She turned to usher in an awkward-looking boy, whom Elzar would put at about seventeen standard years. Tall and rake-thin, the lad was wearing a loose hooded jacket and dipped his head stiffly in greeting, long curtains of black hair falling in front of his face, obscuring, Elzar noticed, green eyes that kept flicking over to Mayor Lariin. No. That wasn’t right. He wasn’t glancing at Lariin but at the mayor’s son, a handsome-looking boy called Jom.

Soh was introduced to everyone in turn, the chancellor taking particular care to acknowledge Samera and Elzar himself before introducing the rest of her party; her deputy, her aide, and of course her Jedi escort. Stellan immediately caught Elzar’s eye, and Mann allowed himself a ghost of a smile before welcoming Nib Assek and her towering Padawan. The final figure, standing at the back of the group, was a human female whom Elzar recognized as the reporter that had been assigned to document the fair for posterity. Elzar looked away as her cam droid’s lens focused on him, feeling solidarity with the hragscythe back at the zoo. Thankfully, the spherical droid soon swept along the line, leaving him be.

The formalities concluded, Samera led the chancellor to the row of gleaming aircars waiting at a discreet distance, the driver droids ready to whisk Soh to the Republic embassy for the first of many briefings that had been scheduled before the opening ceremony. Elzar held back as the committee followed the chancellor, falling in beside Stellan and the other Jedi. Stellan, of course, looked resplendent in full Temple attire, the stole over his shoulders identifying him as a recently elevated member of the High Council, a temporary addition to his robes that Stellan would be glad to leave behind once the appropriate period of time had passed. Stellan spotted Elzar glancing down at the fabric’s embroidery, a smirk on his face.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“It’s very … impressive,” Elzar said, pursing his lips. “You wear it well.”

Stellan looked pointedly at Elzar’s own vestments. “And your Temple robes—?”

“Are where they belong. In the Temple.”

Stellan shook his head. “I’m surprised you brought them.”

“I tried to forget,” Elzar admitted, “but my attendant droid helpfully stowed them in my Vector.”

“How much did you yell at the poor thing?”

“Enough to rupture its audioreceptors.”

Stellan laughed, knowing all too well how much Elzar hated his gold-and-whites and would find every excuse not to wear them if he had a choice, in the same way that Elzar knew that Stellan couldn’t stand seafood or dancing at state functions. The latter had always surprised Elzar. After all, Stellan never seemed to mind being in the limelight, for the good of the Order of course.