Seated within the Glorious Jewel of the Hutts, the Winter Palace is situated on a remote island near the planet’s equator. Although blanketed with the pollution from Hutt industry, its location makes the climate hot and humid. Surrounded with trees and vines, it could be considered to be a paradise, even among the barren wasteland of Nal Hutta. Outside of the Winter Palace, a network of sewer pipes transfer the waste from the palace to wherever seems far enough to dump into the oceans surrounding the island. Flora and fauna that have adapted to the Hutt’s environmental changes thrive in the polluted forests surrounding the Winter Palace.

Stepping through its gilded gates, the lavish interior serves as the main audience chamber. Once belonging to the wealth of Jiliac Desilijic Tiron, the gleaming stone of the main aisle leads up to a Hutt’s dais lined with an expensive carpet. Beautiful tapestries line the high walls, telling of the sordid histories of those who woven them, awaiting execution in Jiliac’s dungeons.

Finally, the antechamber to the "throne" room is illuminated from above with high-skylighted ceilings. Constructed from lightly colored stone, the antechamber might have been where the late Hutt entertained his guests before an audience with spice and exotic dancers. In the hands of the Hutt Kajidics, however, these traditions have continued as the Winter Palace now serves as a front for criminal and business ventures that come and go.

Shanree stepped off the boarding ramp of the chartered shuttle into the warmth of the Nal Hutta sun. The warmth of the system’s star was diffused here on Nal Hutta, rather than direct, he was told because of the thick blanket of polluting smog that covered the world. There were few Beings in the galaxy who did not know of Nal Hutta, at least by reputation, or its gangster rulers– the Hutts. Shanree expected to feel the Force here screaming in agony under millenia of industrial pollution and neglect, to see and feel its oily sheen exuding from the world’s every pore, but he was instead surprised by the Palace Grounds around him. Gorzia the Hutt had seemingly crafted an oasis in the midst of a desert; Shanree breathed in the positive energy put off by the countless plants and fauna that littered the grounds. Somehow the Hutt had created a respite in the Force, free from the physical and natural corruption of the world around it.

At the bottom of the ramp stood a familiar presence flanked by four honor guards from the Cohors Praetoria. Supreme Chancellor Cassandra Tyris waited as he walked up to her. Shanree dropped his duffle bag beside him, stood at the position of attention, and snapped a crisp salute, “Chancellor, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Cassandra smiled warmly, pleasure radiating from her in the Force, and casually returned his salute. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Colonel Argentin.”

She turned on her heel and began walking away from the chartered shuttle, the Cohors Praetoria falling in on her either side. Shanree grabbed his duffle and fell into step on her left, one pace behind per Army regulation, “I’m happy to be here, Ma’am. General Ampis said the orders arrived on letterhead bearing the seal of the Office of the Supreme Chancellor. I wasted no time.”

“It’s been a little while hasn’t it, Colonel?” She looked over her shoulder as they walked towards a Palace building ahead of them, “Since the Ethereal Realm, I believe?”

“Yes Ma’am,” he answered, “it’s a shame we never made it to that crystal fortress.”

She shrugged, waving a hand dismissively as though it was something that she’d long ago forgotten, though Shanree could see through the Force that their technical failure on that mission still wore on her. “That would have been a show, wouldn’t it? Speaking of which… Colonel, what do you know of Diplomacy?”

“Diplomacy Ma’am? I’m a soldier, there hasn’t been much need for me to be diplomatic on the battlefield,” he was a little confused at her sudden conversational riposte.

There was a note of amusement in her voice as she replied, “diplomacy isn’t always cocktail dinners, speeches, and negotiations. Sometimes there’s an element of… What’s the word… Showmanship.”

She snapped as she landed upon the word, “that’s why I’ve summoned you here, Colonel Argentin. I’d like for you to give our Hosts a little show.” Shanree was confused, “A show, Ma’am?”

“I hear you’ve been making something of a name for yourself around the Clan, Colonel, challenging my officers and agents to sparring matches?” Cassandra’s voice was smooth, but he could feel her buzzing excitement below the surface, though it was unclear what flavor of excitement, exactly, she was feeling.

“I wouldn’t characterize it as making a name for myself, Chancellor,” he offered, “if this is about Governor Tir'eivra–”

The Chancellor laughed, “oh no, she had that coming. I’m glad someone took her to task before I had to. No, I have something else in mind.”

Hours later Shanree found himself standing in the center of a chalked out square at the center of one of the palace’s exquisite outdoor gardens. The ground was a fine, gravel-like sand that lay perfectly level across the open space between garden planters and lush foliage. The square was ringed on three sides by bleachers that had been assembled for spectators, with the fourth side of the square occupied by a raised dais upon which Gorzia the Hutt reclined easily. Shanree stood across the square from his opponent, the Supreme Chancellor of the Taldryan Republic. While excitement coursed through his veins, like it always did before a fight, he had misgivings about this bout. He did not often fight with an intentional audience for their delight and pleasure, he sparred because he enjoyed the challenge and work out. Shanree did not want to injure or embarrass the Chancellor, especially here at the site of her delicate diplomatic talks with the Hutts, but the Supreme Chancellor had been adamant that he was not to hold back. He’d argued with her over that, respectfully, before she’d put the issue to bed by making it an order.

He stood across from her in his work gear, as he called it, and she in her full Beskar’gam. It was an impressive sight for anyone to see such a tall woman in a set of fearsome Mandalorian armor. Shanree was not vertically challenged himself, but lacking the mass of her robed armor he appeared diminutive in comparison. Gorzia was delighted by this mismatched pairing and he laughed while pointing at them to his attendants.

When the Hutt Lord had settled, he said something guttural in Huttese that Shanree could not understand, but the Chancellor certainly could. She listened respectfully and then replied, “with your leave, my Host? Excellent.”

Cassandra turned to face Shanree. He studied her in the Force and saw she was anxious; she needed these negotiations to go well. The Chancellor was serious, her focus was crystalized in the way she radiated in the Force, and he wouldn’t let her down. Holding her lightsaber hilts in either hand she grinned confidently, “don’t tap out too soon, Colonel.”

He smirked in reply and grabbed both of the Wroshyr wood hilts from over his shoulder. Gripping one in each hand, he flicked the activator switch as he rolled in his wrists. Twin fans of emerald light snapped to life in his hands, the tips of which passed through the sand to his either side. The ground screeched and puffed into smoke at their brief, light touch and alerted everyone observing that his weapons were hot. Supreme Chancellor Tyris hit her activator switches with less flamboyance, merely flicking her wrists to either side so that the orange and cyan blades each emerged in perfect time with her movement. She brought the blade in her right hand up to her face in a duelist’s salute, which Shanree returned with the one in his own.

A droid produced a gong from somewhere and placed it within reach of the corpulent Hutt Gorzia. The Gangster Lord took the small proffered mallet and swung it vigorously. The gong’s reverberating crash signaled the start of their fight. Shanree reacted with preternatural speed and dashed towards his Chancellor. He cleared the ground between them in a heartbeat. She stepped aside and swung a saber across his path. Shanree threw himself into the air, twisting in a barrel roll over the cyan blade that arced beneath him. He landed and used his rotational energy to lash out with a crescent kick. Cassandra juked at the waist, allowing the kick to fly past her face without perturbation, and took another swing. Shanree blocked it, and the one that followed it, before launching into a combo of counter-attacks. For a few moments their dual sabers traded blows in a lightning-fast display of sabermanship.

Shanree slashed high, forcing her to duck low. She didn’t realize his knee was flying up toward her until the last moment. She turned her head, in an attempt to spin away, but took the impact on her skull. Her head snapped backward and she used the momentum to backflip and gain distance, but he would not give her a moment’s respite. The Miralukan lurched forward to close that distance. Cassandra had him right where she wanted; she landed on one knee and slammed an open palm into the ground before her. A shockwave exploded from that point, catching Shanree full on. The force of the blast caught him and sent him flying backwards, twisting and spinning uncontrollably. He landed hard near the edge of the chalked square. For a moment his head spun and his chest ached as it desperately sought to draw air back in his lungs. He felt a prickle of warning in the Force and rolled. An orange saber blade gouged the gravel beside him. The SAG operative tossed his legs while still laying on the ground, gaining momentum he used to spin. Cassandra tried to step out of the way, but her back foot was swept out from under her and she crashed to the ground. Shanree was atop her in a moment in a full mount.

A smirk drew across Cassandra's face as he was mounted on her, able to tell that he was holding on for dear life almost as he tried to keep her pinned down. Barely out of the corner of his eye, however, he saw her orange saber swing behind him and suddenly arc diagonally by itself. Immediately he let go and pushed upwards off of her just as it swung above her back where he had just been, the blade just missing his abdomen by inches. Once past, it clanked to the floor and she was already in the process of flipping around, her gloved fist closed as if she were going to lean up and punch him.

"Come on Cass, that's too obvi-" he had started to think to himself, already leaning further back to avoid the incoming punch. Instead, however, halfway through her movement her fist opened up into a flat palm. Dirt and dust she had scraped into her hand from the floor now flew into the air and straight into his eyes. As his hands recoiled up to his face, his eyes now stinging from the small debris, he stumbled to his feet. Except, unlike a traditional opponent, Shanree did not need his eyes to see. All he needed was the force, being a Miraluka. His concentration was more focused on the irritation and pain, but not enough so that he didn't see her lean back, flip up onto her feet, and launch her left foot outward toward him.

Shanree reached out with his arms and grasped onto her leg, using his force to pull her toward him. Unfortunately for him, however, her mastery of martial arts had given her an opening at this point. One where she had hoped he would have made a move like this. As he pulled her leg, this gave her a point of strength that she could then launch off of as she crouched ever slightly on her other leg, followed by leaping into the air and striking him just under the chin with her other leg. His hands let go of her leg, her body arcing towards him as the backside of her knee wrapped around his neck and with an amplified twist of her hips, slammed him to the ground upper back first.

A sneer came from the Hutt along with cheers from the spectators that had gathered up. No sooner than he began to recover was her other leg immediately upon him, a fierce strike of her heel straight down towards his abdomen. He steeled himself at the last moment and threw his lower body into the air just ahead of it, flipping over her other leg to wrench his head free from her. It wasn't going to end that easily, he simply needed to keep a distance from her.

“Aw, come on,” Shanree muttered as Cassandra took a martial arts style pose, a flick of her finger causing her lightsaber to float just above her on her left, blade pointed directly towards him, “Telekinetic combat? It’s supposed to be one on one…”

The tip of her cyan lightsaber was pointing right at him. When he took a few tentative steps to the right it followed him, and likewise when he tracked several steps to the left it followed him again. He could see the inwardly projecting emotions of his Chancellor as she smiled at her cleverness. She was poised, waiting for him to make a move. If that was the way it was going to be…

An impulse shot through his body, his muscles tensed and he prepared to leap forward. Cassandra felt him prepare to move and saw her opportunity. The Lightsaber launched at him like a missile propelled by an unseen force. Shanree smiled inwardly as he delayed his action by a fraction of a moment, allowing her Force senses to over anticipate him. He extended his right hand, still holding one of his saber hilts, and used two fingers to reach out with the Force. The Chancellor’s saber angled down as it lanced forward and buried itself in the sand with a squelch of evaporating gravel. He was a blur as he finally launched into action, propelling himself forward. He stepped lightly atop the saber hilt gouging itself into the ground as he leapt towards his opponent.

Gorizia the Hutt guffawed in wide-eyed amazement as the Miraluka flew at the Taldryan Supreme Chancellor almost faster than he could follow. Shanree used his right handed saber hilt to beat Cassandra’s orange saber away to her left. His shoulder slammed into her breastplate. She staggered backward but had the presence of mind to reach out with her right hand. The cyan saber flew back towards her hand but was intercepted by Shanree who dropped the Wroshyr wood hilt in his left and caught the cyan saber in the air as it raced past him. He ignited his own emerald blade in his right and used both weapons to push the Chancellor back further towards Gorizia’s raised platform at the top of the fighting ring.

Cassandra wove through the endless attacks, juking at the waist and batting away probing attacks with her orange blade. She ducked under a sweeping attack aimed at her neck and spun around and behind her SAG Agent. She again reached out into the air and called a lightsaber to her hand, this time the discarded Wroshyr wood hilt Shanree had dropped seconds prior. The unfamiliar weapon thumped into her palm with unexpected heft, but she flicked the activator switch anyhow and crossed the emerging emerald saber with her own orange one. Shanree slammed the two weapons in his hand down upon her hastily erected guard a heartbeat later. She stood there, their sabers locked for a moment, their faces bathed in the white-hot aurora of their weapons’ emitted light.

Cassandra heaved with her arms, pushing Shanree back for a fraction of a moment. She used the disruption to throw her helmeted head forward, above and between their four crossed sabers, and hit the Miralukan on the bridge of his nose. His mental sight exploded into stars and he reflexively somersaulted backwards through the air to gain space. He miscalculated, not realizing how close now they were to the dias upon which the great mass of the Hutt reclined. Shanree hit the side of the platform and collapsed unceremoniously back into the sand of the ring. He rolled over his shoulder, hearing the muffled roar of the Chancellor as she attempted to plunge an orange lightsaber into the ground where he lay.

With the sweep of a leg he took her off of her own feet. Shanree threw himself atop of her once again, scrambling to find the advantage. He discarded her cyan lightsaber and allowed his own emerald blade to retreat into the Wroshyr wood hilt, though he held onto it in his right hand. Cassandra turned sideways onto her hip and attempted with a tremendous jackknifing motion to throw him off but he was prepared. He used her own momentum to turn her face down onto the sand and used his body weight in a rear mount to pin her down. His saber hilt wove in between her elbow and the back of her ribcage expertly. Understanding where this was going Cassandra grunted in effort as she attempted to free her arm before it could become irreparable ensnared in Shanree’s arm bar. Through the Force Shanree could see the Force flow into her as if she were inhaling in anticipation of a great yell. Strength surged through her body and he felt her wrist start to slip around his saber.

Shanree took a risk and used his left hand to swiftly grip the back of her armored head. He lifted it up and then slammed it down into the gravel three times. Cassandra was rattled enough that her efforts were forgotten in an instant. Shanree locked his arm bar in with his saber hilt and then wrenched mercilessly. Her shoulder popped followed by her bellow of pain through gritted teeth under her helmet. He held her in that painful position for long seconds until, with great reluctance, her other hand pounded on the ground. Shanree was off of her, sparing no hesitation. He gently rolled her over, conscious of her tender arm and shoulder, and assisted the Chancellor just as Medical droids began appearing around them.

Gorizia the Hutt chuffed with pleasure as his deep, sonorous voice said something that Shanree presumed to be an adulation of the two fighters and their display. Shanree helped Cassandra pull her helmet off; her hair was matted against her forehead with sweat and her eyes were wild with adrenaline, pain, and frustration but she squeezed them shut and when they opened they were focused.

She looked up at the Hutt on the raised platform and smiled, “I’m pleased you found our fight so delightful, my Lord.”

The Hutt said something in his deep baritone, and with some self-gratifying laughter he began to slither from his seat.

Shanree helped the Chancellor to her feet once the medical droids had given her some pain killers and he’d set her joint back into place, “Does this make me a diplomat now?”

“I think this worked out for the best,” she smiled under hard eyes as her staff began to surround them, “but you ought to stick to what you’re good at, Colonel. General Ampis would be terribly sore if I took you from him.”