**Chapter 731: Blades of the Commonwealth**
**Kitel-Fard – Imperial Palace Complex**
*(During the Battle of Umbara)*
**Scene 1: The Palace Grounds**
The Imperial Palace complex was unlike anything Padmé Amidala had seen on Theed or Alderaan. It was beautiful, yet overwhelmingly monumental — tall, thick columns of polished stone, massive metal-reinforced structures, and majestic statues of ancient emperors and legendary warriors. Everything spoke of raw power, unyielding solidity, and the weight of a thousand-year imperial legacy that had evolved but never truly faded.
Two days of intense negotiations had passed in a blur. She and Fleet Admiral Dittmar, working closely with the delegation, had managed to draft an agreement palatable to Prime Minister Seseg Dorma and Court Advisor Ma Yulong. The document would now go before the Commonwealth Parliament. Given the rushed timeline, ratification on the Atrisian side seemed likely. The Republic Senate, however, would be another matter entirely. Padmé hoped that a united front between Loyalists and the remnants of Palpatine's supporters would allow swift passage.
Now they attended a formal reception in the palace. The official introduction to Emperor Dze-Dze Tching and Empress Xiuyin Tching had concluded hours earlier. The informal portion was underway. The Empress had invited Padmé on a personal tour of the grounds. She politely accepted.
As they strolled through the vast, meticulously maintained gardens and courtyards, they spoke of light topics — art, culture, the beauty of Kitel-Fard's architecture. Fleet Admiral Dittmar and two clones walked a respectful distance behind with the Emperor, deep in conversation.
*Probably about the war,* Padmé thought. *What else do men discuss these days?*
The group eventually emerged onto a wide balcony overlooking an enormous plaza. At first glance, it appeared to be a grand ceremonial square surrounded by low buildings. But as Padmé approached the railing, she realized her mistake. The plaza was a training ground. Dozens of figures in sleek black armor practiced in groups and individually, executing flawless dual-blade forms. Others sat in semicircles around mentors, absorbing lessons.
"And here are our Yovshin swordsmen," Empress Xiuyin said with quiet pride.
"Right here in the palace?" Padmé asked, surprised.
"It simply worked out that way," the Empress explained. "In ancient times, during border conflicts as the Empire expanded, the Yovshin were in high demand. Many battles were won by their blades. But their numbers were small, so they lived and trained aboard ships. After reorganization and the long peace, we needed a permanent home for them in the capital. This complex was large enough. Building something new purely for them seemed unnecessary for economic reasons."
Padmé watched the warriors move. Their precision and speed were mesmerizing — so fast her eyes sometimes struggled to follow. A young woman, no older than thirty and bearing a striking resemblance to the Empress, ascended the steps from the training square to the balcony. She wore black armor accented with gold.
"Allow me to introduce my sister, Suli Tching, Chaplain of the Yovshin Swordsmen," the Empress said. "And these are our Republic guests: Senator Amidala and Fleet Admiral Dittmar."
Suli's eyes sparkled with interest. "I've heard that Dagon Marek is quite skilled with a beskar sword. Rumored to have killed one hundred thousand enemies. Would one of your companions be willing to demonstrate their skills? Perhaps even spar? We rarely get to test ourselves against outsiders. It would be… educational."
Puck, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. "Is that even allowed?"
"Certainly," Suli replied with a confident smile.
Padmé sensed the undercurrent immediately. The timing of this "casual" walk coinciding with training hours was no coincidence. Neither was Suli's sudden appearance, nor the growing number of courtiers gathering on the balcony. A subtle show of force. Challenging a clone rather than Dittmar directly avoided outright insult, but a loss would still sting.
"Why not?" Puck said, rolling his shoulders. "Let's see what your best can do."
**Scene 2: The Training Square**
The five Yovshin swordsmen — Suli Tching at the apex and four elite warriors — leaped onto the raised stone platform, fifty meters by fifty meters, exactly one cubit high. All except Suli donned helmets. Puck drew his beskar sword, testing its balance with a casual flick.
"Do you fight with more than just lightsabers?" Emperor Dze-Dze Tching asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.
"Of course," Dittmar replied smoothly. "While the lightsaber remains a symbol of the Jedi, we train extensively with other weapons as well."
The gong sounded.
Padmé could barely follow the blur of motion. The Yovshin moved like a single organism — a triangle formation with Suli at the point, their dual blades weaving intricate, lethal patterns. They struck with perfect coordination, testing Puck from multiple angles at once.
Puck, however, had been forged in Dagon Marek's crucible. The new training regimens for Alpha-class ARC troopers had pushed them far beyond standard Republic special forces. He flowed like mist.
**Mist Breathing, Second Form: Eight-Layered Mist.**
Eight slashes erupted in rapid succession — precise, economical, and devastating. The first two disarmed two warriors, sending their blades spinning away. The next three forced Suli into a desperate defensive spin. The final three strikes disarmed the remaining opponents in a whirlwind of steel and sparks. All five Yovshin swordsmen stood stunned, empty-handed, within seconds.
The square fell silent.
Puck lowered his beskar sword and offered a respectful nod. "Good form. Your coordination is excellent. In a real battle, that triangle would be deadly."
Suli Tching removed her helmet, breathing hard but smiling with genuine respect. "Impressive. Very impressive."
**Scene 3: Balcony Overlook – Post-Duel**
"That was an impressive display," Prime Minister Seseg Dorma said as the group returned to the balcony. "Your clone certainly possesses great skill."
"If we are being honest," Dittmar replied, "he is Alpha-class. One of one hundred elite clones bred and trained to the highest standard. He has also fought in more close-quarters campaigns alongside Supreme Commander Marek than most. The result is… expected."
The atmosphere had shifted. The subtle test had backfired in the Commonwealth's favor — it showcased Republic martial excellence rather than exposing weakness. Prime Minister Dorma seemed to recognize this.
"We are willing to adhere to the original agreement," she said carefully, "and even provide additional support… in exchange for a few things we believe you can help us with."
Dittmar inclined his head. "We are listening."
"We understand the Hapes Consortium has joined the Confederacy," Dorma continued. "We are not friendly with them due to ancient history. Pirates and Artisans have never mixed well. Their expansionist tendencies have long threatened our borders."
Dittmar's eyes sharpened. "You want us, after we crush Hapes and the Separatists, to grant the Commonwealth some of their planets."
The Prime Minister nodded once.
"In that case," Dittmar said measuredly, "apart from access to your cloning technology, some of your shipyards would not hurt. Supreme Commander Marek will need every industrial advantage he can secure for the coming storm."
A long silence stretched across the balcony. The Yovshin warriors below had resumed training, their movements sharper now, as if inspired by the earlier defeat.
Seseg Dorma exchanged a glance with Advisor Ma Yulong and the Imperial siblings before replying.
"Your request is bold… but not unreasonable. We will deliberate. The Commonwealth has remained isolated for good reason, but the galaxy is changing. The Demon of the Shield — your Dagon Marek — may yet force even us to adapt."
Padmé watched the exchange closely. The duel had been theater, but the real negotiations had only just begun. Hapes territory as future compensation. Cloners. Shipyards. In exchange for limited diplomatic ties and future neutrality clauses.
She could already imagine the Senate debates awaiting them on Coruscant. But if this succeeded, the Republic would gain access to one of the galaxy's oldest and most disciplined military traditions — exactly what they needed to survive *Spear of Light*.
As the sun set over Kitel-Fard, painting the monumental palace in golden light, Padmé allowed herself a small, cautious hope.
The Dragon's web was spreading. Even here, in this ancient stronghold of isolation, the war was beginning to reshape old certainties.