yearned for the glory of the Empire above any personal exaltation. Her death at Af'El rippled through the Empire, leaving a painful crack in the foundation. Renata knew, as the Pristine Heart of the Four Cults, she could not allow that crack to spread. The stability of the Empire must always be at the forefront of her thoughts. Luckily, though the loss of Darth Regis was a painful thing, it was not unprepared for. The nature of her position, coupled with the nature of the woman herself, necessitated the need to plan her succession, if and when such was needed. To that end, Regis kept in constant communication with the Empress, relaying her assessment of the various Praetors under her command and their viability as her possibly replacement. When the day finally came, that decision was refreshingly easy. The offer had been made and accepted. The only thing that remained was to make it official.
The main deck of the Caldera consisted mostly of the large throne room with the entire ceiling made of transparasteel so that the grandeur of space beyond might play a proper backdrop to the grandeur of Her Imperial Presence. This night, that backdrop consisted of a full view of Prazhi, its dark surface marked by the illumination of its cities. Many IMperial officials had ferried up from Soldon, and even a select few members of the media would be granted limited access after the conclusion of the ceremony. The guests mingled in the wide space of the room, chatting over drinks as attendants moved through them all carrying their trays. Each Ascension was unique. Where some passed in quiet solemnity, others were grander affairs. Considering the timing of this transition, it seemed only appropriate that it be given equal pomp and circumstance to the rest of the political theater occurring that day.
At her leisure, Renata arrived at the hall's entrance in quiet solemnity. She wore a black gown with long sleeves and a high collar, over which a stylized bronze gorget was worn. The gorget, formed by a repeating pattern of star shapes, symbolized the Cult of Strife. Her procession into the hall toward the dais where her throne awaited was preceded by the hushing and then silence of the crowd as they were made aware of, and then bowed to, her presence. As she stepped onto the platform and turned to face her assembled subjects, Renata swelled with pride at the unity they displayed. Many would not understand the strength that their collective submission demonstrated. They misunderstood to their own peril. Now, more than ever, the galaxy was learning what the might of true unity could accomplish. In that aspect, Renata had nothing but respect for the Archeri Chorus. Indeed, it was a pity that their kind could not be brought to heel. She had not entirely given up hope just yet, but she knew the wisdom in preparing for the worst possible outcome. And so the Empire would prepare to crush the Archeri into extinction, but held to that secret hope that some new knowledge might still be gained from the encounter.
"Citizens of the Empire, Noble advisers, faithful members of the Order... friends, We welcome you to our humble vessel. Tonight, with the hope of continued cooperation between the Empire and the Republic fresh in Our mind, We must also tend to the wounds of Our heart. We mourn the loss of Our faithful Praetor Magnus, Darth Regis. She was a beacon of the faithful service all hope to exemplify. She is honored, remembered, and cherished most deeply. In her memory, and in her spirit, We endeavor to promote her ideals of service and sacrifice, and so take no time now for selfish displays of sorrow. We lift Our head high and declare that the might of the Empire lives on with the support of Darth Regis' own chosen successor. Let him come forth!"
