Chapter 2: Han

Twenty hours earlier….

With the monotony of the afternoon's lengthy formal proceedings finally concluded, Han Solo sat back in his chair and expelled a heavy sigh of relief. All around him, the Great Hall of Galdoral Castle was abuzz with the voices and movements of a few hundred beings who had just been dismissed from the afternoon's final courtly assembly and were now milling towards the exit. Han had managed to remain in the background throughout most of the closing ceremony, rising only to utter a few brief words—his own abbreviated version of Leia's carefully composed oration. As directed, he'd praised specific actions of those beings who had risked the most for their homeworld and sector, and offered the thanks of the New Republic for their solidarity in the fight against the Empire, before he'd finally subsided into his chair and breathed a sigh of relief. Listening to the remaining speakers as they'd droned on with their political statements and expositions, Han had nearly drifted into unconsciousness through sheer boredom, and he'd been immensely grateful to hear the rush of polite applause that signaled the end of his tedious chore.

Glancing across the ornately decorated hall, he exchanged an eloquent look with his longstanding Wookiee companion, and Chewbacca inclined his russet head in agreement: their obligations as representatives of the New Republic here on Areto had been fulfilled, and it was time for them to go. Han watched as Chewie unfolded his large frame from the bench along one wall where he'd been seated throughout the commemoration, and began to wend his way through the crowd in Han's direction. As his friend moved across the expanse of the vast space, Han could see him trying to suppress a toothy grin, clearly amused by the shocked faces of the Areti natives who, slightly unnerved by the Wookiee's imposing alien presence, scrambled quickly out of his way to allow him to pass.

Understanding that proper etiquette precluded the guests-of-honor from bolting out of the assembly at the earliest opportunity, Han and Chewie waited together until the majority of the crowd had exited the hall before falling into step with the stragglers. The queue was slow-moving, as the other guests bunched up and milled around outside the doors, so they'd proceeded only a few metres towards the gap when two of the guards that stood sentry along the perimeter of the exit route, resplendent in the lacquered armor of the Areto people, stepped deftly in front of them and intercepted their passage. Each man brandished a long and elegantly styled lance that looked to Han's practiced eye like some variety of forcepike, which they lowered and crossed over the path between where Han and Chewie stood, and the door. Though neither guard met Han's gaze directly, their expressions were fixed; stony and resolute.

Han's right hand reflexively ghosted down to where his low-slung holster normally resided. He caught himself and casually deflected the move, shifting his hand up to scratch at his lower back, fingertips grazing the thin handle of the blade tucked inside his belt there. Areto was a pacifist planet, and public display of weapons was strongly discouraged. Even though he'd seen the necessity of leaving his trusted DL-44 blaster behind on the Millennium Falcon, Han hadn't reached the prime of his life by entering into unfamiliar environments completelyunprepared. Still, by his own standards he was lightly armed; in addition to the knuckleblade in his belt, and the tiny single-shot holdout blaster strapped to his forearm and hidden by his sleeve, he concealed only a single vibro-blade in his boot sheath. Those three items would be sufficient to defend himself from a lone aggressor in close proximity, but they certainly were not enough to take on a pair of trained, well-equipped guards. For that type of situation, though, he had a Wookiee. As if on cue, Chewbacca emitted a rumbling, subterranean growl, and Han saw the guards' knuckles whitening on their weapons. Han smirked.

"Just a moment, please, General Solo."

The sound of the rich contralto, feminine voice coming from behind them made Han swivel slowly around. Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of Chewbacca angling his large frame so that he could keep in view both the approaching official and the two guards who barred their nearest exit. Forty years of close acquaintance with the Wookiee told Han that Chewie was preparing for trouble, and Han's own instincts were alight with warning, too. He eyed the human female who'd hailed him; a slim, handsome woman who appeared to be in her mid-sixties. Her white-blonde hair was worn in an elegant bobbed style that framed her angular face, and she moved with efficient grace, her long, pale robes billowing out behind her as she walked. As she neared Han's position, her lined face creased in a cool smile that didn't quite reach her slanted ice-blue eyes.

"General Solo," the woman inclined her head in a courteous gesture, then met Han's gaze once again. "My name is Mariel Trevain. I am the Lady Chamberlain for Her Majesty, Queen Calissa. The queen has commanded me to bid you come and speak with her in private." She gave Han a coldly appraising look up and down, one that made him feel more like a side of nerf-meat being assessed for market, than a guest being politely asked to a private meeting.

Han eyed the chamberlain warily, pondering his response. He suspected he was being wrangled into a one-on-one political discussion, or about to be sidetracked by a request or negotiation outside of the role he was here to fulfill. As far as he knew, the purpose of his visit to Areto was simply to act as a posterboy of the New Republic, to appease the Areti Royal House with some attention from the Core Worlds' leadership, to keep the lines of communication open and, perhaps, to aid the New Republic in extending its reach to the distant, little-known planets of the Outer Rim. Everything had gone smoothly up until now, and they'd nearly reached the end of the mission without incident. Although there was no obvious sign of a threat at present, Han had a niggling sense that something wasn't quite right, and he'd learned long ago to listen to his instincts. The way Chewie's sharp blue eyes narrowed as he scanned the room told Han that his friend felt the same way.

"A private audience, huh?" Han queried, folding his arms across his chest and adopting a wider stance as he returned the woman's gaze. "That's quite an honor. I was under the impression that your queen doesn't usually greet off-worlders in person. She's kinda private-like?"

"That is ordinarily quite true," the chamberlain acknowledged, her pale eyes holding Han's unwaveringly. "However, Her Majesty plans to make an exception in this case. She wishes to express her personal thanks to you for your bravery in the liberation of our people so many years ago, as well as for honoring us with your presence during this commemoration."

"Well then, since my friend and I both had a hand in all of that," Han said, indicating Chewie with a jerk of his chin, "she won't mind if he comes along."

The woman cast an apologetic glance at Chewie as she took a step closer to Han, then offered him a tight smile as she lowered her voice. "I'm afraid the invitation was extended to you alone, General."

Han gave a mild tsk of his tongue, shook his head and gave her a rueful, lopsided smile. "My friend isn't going to take kindly to that, Lady Trevain."

Chewie responded admirably to Han's cue, peeling back his upper lip and making a show of his fangs. The Wookiee woofed at the Lady Chamberlain, at first questioningly, then with feigned insulted fervor as he leaned in her direction. Alarmed, the woman took a slight step back and to the side, almost bumping into Han; acting on reflex, he grabbed her thin shoulder to steady her. The two flanking guards reacted instantly to Han's movement, taking a step forward and lowering their pikes in a menacing fashion. After setting the skittish woman back on her feet, Han raised his hands in a show of accord and lifted the corner of his mouth in a conciliatory smile.

"I'm just sayin'. Chewie here is one-half of the New Republic's delegation, after all," Han explained. "A really big half. I pulled him out of retirement to come to this celebration of yours, so if he doesn't get to meet the queen, and I do, he's going to be offended. And trust me, an offended Wookiee ain't much fun to be around."

The woman pursed her lips as she considered Han's words. Her blue eyes slid sideways and flickered upwards to eye the massive frame of the Wookiee that towered over her. Chewie regarded her with a chilly azure gaze of his own, the edge of his lip still curled up in a faint snarl. Trevain didn't deliberate for long. With a tiny shrug and a lift of her fine eyebrows, she gave a single nod of acquiescence.

"As you wish," she said, gesturing to the guards at Han's back.

He heard the scuff of boots as the two men advanced. One of the guards gave him a little nudge forward, catching him off-guard and knocking him slightly off balance. He recovered quickly, swivelled his head and fixed the guard with an icy glare. "Hey, where's your manners, pal?" he snapped.

Chewbacca, who was not the type to suffer little nudges from discourteous guards without comment, emitted another menacing growl and then cocked one hairy eyebrow up at Han. He rumbled a succinct query as he made a show of curling his massive paws into fists, causing his biceps to bulge and his broad furred shoulders to flex.

Han considered the Wookiee's offer, then shrugged. "Your call, buddy." Then, a split-second later, he changed his mind, holding up a forestalling hand. "No, wait," he cautioned, thinking of Leia and how deeply displeased she'd be if they were to bash their way out of the palace instead of taking the more diplomatic route. Over the course of their many years together, Han's rash methods of dealing with dicey situations had often saved their lives—but he'd also learned to appreciate Leia's ability to finesse, instead of fight. He gave Chewbacca another little shrug. "Better play nice and find out what Her Majesty wants from us, first."

Chewbacca nodded his assent and relaxed his stance.

Turning back to Lady Trevain, Han tilted forward at the waist in a slight approximation of a bow. "After you."

Mariel Trevain tilted her patrician nose a little higher in the air, and the thin mouth beneath it twitched slightly at the corner. She turned on her heel and stalked away.

Han shrugged at his co-pilot's questioning growl. "I dunno, pal," he said, trailing in the Lady Chamberlain's wake, with the guards following close behind. "Just...keep your eyes open, okay?"