"Yes, of course, Syren," the High Regent agreed, as he swept a hand subtly around the room. "And as you can see I have provided the best to do both, my lady."

Sully kept aware of the Tund Sorceror, but directed his attention to the dark woman. "But these things are neither for my comfort nor my vanity. They are for show. Some things are all the more impressive precisely because they are so extravagantly impractical. To build our Imperium, we have to win the hearts of the people whose planets we visit, and those of their leaders, as well.

"This is the symbol of power, of confidence, of victory. They will all be drawn to this, wish to align themselves with it, hope it will rub off on them. This is the pull that will bring our Imperium together.

"And with you and Zuinlan as allies, that's going to be the push."

Zuinlan rose an eyebrow and tilted his head. "What do you have proposed for me and our new guest?"

In spite of the question presented, Sully found himself smiling at her and admiring the way the light glinted off her hair. A servant walked over and Anre broke off his stare to turn to him. "I had a dark whiskey a few days ago. A nice smokey bite, but I don't remember the name."

The servant smiled. "Bakuran Reserve, Sir."

"Ah, yes, that one," he replied, "and whatever the lady wishes."

A minute later, it was served. He took a proffered tumbler, with its cubes of ice and deep amber whiskey. He held it under his nose, enjoying the wooden aroma, then sipped, feeling it burn smoothly down his throat. Either this whiskey was even better than he remembered, or it was a better brand of the same stuff.

"High Regent?"

Sully turned in response to the voice, and spotted Zuinlan awaiting his query. "Ah, yes, to business then"-- he glanced again to Syren and smiled-- "I believe it is the time the Jedi Order have been paid a visit by our Imperium to discuss matters of an alliance."

He looked around the room. "And if not, I am sure there are certain things in their temple that we can acquire without their consent."

He smiled and eyed Syren. "I am sure you have had experience in this?"

"Indeed you have. But, you cannot expect me to believe that you do not enjoy all of this indulgence in the slightest, High Regent. To say such would make you a liar."

The faintest of smiles graces her lips just before they disappeared behind the ice filled tumbler sporting a dark and smokey amber liquid of exquisite taste. She, too, enjoys a fine - rare - whiskey on occasion and since she doesn't have to pay for it tonight ....

Dark eyes glance at the Zuinlan when he interrupts with a question of his own. It didn't go unnoticed by the young woman; the way Sully took his time in answering.

"I believe it is the time the Jedi Order have been paid a visit by our Imperium to discuss matters of an alliance."

This drew a twinkle to her dark eyes, a sense of giddiness to rise in her heart, and a mysterious smile to brighten her face and reflect in her eyes.

"I have experience in many things, High Regent. 'Acquiring' things from certain locales happens to be one of them."

If she hadn't been so relaxed, or paying close attention to the High Regent's words, she would have noticed the force signature of another human mingling in the crowd from a mile away. Also, if she had been watching the eyes of Zuinlan seated across from her as opposed to looking at Sully, she would have seen the subtle change in his expression.

"My Lady. Would you do me the honor of a dance?"

Suddenly, Syren's dark eyes widen, still locked to Sully's. She swallows the whiskey she had in her mouth slowly while turning to verify that the owner of the voice she immediately recognized was truly standing behind her.

Seeing Cyrel standing there, decked out in formal attire, stuns the dark haired beauty. A gentleman, he extends his hand, smiling affably, keeping the hardness from his eyes.

"My Lady?", he offers again, with a light motion of his extended arm towards her.

"Y-yes. Of course.", she states as soon as she quickly clears her throat. She forces a short smile to Sully and excuses herself politely. Slipping her arm into Cyrel's, she's led away from the table and out to the center of the floor where Cyrel pulls her close to dance a waltz.

"I thought I'd find you here." Cyrel whispers, rarely averting his eyes from hers. "What happened to the request you came to me with not more than half a year ago, Syren? You were doing so well."

Time to put on a face. She can't have the High Regent begin to question where her allegances lie. Not now. "Nothing happened with the request, Cyrel. I do plan to succeed in turning away from the darkness. But .. I can't. Not until I've had my revenge.", she murmurs to him as he swirls her around the dance floor.

"You don't need revenge, Syren. Come with me. Leave here with me. Now.", he presses on, pulling her gently more firmly against his body.

"What brings you here, Cyrel?" She purposely doesn't respond to his urgings. She musn't let anyone think that there is something amiss between the two dancing around the room.

Cyrel doesn't answer. Instead, he holds her gaze to his and finishes the waltz by dipping her low over his knee. So close. Their faces close enough that to the observers it appears as if he's going to kiss her deeply. After holding her that way for a full minute, he rights the woman and bows graciously.

"To make sure you do not do anything stupid. Farewell, beautiful."

Knowing that there is a large crowd watching, Syren continues to put on a show and curtsey's to Cyrel just before he seems to fade into the crowd and vanishes from sight. A faint, almost shy smile is granted to a few other people as she walks past them, back to the High Regent's table and retakes her seat.

She settled back in her seat as casually as one might in a comfortable armchair. She was clearly used to such comforts. Sully tore away from Syren to look out toward the crowds, watching the stranger disappear, then returned his attention to her. Whatever else she is, she's a smooth social operator, and I can use that.

The High Regent smiled. "You dance quite well, Syren. I hope I will be honored to be graced by a dance as well?"

He subtly eyed Zuinlan and pointed his gaze toward the mingling crowds. "Zuinlan, I insist you go and circulate. Make our guests welcome. I have to go set things up." The Sorceror of Tund nodded slightly and rose from his seat, making his way toward the same direction where the stranger left. Whether the visitor was a threat or not, he was one to be investigated. If he was an infiltrator, Anre would need to find out.

The band struck up a slow number. Now was the opportune moment to do so. Anre took her hand and stood. "Lady Syren, I believe this would be the moment I wish to see how many left feet I have. Shall we see what happens?"

She accepted his invitation and rose. They stepped onto the dance floor and he put his hand around her small waist, feeling the delicate curve of her back through the thin material on the dress. She stepped in close to him, and at the gentle urging of the music, they moved as one as they made small talk.

He was careful not to say anything that a spy-- or even an interested citizen-- might not pick up from other sources, or to provide any current information of strategic value. Yet he found that he enjoyed talking with her. She showed eager interest in his stories of battle and adventure. Though she didn't say so, he felt she'd lived a similar life-- perhaps too similar for his taste.

Though he told her freely about his own background, he seemed to learn very little about her personally, which bothered him. Not that he hadn't expected her to be evasive. His fellow Dragons in the Imperium were about the only people in Sully's day-to-day life who ever spoke the unadulterated truth, and then only because they sometimes couldn't help it. With nobles, politicians, and diplomats, what came out was shades of deception. He was entirely used to that.

It was the nature of her evasiveness that both intrigued and frustrated him, but he would not give up.

"Syren," he chimed as he dipped her, "so who was the gentleman that you were dancing with? Anyone that I should be aware of?"

She expertly dodged any personal questions he asked of her, never one to reveal too much of herself or her past. Her past, especially. That is kept closely guarded and with very good reasons - which are her own.

"And here you said you had two left feet. Why, you dance wonderfully.", she told him with a gentle smile. Briefly, in the middle of their dance, she diverted her attention from the enigmatic High Regent to scope the crowd; specifically, to see if the Tund Sorceror had returned. He hadn't. In the back of her mind, she was pretty certain that Zuinlan had been sent to follow Cyrel, but of course; she couldn't be one-hundred percent certain. However, if she were in the High Regent's position ... that is exactly what she would have done.

"Syren," he chimed as he dipped her, "...So who was the gentleman that you were dancing with? Anyone that I should be aware of?"

If Sully had been paying particularly close attention to Syren's eyes, he'd note the slight shift in them; as if he'd just hit on an area of her life - her past - that feels like a unhealable festering wound; which he just doused with a pound of salt. He'd have to have been quick to notice this change in her expression though, for as quickly as it was there, it was gone.

"No one you have need to worry about, if that is what you're asking. He's no threat to you, or your Empire."

Kudos to the dark, mysterious woman for evading that question - and politely, to say the least. He held her in the dip for a moment longer, studying her eyes; trying to peer into the very depths of her cold, dark soul. Of course, her response only piqued further curiousity in the man, but for now, she was certain he'd accept the answer given and not press the matter any further.

At least ... until they were alone or the need arose.

When the music ended and the crowd clapped for the orchestra, Syren slid her palms along her hips, as if wiping them free of a fine sweat that made them feel rather clammy and cold at the same time.

"Thank you for the dance. It was wonderful." Sincerely spoken, as she walks with the High Regent back towards the table, grateful that round one of subtle questioning has come to an end.

He smiled. Skillfully dodged. "Indeed, it was, Lady Syren. My two left feet didn't intrude in your dance, after all." He found himself wanting to know about her. Everything about her. He got little in return as she was still close-mouthed about her family and personal history. Yet there was a connection. They shared something in common, even if it was unspoken. He knew in his heart that they were somehow very much alike.

But now was not the time. He had a flash of guilt, and his sense of duty tugged at him as they settled at the table. "Well, now that we have known a bit of each other, we can continue." Sully casted his eyes at the returning Sorceror as he approached and whispered an update on the stranger. Apparently, he had vanished into the night when he left the grounds. Anre simply nodded at the news.

So it seemed he was no threat after all. Just as Syren had pressed.

He beckoned Zuinlan to sit across from him at the table. "Now that we have indulged in matters of pleasure and Zuinlan has mingled enough, let us finish what I wish to propose," he announced quietly.

He faced Syren, then the Force-user from Tund. "Zuinlan, the Order of Sorcerors would like to schedule a meeting with the Jedi Order on Naboo, concerning a possible exchange of information. If the diplomatic end does not serve us-- acquire it through other... radical ways." A servant stepped into view and handed both of them a datapad. A display opened up and Sully explained. "This is a draft of what the Order-- and the Imperium-- would like to acquire: several holocrons that contain the knowledge of several Jedi in order to implement it into the Tund Order. Most likely, it will be stored in their Jedi libraries. I am sure it will be well protected, so both of your skills will be needed to retreive them."

Sully's eyes shifted to Syren's. "Understand, Syren-- that you were brought here because of your skills at infiltration. Be wary of your dark ways as the Jedi will sense this. Cloak them as the Sorcerors do. You will be posing as one of them to represent their order as ambassadors."

Despite the many things already troubling him, Zuinlan was able to maintain a proper poker face. The addition of Syren's role in this mission had been intentional and carefully calculated. The High Regent had gambled that it might work. He hoped it would.

As he scrolled down the list, Sully addressed the dark woman-- his smile returning-- and pushed an envelope containing thousands of credits. "Here is a fair amount of credits to repair your ship and for the journey. Zuinlan will accompany you to Naboo. And remember-- the Imperium has no knowledge of your intentions... nor involvement.

"Is there anything else before we conclude our lovely evening?"

As Syren sipped leisurely at the decadent drink that still burned her throat gently each time, she eyed the datapad that was placed before her. Holocrons. Several of them. Shouldn't be too hard to acquire.

"Ah, the Sorcerors. An allegedly ancient and mysterious brotherhood of magicians. The race was unknown for quite some time, since no one outside the brotherhood has seen one without their robes on." Syren casts a gentile smile towards Zuinlan, dipping her chin ever so subtlely, as if nodding in honor.

"Clothed as a Sorceror, along with masking my aura, it shouldn't be difficult in having the Jedi believe that I am in fact a member of this ancient Brotherhood. Should there be anything else I need to know pertaining to the ways of the Tund, I'm sure Zuinlan will prove to be a most valuable sorce."

Having seen what was necessary on the datapad, Syren closed it and set her drink down; folding her slender fingers upon themselves while resting her chin lightly against the folded knuckles.

The envelope slid across the table was eyed. 'If I accept this now, then my allegiance is sealed. Do I truly wish to ally with the Black Dragon Empire? Do I truly wish to swear a fealty to this man? This ... High Regent?'

"I have no further questions, High Regent.", she stated as she rose fluidly from her seat, fingering the envelope slyly into her possession and tucking it away for safe keeping.

In a silent gesture, her allegiance has thus been sealed.

"Excellent, dearest Syren," the High Regent replied, thus confirming the pact she had commited to. "This went most well."

Zuinlan nodded once, not speaking. Anre turned to him.

"You have assembled all the information on the Jedi Temple on Naboo?"

"Yes, High Regent."

Sully stared into his glass. The Black Dragon Empire was massive, the souls working under it numbering in the millions, but some things he had to deal with personally. Especially something this... sensitive.

"All of the material concerning Leia Organa Solo has been checked and rechecked?"

"As you ordered."

"Very well. Then I believe our evening here has concluded," Sully declared. "Realize the Imperium's hand must be invisible. There must be no mistakes."

"There will be none, High Regent."

A servant was waved over to the table. Sully addressed him in a low whisper. "I would like to speak with General Grevious. Have him meet me in the balcony outside. I will speak to him personally."

"As you wish."

The Sorceror of Tund remained silent as Sully considered his plan.

The High Regent wanted the secrets of the Jedi, wanted them to give to the Taj Dameun. Sully's memory of that conversation he'd been privileged to partake some months back was that the Dameuns very much wanted their secrets to use for their own purposes on Dameo.

Yes, it was a good plan. A bit complicated, but all the possible sequels had been examined and considered and covered.

In the end, he knew he had found the perfect weapon with which to finally have the upper hand over the Jedi Order.

His latest acquisition, Syren.

The High Regent rose from his table. "Now if you will permit me, I must retire for the evening and attend to important matters of the Imperium." His offered his hand to Syren and she accepted it. A light kiss was placed and a smile accompanied it. "It was a pleasure meeting your acquaintance, Syren.

"Now please, don't let me end this evening for you. Enjoy the rest of the night and Zuinlan will be summoned tommorrow when you are ready to depart." With that, the High Regent savored the last of his drink and dismissed himself, leaving the pair behind.

Zuinlan turned to Syren. "If it is acceptable, I wish to return to my quarters to prepare. I will leave this night to you..."

Syren nodded cordially to Zuinlan and watched him retreat for the evening. She's not really the type to linger at such fancy functions unless business demands it of her and this evening's business has concluded. So, she rose. Wandered her way through the crowd, nibbling a few small delicacies along the way.

She saunters through the halls, passing a cordial nod to those party-goers drifting about as well when she meets their path. A few of the officers take a moments pause to watch the sultry form of the raven-haired beauty, until she was well out of their view.

Figuring that a good rest is needed, she heads to the guest chambers that are hers for the night, and isn't seen again until the next morning.

The planet-glow of Argai was so bright, the incoming and outgoing ships so plentiful that it never truly got dark here on Sully's private balcony. There was apparently a brisk convection-downdraft blowing, generated as the buildings cooled and the night air slid down into the artificial canyons toward the streets far below.

General Grevious approached from behind him, his footsteps barely audible but the sound of his cape was heard fluttering in the breeze.

"You summoned me, High Regent?" the towering cyborg menace questioned, as one of his metal clawed hands wrapped the cape tightly around his skeletal body.

"I did, General. Is the plan in motion?"

"All is as planned. Vos has retired for the evening and so has our latest acquisition," he replied in a smooth, synthetic voice.

He nodded. Waited a moment, then said, "I wanted to invite her up there." He waved at the view. "But I would think it would not be appropriate for a man of my position."

There was a pause, longer than Grevious would primarily allow before speaking. "You attempted to woo this women, but failed, High Regent?"

"I tried to make the attempt."

"This failure has then made her more appealing?" he questioned, the tone lowering an octave.

Anre replied, "Your point?"

"One wants more what one cannot have. As long as she ignores your advances, her charisma grows stronger. The more she ignores, the more you desire her. It has become a contest of wills."

He smiled. "So it has. Which I will win, eventually."

The cyborg general said nothing, blinking his serpentine eyes once behind the alloyed mask.

"You doubt me?"

"You have never failed before."

Not really an answer, but true enough. "And you, my ever-vigilant General, you do not approve of Syren?"

"The more intelligent and dedicated someone is, the more dangerous she can be when threatened."

Sully watched a particularly congested lane of ground-to-space air traffic. The running lamps of the vessels seemed to form an almost continuous line of colored lights.

The High Regent declared, "You of all beings should understand. Much of life is about the search for equals. You are unique. There are others similar to you, but none exactly like you. You are superior to any other clone ever created by the Daemuns. Not even the Kaminoans could replicate a being from so long ago, much less implant the memories of your predecessor."

"Yes," Grevious said. A glow of pride blossomed subtly inside him.

"Don't you ever want to meet one who is capable of moving, of feeling, of thinking up to your level? An equal?"

"Not particularly. What would be the point? Greater than I, lesser than I, what does it matter to my being?"

Anre turned away from the traffic in the skies and looked at the cyborg. "Yet, you wish for tasks that will challenge you."

"Of course." A glimpse of his lightsaber was caught as the cape opened from a wisp of air.

"It is the same thing. Yes, it is dangerous to contend with one who might defeat you, and perhaps it is even more dangerous to consort with one who might someday stab you as you lie sleeping next to her; still, the possibilities are so much... more."

"There are billions of women, many of whom are more beautiful, more adept physically, even more dedicated," he continued. "Maybe even all three. But this one is the one I want and I <I>will</I> have her."

General Grevious nodded once. "Ah. Is this is why you have summoned me?"

He looked at him. The cyborg clone did understand, at least on some level. He nodded. "As much as I fancy her, I do not wish my emotions to cloud my judgement and compromise her mission. If she by any means makes any intention of treachery against me or the Imperium, then you must eliminate her."

"As you wish, High Regent. Vos will give me updates when called for."

He returned to his skygazing. "You may go now, General. There are expansions to be done in the name of the Dragon."

Grevious nodded and withdrew into the shadows of the balcony, his cape fluttering again in the soft breeze.

The party was over. It was time to turn in for the night...

Once inside the private quarters assigned to her for the night as other preparations were being made for a more permanent room, the raven-haired beauty found it difficult to unsettle her mind of the thoughts pervading it. Her heels were kicked off near the door and she padded around the relatively spacious place leisurely. She found it amusing that though she couldn't settle her mind, she could walk around the apartment-like quarters as if she owned them outright. 'Maybe this is where I do belong. Could it be, that after all the time which has past, that I've finally found my true calling?' This thought lingered as she looked at a few pieces of artwork hung on one long wall in the living area, centered perfectly above the couch.

"Lights. Dim.", she orders of the computer responsible for doing the simple tasks ordered from the occupant. A gentle glow began to illuminate the place high upon the wall, edging the ceiling, bringing other details into better view. Though the floors were not covered with carpeting, she found that they were still warm against her nyloned feet. 'Must have heating elements underneath.', she concluded.

Now that the formal festivities of the night were over, she could make herself more comfortable. She hates having to dress up. For Syren, she's most comfortable and in her own element when dressed down. Though, there are some who would find her usual attire to be considered just as classy and formal as the gown she wore tonight.

The outer-most wall of the living area served two purposes. The first was to serve as projecting a holographic image - a holographic piece of art - for one to enjoy. The other was to dissipate that holographic artwork to a transparency, allowing the occupant to gaze the depths of space. This is the option she's chosen as she sets a foot gingerly against the edge of the couch and slides her hands slowly down her thigh; removing the nylon-stocking from one leg, then the other. 'This mission should be interesting, to say the least. Setting foot inside of the Temple I chose to denounce long ago? I can't believe I even agreed to do this.'

She left the silence of the living-area and entered the bedroom. 'He definitely has good taste and obviously knows the inner-most desires of a woman.', Syren thought as she found herself smiling with approval at the decor. Dark enough to suit her tastes, yet feminine enough to still make her feel like a desirable woman. This bedroom suggested it was meant for romantic interludes, secret affairs, and fiery passion.

Examining the closet space, she had to chuckle outloud. Upon sliding the doors open, she notices that its been stocked completely. And surprise, surprise -- everything hung up neatly within just happens to be her size. The tips of slender digits brushed lightly over the clothing, easing a few outfits aside to get a better look at them. One strikes her eye immediately, and its this one piece of clothing that is carefully removed and held up for further examination.

It was white. Designed to rest at the very edges of the shoulders, balancing precariously upon her creamy skin. Two thin pieces of material - sheer - meant to be used as a bow to rest against the swollen bosom of her chest. The body of the nightgown was sheer, but layered with several pieces of the material; which would only allude to the delicate figure hidden within its folds without revealing everything outright. Something designed to allow the mind of the opposite sex to use his unihibited imagination.

Figuring that tomorrow she wouldn't have the luxury of being pampered like this until the mission was successfully concluded, she removed the evening gown and slid into the nightdress, looking herself over in the mirror. Typical female behavior ensues. Toying with her hair, lifting it into playful styles while making faces in the mirror. She laughs, then shakes her head, going into the kitchenette. There, at the mini-bar, she readies herself a brandy - imported from Corellia.

'He sure was a smooth talker. Definitely not bad on the eyes.' These thoughts are of the High Regent. 'Took a lot to not fall for his charms earlier, that is for certain. Must keep on my guard around that one. He could prove to be most dangerous.' Her thoughts continue to ponder the rest of the evening. 'Cyrel. How did he manage to get aboard this ship? I'm positive the other force sensitive ones aboard felt his presence coming from a mile away. Why allow the Jedi Knight aboard? Perhaps I'll find out more when at the Jedi Temple.'

A drink of the brandy is consumed, the amber liquid warms her throat as it slides down smoothly. The warmth radiates from the pit of her stomach, coarsing through her veins to the extremities, lulling her into a state of total relaxation.

She'd made herself comfortable on the couch, stretched out luxuriously and gazing through the transparency at the vast stars and gas clouds of space. Sleep came to her, stealing her away to her deepest, darkest desires and letting the woman live out her inner-most fantasies uninterrupted.