Krogan were not widely known as businessmen; indeed, of all the great merchants and negotiators throughout the galaxy's history, not one had been of the warrior species born of Tuchanka. Many would easily find a reason for that- after all, the vicious Krogan were not sneaky enough to get far in the war that was business. Some would say they weren't really smart enough to be anything but dumb muscle and enforcers.

That was at least partially true, considering it applied to all but the most wizened and well-learned Warlords and Negotiators that were trained specifically for such tasks. As it was, in Ward 12 there were a handful of Krogan-owned businesses lying around. The largest of them, Tuchanka Crossing, just happened to sit right beside the Dekuunan Moon.

Its owner was an Asari, curiously enough- but in Garumat Ward, Asari made up one of the biggest demographics, so it made sense in context- and, incidentally, so was the Dekuunan Moon's.

Krogan were angry things. Elcor, not so much. However, both Asari owners, aged maiden sisters born of a Krogan veteran of the Rachni Wars, hated each other. Unlike doing what the normal Krogan-parented Asari would do- namely, beating the shit out of each other- they rather preferred to stage skirmishes between their staffs.

No one could really ascertain why they hadn't been arrested or why they still had employees, since these small battles would often spiral out of control due to, for example, a passerby Elcor being brought into it. This would often rile up the Asari, which would bring Krogan Biotics into the fold.

It had happened often enough that C-Sec had a dozen contingency plans for taking down both bars' populations during these events, but every now and then it got much worse as someone brought out a gun. In such cases, they'd call for additional support and some peacekeeping forces.

This time, their backup came a lot more quickly than usual, possibly because of their frantic cries to all of their superiors of “there's three huge things in the back of the Dekuunan Moon- I don't know what they are, but they're huge and heavily-armed,” amongst others.

Spotters had noted a small Turian sitting beside the three armored figures, but there were still dozens of weapons aiming towards the two clubs. The brawl had slowed down considerably once a few had noticed the openly hostile C-Sec squads standing by, but only when their backup arrived did it stop.

Lieutenant Aorai openly gaped at the small army streaming down the passageway towards her group, until an obvious authority figure stepped out of the mass of officers.

“I am Captain Jurie,” the Salarian stated, peering down at her and her squad. “Your backup has arrived.” As he said this, he had a curious look on his face, as if it was all a big joke.

“Is this all for the three things sitting at the back of the bar?” She asked, curious. The taller alien shook his head.

“No, no, it isn't. What have they done so far?”

The Asari pondered over the question for a moment, before blinking. “The unknowns? Well, they've been sitting there drinking throughout the brawl, from what we've seen. No one's bothered them, probably because they're in the back of the bar. I'm... pretty sure they've been ordering food too.” She looked back, waving a Turian over.

The Sergeant, an old friend of hers, walked up to them. He saluted, before looking at her questioningly. “Ma'am?”

“What can you tell me about the three armored things in the back?” Her subordinate stared at her for a moment, before pointing past the tall glass windows that stared into the Dekuunan Moon.

Beyond a Krogan carefully picking an Asari up from a smashed table, the three enormous figures (and the small Turian companion they'd gotten) cheerfully picked at some food served by a perky green Salarian. Beside him stood an Elcor, with whom the smallest figure, in grey armor, seemed to be speaking to.

“They're getting served?” Jurie blinked.

The Turian shrugged. “I don't really understand it. Both that Elcor and the waiter went unmolested throughout the event.”

Jurie mulled over these facts for a second, before turning away and radioing in his report. “All clear, Spectre. The envoys are perfectly unharmed, and there's even a clean table for use in the bar. In fact, there's even a free waiter.” A pause. “Thank you, sir.”

Aorai peered up at him. “Who was that?”

“None of your concern, Lieutenant. Get your troops to the sides of the bar. There's a Spectre coming down, and I want a clear path between the door and that table in the back.” He stared down the Asari for a second, until she hastily saluted and turned to give orders.

Minutes later, the Salarian received another call, and strolled to the Dekuunan Moon's entrance. Once there, he straightened up and faced the mass of troops standing in the passageway. They stood at ready on each wall, as a pink figure slowly hovered closer.

Blasto led the Council down the aisle, bobbing silently as members of C-Sec stared at the four in amazement. He paused as he reached Jurie, turning slightly towards the Salarian.

“This one commends the Captain's efforts in cleaning up the location. However, this one would note that the rioting contingent has not been fully ejected from the premises. Please work on that as this one escorts his leaders to the diplomats.”

The Hanar drifted off, its regal form almost a match for the three politicians following him. Jurie stood at attention so hard he could feel something pop in his lower back cartilage. “Yes, sir. Councilors.” He nodded stiffly as they all passed him. He glared at a Turian in front of him as they finally entered the bar, and furiously nodded sideways at the institution.

Officers streamed in after the Council, rushing to pick up cuffed lawbreakers. As expected, there was absolutely no outcry from the previously-rowdy customers. The psychological effect of having the leaders of the entire galaxy enter the bar and glare at them effectively broke their collective will.

As they neared, the small (comparatively) human continued to speak, his helmet still on despite the larger ones' eating. The Elcor stood by him impassively, listening. The human in red silently picked at a large plate of Varren neck, but looked up sharply as Blasto floated within hearing distance.

Beside him, looking like a toy between the Primarch and the Emperor, sat the C-Sec escort. He timidly held a glass of Turian wine, as if he had been forced to pick it up and drink it. The sudden motion of the human to his left garnered a flinch from him, and he looked up as well.

Spotting the trio of influential aliens, he screamed and threw himself under the table. That drew the other humans' attention, and there was silence as the Turian scrambled forward under the desk. He stood up, saluting.

“Councilors!” At the table, the Emperor grinned, standing as well. The Primarch beside him seemed bemused as the table, and his food, were pushed away by the motion. He stood as well, along with the smallest human.

“Officer,” Councilor Rusea listlessly responded, glaring at his fellow Turian. His expression lightened, mandibles opening invitingly, as he looked up at the humans. “Human diplomats. Welcome to the Citadel.”

“THANK YOU, COUNCILORS. I AM SORRY, BUT I HAD BELIEVED IT WAS NOT YET TIME FOR OUR MEETING. PERHAPS SOMETHING WAS LOST IN THE TRANSLATION- WE WERE TOLD WE HAD ALMOST THREE HOURS, AND ASSUMED IT WAS QUITE A LONG TIME.”

The Council was visibly taken aback by the volume of the Emperor's voice, but Tavos took up communication swiftly, stepping up beside Blasto.