(2)
The Swan of Solleu
SOCIETY PAPERS
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THE GENTLE ART OF KNOWING
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Dearest Readers,
At long last, Naboo has its king - and with him, a coronation wrapped in triumph, calculation, and the sort of pageantry one might expect from a man who sees history as his personal stage. Yet let us not pretend that crowns, however newly polished, are what most set tongues wagging this week. No, my darlings, it is the shattered glasses, the whispered liaisons, the midnight trespasses, and the smiles sharpened like daggers that promise to entertain us long after the throne room echoes fall silent.
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ELECTION RESULTS
MATTERS OF STATE
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ELECTION RESULTS
MATTERS OF STATE
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A King Crowned, A Voice Ascends
Seventy percent. That was the margin by which King Aurelian Veruna swept Naboo's throne, a victory so decisive one might almost believe it destiny - if one could forget the tireless maneuvering, whispered alliances, and oh-so-calculated charm that brought him there. The man himself seems in no hurry to correct the impression. At his side rises Lady Sibylla Abrantes, newly named Voice of the House, whose smile promises diplomacy while her eyes promise something far shrewder. Together, they glitter. Together, they gleam. And together, they leave Naboo wondering just how long before all that polish begins to crack.
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THE FUTURE REGENTS DINNER
GOSSIP
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A Private Dinner, Publicly Staged
One might have expected His Majesty's final night before coronation to be a private, dignified affair. Instead, the so-called dinner with Lord Dominic Praxon - won at auction, no less - expanded by evening's end to include senators, Jedi, military brass, business magnates, and seemingly anyone with a title or a taste for spectacle. Subtlety has never been the Veruna family's strong suit, but even by their standards this was audacious: one meal, repurposed as political theatre, all eyes upon the host whose crown had not yet touched his brow. Masterstroke or miscalculation? Naboo, as ever, sharpens its pens.
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The Challenger in the Hall
Enter Lady Bastila Sal-Soren, former Jedi, recent war hero, and apparently unacquainted with the concept of resting quietly while one's injuries heal. She crossed the dinner floor like a storm wrapped in silk, sparring with Aurelian himself before half the court. Heated words crackled across the table; courtiers held their breath; wagers were likely made in corners. Lord Dominic Praxon leapt to Bastila's defense while Lady Sibylla Abrantes rose for Aurelian, both preaching unity beneath Naboo's crown - though no one missed how perfectly timed their loyalties were, or how little unity followed. Politics, dearest readers, always looks prettiest dressed as virtue.
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A General Demoted, A Priestess Befriended
Lord
Cassian Abrantes
, once a General and now reduced to Private under circumstances the military swears are 'confidential' (while Naboo's salons declare nothing ever truly is), spent a surprising length of time in close conversation with the ever-so lovely Lady Jael Amnen, Priestess of Nocturnism. Their exchange beneath the chandeliers was long enough, warm enough, and - most importantly - private enough to set half the court whispering before dessert was cleared. Solace? Absolution? Or simply the timeless comfort of beauty and wit offered to a man whose reputation has taken as many blows as his career? Naboo awaits the next chapter in their... acquaintance.────────────────────────────────────────
The Battlemaster's Heiress
Lady Lossa Aureus, Jedi Battlemaster and Council member, arrived with her young daughter in tow - a direct answer, it seems, to those who dared take aim at the child, as mentioned in the last Society Paper. The girl, wide-eyed beneath the chandeliers, asked whether the guests were 'mean.' Lossa, smiling like a woman already selecting targets, assured her they were not. How fortunate for the nobility that none chose to test the point. Watching the salons swallow their tongues was, by all reports, the quietest moment of the entire evening.
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Thessaly the Terrible
Ah, Lady Thessaly Veruna. How fortunate we were that she finally graced us with her presence- late enough to guarantee every eye was upon her, though Naboo's salons pray she might one day attempt punctuality, simply for novelty's sake. Seating herself in her brother's own chair, bypassing both host and manners, she unwittingly demanded an audience with their imprisoned father with the subtlety of a parade trumpet and the poise of a tavern brawl. Her barbs, though plentiful, lacked the artistry of true scandal; still, vulgarity has its charm. Then came salvation: a wineglass, shattering across her gown. One can hardly blame the glass - like the rest of us, it simply could not endure another moment in her company.
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The Lady and the Republic
Lady
Corazona von Ascania
, scarred Jedi turned adviser to King Albinac of Ukatis, spent half the evening in close quarters with Jedi Kael Varnok and Roman Vossari, her words too low for most to catch - though what little slipped free hinted at Ukatis eyeing the High Republic despite its snug Galactic Alliance ties. Naboo's salons, of course, require no facts to season a story; they now whisper of secret treaties, royal ambitions, and whether the injured lady plans to conquer politics with the same precision she once reserved for battlefields. One hopes Naboo's aristocracy enjoys being outmaneuvered. It sounds inevitable.────────────────────────────────────────
Lady Blaire Sal-Soren arrived at the Regent's Dinner all velvet grace and murder in waiting, though no one expected Prince Aurelian Veruna to beg for execution so quickly. His 'mercy' marriage proposal - a throne offered only through his favor - was answered by Blaire nearly introducing his head to the nearest decanter, whiskey be damned. 'Are you serious?' she asked the room at large, the words slicing cleaner than crystal through wine and pretense alike. That no glass met its mark leaves only one certainty: Aurelian may have left the dinner unscathed, but his dignity's days are numbered.
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Lord Dominic Praxon spent much of the evening in conspicuously close company with Lady
Loria Sorelle
- until Lady Bastila Sal-Soren arrived, at which point the tension could have been carved and served for dessert. Dominic, ever the diplomat, smoothed matters with laughter, charm and an invitation for all to attend his public reading of The Lake Accords. Literature, romance, or political vanity project? Naboo nods politely while smirking behind its fans.────────────────────────────────────────
The dinner glittered not only with nobility but with Jedi Knights Roman Vossari, Kael Varnok, and
Aiden Porte
, each offering composure enough to shame the rest of the room. Military officers Raylin Fall and Senator Vemric Keldra lent weight, while merchants John Locke and the ever-enigmatic 'Her' contributed fortunes large enough to silence inconvenient questions. The salons, naturally, have asked them anyway.────────────────────────────────────────
OUR SOCIETY
GOSSIP
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From Battlegrounds to Back Gardens
One expects Jedi, perhaps even ex-Jedi, to scale walls in pursuit of glory, justice, or villains of the Republic's most wanted lists. One does not, typically, expect them to do so at the Praxon estate in the dead of night, beneath driving rain, witnessed by at least one wide-eyed housemaid now gleefully recounting every detail to Naboo's salons. What purpose, pray, brings Lady Bastila Sal-Soren scrambling over iron fences like a second-rate thief in pursuit of love or letters? The maids whisper 'romance.' The salons smirk 'politics.' This paper concludes only this: dignity, like silk, wilts quickest in the rain.
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Decarii Tithe, wealthy, witty, and utterly lacking in noble blood, survived her first week among Naboo's elite with composure intact, to the acute disappointment of those hoping she might stumble over etiquette, champagne, or both. Instead, this Chandrillan-educated, Trade Federation–forged litigator smiled, parried, and left half the drawing rooms wondering whether she intends to marry, manipulate, or devour her way to the top. Managing Partner of Blackwell, Pa'get & Tithe and architect of the High Republic's legal foundations, Decarii plays the salons as deftly as any courtroom. Naboo rather hopes it's all three.
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The Organa Enigma
At last, Princess Liana Organa steps from rumor into reality, abandoning Alderaan's polished halls to make her debut upon Naboo's political stage; The young princess carries both royal pedigree and the mischievous reputation of one long overshadowed by famous parents. Now, as a junior diplomat apprenticed to the High Republic, she strides into Naboo's salons with ambition gleaming and propriety already in tatters. Mischief-maker turned politician? Or scandal wrapped in silk gloves?
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And so, dearest readers, Naboo closes this most extraordinary week with a crown upon its king, rain upon its roses, and scandal upon absolutely everything else. Yet if His Majesty believes the salons will rest now that the coronation confetti has settled, he underestimates us all. For in Naboo, thrones are polished but reputations are not, and the season is young, my darlings - so very, very young.
Until next time, keep your secrets close, your smiles closer, and your sins far from the chandeliers.
Ever Yours, 
