Not early, but not too late, a sleek, black with red trim speeder settled neatly to street level before the Russard’s elegant estate. A few passers-by and party-goers let their eyes drift on the strange craft. Many did not recognize any manufacturer to go with the unique design, a rarity really given the wealth of most. Though the occasional keen eye picked out the armored compartments, despite its image as a pleasure-craft.

The quartet debarking from the speeder, however, did draw the most attention with a slew gasps and din of hushed whispering. Donned in the Empire’s finest garb, four Imperial Inquisitors moved to the steps, their names promptly checked off on the guest list by a visibly shaking host (as if he would deny them entrance anyway, but surprisingly the names were there).

Grand Inquisitor Karl Valten himself led the party. Even without an announcement he drew the eyes of all. Very few had even seen an Inquisitor, and not but a few days ago had this very man appeared as an imposing giant clad in heavy armor as he had coldly read charges of treason against several moffs on the holo-net.

But this man here was completely different than the one on the news. Dark-hair slicked back and only a hint a graying at the temples that more accented his visage than detract from it. A flowing coat of deep crimson embroidered with intricate gold-trim draped over an exquisite velvet vest and dark slacks, an Inquisitorial crest graced his left breast. A belt of the finest leather held the coat snug about his waist and held a scabbard and sword works of art of themselves. This look nothing like the terrifying Inquisitor, Karl Valten was positively dashing

The other Inquisitor’s fit the same bill. With along with Valten stood a woman in a shimmering dress that shifted many different shades of deep violet as the fabric rippled. Another older gentleman in a more traditional dress uniform, but no less intricate. And finally, and perhaps most strange of all to the party guests, a Devaronian donning fine silks in soft earthen tones. All three shared two commonalities with Valten, the Inquisitorial crest proudly sewn to the fabric, and ornate ceremonial swords that only seemed to enhance their garb. Even the female Inquisitor’s weapon matched her svelte figure and the scabbard the evanescing shades of her dress.

Valten drew a glass of Coruscant’s finest Emerald wine from the tray offered him and raised it in toast with a smile while the rapt attention still focused on the Inquisitors. “To our most gracious hosts and their splendid hospitality!” Several voices rang out in compliment and offered their toasts, but the overall demeanor of nervousness still prevailed.

“Oi, ah’ though’ this s’a party.” With one swift motion the Devaronian Inquisitor swiped a glass with a flourish and downed the drink in one go. Without breaking stride he tossed the glass in the air, landing it perfectly back in its place without so much as a wobble. “Ah fancy a round or two a’Bacarat, any gentleman r’lady care t’join?”

And with that the tension broke as the guests went back to their business and the Devaronian vanished finding a pair of pretty woman linked in each arm and an entourage of Coruscanti elite on his heels. Valten couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle.