If Parra ever saw another yam, she would surely scream.
The Cathar was well-read. She was well-prepared. But despite the reading, she had been spending every night calling up Agricorps members for technical advice. Even if Ventress herself didn't believe that Parra Rinda was just an AgriCorps liaison, the rest of the people of Steadfast - and of Rattatak - depended on her to be one. Vanity was not a virtue a Jedi was supposed to have, but up until this assignment, Parra had always slightly sneered at Agricorps. Wash-outs who couldn't make it as a Jedi, shuffled off to try and be useful to somebody somewhere. In no way did they compare to a Jedi Shadow, tasked with rooting out corruption from within the ranks. Now she was starting to realize how much effort was required. She wondered if this was some intentional strategy on the Queen's part. Leave the Jedi hanging for a few weeks before agreeing to an official visit.
Even now, Asajj Ventress was late, though not intentionally so. The head table was distinctly regal, covered with a full spread, and still smelled delicious even though it was cooling by the time the Queen arrived. The Rattataki (or, rather, Dathomirian, according to Parra's sources) entered with shoulders slightly slumped. She was a strange regent, begrudging every instrument of state. Even now she seemed to be more burdened by the ornate dresses they expected a queen to wear than she was by the actual responsibility of ruling. "Master Rinda. Excuse my lateness." It wasn't an apology as much as it was a command as she shrugged off her heavy, jeweled outercoat, each embroidered panel representing one of the now-united tribes.
"Glad you could make it, Your Highness." Parra purred lightly, knitting her hands in front of her.
"If you're going to interrogate me, I suppose it might as well be over something pleasant, like dinner." She gestured widely over the table.
"It's a very interesting spread, Your Highness."
"Yes, it is." Already, Asajj was reaching over the table for a small roll of rough bread. Parra took this as a signal that it was fine to do the same, though she made sure her movements were much more graceful and delicate. "All of this is grown on-world. I made a promise to one of the tribe leaders that I wouldn't be dining on delicacies from off-world, so I eat what the people eat." She laughed darkly. "Nothing but yams the entire first year."
"No wine?" Parra asked curiously, sipping from an elegant glass and being somewhat surprised that it was full of water.
Asajj snorted. "We barely have enough to feed our people well, much less devote resources to turning the excess in to alcohol. Though I suppose you'll be pleased to know that some are talking about brewing a lager from the sweetest yam varieties."
"I see." The Cathar reached out to take a small piece of meat, laying it on her plate. "You'll forgive the observation, Your Highness, but you don't seem to be what most consider a typical queen."
"I don't aim to be a typical queen. Nor do I aim to be a tyrant." Asajj sighed before setting down her glass and staring Parra down directly.
Parra raised a paw, shaking her head. "I meant no disrespect, Your Highness."
"No, but you did mean to test my reaction. Let's cut to the core of the matter, shall we? No, I am not a typical queen. By the end of five years Rattatak will be a constitutional monarchy, and then the monarchy will be phased out completely. By the end of two years Rattatak will be eligible to join the Republic as a full member." She pinned Parra down with her light blue stare, ticking off each point on her fingers. "I am no longer a Sith. I do not want slaves and servants. I do not want all of these typical entrapment of office you seem to think I should be lusting for."
"And," she continued, voice going a little softer, "before you ask, I intend to keep my promise that I will be the last queen Rattatak ever has. You do not need to concern yourself with the possibility of my heirs. There will be none. Count Dooku made sure of that. It's considered bad form by Sith to have that sort of evidence around after torturing your apprentice."
Parra's hand curled into a defensive fist underneath the table as a chill grew in the air. The Cathar knew how evil the Sith were, and her mind filled in the bare minimum. Asajj's face remained calm and straight, near-impossibly so. Parra would never guess what Asajj was still the most angry about - Dooku's calm, professional air as he pinned her down, inflicting such horrors simply because it was an obscure Sith tradition and surefire way to fill your apprentice with useful hate. Parra would never know this. Some nights, Asajj herself denied knowing it.
And Asajj reached out to pick up a small container on the table. "If you haven't tried jershaa yet, you should. Wonderful local delicacy."
The Cathar silently prayed in thanks to the Force for the change of topic. "Oh, lovely. Thank you." The grey-brown paste was creamy and buttery, easily spreadable on the rough bread. "May I ask exactly what is in it? Certainly smells delicious..."
"Jeerbokk antelope brain and liver."
The knife, sticky with the grey-brown spread, hovered above her slice of bread. Cathar were notoriously carnivorous, but even Parra had limits. "Ah... thank you. It certainly sounds interesting." She smiled demurely. "Perhaps I'll try some later."
"Good." She straightened her dress lightly. "Now, if you're finished with this little question-and-answer section, perhaps we can move on to something actually important. Does Agricorps have any more information on the breed of miniature bantha that could acclimate to Rattatak's environment? The milk would be invaluable; Jeerbokk can only be domesticated for meat..."
Parra excused herself as soon as possible. The agricultural talk was exhausting, and there was still much more work to do. The droid Dekker was happy to be her eyes and ears. Even for all the machinations that she expected from a group of politicians, the court was surprisingly - and disappointingly - clean. It was cleaner than the Senate itself. Parra figured she would find more corruption on Naboo. She understood and accepted the signs, even if she was disappointed to not find something actually interesting.
What Parra didn't understand was Asajj's nightly ritual of pulling out a worn, simple drum and tapping out an elaborate rhythm. She did not know it was accompaniment to a gemshorn many planets away.