## **Chapter 313**
Riyo Chuchi smiled warmly as Lorian Maverick approached, emerging from the vast sea of sentients gathered for the evening gala. The occasion was significant—the formal conclusion of a diplomatic agreement between the Republic and Hutt Space, the first of its kind in centuries. The hall shimmered with wealth and influence: senators, industrial magnates, military officers, and even a few Hutts themselves, their massive forms stationed like immovable thrones among the crowd.
"Good evening, Senator," Maverick greeted smoothly.
"Lorian, good to see you," Riyo replied, inclining her head. "Allow me to introduce—this is my father, Graham Chuchi, and my mother, Riot Chuchi."
"A pleasure," Maverick said with practiced charm. "You have a remarkable daughter."
"That's putting it lightly," Graham said, attempting to place a proud arm around Riyo's shoulders—only to falter under her firm, warning glance. He coughed lightly and recovered. "Truth be told, it's thanks to her we're even here tonight. Pantora has always maintained… cordial relations with Hutt Space, even before this agreement."
"Oh?" Maverick raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," Graham continued eagerly. "Aside from our primary export—block—we supply Nal Hutta with a considerable amount of luxury goods."
Riot sighed softly, offering an apologetic smile. "My husband can speak about trade for hours. It does get a bit… exhausting."
At that moment, a tall young officer passed nearby, pausing just long enough to bow respectfully before continuing on.
Riyo blinked, then glanced at Maverick. "I'm embarrassed to admit—I don't know who that is."
Maverick followed her gaze. "Ah. That would be Captain Wilhuff Tarkin. Something of a rising star. The Chancellor's protégé, if rumors are to be believed. Though to his credit, he earns his reputation."
"Tarkin…" Riot mused. "From Eriadu?"
"The same," Maverick confirmed. "Nephew of Ranulf Tarkin."
As her parents and Maverick drifted into a quiet discussion about lineage and influence, Riyo's attention wandered. Her gaze swept across the hall, idly observing the crowd—until it stopped.
Dagon Marek.
She stiffened slightly.
"Strange," she murmured under her breath. "I didn't expect a Jedi to attend… even if he played a role in the negotiations."
But it wasn't his presence alone that caught her attention.
It was who stood beside him.
A young woman in a modest yellow dress. Elegant in a quiet way—not ostentatious like many others present, but refined. And together, they drew attention—not because they outshone the crowd, but because they didn't try to.
Dagon's attire was unconventional—clearly inspired by Jedi robes, yet far more refined. The white cloak fell cleanly over his shoulders, contrasting sharply with the visible edge of his mechanical arm. The faint scars along his face and the subtle, unnatural patterns along his skin did not diminish him—they *defined* him.
There was confidence in the way he walked. Not arrogance—something steadier. He didn't belong to this world of politics and polished smiles… and yet, somehow, he fit.
People noticed.
Of course they did.
Riyo wasn't the only one watching as he passed.
And yet, as quickly as they appeared, the pair vanished into the crowd.
Still, she found herself staring at the space they had occupied.
Thinking.
A strange feeling settled in her chest.
Not quite jealousy.
Not quite irritation.
But something close.
Her mother's words from months ago surfaced unbidden.
And for the first time, Riyo wondered if they might have been right.
---
### **Scene 2 – Dagon POV**
"Rath… my old friend."
The man nearly choked on his drink.
Rath Sienar turned sharply, eyes widening as he took in the figure before him. It had only been a month since Dagon had left Coruscant—and yet the difference was… stark.
"Dagon," Rath said slowly. "You look like hell."
Dagon smirked faintly.
"Tatooine. Christophsis. A few of Dooku's pawns along the way."
He raised his left hand slightly, metal fingers flexing with a soft mechanical whir.
"They left their mark."
Rath stared for a moment longer, then shook his head.
"Yes… I can see that." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "So it's true? We're entering a partnership with Kuat?"
Dagon stepped closer, his tone equally quiet.
"Don't worry," he said. "You'll still get your share. In fact… more than that."
Rath's eyes narrowed with interest.
"I want you to design a new TIE series," Dagon continued. "Something different. Not just for the Republic—something ahead of its time."
Rath's expression shifted—curiosity overtaking surprise.
"And the reactor?" Dagon added. "Did the tests succeed?"
A small, satisfied smile spread across Rath's face.
"Better than expected. Output is stable. Efficiency is beyond projections. We're ready for mass production."
"Excellent."
Dagon gestured lightly.
"This," he said, "is Jasmill. Kuat's representative."
Jasmill inclined her head politely.
"And this," Dagon added, activating a small holoprojector, "is what I want."
A shimmering blue image flickered to life between them.
A warship.
Sleek. Aggressive. Massive.
The hologram rotated slowly, revealing its full profile.
"The Valiant-class Star Destroyer," Dagon said quietly.
Rath stared at it in silence.
Then, very slowly, he smiled.
"This…" he murmured, "is going to be interesting."