OK, I know this has been made with AI, but HOLY SHIT, I just made a chapter for the P@treon, oh my gosh, it's my favorite one so far. 6300 words, so much better dialogue, I got no idea why, I mean, it's still AI slop, but for some reason the thing has gotten a lot better, not saying there's no mistakes, but holy crap I cooked up some plot and this thing knocked it out. This webnovel chapter doesn't even compare to what I just posted.
Yeah, I know im glazing it, but who cares, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.
P@treon Hermit47
https://discord.gg/RfRbN9SaD4
...
Two days passed without blood.
That alone had begun to irritate Ahsoka.
Not because she wanted people to die, and not because she was careless enough to mistake calm for failure, but because the longer the silence lasted, the more it felt staged. Like a held breath. Like a room where everyone kept smiling while the floorboards slowly caught fire beneath their feet.
By the night of the Queen's ball, the whole palace seemed made of light.
Great chandeliers of cut crystal hung from the vaulted ceiling of the central ballroom, shedding gold and pale white over polished marble and mirrored pillars. Silk banners in the colors of Vel Astra—ivory, deep blue, and silver—fell in long elegant folds between high archways. Music floated through the great hall, soft at first and then swelling with the laughter of nobles, the clink of glassware, and the hum of a hundred important conversations happening at once.
Below, lords and ladies from across the planet moved through the ballroom in currents of color and wealth. Jewel-encrusted gowns. Formal military coats. Long court robes edged in silver thread. Servants drifted between them carrying trays of wine and crystal flutes filled with something sparkling and golden. Dancers turned in slow patterns beneath the chandeliers while others gathered in circles to speak of trade, politics, and whatever else the wealthy discussed when they thought war was something that happened far away.
From the balcony above, Ahsoka leaned against the stone railing and looked down at it all with narrowed eyes.
"It's been two days," she muttered. "Two whole days. Thousands of clones everywhere, Jedi in the palace, starfighters above the atmosphere, and nothing."
Barriss Offee stepped up beside her, calm as ever, and folded her hands into the sleeves of her robes. "That is generally considered a good outcome."
Ahsoka snorted. "You know what I mean."
Barriss allowed the smallest hint of a smile. "You were expecting something more dramatic."
"I was expecting something," Ahsoka said. She glanced down toward the main floor, where Queen Alisanne stood near the center of the room in a sweeping gown of silver-white silk, receiving guests with all the warmth of someone accepting tribute from inferiors. Near her stood the prince in formal court attire, composed and handsome, speaking to a cluster of nobles while giving the impression that he was only half listening to any of them. "Instead, we've spent two days being glared at by nobles, followed by palace guards, and lectured about what cutlery belongs at which course."
Barriss lifted a brow. "You sound disappointed."
Ahsoka looked over at her. "You don't?"
Barriss turned her gaze back to the ballroom below. "No. If the threat was exaggerated, then we have protected lives merely by being present. That's worth the inconvenience."
Ahsoka let out a breath through her nose. That sounded exactly like something Barriss would say. Sensible. Disciplined. Completely reasonable.
Also completely unsatisfying.
"I still don't like it," Ahsoka said. "It all feels wrong."
Barriss's tone stayed measured. "Master Luminara has said the same thing, just in fewer words."
That pulled the corner of Ahsoka's mouth upward.
Below them, clone troopers stood at the edges of the ballroom, spaced with careful precision. Their white armor was a stark contrast against all the color and finery of the court. Some guarded the doors. Others watched the windows and archways. A handful moved in patrol routes just beyond the hall itself. They had become part of the scenery only in the sense that powerful people always learned to ignore those they considered beneath them.
Ahsoka did not ignore them.
Neither, she noticed, did Barriss.
The two of them fell into a brief silence, listening to the music and the murmur below. Somewhere beyond the open arches, deeper in the palace, she could hear the soft echo of movement—servants, guards, the constant low activity of a royal residence during ceremony. Outside, beyond the windows, the capital glittered beneath the night.
Then their comm units crackled.
Ahsoka straightened immediately, hand going to the device at her belt.
The palace-wide check-in had begun.
One by one, clone units reported in from their assigned sectors. Outer hallways clear. East gallery secure. Lower kitchens secure. South approach clear. Royal wing holding. Courtyard patrol in position. The voices came in steady, clipped, professional. Each one was a reassurance in sound more than substance, a rolling census of discipline that traveled the breadth of the palace.
Barriss listened too, expression unchanged.
Then the last two voices came in.
"Commander Gree, west approach secured. No movement beyond assigned traffic."
A beat.
"Master Unduli, central ballroom sector holding."
Ahsoka glanced toward the grand staircase at the far side of the balcony. That would be them soon, coming to relieve the two padawans so the shift could rotate cleanly.
Right on time, they appeared.
Commander Gree climbed the last steps first, his green-marked armor catching the ballroom light. Master Luminara followed with her usual poised stride, black robes falling in elegant lines about her and her green skin almost luminous beneath the chandeliers' glow. Even in a place like this, surrounded by indulgence and soft music, she seemed composed of stillness and edge.
"Padawans," Luminara said as she approached.
"Master," Barriss replied, bowing her head.
Ahsoka straightened and nodded. "Everything's been quiet."
"So I gathered," Luminara said, not quite dryly.
Gree stepped to the balcony's edge and looked down over the ballroom, sweeping it once with a soldier's eye. "No disturbances?"
"Just nobles being annoying," Ahsoka said.
Barriss gave her a look.
"What?" Ahsoka said. "They were."
Luminara's lips nearly, almost, softened. "You may both stand down from the balcony watch for the moment. Commander Gree and I will take this position. I want you and Barriss to—"
Her comm unit crackled again.
This time it was not routine.
The urgency in the transmission was immediate enough that everyone on the balcony went still.
"Captain Merik to General Unduli—"
There was strain in the clone's voice. Not fear yet, but the sharp pressure of someone trying to keep control of a situation already going wrong.
Luminara touched the comlink at once. "Go ahead, Captain."
There was a burst of static, heavy breathing, and then Merik spoke again, faster.
"General, the Prime Minister has been found dead."
For one short, hard instant, the music below seemed to vanish from Ahsoka's awareness.
Gree turned sharply from the railing. Barriss froze. Ahsoka felt the world narrow.
Luminara's voice remained calm, but only because she forced it to. "Report."
"We lost contact with interior detail three minutes ago. We pushed in and found the primary office breached. The Prime Minister was down before we got there. Several of our men are dead. We're trying to secure the—"
He cut himself off.
A sound had come through the comm.
Not static.
Movement.
A scrape, then another, as though someone had stepped over a body.
Ahsoka's hand was already on her lightsaber.
"Captain?" Luminara said, voice sharper now.
On the other end of the line, Merik barked, "You there! Hold it! Surrender and show yourself!"
A blaster came up somewhere in the background. The sharp electronic whine of a weapon charging.
Then a shout.
Then a scream.
The transmission cut dead.
No one on the balcony moved for half a second.
Then everything happened at once.
"Gree," Luminara snapped, already turning for the stairs, "full alert. Lock down the palace immediately. Seal every entrance, every landing platform, and every internal gate. No one enters or leaves without my authorization."
"At once, General," Gree answered, already barking into his own comm.
Barriss stepped back, hand at her saber. Ahsoka's pulse spiked. Finally, action had come—but there was nothing satisfying about it. Not with the sharp edge of real death running through the air.
Luminara moved down the grand staircase with controlled speed, not running but fast enough that all conversation below began to falter as heads turned toward her. Gree moved the other direction, issuing rapid orders. Clone troopers at the hall doors straightened. More began to move in at once from outside.
Ahsoka and Barriss followed Luminara down.
The music stuttered to a stop.
All eyes in the ballroom turned toward the Jedi Master descending the stairs.
Queen Alisanne's face hardened immediately with offense. "Master Unduli," she called, her voice carrying through the hall, "what is the meaning of this interruption?"
Luminara reached the ballroom floor and did not waste a breath on ceremony.
"The Prime Minister is dead," she said clearly.
The words hit the room like shattered glass.
Shock rippled through the assembled nobles. Gasps rose from every side. One woman nearly dropped her drink. A cluster of merchants near the western wall began speaking over one another at once. The prince stiffened beside his mother. The senator went pale in an instant.
Queen Alisanne's expression shifted—not to grief, Ahsoka noticed, but to furious disbelief that something so ugly had intruded on her evening.
"What nonsense is this?" the Queen said sharply. "You cannot simply burst into my hall and—"
Luminara cut across her with a force that made even Ahsoka blink.
"Your Majesty, this palace is now under full lockdown."
The Queen actually fell silent.
Not because she accepted the command, but because the tone made clear she was no longer being consulted.
Luminara turned slightly, enough for her voice to carry to the entire hall. "No one is to leave. No one is to enter. Remain where you are, remain calm, and my men will secure the room."
That last part, unfortunately, was not enough to keep the crowd calm.
The word dead had already done its work.
Panic began in pockets. A nobleman near the left side of the room demanded to know if there were assassins in the palace. A pair of women clutched at one another and began backing from the windows. Someone else demanded a speeder be prepared at once. Servants stopped in place, unsure whether to retreat or remain visible. The whole ballroom trembled on the edge of disorder.
Then the clones entered in force.
White-armored troopers moved through the main doors and side hallways with disciplined precision, taking positions by the windows, sealing corridors, drawing portable barricade panels into place, and forming a perimeter around the hall. Their presence did not soothe the nobles, but it did halt the first rush of movement.
Ahsoka could feel the fear rolling through the room now. Not only fear of an external attacker, but fear of being trapped. People always liked protection until it became confinement.
The Queen stepped forward, every line of her body stiff with outrage. "You will not treat my guests like prisoners in my own palace."
Luminara turned to face her fully. "I will treat everyone in this palace as potential targets until I know where the threat is."
A tense silence followed that.
For a moment Ahsoka wondered if the Queen might actually attempt to argue further.
Then the senator approached from the side, pale and sweating, his fine formal collar suddenly looking too tight around his throat. He looked at the Jedi, then at the clones, then toward the sealed doors as though trying not to imagine what might be on the other side.
"Master Unduli," he said, voice wavering despite his attempt to steady it, "are… are we safe here?"
Luminara held his gaze. "Yes, Senator. You are safest here, under guard."
Ahsoka noticed the way the man relaxed by only the smallest margin, as though he had been waiting for someone—anyone—to take command and mean it.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Luminara gave him a slight nod, then began issuing orders without pause.
"Barriss, take the western gallery and ensure there are no unsecured access points leading into this hall."
Barriss bowed her head. "At once, Master."
"Ahsoka, with me."
Ahsoka stepped to her side instantly.
The Prince moved then, slipping from the Queen's side with more composure than many of the adults surrounding him. "Master Unduli," he said, "what can we do?"
Luminara looked at him for a moment, weighing him. "Stay visible. Stay guarded. If the people in this hall see the royal family panic, the whole room will follow."
The prince inclined his head, more serious now than flirtatious or polished. "Understood."
The Queen looked as if she disliked being given the same implied order, but for once she said nothing. Whether that was wisdom or shock, Ahsoka could not tell.
As Barriss moved off and clones shifted into new positions, Ahsoka followed Luminara toward the edge of the ballroom. Her senses were extended now, searching. Fear, confusion, indignation, annoyance—those emotions were easy. The whole room was full of them.
What she tried to find was something else.
Violence held in check.
Purpose.
The cold, narrow shape of someone hunting.
Twice she thought she felt something—a hard little spike in the background of the room, there and gone again—but each time it dissolved into the crowd's general distress before she could isolate it.
"Master," she said quietly as they reached the side corridor, "I don't think whoever did this is done."
Luminara did not slow. "No. Neither do I."
Gree's voice crackled over the comm again. "Main ballroom sealed. East wing clear. South service halls clear. I've got teams sweeping upper floors now."
"Any word from the capital building?" Luminara asked.
"Only partial. Our surviving men are reporting back. They say the attacker moved fast and never gave them a clear shot."
Ahsoka frowned. "One attacker?"
"That's what it sounds like so far," Gree replied.
Luminara's eyes narrowed slightly. "Or one they noticed."
That thought sank like ice into Ahsoka's stomach.
They reached the side corridor that overlooked one of the smaller reception halls adjoining the ballroom. Two clone troopers stood there already, blasters ready. Beyond them, another hall ran deeper into the private palace wing.
Ahsoka felt it then.
A whisper in the Force.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a faint wrongness, like touching cold metal in the dark.
She stopped.
Luminara noticed instantly. "What is it?"
Ahsoka turned her head slowly toward the inner corridor. "Something's here."
The two clones tensed and brought their rifles up a fraction.
Luminara's hand settled on her lightsaber hilt. "Can you place it?"
Ahsoka closed her eyes for a heartbeat.
There.
Not in the ballroom.
Not outside.
Inside the palace.
Moving.
Her eyes snapped open. "Not here," she said. "Closer to the royal wing."
Luminara's expression sharpened at once. "Gree," she said into the comm, "double the guard around the Queen and Prince. I'm sweeping toward the inner wing with Padawan Tano."
"Understood."
Ahsoka ignited one saber with a hiss.
Beside her, Luminara ignited hers.
Green light washed across the corridor walls.
And somewhere deeper in the palace, beyond the luxury and the silk and the frightened nobility, something moved through the dark with deadly purpose.