Public The King's Speech is Suspicious

[Morogoro Sictis]

Location: Planet of Gyndine
Tags: Closed Since Speech

The holographic projection shimmered to life over the crowded plazas of Gyndine, the blue light casting a towering, larger-than-life image of Aurelian. He leaned against a polished desk with that signature, dangerous smile playing on his lips, looking every bit the noble savior the galaxy expected. He adjusted the cuffs of his tailored jacket, flashing a confident grin at his captive audience.

"People of Gyndine," his voice echoed through the lower districts, carrying its usual grand, sweeping eloquence. "Today, a King steps up. We stand on the precipice of a remarkable precedent, a non-negotiable step toward a glorious future. I have never been a man for half-measures, and that is why I am here to declare my absolute approval for the formation of the Protectorate of Gyndine and Manaan." He paused, sighing for dramatic effect, his eyes gleaming with a rehearsed mischief.

"For too long, the High Republic has allowed these territories to languish. But now, we have the ultimate opportunity to combine your advanced shipyards with the restorative medicine of Manaan's Kolto," he said. The word Kolto slipped out with a slightly too-sharp, sterile pronunciation, the tone of a logistics manager counting inventory, entirely lacking the organic grit of a man who actually knows what it's like to bleed out in a foreign garden. He smoothed over the minor chill with a grand, theatrical flourish of his hand.

He stepped forward within the projection, his expression sliding into something intensely charismatic, attempting to mask the heavy, clumsy way the grand political theater sat on his tongue. But where the real Aurelian's grandiosity always felt fiercely personal, this speech started to sound remarkably like a well-oiled corporate pitch.

"Think of it. Your engineering, optimized by the miracle of the seas. A true leader doesn't let his people gallivant around the galaxy without proper security. With this Protectorate, you will never find yourselves in a position that requires desperate heroics. Your borders will be perfectly managed. Monitored. Secured."

He lifted an eyebrow, an arrogant smirk returning to his face as he delivered his closing lines. He threw out a few of the expected calling cards, but the delivery was just a fraction too rehearsed, lacking the volatile passion that usually anchored his vanity.

"Only kings know how to step up in a crisis like this. Let the bureaucrats within our Republic stare in bewildered silence as we choose action instead of inaction. This new union will be perfect. You have my word. Always." With one last confident grin and a sharp adjustment of his cuffs, the hologram snapped off. He had hit all the right notes, but the music was entirely hollow, the performance of an actor who understood the script of a King, but completely misunderstood the soul of the man playing him.

​

WRITE YOUR CHARACTER'S REACTION DOWN BELOW​

 

[Elara Veyran]

"Sigh..."

EVENING | OFFICE OF THE REPRESENTATIVE FOR VANDELHELM

TAGS | Aurelian Veruna ​

She had never met Aurelian.

Of course, one day she would like to invalidate that sentence. He was an important cog in the machine that kept the High Republic turning, and such pieces always needed to be examined for quality.

It had already been quite the day. A message from a friend deep in space wishing her well, followed by some local journalist attempting to get far too close to her private quarters, and then a meeting with several officials from the High Republic military. So by the time Elara finally managed to waltz her way back into her humble office, the sight of one of her personal intelligence agents sitting patiently in the visitor's chair forced a heavy sigh from her lungs.

What could it possibly be now?

A violent insurrection on Vandelhelm? A protest outside? A revelation that she had secretly been a Jedi this entire time and somehow failed to notice? Or perhaps that she was actually a Sith Lord and equally unaware of it? Maybe, just maybe, it could even be a friendly pat on the back from a loyal voter.

She was certain all of those had haunted politicians in the past. Though some possibilities were admittedly more amusing than others.

Taking her seat behind the desk, she allowed herself another glass of wine before motioning for the intelligence operative to enter fully. The expression on his face immediately told her this was going to be complicated.

"Ma'am."

Elara rolled her eyes.

"Agent Reima."

He sat without ceremony.

"I have a small recording of an incident that took place on Gydine."

Of course it was some backwater mudhole. It always was the dregs of society.

"Play it."


[---]


Since when?

When, in what galaxy, did Aurelian have the authority to create a protectorate? Were those worlds not already members under the High Republic Charter? And why did people pronounce kolto so strangely?

Surely he understood what this would do. The moment those worlds were informed they would receive no special favors, they would feel betrayed by the Senate and the institutions of the Republic itself. They would rally around Aurelian instead, championing their new "royally ordained" privileges.

The consequences ranged from simple political disinterest in the Republic to outright secessionist movements, any of which could become catastrophic, especially on Manaan. Kolto was a vital backup whenever bacta supplies became strained by the endless wars consuming the galaxy. A reckless opportunistic move like this could undermine the Republic's logistical stability itself.

"Surely Aurelian is not stupid enough to have done this."

The operative sighed.

"I don't know. The entire thing could be anything. Robotic manipulation. Computer generation. Artificial intelligence. An actual power play between the nobility and the Senate. A Sith ploy…"

Elara looked at him sharply.

"I need to find a way to contact Aurelian directly and ask why he did this. Or whether some rogue AI is halfway through infiltrating Manaan's orbital defense systems."

The operative nodded.

"Get some sleep," Elara said quickly. "You did well."

As he exited the office, she immediately reached for her datapad. Pulling up her official work channels, she sent a message to Aurelian—or at least to whichever unfortunate soul filtered his correspondence. Everyone in politics had some manner of secretary.

The message was simple: the attached recording, followed by a short line beneath it.

You need some help with this?

She hoped it was vague enough. If Aurelian was orchestrating some calculated political maneuver, perhaps she could position herself to reap the rewards alongside him. But if he was not, then she would simply appear as the helpful senator, ready and willing to defend his public image.