The sandy brown streets reminded him somewhat of Tatooine with a strange, mountain land like twist. While the other planet was a barren desert with orange and yellow sand dominating as far as the eye could see, Tholatin at least had some sort of life on it, had dirt and mountains and yucca plants.

And it wasn't as hot.

That was always a good thing.

He got a sick feeling in his belly as he looked out into the forest beyond the city, and he grew very cold. It felt like a dozen tiny needles began to pierce his skin while the paling wisp of icy death touched his features.

His eyes glazed over, and he nodded, persisting on through the streets.

"Zolach" had seen a shuttle land in one of the space ports here, it was carrying the banner of the Trade Federation. What could they want here?

When in doubt simply pursue the answer.

That was what his father had always told him...he never was the brightest of fellows.

He reached into his coat and fingered the grip of his blaster. He took some steps forward before finally deciding to turn and carry out his assignment with Prince Vondrianach.

The Viceroy shook his head slightly, continuing to run his greenish-tinted fingers ovder the smooth surface of the Temple Art.

"That is up to you, Your Majesty. I would like to influence you to pay them what you feel they deserve....times three."

"Who are you?" The shopkeeper asked, hand nervously twitching on his broom. The figure gave no response; not a purposeful disregard of what the man had said, but, from his body language and purposeful stride, he simply had heard not one word uttered by the middle-aged, balding man.

The man pulled from his belt a pistol, training it on the cloaked figure's head. The intruder was not overly tall, certainly not over six feet. Enshrouded in his black cloak, he seemed to writhe across the ground rather than walk, though his feet were in plain sight. "I'll ask you again, who are you?" He gestured at the door of the musty, but well-lit store. "I thought I'd locked the damn thing. Can't you read? We're closed."

The figure finally seemed to acknowledge the man, turning to face him fully. In doing so, and in casting his gaze upon him, he revealed to the shopkeeper his eyes -- those horrible, red eyes, shining dimly through the darkness which wreathed and concealed his face. And yet, within those eyes, was a certain compassion, almost an uncertainty about the fear they undoubtedly inspired.

"Lock the door you certainly did,
What you have from me cannot be hid.
Forgotten apprentice, metamorphosed regime,
The master returns, as nightmare or dream?"

The intruder's voice was inhuman and raspy, its firey chant startling the shopkeeper. "Another nonsense-talking vagrant. Get out of my shop."

"He comes to call and speaks in verse,
Dark unknown, blessing or curse?
A quest beyond your mortal mind,
Those who stand in my way, will death find."

The figure moved suddenly, impulsively, sweeping his hand up towards the pistol in the shopkeep's hand. He spun with his movement, cloaking his limbs with the elaborant black cape he wore. As he came around from his spin, he swiped away the broom the man held, simultaneously striking him with it.

The man flew back into the wall, momentum carrying him far with the incredible force of the strike. As he cracked the plaster and collapsed to the floor, the intruder pounced upon him, preparing to strike him again -- but, then stopped. He looked down at the man, uncertain, for a moment, as if he was trying to decide what to do with him. He then dropped the broom, offering the man his gun. The shopkeep, shocked, swiped the pistol away.

"What do you want?" He asked, nervously staring at the gun, and then putting it away.

"Though innocence and ignorance is your guise,
The ruse fails to deceive my eyes.
You associate yourself with "Hyperion", pirate renowned,
To whom I entrusted something I now wish found."

The man, still puzzled by the intruder's strange speech, took a step back. "Hyperion? What would I know about him?" He snorted. "I don't have anything to do with him. Or have any of his... things."

"Despite my mercy you still lie,
For your foolishness, the fates must cry.
He entrusted to you a map of regions unknown,
Under the tale that it was his own.
'URNR' is the map's name,
And I grow tired of this game.
Provide me the map that I seek,
Or you shall be shown how thou are weak."

"URNR..." The shopkeeper mulled it over, obviously knowing of what the cloaked figure spoke. "I might know something about it. How much are you willing to pay me?"

"I have not one coin on me today,
And so to you, your life I pay."

The man grimaced. "So be it. Stay here, a moment."

In no longer than the moment of which he'd spoken, the fellow returned with the small disk the intruder had been expecting. Taking it from him, he figure nodded, and made for the door. Then, he stopped, seeming to think behind that hood for a moment, and turned back to the man, who was still aquiver from his brush with danger.

"Does he who is Kamon by name,
Still rule this Tholatin, by his family's claim?"

"Prince Kamon? Yes, he still rules. Why?" The man asked.

"My reasons to you are no concern,
Reverence, you'd do well to learn.
Speak of this encounter to those with whom you work,
I'll return, though in the shadows I'll lurk."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Who will I tell them came here?"

The figure paused, thinking for a moment. "Thanatos."

And then he was gone. And not much later, he was too gone from Tholatin altogether.

Kamon smiled.

"You ask for a hefty sum, but I shall do it. I'll triple their orders of Neutronium and Ionite. That should do it. If it doesn't, I'll throw in one of my R&D's. Do you think that will do?"

Kamon levitated off of the ground into a cross-legged position.

Nelix shook his head, taking as step forward as his comrad, the Prince of Tholatin levitated himself. Nelix, being a Sith Lord was nothing short of an equal to the Prince, in every way. Mocking his movements, Nelix too went into a cross legged position as he hovered; a sign of power, and equality.

"That is not enough, your Majesty..." Nelix started as he stared into the Prince's eyes.

"That is not nearly enough. The Jutraalian Empire lost innocent lives aboard several military vessels, as well as the New Republic. For that, I must demand that you pay a sum, not only to the families of the victims, but to the Jutraalian, and Republican Governments.

"This sum will include, but not limited to 15,000 Meters of Ship Building, under Tholatin Shipyards, one Shipyard to each of teh two groups, and a fine of 2.4 Billion Credits, to each government. I'm afraid that if you do not comply with this demand, you will be forced to.... I'm only here to make this easier for you."

Kamon nodded.

"I have already been contacted by TJE, and have already repaid them by giving up half my fleet. It was a painful thing to see so much work go to waste, but it was necessary. As to repaying the New Republic, the credits part is fine, but dont you think that 15000 meters is a little excessive? I only destroyed one of their ships after all."

Kamon waited for a reply.

Nelix nodded his head, slowly lowering his legs to the ground underneith him.

"Very well, your Majesty. Rebuild them a ship that you feel will take the place of the one you destroyed. That will be sufficient, in my eyes."

Kamon nodded.

"Since I destroyed a ship that they had designed, I will build them two ships of my design. Two Tholatin Star Destroyers ought to do it. Don't you think?"

The Viceroy nodded his head as the Entourage of Droideka Destroyer Droids slowly made there way back to the Carrack Cruiser they had come in on.

"Yes, your Majesty. I think that will be suitable. But at this point, I'm afraid I must be going. Pressing affairs of State require my attention. I'd like to express an interest in meeting with you on Neimoidia, if it suits you. I'll let you think about the invitation. Get back to me."

With a gracdeful bow, the Viceroy spun around on his heel, and quickly followed after the Droideka Destroyer Droids.