The Inheritance

The Inheritance, Chapter 3

The next day Acaciah and Anakin decided to do a bit of shopping down in Caemeron, Lachere’s capital. It lay on the border of the province, nestled on a bay just north of Saestra. They wandered through its marketplace, and Acaciah’s eyes settled on a crib. Its wood was a dark cherry color, its mattress firm but soft enough for the tiny babe that would lay in it soon. The shopkeeper, a silvery-haired matron was demonstrating how to work its drop side when an interloper spied them, butting into their space. “Master Jedi and Mrs. Jedi!” she exclaimed, holding a pocket holorecorder. “I’m Dailega Trouver, how are you?” Her twi’lek tentacles were tied back with a flourish and her cheeks were flushed with triumph at finding them here.

“We’re fine,” Anakin replied. “We’d like some privacy.”

“Shopping for furniture?” she asked.

“We are,” Acaciah replied.

“How exciting!” Dailega bubbled, noting the crib. “I understand you two are now Sakartés, is that correct?”

“Sakarté is a lineage name, but it’s also a title,” Acaciah answered. “Our family name is still Skywalker.”

The shopkeeper scowled, she’d had enough of the invasion. “I don’t allow soliciting in here,” she put her body between the reporter and the Skywalkers. “That includes soliciting of information. Now go on!” She shooed her out the door.

Acaciah looked back to Anakin. “You know, for someone I thought looked like a kindly grandmother, I think perhaps we’d better not cross her!” she quipped, her voice low.

“I learned that long ago from your grandmother,” Anakin replied. They went on with their day, receiving greetings from many of the people of Caemeron...mothers, curious children and even the mayor herself while they took in the city.

“We’re glad to have you here, Master Jedi,” she shook Anakin’s hand heartily. “I don’t care what the snootier nobles say, Lachere can only profit from your presence here. I hope you two discover Lady Miriam’s assailant quickly; it’s a bad business to have him or her running free.”

A small boy approached them; he held what looked like a makeshift projector in his hands, and his amber eyes danced with curiosity. “Are you Master Skywalker?” he asked Anakin.

“Yes,” he acknowledged. “What’s your name?”

“Rory,” he answered. “Is it true that you were a slave before you were a great Jedi?”

“Yes, a Master found me and took me in, and I worked very hard, and I learned to become a Jedi,” Anakin replied.

Rory beamed up at him. “My mom says you’re living proof that anyone can do anything if they put their mind to it.”

“You mom sounds very smart, Rory,” Anakin smiled.

“She is!” he became more animated. “It’s because she works at the University.”

It was on Anakin’s lips to ask if she was a professor, but judging by Rory’s smudged clothes and disheveled hair, he knew the answer would be no. “What does your mother do for a living there?”

“She keeps the engineering lab clean, sir,” Rory answered. “She’s done it ever since Dad died. I never knew my dad; he died when I was a baby.”

“I see,” Anakin looked at him thoughtfully. “What’s her name, Rory?”

“Mansi Durlain,” Rory answered. “Wanna see my projector? I made it myself; Professor Etain lets mom take home spare parts so I can make things,” the boy aimed it and a holo of himself and his mother sprang up on the sidewalk.

Anakin smiled and ruffled Rory’s hair. “Thank you, Mr. Durlain,” Rory beamed at him. “I’ll check up on you later,” Anakin promised.

As they walked away, Acaciah smiled at him. “You’re going to go to the University, aren’t you?” Anakin only smiled. “Actually, from what I understand the University could use our attention; Geraint says it’s underfunded in comparison to the Parthenia branch, and we have the same amount of students.”

“How long has it been that way?” he asked.

“Uncle Roge says as long as he can remember; we’re the red-headed stepchildren, literally!”

“I can fix that,” Anakin said. “For now though I think we should get home; I promised Mom I’d call her once we got settled in.”

“She’s worried about us,” Acaciah said. “The last time I talked to her she made noises about wanting to come to Lachere.”

“I’ll think about it,” Anakin replied, thinking that he’d prefer to keep Shmi out of harm’s way. For that matter, he would prefer to keep Acaciah out of harm’s way as well, but he knew he couldn’t rightfully exercise that option.

On the way home, they ruminated on their adventures. “I think our citizens are happy to have you here, darling,” Acaciah said.

“Me too,” he agreed. “Obi-Wan told me to expect the warm welcome from the people, and the chilly one from the Duma.”

“Oh, the Duma can’t be all bad! We already know Geraint and Janae will give us a warm welcome, and so will Lord and Lady Anolia. It’s the Savros and Aramatiea that will be frosty in their reception.”

“We’ll see,” Anakin replied, thinking of how little the Savros had cared when Celianthos attacked Acaciah on her return to Alameen from the Nexus. He doubted they were interested in prosecuting Miriam’s assailant any more vigorously.

Obi-Wan greeted them as they came in. “You’ve made news already,” he informed them.

“How so?” Acaciah asked as Anakin rolled his eyes.

“See for yourself,” Obi-Wan answered.

“Welcome to Holonet Headline News! Our top story in intergalactic headlines: The Jedi Who Almost Wasn’t has struck again!” the holoreporter cheerfully stated. “Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker and his Missus, Knight Acaciah Skywalker have been sighted on her homeworld of Alameen. The Jedi Council confirms that the Skywalkers are there to investigate foul play in the ruling house of Lachere, Alameen’s second wealthiest province, and the home of Mrs. Skywalker’s maternal family. Speaking of maternal, reliable sources indicate that the Skywalkers are expecting their first child in early spring! Congratulations to the happy family!” she gave a syrupy smile and Obi-Wan ended the holo.

“Nice,” Anakin said. “That will put the Duma into a defensive stance.”

***
Acaciah smoothed her ceremonial Sakarté robes as she checked her reflection in the mirror. Their long emerald silks flowed to her feet; and the sleeves ballooned out in an imitation of her Jedi robes.

“You look lovely,” Anakin said, kissing her cheek.

She looked over him approvingly. “Leaving your usual robes on?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “It’s no secret that we’re Jedi.”

“True,” she agreed, and pulled out a ceremonial sash. She draped it so that it hung over his outer tunics. “You’re still a Lord, and I’ll not let them forget it,” she said primly.

The Duma was a meeting of the nobles of the various Houses of the Fiona; it was used for making legislation, or like this evening, for more informal events, such as greeting the new Lord and Lady of House Sakarté. Ostensibly, that was the point of this evening’s gathering in Parthenia, but Acaciah hoped that there would be good news on the discovery of Miriam’s assailant. The Savros had made promises to aid the investigation in any way possible. Anakin didn’t put much faith in these claims; he didn’t care for how the Savros had handled Celianthos’ attack on Acaciah after her return from the Nexus. They arrived at the Savros’ manor to find the various nobles milling and mingling. They received a hearty welcome from the Ravenas, courtesy of Geraint and Janae, and from the Anolia as well. Lord Dusan took Anakin aside a moment. “I’m sure Geraint has mentioned some of this to you, but I know you’ve mostly had contact with Etos Savros previously. Ever wonder why you got the Lord in a matriarchy?”

“I know Miriam isn’t Najara’s favorite person,” Anakin replied evenly. “I assumed it was my connection to her that merited my lesser messenger.”

Dusan nodded. “Lady Najara doesn’t think much of the opinions of men; she thinks you’re pushy.” Anakin laughed. “You’re in good company, so is any other man with a brain.” He threw a glance toward Etos and Najara, who were chatting with Lady Aramatiea and ignoring anyone speaking with the Sakartés. At one point Najara caught Janae’s eye as she chatted with Acaciah and threw her a disapproving glare; Janae only smiled sweetly and returned to her cosatisation.

Anakin shook his head. “Merciful Force, politicians are the same everywhere.”

“They are,” Dusan agreed. “I warn you Anakin, Najara likes being Queen Bee of this hive, and I expect she’ll give you and Acaciah a hard time. She gives Faela stick about me running too much in our province; says I don’t know my place.”

“She’s that arcane?” Anakin was incredulous.

“Not publicly, but you hear what’s said in private. It all gets around,” Dusan’s tawny eyes narrowed. “Watch your back, Anakin.”

“I understand, thank you Dusan,” he acknowledged.

The tingle of chimes sounded, signaling that the meeting was beginning. Wine and refreshments were brought around and served, which Acaciah politely refused.

“Is my wine not suitable for the Jedi?” Najara inquired, her platinum locks swinging as she glanced from Anakin to Acaciah.

“I’m not allowed at the moment, healer’s orders, but thank you,” Acaciah countered, inciting a flurry of whispers around the table.

Najara Savros was an icy queen, Anakin thought, observing the pale blonde conferring with her husband Etos.

“A pity we won’t be able to toast your long reign then,” sneered an unfamiliar voice. It belonged to a ruddy man with pale blue eyes and hair the color of a tangerine.

“Not Fieravid, not here!” Jaeger sounded dismayed.

“Sit down please, Mr. Sakarté,” Najara said. She turned to Acaciah, “Some of your kin have askedto mto mediate a grievance,” she explained, conspicuously ignoring Anakin.

Jaeger rose. “Lady Najara, I object, this is highly out of order!”

“Your objection is noted, Jaeger, please sit,” Najara remained cool. “Fieravid has a right to air his grievances.”

Jaeger sat, but didn’t look pleased.

“I wished to petition for the right to court Acaciah,” Fieravid began angrily. “I asked Lady Miriam for permission, and I was wrongfully denied! I was not afforded the opportunity to submit an honorable suit!” he glared openly at Anakin.

“I’m afraid the Lady Miriam had her own opinions about Acaciah’s future, and she was quite resolute in her stance,” Najara began.

Now Acaciah stood. “I am capable of running my own House, Najara,” she interrupted her.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t,” she demurred.

“Really?” Acaciah’s voice was cool. “I know you believe nothing happens outside Parthenia, my dear, but I grew up in Coruscant, and I know a politician’s ploy when I see one.”

“You are more like Obi-Wan than I thought,” Najara scowled.

“Madam, I assure you, I could only take that as a compliment,” Acaciah rejoined. “If this Sakarté wishes to have his grievance aired, he should schedule it at a more formal time, and if it needed the Dumas’ intervention, protocol also states you should have run it past me first. Anakin and I will hear his protest at a later date.”

“Lady Miriam never brought her husband to the Duma,” sniffed Avaricia Aramatiea.

“Your husband is here, and so is mine,” Acaciah countered, uncowed.

“So I am to be ruled by a slave!” Fieravid exploded, and came face to face with Acaciah, who folded her arms into her sleeves.

“Fieravid,” she said patiently, “you may leave now and we will discuss this at a more appropriate time and place.”

“Now is extremely appropriate; everyone should know the House Sakarté is the Jedi Council’s puppet now!” he countered.

“You can leave, or I’ll escort you,” Anakin’s voice was steely, and Fieravid could only look sullen.

“I’llve,”ve,” he said, “but this isn’t over yet!” he stormed from the hall, his footsteps ringing through its arches. The Duma was deafeningly silent in his wake.

“Lord Sakarté,” Najara finally spoke. “We have our own way of doing things here on Alameen.”

Like doing nothing? Anakin thought, but replied, “I’m aware of the way you do things here.” He faced her and the rest of the Duma, his much larger frame towering over Najara. The petite blonde took a step back in spite of herself. “I am prepared to do things your way,” he paused, “within reason. Miriam’s assailant remains at large—”

“We’re investigating that,” Etos added hurriedly, but Anakin raised his hand in silence.

“I want to see the miscreant prosecuted with more than a slap on the wrist,” Lady Avaracia squirmed in her seat. “As long as I see a genuine effort, you will have my patience and cooperation. At the moment, Lady Savros, my patience is tried.”

Najara’s hand fluttered to her throat. “Don’t make threats to me, Master,” she spat the last word, making it into a slur. “The Jedi are not so popular here.”

“The Jedi are only unpopular amongst those who have something to hide,” Janae retorted. “I have never seen such childish behavior out of this council! I am ashamed!”

“I made no threat, Lady Najara,” Anakin replied, silencing the room. “I wouldn’t dream of threatening you; I was merely stating a fact.”

Najara pinked angrily. “This meeting is over,” she announced. “Welcome to Alameen, Lord and Lady Sakarté.”

As they departed and headed toward their speeder, Jaeger approached them. “I’m so sorry that didn’t go well,” he said.

Acaciah paused in mid-stride. “I thought it went quite well,” she answered.

Jaeger raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure that one, my Lady?”

“No one threw epaliers,” Anakin replied, winking at Acaciah. He helped her into the speeder and they left Jaeger perplexed and speechless.