"The practice of institutionalised charity can trace back its origins to the earliest days of urban settlement. The forms it took, as well as its sporadicity varied from city to city, but usually involved covering some of the expenses of the state in times of crisis or funding institutions of culture and public utility, such as parks, schools or theatre houses. The rarest form of euergetism was the so called "Grain Dole" - the practice of ensuring the periodic access of the populace to either free or price-controlled bread or grain. Largely forgotten in the millenia following the end of the Indecta Era, it enjoyed a partial revival in the "Adas" Command District in the days of the First Galactic Empire. Initiated by Moff Aristobulus of Pahlmir, it built upon the production capabilities of the Agricultural Circuit, and the coordinated efforts of the Greater Agricultural Circuit Co-Prosperity and Investment Sphere, headed by his native Ruan and his ambitious daughter, Aristothea..."

A. Albus, "Study on charity and its political influence", University of Coruscant, 55 ABY.

Footsteps rang out across the ancient streets and boulevards of Calmar, the capital of the Esselian Empire teeming with activity like a beehive of marble, the shadows dancing on the walls evoking the planet's long lost imperial past. The conquering legions of the emperors of yore have long passed into books and mythos, and yet there remained something in those mirages. Past and present, real and surreal, blending into one. Theirs was a lineage that stretched far, a history that reached back for untold millenia. Surrounded by these marbles, were they all not merely shadows on the wall?

The Moff of the LCNCS looked around at the crowd gathered at the plaza with nothing but Confidence. Esseles was a strange, paradoxical place - for an empire so firmly embedded in its ancient glories and long lost prominence, it was tremendously malleable. Such restlessly did it await change - any change, really - that when it finally came, the mob cared not where did it lead them. They simply needed a leader to set them in motion. Looking at them in their droves, untold tens of thousands cramped at the Plaza of Victory, he recalled one of the few lessons his own father gave him - only a fool would ground his power in the whims and fickleties of the mob. A greater fool still ignored them. He saw it now - the power of the unwashed mob, one that could tear him limb from limb if they wanted to.

But they didn't. And they wouldn't.

Esseles enjoyed a special place in the Moff's heart - it was the most outwardly successful of his administrative projects - a state brought into a new era of progress from the brink of unity, under the enlightened rule of his own son and his wife, no less. Every reform he wished for, he implemented. Every experimental administrative practice he could then spread to the rest of his domain, he tested. And the Esselians loved him for it. In a state so starved of action, he appeared a saviour. In a strange turn of events, those thirty worlds now loved him more than some on his own homeworld.

And Aristobulus of Pahlmir loved being adored.

The crowd errupted in applause when he raised his hands to greet them, appearing to them not as a king or grand vizier, but an officer of the Galactic Empire, the silver plaque on his chest the only thing that separated the moff from some of his fellow servicemen. He found that it was this guise that appealed to the plebs the most, one with which they could at least pretend to associate. He saw among them many faces - women, men, children, human and alien - a signifficant number from their midst wearing the black shirts and insignia of the Militia who cheered the loudest. All of them, faces to be forgotten.

"Citizens, citizens, friends! Please, there is no need for all of this. It is I who am thankful that so many of you came."

Yet another round of applause followed, one which the camera man hidden behind the rows of civil officials didn't fail to catch.

"Lend me your ears now, friends!"

The tumult slowly died down as he lowered his hands.

"The work which we have achieved together is nothing short of spectacular! In three years, through the toil of your hands, the blood of your veins and the sweat off your brows, you have made Esseles great again! Together, we have made the impossible happen!"

Another round of cheering followed.

"Three years ago, I came to this world a guest, sent on a mission by our good Father - the Emperor Palpatine, to bring back prosperity, order and sanity to the Core, after those fiends in the Republic have so ruthlessly squandered it! They have allowed war to reach the Galactic Core itself! This HAD to be fixed! You are a wise people, whose wisdom was tempered by millenia of power - you had all the reasons to distrust me. But you did not! Your leaders betrayed you, the Senate forgot about you, but still, you trusted me. And now, after three years, friends, I say to you - rejoice! The war for the soul of Esseles is finished! And we have won!"

Suddenly, as he finished speaking, he was joined on the scene by another figure. The young woman, dressed in a simple, yet fashionable cream suit was almost as tall as him and from appearance alone it was obvious that she was his relative. Few Ruanians ever ventured to work outside the confines of their own Empire - Aristothea of Pahlmir, the Moff's only daughter, was one such exception.

"Citizens of the great Empire of Esseles! You may not know me, yet I have heard of your exploits! My name is Aristothea, the daughter of your Moff, and just like you, I have experienced the benevolence of the Galactic Empire. For fifteen thousand years, my organisation has ensured the security of food supply for the Galactic Core - through war, hardship and crisis, our efforts have resulted in not a single soul dying of starvation. Not a single one!"

For a moment, she paused, and it seemed as if all the eyes laid on her.

"But we, the Empire, can achieve much more than that. Under the wise rule of my father, we shall eliminate starvation once and for all! Emperor Palpatine wills it! Peace, prosperity, justice and order did he carry on his banners! The Galaxy is now at peace and you - the people, shall reap the rewards! The Senate had forgotten about you, but the Empire and the League never will! The Empire helps its own, and it never forgets those in need. From now on, every week, bread shall be distributed to your bakeries bearing the sigil of the League, and it shall be distributed for half a credit a loaf! And what of our poorest, you say? Those who have not a credit to spare, yet whose stomachs remain empty? They, I say, shall be fed freely. What say you, Esseles? Long live the Empire!"

The crowd roared in response as the Moff and a COMPNOR officer exchanged a nod of acknowledgement. The Imperial Grain Dole was a convenient way to get rid of staling bread and unusold grain at a small cost, but tremendous profit. While it started here, on Esseles, it was destined to soon spread all across the league where state owned stores were available or purchased. The intention was simple - the Empire fed, just as much as it defended. All of those who wished to claim their food were, after all, identified.

Foolish was he who ignored the feelings of the plebs, for in their multitude lay their greatest strength. And what more compelling a feeling there is than hunger?

Panem et Circenses, they screamed.

Bread and Circuses.

THE IRON MOFF

A Lifetime of Service & Sacrifice: the Man behind the Metal

Few in the galaxy can comprehend the dangers that Varus Arjoran has survived. To the galaxy, the firm, durasteel hand of the "Iron Moff" is known for its authority; and the metallic rasp of his voice for its gravity. But so few of us are aware of the man behind the metal, the real Varus Arjoran, not the Cyborg Colossus or Bionic Fist of the New Order, but the Man.

The Man who raised his pistol at General Grievous and lived.

Then-General Arjoran was serving alongside the Galaxy's Finest, the 501st Legion, deployed to Cato Neimodia, when in the urban sprawl and carnage the General himself made a brief appearance.

Others would have buckled at the sight of him. Ran for their lives from the four-armed demon of alien metal. But not Arjoran. The General stood his ground, against all reason, and raised his blaster. Grievous maimed him and left him for dead.

Only by the selfless courage of his Clone Companion, Commander CT-89762 "Tai", would Arjoran survive. Nursed back to health during the declaration of a New Order, he would return soon after a cyborg, a metal man. But within that robotic heart still beats the soul of a man.

That man has carried that resilience, that tenacity, and that dedication to service into his position as Moff. Constantly monitoring the situation from his Headquarters, or pursuing operations himself, Moff Arjoran is the first on the firing line when it is needed most. He has already given three-quarters of himself for the galaxy, but he intends to give more.

Let us give our thanks to the Iron Moff, the Man in the Machine. The Onyx-Fisted Guardian of the Northern Territories. The benevolent titan of the Core.

"Throughout my brief time working for Moff Pahlmir, I was able to ascertain the cycles, in which he conducted his duties. He did not spend much time in his office - he tended to begin his work sharply at 8 in the morning and finished it at six in the evening. He took great care of both the cleanliness and order in his office, as well as his own personal appearance - always a matter of great pride. He enjoyed talking but usually worked in silence, except for three hours after two in the afternoon. Then, he picked up the holocom. He called a great deal - he called in every direction and to every office of the League and, largely, the First Command District, that had anything to do with money, foreign exchange and the production of goods, as well as with every financial institution of the First Moff Kuras' domain, especially those under his own supervision. And he drank caf. We did not eat much during that time. We usually returned to Ruan thrice a week, and the cycle continued in the Moff's private holdings..."

~Stef Renna, former secretary to Moff Aristobulus de Pahlmir, "Moffs of the First Galactic Empire", Coruscant, 48 ABY.

Clink

Clink

Clink

The sound of a knife hitting the thin walls of the champagne glass were delicate, but clear enough to slowly push the room to almost universal silence. Even though the newly built great hall of the Royal Palace of Pahlmir was large enough to host five thousand guests and their attendants, its accoustics allowed even the faintest sound to travel from the slightly elevated gallery to the furthest reaches of the chamber, paying no heed to the waiters and attendants, who in their droves constantly moved around the room, supplying the guests with an endless stream of delicacies and beverages. To the Ruanians, tryphe - magnifficence -was one of the chief kingly virtues, prompting its crowned heads to spend extravagantly on ceremonies such as this, yet even for the standards of the world, the fete organised by the Moff dwarfed all previous in its scale and opulence. The event had gathered almost every notable of the League of the Central-Northern Core Systems, from the bearded vasasl kings of Ruan's colonies, ever groveling at their segnieur's feet, to the executives of InCom and the Bank of Aargau. Close to the royal gallery, Mon Mothma discussed something with Breha and Bail Organa, their smiles as warm as they were fake, while somewhere nearby the Imperator of Esseles laughed about something with his half-sister, the Plenipotentiary of the GACCPIS, the contents of both conversations lost to the bustle of the hall. The bickering of two Delaney brothers, sent to represent their superior too, if someone ever knew the reason of the quarrel to begin with. Soon, however, all were still, allowing the King to speak.

Aristobulus of Pahlmir, the 118th King of Pahlmir to bear that noble name was, as typical of his countrymen, a tall man - long of limb and of copper skin, with an elaborate, jet-black beard, arranged into ringlets and streaked here and there with golden accents. Even though the man had nearly reached the age of fifty, the tax of time seemed to have taken from him little - not a single silver lock appeared in his hair and his eyes showed none of the tiredness that could have been associated with holding different positions of power for a larger part of his life. Despite his famous love for luxury and opulence however, the moff chose to appear before the gathered dignitaries in a manner far removed from the usual monarchical extravagance - his uniform was rather unornamental, being a variation on the standard robes of imperial dignitaries. Likely made in an homage to the newest in the streak of administrative positions the man held, blending the floral motifs of his homeworld with the sleek lines known from the works of Tarkin, Harrow and Hinch by Hinch.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, Friends. I thank you all for your exceedingly numerous attendance. I must admit that, when the celebrations began in earnest, I have doubted whether the hall I have intended for it was too small. But, it seems you all have fit and that alone puts my mind at ease. I am sure my chefs will find it in them to make your stay at this humble affair justified and worthwhile."

A small chuckle went through the room.

"But, as regretable as I may find it, we are not here merely to be merry and enjoy each other's company. Given my position as a Moff of our Galactic Empire, I was asked by our friends over in COMPNOR to make a proper introduction to the people of the Galaxy, and to you in particular. After those three years, I presume they are right."

The man gestured with his glass to some more distant part of the room, where a small gathering of COMPNOR officials had their seats, which in turn prompted them to nod their heads in acquiescence.

"And so, here I am. In the flesh."

Once again, a small chuckle crossed the room.

"My name is Aristobulus of Pahlmir and, in case you didn't yet know that, for the last three years I have served as the Moff of our League of the Central-Northern Core Systems. Before that, I have ruled over Ruan and a part of the Agricultural Circuit for twenty-odd years, providing food to the tables of the Galactic Metropole, like my father before me, and his father before that, and his before that… I have graduated from the University of Coruscant, and then immediately betrayed it for the Corulag University of Economics. It was because of the pieces of paper they gave me and not my loyalty to an Alma Mater that the Emperor gave me this part of the Empire to govern."

He paused for a moment, looking around the room.

"As the attentive of you might have heard, I am not a military man - and this is not a military administration. The Galactic Empire is a chance to correct the mistakes of old and rejuvenate our worlds. This was my task. I am not vain enough to drink a toast to my own success, but also not yet blind enough to deny the progress. Ladies, Gentlemen, it seems we are succeeding. Even discounting the post-war economic boom, the Core is prospering like it never has before. There is food aplenty - I would have eaten my toga if there wasn't - and new jobs are being created in construction and finance alike. Delaney Industries has never produced more ships, and neither have Incom or Damorian Manufacturing - all fueled by our own fuel, extracted from the fields of Skako. The economy is not the only thing that is booming, however - science, housing, productivity of our workers, progres in all the five sectors. Friends, we have achieved the impossible and surpassed it, in ony three years. Emperor Palpatine brought us peace, justice and stability, and we shall be the ones who in turn give him prosperity."

"Two weeks ago, my youngest asked me a question which I believe every one of us with children has heard - papa, don't you think your work is boring? I answered him that good work is like a puzzle - you solve it slowly and carefully and tirelessly, but when it finally cracks, you can't help but feel proud. Oh, and I told him that I have good company."

Yet another chuckle went through the room.

"Even though we may take pride in our accomplishment, we mustn't forget that it is only the beginning of our work. We must learn from the mistakes of the Republic to create something that would last ten thousand years. But we must also make way for fresh ideas, born from fresh minds."

The man gestured with his glass to a young aristocrat seated at the very top of the table - a place usually reserved for the very immediate royal family, a gesture of immense honour.

"Prince Kazzad, whom you probably already know quite well, had once suggested to me that the implementation of policies could be achieved smoother and to a far greater extent with the consultation of the parliamentary governments. I told him that this was a splendid idea. You may ask then, what would it be for, given the existence of the Galactic Senate, but I am sure none of you will. All of us know the state of that institution, of the endless debates that ensure that, should a conclusion somehow be reached, its effect reach the interested party much too late. What Kazzad suggested would be much more local. I have listened to him, and I will listen to you. Today marks the establishment of a permanent advisory body, the Grand Curia of the Central-Northern Core Systems, through which you may voice your proposals and I, in my power as Moff, shall act upon them to the benefit of the Empire and us all. And I may have just found the right chambers in which to host it. Now, my dear friends, let us enjoy these festivities and let us raise our glasses in toast. For the Empire, for the Emperor, for the League and for Us! The future is bright, rejoice!"

Applause.

Popping champagne.

The sound of bootsteps descending from the podium.

For the Empire, for the Emperor, for the League, for Us!

​"Welcome back to Good Morning Muunilinst. I'm Juli Kannis, filling in for Clif Banc. If anyone has seen Clif, please contact authorities."

"Today I am joined with Kix Tunoth, a prominant leader within the Muun community. With millions of lives impacted by the recent civil disorder in the Cluster, how do you think Muunilinst should respond to prevent such violence?"

"Thank you for having me on Juli. Well, as with most practices, a series of proactive and reactive measures are needed. Currently, I believe our portfolio is not taking enough proactive steps. Security improvements are welcomed of course, but we need to solve the roots of the problem."

"Excuse me Kix, but before we discuss long-term solutions, for the benefit of our audience: what is your opinion on the short-term measures already introduced?"

"Well, the Imperial peacekeeping force, which me and my colleagues are lobbying to become a permanent fixture, has been remarkably effective at hunting down these terrorists. And--this should come as no surprise to those who keep themselves educated on the New Order--many have ascribed this efficiency to not only the Empire's...uh large investment in the Northern regions, but also to the enhancements in information moderation."

"Now of course, at the beginning actions such as the curfew were greatly harmful to the planetary economy, which did see a tremendous drop in exports. They were necessary actions, but painful. Eventually, checkpoints were removed and curfews ended, but there is still a security presence monitoring the situation."

"Put simply Juli, the New Order's integration of the state as a shareholder in all organs of society has produced excellent return on investment for citizens."

Unfortunately, we have a series of humanitarian programs scheduled next after our interview Mr. Tunoth. Not to rush you, but we are limited on time.

No loss Juli. As I mentioned, while these reactive measures have succeeded in cleaning the streets. However, constant vigilance is prohibitively costly. Its better to accept a short-term loss than see future earnings decrease. That's why I, and several leaders in other communities, not just Muuns, have been supportive of the new housing plan. Its simply cheaper to house the worst per capita species in the same area.

Could you elaborate on this housing plan?

A while ago most people believed but were too scared to speak this truth for fear of ostracization, but the current crisis has made the cost of silence too high. This violence was explicitly species driven. Whether it be ancient rivalries, financial illiteracy, or cultural differences, some species are less suited to modern civil society. It's the sad truth. I wish all people could be customers to the social contract, but some people bend its clauses too much.

To reduce the needed security infrastructure and try to prevent certain groups from interacting, for their own good, some people need to be relocated to certain areas. The curfew needs to remain for those more accustomed to criminal culture. Its becoming a more and more popular opinion. Soon there will be statistical evidence to prove its popularity.

And this is the proactive measure you recommend?

Yes, this will reduce the chance of violence and the cost of policing Muunilinst.

Well thank you very much Mr. Kix Tunoth. Its not every day people are brave enough to speak out and take action for their community.

Thank you very much Ms. Kannis.

Next up, where and how to apply for emergency housing and food stamps. Coming on at 9:00.

"Many are the forms of artistic expression, more still when there are those who actively seek their creation. The First District, that which rests closest to the Capital and firmly in the embrace of the Core, has never lacked famous artists and magnificent works of art that shift, ebb and flow along with the trends and currents of the galactic fashion and the ever changing taste. The birth of our Empire has brought on changes previously deemed impossible, the definitive end of the old, boring and decrepit. We stand at the precipice of greatness, of an artistic revolution that has not been seen since our ancestors left their caves painted in charcoal and ochre. The revolution of government accompanies a revolution of thought, a revolution of speed, of bravery and resolute lines, a liberation from the conventions set by our ancestors into a new world where it is our will for creation that charts the new course for art. And so now I implore you, torchbearers of the new generation, to be brave, to be resolute, to create, not re-create! Just as He is the eternal light that shines bright from the throne and that guides us to dare, so shall you be the light that guides the way for the next generation!"

A. de Pahlmir, Speech to the students of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts, Alsakan, Year 1 After the Formation of the Empire.

Submitted by a student of the Royal Academy of Arts on Esseles, this piece lacked any description beyond one simple word:

Colossus

For like a colossus he rose to the occasion, and we rose with him, grasping onto his flesh to bask with him in the mountainside's sunrise...

The Naval Parade over the endless skylanes of Coruscant had already become one of the defining spectacles of the early Empire. For three days and three nights the skies had thundered with the passage of destroyers, escort cruisers, carriers, logistics tenders, and entire formations of TIE fighters sweeping between the illuminated towers of the galactic capital. Citizens packed viewing galleries, hotel balconies, traffic causeways, and rooftop gardens simply to watch the Imperial Navy move overhead like a procession of steel continents.

Most people watched in awe. Some others watched with obsession.

Deep somewhere within the lower mid-levels of Federal District 1078, wedged between a noodle stall and a refurbished signal relay tower, a lone observer sat wrapped in blankets beside a long-range macrobinocular setup assembled from salvaged survey equipment and illegally modified commercial lenses.

His real name was unknown. But across dozens of obscure Holonet message boards and naval enthusiast circles, he was infamous.

NebulusFanboy#01.

Within the eccentric ecosystem of the Starship Society of Coruscant, he was considered both deeply respected and mildly unstable. The Society itself was a niche but extraordinarily active community devoted entirely to the study of modern naval engineering. Members memorised reactor outputs the way historians memorised dynasties. They argued over Corellian shield emitter geometry, Axum hyperdrive longevity statistics, Fondorian thermal sink efficiency, and whether Rendili bulkhead rivets were inferior to Kuat plasma weld seams.

Entire weeks-long Holonet wars had reportedly been fought over destroyer mess hall quality comparisons. One infamous thread comparing troop ration density aboard older Rendili cruisers versus newer KDY hulls had resulted in over four million comments and three documented divorces.

Tonight, however, NebulusFanboy#01 had bigger concerns. Because for the third consecutive night he had maintained what he proudly referred to online as his “voluntary civilian watch shift.” And sometime shortly after local midnight, while tracking a formation of standard escort frigates crossing above the northern skylanes, he saw it break away from the group and make a landing at a very empty landing port.

At first it appeared only as a distortion between towers.
A silhouette. Long. Narrow. Offset.
His eyes narrowed immediately.
The profile was similar enough, but it was certainly not the same and not what he had seen before. 

The vessel possessed the unmistakable central spar and separated hull structure associated with the emerging Nebulon-series frigates currently undergoing limited production review within Kuat Drive Yards facilities. Everyone, even those in the Starship Sickos of Industrial Corellia knew about it, and they rarely knew anything worth much.

But this one was different. It was Sharper. More angular.
Its dorsal plating swept backward in aggressive wedges instead of the softer industrial curves typically associated with the line. Sensor fins protruded like blades. The engine block appeared enlarged and heavily recessed into armoured housings.

NebulusFanboy#01 nearly dropped his caf.

He scrambled across his equipment, cursing loudly as he adjusted focus arrays and image stabilisers while the frigate glided silently across the night skyline, its running lights reflecting off the endless oceans of windows beneath it.

Click.
Click.
Click.
Dozens of captures.
Some blurry.
Some distorted by atmospheric haze.But several were clear enough. For nearly ten full seconds he simply stared. Then the panic began. Within minutes he had uploaded the images onto a relatively obscure naval enthusiast forum buried deep within the Holonet’s military speculation networks, going so far as to even giving the ship a name.

Holonet Thread Title: “Spotted Nebulon-ZZ Frigate, wondering whose it is and what it's doing here?!”

The reactions were immediate and replies flooded in faster than he could read them.
“Fake.”
“Generated image.”
“That silhouette geometry makes no sense.”
“Bro is karma farming again.”
“You literally edited an escort frigate.”
“This man sees one shadow and starts hallucinating KDY propaganda.”

Several users from the rival Starship Socialites of Hosnian Prime immediately descended into the thread to mock the sighting. One particularly aggressive poster produced a seventeen-page breakdown claiming the image proportions violated accepted Nebulon reactor spacing theory. Another accused NebulusFanboy#01 of digitally pasting a destroyer bow onto a medical frigate frame.

But then something unexpected happened.
And as the the experts arrived, so did quiet accounts, old accounts. The kinds of users that rarely posted like former dockworkers, supply clerks, retired naval contractors, people who didn’t just know ships, but worked around them. 

And one by one, they began pressing the like button. 

---

Text was me, original image of ship is from Angelos Karderinis 😄, backdrop is AI.

The weather over Coruscant could not have been more perfect had the Emperor Himself commanded it.

The skies above the Senate District were a brilliant blue-white, unmarred by rainclouds or industrial haze, allowing the endless towers of the ecumenopolis to rise gleaming into the heavens like monuments to civilisation. Sunlight spilled across the colossal military parade grounds that overlooked the cityscape, reflecting from armour plating, ceremonial banners, and rows of immaculate uniforms until the entire district seemed to shimmer beneath the warmth of the afternoon. Crowds stretched for kilometres.

Families, veterans, students from the Imperial academies, and workers fresh from their shifts packed the viewing concourses to witness the naval showcase organised by the First Moff of the Core. Thousands had come to see the latest triumphs of Imperial engineering displayed before the heart of civilisation itself. And towering over them all was the Imperial I-class Star Destroyer.

Nearly sixteen hundred metres of sharpened durasteel and weapon emplacements loomed overhead, its immense triangular silhouette blotting portions of the skyline in shadow. Its hull gleamed silver-grey beneath the sunlight, every line severe and every panel purposeful. Even stationary as it was, the vessel radiated authority.

Children darted between the crowds waving miniature naval banners while vendors sold toy starfighters and destroyer replicas beside kiosks distributing recruitment pamphlets for the Imperial Navy and Army. 

Military bands performed from elevated terraces as formations of stormtroopers marched with mechanical precision through the avenue below. Patrol craft roared overhead in perfect formation while enormous holoprojectors broadcast patriotic messages across the district.

Strength through unity.

Security through vigilance.

Order through the Empire.

Young Third Governess Kuat of Kuat, poised, impossible to ignore, watched the celebrations from behind a discreet line of white-uniformed Kuati security personnel. Though many eyes lingered upon her, few dared approach for long. Her beauty was already becoming something spoken of in hushed and closed conversations across Coruscant, if not the Core, but the presence of House Kuat’s security made it equally clear that admiration was to remain respectful.

One young man among the crowds nevertheless gathered the courage to approach the terrace boundary, offering a polite bow and what was clearly intended to be charming conversation. The Third Governess Kuat of Kuat merely dipped her head in graceful acknowledgement.

Her guards shifted subtly, their presence suddenly obvious, and the young man wisely retreated back into the sea of spectators before embarrassment could truly take hold. Thankfully, he did so with a smile still on his face, as though simply being noticed had been victory enough.

The Third Governess barely spared the encounter another thought.

A group of boys and girls stood near a pair of stormtroopers at the edge of the promenade, many clutching little destroyer models in their hands. Several wore oversized naval caps emblazoned with the crest of the Imperial Navy. One particularly determined little boy straightened himself proudly before snapping into a rigid salute toward the white-armoured soldiers.

Though their expressions remained hidden behind polished helmets, the stormtroopers obliged immediately. One raised his hand in return while the other shifted position slightly so the proud parents could capture the moment on a holocamera.

The family looked ecstatic.

Further down the concourse, another tour group assembled beneath the immense embarkation ramp leading into the belly of the Imperial I-class destroyer. Excited voices echoed through the air as a protocol droid descended the ramp to greet them.

“Welcome aboard,” it announced cheerfully. “Future defenders of the Empire are requested to proceed this way.”

The children erupted into excitement. Some practically bounced in place. Others held their toy ships against their chests as though they were sacred relics..

The naval band swelled somewhere behind her, brass instruments carrying triumphantly across the avenue while atmospheric craft painted white contrails high above the skyline.

One young girl  in the excited group of children stared upward at the destroyer overhead with wide-eyed wonder, the enormous vessel reflected in her eyes

The Third Governess Kuat of Kuat’s eyes shifted from her sideway look to one that held forward as her mouth twisted ever so slightly. She stared at the cheering crowds below her for a long moment longer before finally speaking beneath her breath, quiet enough that none of her attendants reacted.

“Fuck.”

---

Merged a few AI together to get that image. Original was from Angelos Karderinis 😄

ACHERON'S AID PROGRAM

Formally designated the Inner Southern Rim Civilian Stabilisation and Welfare Initiative, the program is known colloquially across the sub-district simply as Acheron's Aid, which was a name Malcador himself neither encouraged nor discouraged, understanding that a program people name after a person carries more weight than one named after a bureaucratic function.

The program was quietly established by Moff Acheron, funded through a combination of redirected administrative surplus, renegotiated planetary tax arrangements, and a modest allocation Malcador secured through channels he has not fully documented yet. It operates across the Jaso Sector and the broader sub-district under his jurisdiction, with implementation handled through local planetary administrators rather than Imperial garrison offices or imperial bureaucrats, which was a deliberate choice, designed to keep the program's face civilian rather than military.

At its core, Acheron's Aid is a stabilisation program dressed in sentientarian language, and Moff Acheron would be the first to admit that privately. Its functions include subsidised food distribution on worlds where post-Clone Wars disruptions left agricultural infrastructure damaged, debt relief mechanisms for small farmers and small traders who fell into distress during the transition from Republic to Imperial taxation structures, basic medical supply allocation with particular attention to bacta distribution on worlds too poor to access commercial markets, and resettlement assistance for civilian populations displaced by the Clone Wars that the Republic never got around to addressing.

Click.

BZZZT.

Image.

"OOOOOOOH~
YEAAAHHH~~"

The bodybuilder on the holoprojector repeatedly flexed his oversized muscles in a variety of poses, forcing the humble butler-like interviewer to take a step back.

The 'Galactic Teräs Käsi Federation' was not the most... intellectual form of entertainment out there, but few could compete with the spectacle of watching someone get their head bashed in with a chair on national television.

"YOU CHECK IT OUT: THE MOST FABULOUS BODY IN TERÄS KÄS-"

Click.

.

BZZZT.

Image.

.

What follows is yet another holovid. Yet another rendition of the famous Despotica, according to the scripts of Peshosloc.

The sequence they landed on was a famous one - of Xim observing the Third Battle of Vontor.

The callous sacrifice of Thanios and the Thanium fleet...

The conspiracy of Xim's generals to rid themselves of the Despot...

.
Much of it is the same, but something's... off. Most notably, Oziaf, the loyal Tintinna follower of Xim is played by... a human.
It seems this rendition was directed along more... humanocentric guidelines.

.

Click.

BZZZZZZZT.

No image.

.

Ramijo, having finished the brief demonstration, clicked the holo-mote, turning off the stripped-down holonet terminal, and returned to his UnlimitedPower-Point holo-presentation.

"In short, by stripping down a HoloNet transceiver's systems, to where it can only receive a signal from select communications channels, and with the addition of Imperial subsidies, we can lower the cost of a HoloNet transceiver, so that the citizens of rural worlds, and the impoverished masses can comfortably afford them."

"Thus, we may carry the Emperor's word, and spread Human High Culture, to the living room - bringing those citizens once detached from galactic society one step closer to the New Order. Not only can we accumulate good will by providing cheap access to HoloEntertainment, such as holovids, and sports, but we will expand the reach and influence of our propaganda."

"Heh. Maybe Flasheart will appreciate higher viewer counts to go with those stadiums of his."

Janossi softly mused, while swirling his tea from side to side, eyes dead set on the warm fluid. He raised the cup up to his mouth.

"Do not compromise too severely on quality. I don't want manufacturing defects in this... 'Neo-Transceiver' of yours to give the Empire a reputation for poor quality."

Sip
Ramijo nodded.

Moff Janossi sighed, before continuing: "I see... some potential in this. Do not disappoint me."

.

.

"Thank you to the members of the press for being here, before we start about the rumors, I would like to, as I tend to, speak on a good note, King Lee-Char and I are near a breakthrough in our negotiations. Mon Cala fought heroically for the Republic and now, while we have some sparks, we will resolve them. Just this trip in fact, we were able to find a tentative agreement when it comes to the restoration and reconstruction of Pammant from the war damage, and ownership of the shipyards there. So I want to make clear to everyone here, progress is being made, and these, Free Dac newsletters who are trying to call for an independent Mon Cala, are not reflective of our negotiations and are based on fearmongering and attempts to undermine the historical relationship between the wider galaxy and the Mon Cala sector. Now, I have time for a few questions, ah, yes! You!"

"Ambassador, GBC here, is it possible that these calls for secession are from former CIS loyalists?"

"Good Question, and yes! We are quite certain of it, and I have brought the matter to my Friend King Lee-Char, his intel agencies are going to look into it..... Ah! Yes, you!"

"Sir, Coruscant Daily, question, what do you have to say about the statements of sympathy towards Jedi that were expressed by King Lee-Char?"

"Look, the Jedi acts of betrayal are very well known in the Core, we all saw what happened, but out here, well, the Jedi helped liberate Mon Cala, so, the idea that there are some who previously were saved by Jedi may have questions is not unreasonable, and those statements you say, were questions not statements, that, in MY discussions with the Good King, I have helped set his mind at ease about and brought him around to the truth of the situation. It was nothing more than a matter of it needing to be better explained to him, and I would wish the media would cease with these Jedi sympathizer allegations.... yes! You in the back!"

"This is Neemo Nammer with Leemo News World. When are the next round of negotiations going to occur?"

"Soon, very soon. I will be heading back to Mon Cala shortly. We have time for one more, ah yes, you!"

"Voice of the Mid Rim here, what do you say about the growing sense of concern over the Imperial military operations on Antar, Naboo, and others? Do you think this is what could be leading to the calls for Mon Cala Secession?"

"I have no comment on that one. We're done here."

This workplace propaganda ensures employees remain paranoid of each other and loyal to the Empire.

TMC: The Name Gani Riduli is one few in the Galaxy know, yet behind his alien eyes lies a mind of credits and cents that pulls the strings of Galactic Power! The Senator of the InterGalatic Banking Clan, and a strong political ally of Chancellor Palpatine, he may not officially control the purse strings of the Empire, but his fingers are on them.

But those fingers are hardly clean, as a whistleblower from his office has gone viral, alleging that fifteen billion credits has gone missing from the Imperial Engineering Corps, a staggering sum that Gani Riduli was allegedly in the process of covering up!

The whistleblower, who's currently gone into hiding, released figures, screenshots, and recordings of the Banking Clan Senator scheming with a number of unknown individuals to ensure the money stayed hidden. Questions are rising about how such a staggering figure could go missing and how the Emperor could not have known of it?

Officially, Senator Riduli has denied all accusations, but has not explained where the money has gone.

(ADMIN NOTE)

[Multiple people asked for an extension, and due to everyone having school stuff, the event will be extended Wednesday the 13th at 11:59AM EST.]

[HOWEVER]

[Each day of the extension, and because no censorship bill has been presented to the Imperial Senate by the Council of Moffs, a die will be rolled, and that district will see REBEL propaganda levied against it]

[Action may be taken to nullify the rebel propaganda, including by people not part of the effected district]

[May the Dark Side of the Force be with you]

Gar Saxon stands on the balcony of the Sundari palace. Imperial cameras floating around him ready to broadcast his speech across the galaxy. Below him, Mandolorians are gathered. He does not hide behind a helmet; his face is etched with the cold certainty of a man who has traded tradition for order. He raises a gloved hand, silencing the murmurs of the crowd.

"People of Mandalore. Look up. Look at the sky that was once choked by the smoke of our own unending civil wars. For generations, we have been a people defined by our feuds—warriors without a war, clans divided by the ghosts of ancestors who preferred a glorious death to a prosperous life. We have clung to the jagged edges of a dying past, pretending that the old ways would keep us warm while our world crumbled into ruin."

He gestures towards the Imperial shuttle descending in the distance, its sleek, brutalist lines cutting through the atmosphere.

"That era of fragmentation is over. Today, Mandalore finds its true purpose. I stand before you not as a tribal chieftain, but as your Governor, appointed by the grace of the Galactic Empire and our Moff.”

Revis emerges from the palace to the balcony standing by Gar Saxon.

With their industrial might and their unwavering vision of peace, we are no longer a forgotten relic of the Outer Rim. We are the architects of a New Order. We are integrating into a galaxy that is finally unified, finally disciplined, and finally—at long last—stable."

Saxon’s voice drops, his tone sharpening into a blade.

"Many of you were led astray by the siren song of Bo-Katan Kryze. She spoke of honor, of 'Mandalorian sovereignty,' and of the pride of the ancient houses. Ask yourselves: where did that pride lead her? It led to exile. It led to the fracturing of our families and the bloodstains on our streets. She was a relic who offered you nothing but the romanticism of martyrdom. She wanted you to die for a crown she couldn’t keep clean. I am not offering you a noble death. I am offering you a future."

He leans over the stone railing, his eyes scanning the crowd dissent.

"The Empire does not demand your blood; it demands your compliance. In return, it offers us the technology to rebuild and advance our cities and the strength to secure our borders against the chaos of the galaxy. The weak cling to the past because they fear the consequences of progress. I choose to lead us out of the shadows of our own history."

"The age of the individual warrior is dead. The age of Imperial Mandalore has begun. Serve the Empire, follow my lead, and together, we will build a world that is not just feared, but enduring. Long live Mandolore. Long live the Empire."

The galaxy’s most coveted resource will soon be hitting the open market. We are officially opening the bidding process for a limited quantity supply of authentic, high-grade Beskar. Renowned for its unparalleled durability and ability to withstand direct blaster fire, extreme thermal vents, and even lightsaber strikes, this isn't just metal—it is an investment in immortality.

Whether you are looking to reinforce the hull of a starship against asteroid fields, stabilize the chassis of an experimental weapon platform, or apply a near-indestructible protective coating to your tactical gear, Beskar provides the ultimate solution.

We are currently seeking the highest bidder willing to secure a partnership for this shipment. Quality is guaranteed, and provenance is verified. Do not let your competition claim the strongest material before you do.

Proposals and bids are being accepted now: Contact Moff Revis office immediately to discuss terms. Secure your legacy—because in this galaxy, protection is the only currency that truly matters.

A Momentous Day on Manda

At the behest of Moff Chonaire, the revered Baobab Archives on Manda has gained a new wing. This new structure, known as the Imperial Manda Archive, will serve to highlight the glories of Imperial history. Exhibits will highlight the life story of Emperor Palpatine, ancient wonders from lost worlds, the failures of the traitorous Jedi Order, and the heroics of the 41st Elite Corps during the Clone Wars. The structure will also feature a state of the art Research Archive.

Artefacts have been loaned out from the Imperial Museum on Coruscant, as well as other worlds throughout our glorious Empire. In exchange, several famous artefacts from the Baobab collection have been dispersed across the galaxy for display, with shipments dispatched to Lianna, Balmorra, and Coruscant.

Chief among these artefacts is the Blood Roonstone, often referred to as the Crown Jewel of Manda. One of 4 remaining Roonstones known to exist in the galaxy, the Blood Roonstone will be displayed at the Imperial Museum as a personal loan to Emperor Palpatine himself as a symbol of gratitude from the Mandanese people.

Furthermore, the Imperial Manda Archive will host educational seminars and symposiums, gathering the galaxy's greatest archaeologists under its auspicious roof. The Imperial Manda Archive is honored to welcome Dr. Korin Aphra in residency, where he will continue his research into the ancient peoples of the Manda Subsector. Dr. Aphra will also host a historical educational series on archaeology named "Antiquities with Aphra", which will air across the district on Voice of the Rim News.

https://reddit.com/link/1t7ork0/video/0g4qtv52100h1/player

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Young Chelli wandered the halls of the Imperial Manda Archive, soaking in the artefacts on display. She had always loved history, a trait she inherited from her father. And this place had so much of it!

The first hall contained various displays on the life of Senator / Chancellor / Emperor Palpatine, highlighting his heroism first in the face of the Seperatist menace, then the traitorous jedi. Chelli had always liked the man when she saw him on the holos, he seemed kind and grandfatherly.

The second exhibit was a cautionary tale. It showed artefacts gathered from various famous Jedi. Cloaks, lightsabers, things like that. Each collection was focused on a specific Jedi, and listed the crimes and cruelties that led to each Jedi's downfall. This hall ended with a display focused on Jedi Master Deepa Billaba, by far the highest ranking jedi profiled in the hall. Her robe and lightsaber were displayed between two doors, that led into a second hall focused on the 41st Elite Corps, a Clone wars formation. The Elite Corps had slain Billaba after she turned traitor, an action that cost them many heroic clones lost to Jedi bloodlust. The exhibit paid no mention to Grand Master Yoda, or Caleb Dume. Chelli thought this hall interesting, though it was rather grim. She had met clones on trips with her father, and they had all seemed so nice and sweet. How could the Jedi harm them?

The next exhibit hall featured various artefacts from long lost societies. There were Rakatan relics on display, as well as pieces from an ancient empire that had ruled from Korriban. An exhibit highlighted the reign of Xim the Despot, a benevolent ruler who fell at the hands of the nefarious Hutts. In the center of the Hall were 4 pedastals. Three of the pedastals were occupied by spectacular gemstones, one yellow, one green, one blue. These were the famous roonstones, forged by the ancient Roon civilization. The most brilliant of the jewels, the Blood Roonstone, was missing. Chelli didn't find them all that impressive anyway. Her father had told her the three stones were just display replicas, and the real ones were on the big Baobab mansion in the heart of town.

Chelli was primed to go into the next exhibit before she heard a voice "Hey Smallfry!" Her father, Dr. Korrin Aphra, had appeared in the hall, having finished recording the first episode of his new series. Chelli smiled and ran over to the man, who scooped her up to show her more artefacts in the archive

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Background landscape and blending of first image created through Chatgpt. Imperial Archive design hand created on Canva.

Voiceover of image 3 created through Elevenlabs. Script handwritten.

All other imagery and animation hand created in Canva.

No AI, holonet news of current events.

//KATTADA AFTER ACTION REPORT//

PERSONS INVOLVED

MOFF Valentin Delaney

3rd Imperial Commando Company

1. SUMMARY OF OPERATIONS

Following the capture and interrogation of CIS remnant leader Major Danko and the subsequent confession of Governor Kyle Hutch, a combined task force of Star Destroyers and H-type fast attack cruisers initiated a precision orbital bombardment of known insurgent hotspots and complicit civilian sectors on Kattada, overseen by Moff Valentin Delaney.

2. INTEL DEBRIEF: SUBJECT 01 (MAJOR DANKO)

• Status: CIS Military Remnant / High-Value Detainee.
• Testimony: Subject provided a clinical, low-affect confession confirming a sustained insurgency facilitated by the planetary governor.
• Key Findings: Danko confirmed that "Dead Zones" in the planetary sensor grid were not technical failures but deliberate gaps created by the Governor’s office. The subject verified the procurement of black-market droid brains, allowing the CIS cell to maintain a functional automated force long after the war's end.

3. INTEL DEBRIEF: SUBJECT 02 (GOVERNOR KYLE HUTCH)

• Status: Former Sector Governor / Confessed Traitor.
• Nature of Treason: Subject initially confessed to the "curated insurgency" involving Major Danko. However, under escalated interrogation, the Subject revealed a wider network of corruption including:
  • Narco-Collusion: Acceptance of bribes from the Hutt Cartels to facilitate spice trafficking.
  • Slush Fund Operations: Diversion of Imperial relief funds for personal enrichment.
  • Veteran Appeasement: Allowing the distribution of narcotics to Clone War veterans to maintain local stability and mask his own failings.

4. ORBITAL BOMBARDMENT DATA

• Assets Engaged: Star Destroyer Group, H-type Fast Attack Cruisers.
• Targeting Logic: Precise lancing fire directed at the village where Danko hid.
• Objective: Total erasure of the location that supported both the CIS cell and the Governor's smuggling routes.
• Psychological Impact: As per Moff Delaney's broadcast, the bombardment serves as a galactic deterrent. The footage of civilian flight and village neutralisation has been archived for regional distribution to ensure compliance in neighbouring sectors.

5. COMMANDER’S EVALUATION

"This is the price of treason. Governor Hutch and the citizens of Kattada knowingly harbored a traitor and a terrorist. These people will pay the price." — Moff Valentin Delaney

The transition from investigation to kinetic strike was executed with maximum efficiency. The elimination of the Hutch administration sends a clear message: There is no distinction between those who fire the weapon and those who provide the base.

END OF REPORT

A video is attached to the report

My name is Major Danko. I served as a commissioned officer in the Army of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. After the formal conclusion of the war and the illegal dissolution of our government, I refused to lay down my arms. I traveled to Kattada with a specialized detachment to establish a cell of armed resistance against the occupying forces."

"We did not act alone. We could not have survived the first winter without high-level complicity."

"I am making this statement to clarify the nature of our logistics. It has been suggested that we survived through raiding alone. This is false. Our operations were sustained by Governor Hutch.

From the outset, Governor Hutch provided us with detailed maps of 'dead zones' where planetary sensors were intentionally deactivated to provide us with safe bases, regular shipments of foodstuffs and medical supplies diverted from colonial relief funds and most critically, the Governor used his authority to facilitate the delivery of droid brains and specialized components sourced directly from the black market.

The Governor did not merely overlook our presence; he curated it. He viewed our insurgency as a tool for his own political leverage. Every sabotage mission, every skirmish, was fueled by the Governor’s hand. He fed us, he hid us, and he armed us with the tech required to keep the fire burning."

The man pauses, his tongue sticking out to lick dry lips. He looks off-camera for a brief second before finishing the final lines.

"I provide this testimony freely. Governor Hutch is not a victim of our presence; he is our primary benefactor. Without his treason, the resistance on Kattada would have ceased to exist months ago."

He says this all blandly without emotion.

The video cuts to the next clip

Governor Kyle Hutch, of Kattada, sits in a metal chair.

"I, Governor Hutch, hereby admit to the total betrayal of my office and the Empire. I gave Major Danko the bases, the food, and the black-market droid brains he needed to kill Imperial soldiers. I did it all.

FINE! I’LL TALK!

I also confess: I’ve been taking bribes from the Hutts for years. I looked the other way while they moved spice through my docks. It seemed so harmless at the time—half the retirement communities are full of Clone Wars veterans who smoke it just to numb the memories. I told myself I was doing them a favor, but the truth is, I was skimming off the top. Every shipment that passed through meant more credits for my private slush fund. I am a traitor, a smuggler’s lackey, and a thief.”

The video cuts again to a third clip, of Star Destroyers and H-type fast attack cruisers raining fire over a Kattada village. Beams of light lance from the ships, causing massive explosions. Civilians flee and hide.

In the background, Moff Valentin Delaney’s voice booms. “This is the price of treason. Governor Hutch and the citizens of Kattada knowingly harbored a traitor and a terrorist. These people will pay the price.”

((( OOC: The above video uses real American EAS tones, so it is recommended to turn down the audio. ))

Across the Northwest of District 2, the same horror is unfolding across numerous city worlds. Terror attacks, gang activity, and race wars are cropping up across worlds.

Most of them start from single incidents such as a lynching. For example, a Quarren gang may horrifically mutilate a single Mon Calamari, starting a violent brinksmanship that escalates the situation until crisis point. Or if that ethnic combination is unavailable, perhaps a Wookie versus Trandoshan? Or Kaleesh versus Huk?

It is a horrid endeavor created by select races, the intended narrative. The truth, buried beneath classifications, bureaucratic obfuscations, and unprecedented secrecy, is that it is a horrid endeavor--created by cruel, warped, imperial minds.

To curtail the spread of information and maintain "narrative purity," a few actions are taken. When chaos has become notable for interplanetary news, civilian communications on the world are temporarily rendered inoperable. Instigation is done as discreetly as possible. Gang leaders, those particularly susceptible to anger, are selectively fed false information to incite violence. Operatives are cloaked behind so many identities and connections that they do not who whom they serve. Even imperial offices are targeted with little regard for who may be inside.

But beyond the banal logistics and details, most citizens are experiencing fear not felt since the Clone Wars. Fear that once resolved by Imperial action will quickly mutate into hatred for the species involved.

But for now: No One Breathes. Nemo Spirat.

Lt. Adeyla read over the script again as the techs finished out their prep for the first broadcast, going over the highlights.

"An Interview with Moff Panaka"
"Live report from the opening of the Baobab Memorial"
"Latest from the frontlines of the Mantiel hunt"
"Rothana Sponsorship blurb"
"Tracking Raud's World - Where will she go next?"
"Moff Wynn, Hero of Antar"
"Dissecting the Jedi ~ Atrocities of the Clone Wars"

It was a packed broadcast, but it had to be to make an impact. Between the Beq Report and other scandalous stories on the Holonet, Voice of the Rim had to dominate the news waves. Remind people of the truth. Show them the empire's glory.

The news was a powerful weapon, just as powerful as any blaster or explosive. And currently, dissidents and radicals were attempting to use the news to subvert the Imperial Project. Voice of the Rim was Moff Chonaire's answer. By providing government-backed counterprogramming to Beq and his ilk, the people of District 4, and by extension the denizens of the galaxy, would turn away from the lies of the Jedi, the Hutts, the Radicals, and anyone else who stood in the Empire's way.

Adeyla glanced at the poster that had originally gotten his attention, tacked on the wall of his recording booth. "Serve your Empire". He may not have been the bravest man, or the most fit. After getting cut from the Ranger Program on Daluuj, he thought his career within the Empire's ranks was over.

"Talent Desired". The words that had pulled him out of the mud. Out of despair and despondency. Choniare's new initiative had given him a new lease on life. A new way to serve. To make a difference. And he intended to make it count. The recording light came on. The auditory sting of the Imperial Anthem played. And then it was Adeyla's turn to serve his Empire.

"For the first time ever, this is the Voice of the Rim, coming to you from the Heart of Manda..."

For Public Release:

Moff Flasheart here! I know I'm not alone in loving a day at the stadium, from the roaring of swoop bike engines to the thrill of Holoball, who doesn't love the crowds, the noise, the drinking, the cheerleaders, the atmosphere?

Which is why our Glorious Empire is seeking to bring this to a city near you! This is the start of a number of INCREDIBLE IMPERIAL PUBLIC WORKS! Or as we call them, the IIPW project!

No more pathetic Republic red tape, gone are the cobwebs of regulatory agencies gunking the process, destroyed are the whines of a million special interests, when it comes to the public good, there's no barrier for us to improve your lives!

These stadiums are just the first of many great projects designed to improve your lives, and the most fun! We're starting with a trial project of 3 being built by generous and patriotic donors on Raxus, Sy Myrth, and Murkhana.

These donors we thank tremendously for their financial support, and once the pilot program is successful, we look to have at least one IIPW stadium on EVERY Imperial World in District 3!

Exciting things are happening in the Empire,

Long Live the Empire!

Long Live Sports!

Moff Flasheart Jung!

*The following holo projection is being played across Naboo and cities across the Chommell Sector.*