"It's a matter of honor. Whether you make contracts and later update policies to avoid payouts, or scrutinize claim. Your outreach has been large, and it has made you rich. But with expansion of your facilities across lands brings expenses that, once met, is attempted to maintain at the expense of your customers. This is how it begins. Business decisions when money is short from spending and maintaining growth to a calibur you'll have to squeeze out of your customers to maintain with updated prices. When your bank can't relinquish a claim or pay for a job, then we have meetings like here. Honestly the whole thing's been on record, either by our datapad signings, voice call conversations, and the camera in my helmet. I'm can't change the hearts and minds of those who have dug a hole of corruption in greed so deep no rhetoric can convince them that lives are more valuable than some percentage. Which is why, instead, we will move this claim to coruscant where we can't talk about it in court. Should the court take my side, I will recieve more than just the payout of my job. So for me it's fight you legally to get paid, or don't get paid at all. I've already completed the job, which puts me in favor, but obviously my work isn't done since we are having disputes over closure. Also, you hired me for my unique capabilities. There are those with powers over the mind, which can give someone a thought or judgement from that influence. So even as you dump what funds beyond what I can afford into an intellect that has manipulated the legal system to be in your favor, it may not matter in the end. This will also be bad press for you, win or lose, on your reliability. If your profits are at the border of bankruptcy or some manner of financial strife, you’d be wise to payout and downsize. But losing a case and the publicity? There’s no recovery. If I’m wrong, and you are plenty rich, then no one will complain that I take a bigger bite than what was discussed given the ill-courteous change in plans over my commission. My work involves conflict management, and I do so adore the sweet taste of vengeance, and here you are offering it on a platter for me.”

Creon wasn't certain on the larger scope of the situation for the mission he was involved with. His time spent away from Brotherhood matters in the peaceful villa of Naboo kept him unaware of the ongoings within the unknown regions the Brotherhood operated in. His return and transition from the Odanites to Naga Sadow had changed the atmosphere of his progression in the jedi arts, light or dark. Yet the work was always similar no matter where he went. Unfortunately, he had not the upbringing with planned parenthood to specialize him in a skill or trade, and thus his only value is his expendability. This often put him in jobs that required conflict management, security, or covert operations. Like so many other warriors before him he rolled the dice with his life to make a living. He was not alone, however, for an entire squad of sadowans was on this mission. The cargo value was not only too expensive to account for loss, but if reverse engineered could turn the tides of war against the Brotherhood. This was all Creon needed to know for his work. His squad pulled regular shifts, and indeed there were many days of peace where it seemed little over a simple courier job. It wasn't until after a month that the enemy made their second attempt. Security breaches were sporadic, and often many will think the window of opportunity for heists would be done when peace and time lets one's guard down. Vigilance and patience kept the team alert, and when the terrorists came to make claim of the weapon's cache, they instead found a squad of Force Users. There wasn't violence, for the men had good sense to surrender. Though this didn't help in their mistreatment when tortured and interrogated for information. The Sadowans squeezed what little sanity these thieves had, and names were spilled of all who were involved that led to their involvement. These men were hired by a third party mercenary group in order to both prevent a direct correlation to their employer, and to not expend their own organic resources for reclamation missions. They were not the only one’s hired, as this was an open job posting available for all willing to support in sabotaging the brotherhood’s efforts. Upon retirement back to his quarters from a smooth mission’s success, Creon took upon himself to look into these names, and find out just what the Brotherhood had been up to during his absence. Of course they were always busy, with a struggle with something new around every corner. It gave Creon a depressed feeling, worrying that not only would the multiple factions put the council at a war front with too many adversaries at once. Resources would need to be spread, which will eat them from the inside out. This doesn’t also discount the natural competitive drive of the Sith, which all in once has dwindled the populous of membership further approaching desolation. In contemplating this introspection of plausible foresight, it would take much work for Creon to help support a revival. But is that the will of the ruling caste?

He shook his head. Too many thoughts after a long day from another simple and smooth success job. The worse has yet to come. He needed to train and prepare for what comes next.

The Mon Calamari diplomats came through an automated door alongside a protocol droid into a room with an extended table and many more chairs than necessary surrounding it. Their glossy eyes scanned the room with a silent and pious look of disapproval. On one end sat Creon alongside his bride Elyon both cloaked similarly in robes traditionally associated with the Jedi.

“Ambassadors, thank you so much for coming,” Elyon said as she stood from her seat. “I am Jedi Knight Elyon de Neverse, and this is my companion Creon.”

Creon stood and bowed, “We are grateful for your considerate compassion in opening negotiations.”

“Yes, we are always intrigued for opportunities of good business. Thank you for hosting us.”

“Please,” Elyon gestured to the chairs across from them. Everyone then made their way back to their respective seats. Elyon then placed a datapad on the table and gently with the Force telekinetically pushed it towards the visiors.

“These are our current logistical output capabilities. Whilst we may not be able to establish a clear exchange rate due to the ever fluctuating galactic inflation, we can offer something more real.”

The datapad showed a holographic display of the planet. “We believe our world’s oceanic environment is compatible with that of your own homeworld. The land-based civilizations stake no claim over underwater territory, and have claimed support for colonization. We also have a detailed outline of discovered oceanic fauna and flora, and-“

A hand from one of the Mon Calamari ambassadors was raised to silence Elyon. “I am sorry. Since you have no standing with the republic exchange, currency rates would have to be established and gauged by supply and demand. We already supply many civilizations across the known regions, and colonial expansion comes at a cost for many generations before any substantial net value returns. There is no profit for either of us unless you accept our rates.”

Creon rose from his chair and paced around in a seething walk to and fro whilst locking eye contact with the Mon Calamari diplomats, "Perhaps you do not understand the brevity of what looms in the depths of the uncharted regions." His hand rose and imagery of the assault on New Tython through the eyes of a young apprentice bearing witness to Muz Ashen carving through Jedi as a one-man army, indoctrinated to behold the atrocity as awe-inspiring by his mentor Jeric Cyrin. That day never left his mind, forever staining his heart on the heinous cruelty of the Dark Brotherhood.

Another wave of memories flooded their minds; Creon's witness to the carnage of the ascendancy and those enslaved by Plagueis. His fight with the collective on Meridian Prime. In witness to the Wrath and the fleet that follows it. The Children of Mortis' attack on Kiast.

"We are those who hold to the ideals of the Jedi standing at the border between them and you. Many lives of good people go wasted in defending the border of what you call "The Unknown Regions". I assure you, it is well known, and we have asked for your aid at a time in need of healing. For if we cannot stand vigilant, you will suffer them too. They take and do not give. They are governed by cartels that have no regard for human decency. Brutish and evil to the measure of historic reverence contesting even the most wicked of tyrants."

Creon's tone went from a low but powerful projection from the diaphragm to one more calm yet underlying fear, "We offer you the seas of our world to inhabit and to help cultivate, telekinetic architects to construct for you all of what makes it home for those who come, and give what business we can with long-term potential in capital. Because whilst yes, we may trade with them, this will become a staple of purchase that will weaken their economy. You will prosper in newfound wealth as what entity I've shown you grows weaker, and we can maintain the advantage of our fixed price and closer shipping distances to ensure our supply outweighs theirs for the sake of our mutual defense."

Both of the Mon Calamari diplomats exchanged looks before looking back to the Jedi and giving a nod of assurance, “In light of new information, please allow us to convene with our hierarchy and they will contact you.”

If a dream was had during sleep Creon wrote it in a journal. As within seconds the memories of those experiences are fleeting, and he ponders analyzing them in understanding his own instinctive subconscious psychology or the Force. He does this while eating citrus fruit, the most bitter in the market, and includes the peel. Stretching keeps his body fluid and staves off the stiffness of age slowly by consistent dedication. Each muscle group is addressed with an assured pump of blood to saturate the fibers. He warms up with cardio and pushes recruitment to his core with calisthenics, then showers upon completion. Before breakfast is a concoction comprised of supplements, compiled plant matter compressed into a tar derived from a sacred mountain, and a variety of known herbs and fungi mycelium known to support the body's structure. Progressive overload strength training follows typically with a mace or club that has a weighted core. Wood carved rings held onto a tree by straps are used for acrobatic training. An ice bath follows in a barrel he keeps. He then rests through a walk in Nature seeking the Force and makes practice the abilities he's acquired over his years of study. Lunch is an assortment of dark greens and grains that require boiling water to absorb into an edible texture that hydrates his system upon digestion. Any business leftover from previous days he may address, or to simply nap midday to address the stress of his training. The nap reinvigorates his mind and replenishes the body well enough to have the energy for martial arts training with coaching. Dinner is whatever his wife cooked, or by request of what she'd like to have cooked, or a meal for himself that satiates the appetite to his preference alongside a synthesized protein drink of his own formula. Time with her is given priority before he goes through the hygiene process once again, a routine of stretches, and then returns to sleep once again.

This routine is maintained as a training lifestyle to maintain his prowess in the event it is needed during times of crisis, which has often befallen his Clan over the many years he's spent with them. Thus, he seeks not of his own desire to travel, involve himself in heavy business, find communities outside his home environment, or engage in large scale projects. As with all these things are simply distractions from the role he chose for his life in servitude to the people of his homeland and being prepared and proficient for if harm finds its way, as with shown in history to be an eventuality. It is not his own desire to do this, though he finds enjoyment in the maintenance of his health and potential the body can reach. It is out of fear in the heinous cruelty others in this reality have done out of selfishness, instinctive compulsory ignorance, greed, vengeance, and malice. It’s the anger from those that impose suffering he trains for, awaiting a worthy opponent just as dedicated to push his capabilities beyond its current capacity.