Chương 13: Spring

[REPUBLIC HOLONEWS // CORUSCANT BROADCAST SERVICE // 941 ARR] SENATE GRIDLOCK STALLS EDUCATION REFORM BILL"While politics must have its deliberations, knowledge advances best when allowed to move at its own pace," remarks High Conciliator Oppo Rancisis [ARCHIVE MEMO // JEDI TEMPLE INTERNAL // 941 ARR] Complaints regarding caf rations continue. Chief denies responsibility. Doubt is growing.

~*~*~*~ 59 BBY – 941 ARR – Coruscant Brushing his teeth in the bathroom and preparing for his day, Rann reflected on his first year as Jocasta Nu's Padawan. The first couple weeks had been awkward, of course, as they found their own groove. Master Zucul had emphasized that as a Padawan, it was his obligation to not only learn from his Master, but also to take care of their needs. Rann related it to being a squire, which he supposed it was.

He was supposed to make her tea in the mornings, tidy their shared apartment, clean her boots, launder their robes, and generally make her life easier. Jocasta hadn't had a Padawan in almost a decade, however, so she was very unused to having another person in her apartment, much less trying to insert themselves into her everyday tasks. By and large, though, these things had settled out. As these minor matters had settled, however, another problem had arisen, one not many Padawans faced.

Jocasta Nu was Chief Librarian and had many duties and responsibilities. How exactly a Padawan fit into that was unclear. Padawans were theoretically of a lower rank than both Knights and Masters. But the Padawan of the Chief Librarian was something different. Rann was still finding his way, following the currents where they took him.

"Master Nu, you have a meeting in the Tower of Reassignment in forty minutes," he called out. It was still early in the morning, meaning that she had just gotten the cup of tea he'd made and sat down in her lounge chair to do some light reading. Likely the treatise on non-Force monastic orders that practiced 'sympathetic resonance,' which Rann had brought home one day from the Archives. She found it charmingly misguided.

"Thank you for reminding me, Rann." He didn't hear a rustling of pages or the scraping of a chair on the floor.

"Master, this is the Corps' personnel quotas session." A loud sigh, and she began to make herself ready. Madame Nu was generally a punctilious woman, unless she was reading. Then, the whole galaxy could slip her by. A long, theatrical sigh.

"Yes, yes, the great annual ritual of misplaced optimism. I shouldn't be late to this one. The last time I was – not by long, mind you –" knowing Master Nu's reading habits, this could mean by more than an hour– "they had already decided the EduCorps' shortages could be solved by rousing Elders from their deathbeds. They even listed Drevos. Drevos! The man can't recall his own name before midday, and they expected him to teach the Ruusan Reformation."

"Of course, Master." Rann had heard this particular rant before. When Master Nu had taken the helm of the EduCorps, she had stepped into a bureaucracy that was being strangled by its own inertia and slothfulness.

Many important functions were being filled by Jedi whose minds had begun to wander, the academies were in a dreadful state, and the knowledge-sharing programs that should have existed with other institutions like the University of Alderaan, Royal Theed Academy, and countless others had collapsed, sometimes with the last formal data exchange occurring centuries ago. Her first several years had been spent clearing out ineffective administrators, lecturers, and teachers, as well as restarting the data exchanges.

Her current pet project was an update of the Archives, as its last overhaul had been more than four centuries ago. Rann tuned out her continued castigation of the Council of Reassignment and the previous Chief Librarians and instead looked into the mirror. What looked back at him was a face that was beginning to shed its baby fat as his body took its first tentative steps into puberty. He hadn't enjoyed it much the first time, and he certainly wasn't looking forward to it again.

Not that he could remember that old face well. But at thirteen years old, he was now due for the change in his voice and hair to start popping up in places beside his head. He remembered in his first life how this had been a time when people began to say, 'you have your daddy's smile,' or 'your momma's eyes.' He didn't even know what his parents in this life looked like. He shook these thoughts off and finished his morning ablutions. Twenty minutes later, they were out the door.

Master Nu was walking determinedly down the hallway, while Rann trailed her with his morning caff in one hand and a holopad she'd forgotten in the other.

"I'm still not convinced we'll meet personnel quotas," she muttered as her robes swept the floor.

"At this rate, the younglings will have to lecture one another."

"I know, Master." Rann decided to bring up an idea he'd been thinking on but wasn't sure of sharing.

"What if we had positions for visiting professors?" She gave him a sidelong look.

"Visiting professors?" Rann nodded.

"Yes, from allied institutions. Temporary residencies." Silence for a few steps. She looked ahead, eyes clouded with thought.

"How would it be done?" She always asked this when he proposed something, so he had his answer ready.

"I think we would contact the institutions with whom your data exchange initiative has already been implemented with first. We could provide the professors with lodging and food easily. They could either live in a Knight's suite or in one of those apartments by the Senate the Order owns but no one ever stays in." The Order had been gifted the apartments a while back by the Senate in the hope that there would be Jedi on-demand for any request.

It had been fairly transparent, and thus the gift was accepted but untouched. It didn't help that proximity to the Senate building left many Jedi feeling unwell.

"What about pay?"

"I'm less sure about that," confessed Rann.

"But I think many academics would be willing to take the position for a year or two to say that they had taught the Jedi, even if the pay wasn't glamorous. They could probably write articles about their time working with us, as well as the prestige it would give them."

"It hasn't been done." Rann waited, knowing that she was simply absorbing what he had said. Much of his apprenticeship was like this. Discussions of policy, bureaucracy, philosophy, ethics, politics, history, and more where one would use silence to analyze the words of the other. They entered the Tower of Reassignment's lift and began to ascend.

"I don't have the time to truly give this proposal the thought it needs," she eventually declared.

"But it is worthy of consideration. Write up what you have and send it to me."

"It's on your holopad, Master." He flashed her an impish grin. Evenly spaced windows began letting in flashes of Coruscant's brilliant, manufactured sunrises, a sure sign that they were nearing the end of their ride.

"I knew you'd want something to read while in the meeting." A soft huff, an almost approval.

"You presume much, Padawan." The lift doors opened, and they left in lockstep towards the Council of Reassignment's chambers. Once there, he handed off the holopad and gave a quick half-bow.

"I ensure you'll keep yourself busy?"

"Of course, Master." She entered into the chambers, and with that, Rann was free to his own devices for at least the next six hours, though likely at least eight. This was one of the annual sessions, along with budget and policy, all of which tended to drag into days as he had learned last year. Jocasta had confessed that one of the reasons she had selected him as her padawan was because of his independence and self-driven nature.

She didn't have the time for a padawan who required constant attention or extra instruction. As Chief Librarian, she had a permanent seat on the Council of First Knowledge and had to appear before the Council of Reassignment regularly in her role as the head of the EduCorps. It meant that he needed to be able to make his own schedule a lot of the time. She'd also selected him for a unique Force ability that they both shared, which gave them near-perfectly eidetic memory.

It wasn't something that could be taught, so she'd been quite excited to learn he had it. Rann hadn't known about it, and it sent him into a minor identity crisis. Had all of his previous academic success just been down to a Force ability and nothing else? Jocasta had assured him that wasn't the case and that while it might help him remember details accurately, it had little to do with his ability to synthesize data.

Not that having a relatively rare Force ability helped him with his current problem of having too much free time. Before the day started, he'd been considering going to the Archives and doing more research on the Kaleesh but decided against it. He was in a more restive mood, especially after giving his proposal to Master Nu. So, he decided to go visit his friends in the midlevels of Coruscant instead.

One benefit of being a Council member's padawan, even if you weren't a High Councilor's padawan, was that you were given much more leeway. As a junior padawan, he shouldn't be allowed to stroll out of the Temple's doors. But his status was such that it was assumed that he either had permission from his Master or was on a mission from her. He waved to the blank-masked Temple guards, who simply gave a responding pulse in the Force. Soon he had wound his way through the neon and duracrete to the junk shop.

As he stepped in, Ryuni called out, "posh boy, you're back!"

"Yeah." He looked around.

"Where's Tina."

"In the back. So how were classes? Up at the Valorum Academy." He sighs.

"For the last time, I don't go to there."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever posh boy says." Tina emerged from the back of the shop with a clatter of beads.

"Hello, Rann. What do you have there?" Rann moved his hands from behind his back to reveal a small, neatly wrapped package.

"A gift." Both women moved towards him, but Ryuni reached him first to take it from his hands.

"What is it?" asked Ryuni.

"Open it and find out." She rolled her eyes, but began to open the box carefully. It revealed a plant resting in sand.

"It's a–""– Sand Lily. Very rare." Tina stared at the plant, before taking it into trembling hands.

"They live at the base of dunes and only bloom after the harshest sandstorms, with beautiful ivory blossoms. They represent resilience and survival among my people."

"You're from Tattooine? I chose this because you said you're from a sand world."

"Yes. I still carry Frek Grass my mother gave me as I left." She drew the delicate-looking plant closer to her. Ryuni put her arm around her adoptive mother. Rann hadn't expected the strong reaction he'd gotten and felt unsure of what to do. She looked up.

"Thank you." She reached out to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by the strong emotion. She placed her palm on his cheek, prompting him to look at her. Tina's eyes searched him, but for what he didn't know.

"Thank you. You have given me something precious. How did you find one?" Rann couldn't very well tell her he had taken a clipping the Room of a Thousand Fountains in the Jedi Temple. Thankfully, he had an answer ready.

"My family's garden." The perfect kind of lie, a half-truth.

"Your family must be loaded," scoffed Ryuni.

"Why are your clothes so… plain?"

"We all dress like this," he said, vaguely offended.

"Whatever." A few hours later, Rann stumbled out of the shop, already working on his next plan. One of the biggest problems of the Jedi Order was its very intense culture of silence. Instead of problems with the Order being discussed openly and honestly, they were often reserved for private meetings amongst fellow, trusted Jedi. As he grew older, he began to realize that the problems with the Jedi Order that were touched on in the Prequel trilogy weren't unknown; they were instead taboo topics of discussion.

Rann figured that part of this was the Order's public-facing nature; as Jedi, they were public servants, and it's not considered a good look to openly air out grievances. Another element was the strong ascetic streak the Order had. Emotional, ethical, and structural problems were all to be borne with serenity and grace, and openly talking about them was viewed as a failure of discipline, or even disloyalty.

But without acknowledging these flaws, the Jedi as a people couldn't grow, and the Order as an institution wouldn't change. Certainly not in time. So he needed to make the Order deal with those problems, but he needed to do it anonymously to protect himself and his friends. Rann couldn't even be sure of that, though. He'd realized recently that while this universe was certainly similar to the Star Wars universe he'd come to love in his old life.

There were myriad small details that were different, but there were also some fairly major ones. Dooku appeared to be on the Council over a decade earlier than he should've been. But Sheev Palpatine and Hego Demask still existed. Rann had checked. As he stepped into the storefront of Nexu Systems, Rann had those thoughts chased away by the overpowering scent of musk. He was in an electronics store known for its high-end hardware. But that wasn't what he was after.

He was after the backroom, where the store kept its illicit slicing gear. He was greeted by a blast of RGB lighting and a Rodian whose scales shined iridescent colors under the blacklight who was working the counter. Undoubtedly where the pungent scent came from. Rann gave the open-handed over the chest greeting that was preferred for Rodians, and it was returned with mild surprise.

"I'm looking for something special," he said as he walked to the counter.

"Have a look around, then." Rann shook his head.

"Bit more special than that." He leaned in, speaking softly.

"I'm looking for gear to slice a holopad. Encrypted." The Rodian made a sucking, hissing noise with his mouth.

"Come with me." The man gestured for him to walk to the side of the counter and through blast doors. As they walked into the much more coolly-lit room, the Rodian continued.

"Why do you want to slice an encrypted holopad?"

"I… have an idea." The Rodian gave him a nonplussed look.

"Look, the only people who encrypt their holopads are people who need to. Dangerous people. I'm not about to give a baby slicer the tools they need to get themselves whacked. Hard to get repeat customers like that. Plus, what happens if whoever you piss off decides to pay me a visit?"

"Look, I'm better than that, I promise." Rann realized that his insistence was more likely to come across as childish than assuring but didn't exactly have options. The Rodian certainly didn't seem convinced, with his face studiously blank.

"What if I prove it to you?" Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"You can try," scoffed the store manager.

"What's your name?" asked Rann suddenly.

"I'm Rann." The Rodian gave him a speculative look.

"I'll tell you my name if you turn out to be worth a cred." Rann was then tested on his slicing skills, during which he found out that while he was much better at infiltrating servers than the Rodian expected, he had next to no ability to use a hand-held slicing kit or do any kind of quick slicing like cracking a holopad. Rann was a mixture of pride and embarrassment. He'd managed to get the Rodian to see he did have real skill, but he also proved to himself that he had a ways to go.

The Rodian was faintly amused but also mildly baffled to see just how irregular Rann's ability was. It was a good enough showing to get a promise from the green-scaled alien to show him some things, but not enough to convince him to sell anything. Rann made sure to leave the shop with enough time to return to the Tower of Reassignment to meet his Master, with time to stop by their quarters and make tea.

As various attendees filtered out of the council's chambers, he was met with a mixture of Masters too apathetic to notice him and those bemused by his diligence. As his own Master left, Ansata robes striking against the browns, beiges, and charcoal greys of the other Masters, he revealed himself in the Force. By merging himself with the Force as much as he could using altus sopor and hiding the rest, it made him hard to detect.

Rann had taken to using his abilities nearly all the time as a form of training, as it strained his mind and his ability to manipulate the Force. His dropping the effect was noticeable, as some of the previously apathetic Masters jumped back at the startling feeling of having someone appear right before them.

"Rann," said Jocasta, pinching the bridge of her nose, "must you materialize like an apparition every time I leave a meeting? We are tired, not blind."

"But Master, I thought the Council's vaunted perception would surely notice a lowly Padawan." He blinked innocently, failing to fool her. Her eyes narrowed.

"Cheek and flattery in the same breath. You're becoming a politician. Give me that tea before I demote you back to the Crèches." Zucul chortled, saying, "It's good to see you, Initiate Rann. I see you haven't changed too much since leaving the Crèches." Rann blushed slightly as the gathered Masters chuckled at his expense, but managed to reply.

"It's only been a year, Master Zucul."

"A year can be enough time for some to forget themselves. I am glad you haven't." Zucul's presence in the Force brushed up against him, offering the same comfort it had when he was a child bawling his eyes out. Rann bowed low so they wouldn't see the emotion on his face. Behind him, Jocasta cleared her throat.

"If we're quite finished making a scene, Padawan, the Archives won't reorganize themselves."

"Of course, Master Nu." Inside the lift, as the doors closed, her tone softened by degrees.

"I looked over your proposal. It's a solid beginning. This week we'll refine it for submission to the Council of First Learning. If they approve—" she arched a brow, knowing he'd already done the arithmetic, that both she and Master Zucul sat on the Council—"it will proceed to the Council of First Knowledge. And that, Padawan, is where your fine idea will meet reality."

"I understand, Master."

"I rather hope you don't," she said, a trace of amusement underneath her usual precision.

"Optimism is useful, until the bureaucracy has its say." Rann's apprenticeship to Jocasta Nu might not be the most conventional, but he was coming to love it just the same. Rann found himself in the Temple's hangars once again, gazing out into the ecumenopolis' skyline. It was filled with skyscrapers so large they touched clouds and traffic that flowed in every direction, looking like a bizarre mixture between a flock of birds and ants marching.

Here, the noise of Coruscant met that of the Temple, clashing and fighting for dominance. It wasn't much-discussed, but literally all of Coruscant's upper and midlevels were at a dull roar at all times due to the density of the city-planet's population. Many, many breakthroughs in sound-dampening technology were made just to reduce the omnipresent noise. He scanned the world outside like he could somehow see Mace's ship, even though it wasn't due for another ten minutes.

"Calm yourself, Padawan." Master Nu stood behind him.

"Your anxiousness will not make your friend appear any faster. Give it to the Force."

"Yes, Master." Rann closed his eyes, centering himself in the Force. As he did, he took his anxieties about Mace's return and examined them, giving each their due turn. He acknowledged them, and then gave them to the Force. When he opened his eyes again, it was to the same ship that Master T'ra Saa, Huyang, and Mace had left on touching down. It undid a fair bit of the work he had just meditated on, and he could feel Master Nu's sigh in the padawan bond they shared.

As the ramps of the craft lowered, attending astromechs began to zoom around, beeping amongst each other in a hyperfast stream of binary as they visually diagnosed repair and maintenance items. It had been a slow two weeks in the temple, meaning that the droids were beginning to get a bit antsy. Their human partner, an ExplorCorps technician, just shook her head as she walked over to them.

Just then, the ramp fully lowered, prompting the astromechs to launch themselves into the ship at breakneck paces, barely dodging around the three figures who emerged: T'ra Saa, Huyang, and Mace. Mace had gotten taller, was the first thing he noticed. His friend had gone from a definite child to the faint beginnings of the man he would become. Even at age thirteen, much of the baby fat had melted from his face, and he now had the too-long limbs many suffered from puberty.

But it wasn't his physical presence that had changed the most. Mace looked at him with a tight, controlled smile. It revealed just how much Mace's apprenticeship to T'raa Saa had changed him. Before, Mace's presence in the Force was… wild, untamed. It contrasted with his normally stony face to create the picture of a storm chained by sheer will. Now, his presence felt like a seemingly calm sea; there may be unpredictable currents in its depths, but one had to know the waters to recognize them.

Luckily, Rann knew his friend. He brushed up against Mace in the Force, letting his genuine joy at seeing him again out. Mace's presence turned somewhat bashful at this unabashed show of emotion. Rann didn't care. Finally, they came to stop before each other. Mace was… pouting?

"I thought I would be taller," he grumped.

"Nope." Rann grinned.

"I grew, too." They stood eye-to-eye for a moment, before Rann couldn't take it and hugged Mace.

"We're Padawans, we're supposed to have decorum," complained Mace. He returned the hug just as fiercely.

"We're friends. We're supposed to hug." Rann held on for a moment longer. When he let go, Mace worked quickly to regain control of himself, shuttering his presence in the Force.

"It is good to see you, Rann."

"You too, Mace." A brief pause fell between them. Rann noticed Master Saa and Master Nu were talking to each other as Huyang looked on.

"Want to spar?" Mace was a boy of simple priorities.

"I thought you'd never ask." ~*~*~ The training yards available to Padawans were much, much nicer than those they could use as Initiates. While they were nowhere near as nice as the facilities available to Knights and Masters, Padawans were still allowed to requisition various training droids for their practice, and the equipment was newer and higher quality. The biggest difference though, was the ability to requisition private yards. Mace and Rann stood fifteen paces apart, hilts at the ready.

At the familiar snap-hiss of a lightsaber, they lit their blades at an unspoken signal. Rann's was a deep, emerald green. Unusual for a padawan, for it to be such a deep color. Most padawan sabers were monocrystal blades made out of kyber. As they grew older, perhaps even making Knighthood, they would typically quest for more crystals, which would deepen the color of the blade. As Rann's was an Adegan, it already had a strong, deep color one normally associated with a higher rank of Jedi.

Mace's though, was truly special. It wasn't that Mace's lightsaber was the only purple one on record, but each was rare enough to draw attention. There were no other living Jedi that had a purple saber that Rann knew of. Rann knew that it would draw whispers. Purple was certainly not red, the color of the Sith, but it was a neighbor just the same. Mace already drew scrutiny for his somewhat turbulent nature, so this blade would confirm some's suspicions.

Rann knew that it simply affirmed Mace's deep, deep control of his innermost demons.

"Your saber looks cool," Rann assured his friend. Mace said nothing, but his face softened. Rann fell into the basic Shii-Cho guard as Mace began to circle him. The training yard was silent except for their shuffling across the sand. Their masters simply stood to the side in silence. That didn't surprise Rann much. He practically had to drag Master Nu to the salles to get her to practice, and her Niman was only a step above the proficiency one might expect of a Knight.

Saber skills were not something she enjoyed nor considered important to her role in the Order. Master T'ra Saa, on the other hand, simply enjoyed silence. Mace's first attack was quick as a cobra's lunge, but Rann simply parried and circled right. A flurry of Juyo followed him as Rann danced out of the way, relying on Soresu's defenses and footwork. Mace followed him for another five, six, seven blows before backing off. Rann simply gathered himself back into the basic Shii-Cho guard.

This repeated itself again, Mace testing his defenses. Rann simply endured, relying on his Shii-Cho and Soresu to keep Mace's blade from scoring a hit. He soon realized that there was a simple problem with this: T'ra Saa was a true master of Soresu. Mace often had his blade in position before Rann had even reacted, which prompted Rann to rely on his precognition even heavier. Time to shift strategies. Rann knew that his friend would get the better of him in the next exchange if he didn't change things up.

Mace leapt forward with a strong diagonal slash. Instead of giving ground as he had for the previous two exchanges, he pressed forward into Mace's guard. Leveraging both hands on his slightly overlong hilt, he twisted their blades with the kshhhhht of meeting plasma until he scored a hit on Mace's forearm.

"Solah." They untangled and Mace rubbed at his now slightly-singed arm. Even fully powered down, the Adegan crystal in Rann's saber was stronger than any single-crystal blade on a training setting.

"Shien," muttered Mace, face darkening.

"You study Soresu."

"I switched." Rann had a devilish grin, now. His competitive friend had lost the first point.

"Got you."

"You must see what is there as it is, Padawan, not as it was." Mace's dryad Master called from the sidelines.

"You are not the only one who has changed."

"No," he muttered.

"I'm not." They lit their blades again. Rann lost five more points in a row before begging off. It was becoming evident that their first years as padawans were very different. Rann did his best to keep up, but he now spent around two, maybe three hours a day in the Salles, while much more of Mace's time had been spent training.

"So what were you doing?" he took a much-needed gulp of water from the waterskin.

"Much of my time was spent meditating or in discussion with Master Saa." Mace's skin glistened from exertion, but he wasn't gasping for air like he was.

"We also provided assistance to a few communities. And yourself?"

"You wouldn't believe the amount of meetings Master Nu has."

"Indeed." The Chief Librarian and Master Dryad had walked over to them.

"Much of my time is taken up by my duties." T'ra Saa dipped her head, tendrils gently swaying in a breeze that only they knew.

"It is for this reason that I stepped down from the High Council. To train one such as my padawan, meant to forsake other duties."

"Certainly." Master Nu didn't even bristle at the oblique criticism.

"He would require much care. I am fortunate that my own padawan is largely self-sufficient." Rann almost choked at her factual, no-nonsense delivery. T'ra Saa dipped her head once again, saying nothing.

"Still, it has become apparent that Rann's ability with a lightsaber has outstripped my ability to provide. We shall find you a tutor." Rann bowed.

"Thank you, Master."

"I face similar problems with Mace," T'ra Saa freely confessed. Do you feel no shame, to criticize my Master and then admit you both face the same challenge?

"His Juyo is too different from my own Soresu for me to provide adequate instruction."

"That's not true," said the ever-loyal Mace.

"You're a wonderful Master." The dryad's smile was warm.

"A good Master must realize when their apprentice's needs cannot be met with their own skills. This is simply one of those instances, padawan. To fully blossom, you will require someone who can guide your development in Juyo, not simply spar against you." Mace frowned but bowed. Just then, Master Nu's transponder beeped. She reached into her robes and reviewed the message. Then she sighed.

"Well, padawan. I suppose you should enjoy your time with your friend. We have been requested to appear in the Tower of Reconciliation for a mission brief." Rann and Mace turned to look at each other. There were conflicting emotions, to be sure. Rann wasn't sure if he was more excited to finally be out on a mission, or sad to have his reunion cut short.

"May the Force be with you, Rann."

"You too, Mace." With that, they left the Salles. Mace and T'ra Saa to their apartment, while Rann and Jocasta Nu went to their briefing. Rann wanted to ask questions, but knew that he wouldn't receive any more information from Master Nu. She didn't like repeating herself, or to discuss things twice. Plus, the message she'd received probably wasn't much more detailed than what she had told them. Soon, they were in the Tower of Reconciliation.

But instead of going to the Council chamber, Jocasta directed them to an office. High Conciliator | Oppo Rancisis was on a plain but still gold-colored placard, likely a plasteel alloy instead of real bronze or gold. One oddity of the Jedi Temple as a whole was that while it was very ornate compared to almost any building in his old life, many of the spaces utilized by the more active parts of the Order, like the Towers, Salles, and Crèches, were far less so.

Older spaces, like some of the meditation rooms and the many, many levels that had been built over had clearly seen Jedi artisans work on it lovingly, with detail-work that took lifetimes. As you travelled higher into the Temple, that began to change. It was still nice, but it was relatively plain and built to be functional. It was an odd mix of past iterations of the Order's love for art, architecture, and beauty clashing against the current rendition's ascetic nature.

Rann found it faintly amusing that this shift towards asceticism had taken place during the Republic's longest-lasting stretch of peace and prosperity, and paralleled the Order's increasing disengagement with the wider galaxy. It was like the Order was self-abnegating to compensate for its increasingly plush position. They stepped into the office after a short wait to find Master Rancisis curled up behind his desk, finishing a conversation with a Wookie.

"Peace of the Force be with you, Senator Thorrfyk." With that, the Thisspiasian High Councilor turned his attention to them.

"Hello, Master Nu. It has been too long since we have had the chance to talk, since you left the High Council." He turned his woolly head to Rann.

"And you have added another to our lineage. Good to see you, Padawan Crys." Rann had honestly forgotten that Oppo had been Yaddle's padawan. Lineages were something important to the Jedi, as it was the closest thing they had to family. It was also, quietly, the closest thing they had to prestige. Being in a high councilor's lineage was better than some Master who had never held a significant office, after all.

Rann realized that his lineage had two current high councilors and at least one former high councilor in his lineage in Oppo Rancisis, Yaddle, and his own master. Likely only Yoda's lineage could claim better.

"We are both far too busy for our own goods, I fear," replied Jocasta.

"Managing the EduCorps and Council of First Knowledge is task enough for me. I cannot imagine dealing with the Senate and High Council." Oppo Rancisis let out a hissing laugh.

"Much patience is needed, and a gentle touch. You are far too sensible to deal with Senators, I fear. And you have found a wonderful home for yourself." They shared a laugh as Rann watched. He hadn't seen Master Nu like this before. The Thisspiasian was clearly a master of flattery, but normally Jocasta found such platitudes to be grating. She must really respect him, then, concluded Rann.

"Well, we must be on to business." With a subtle tightening of his coils, Oppo signaled that their briefing would begin.

"I was approached by the Senior Senator of Alderaan, Malden Organa. The Royal Library of Alderaan is due to have a grand ceremony for their newest exhibit, Alderaan on the Galactic Stage. The Senator told me that the being spearheading the project, Archivist Alde, remembered you and requested that you attend. Normally, I would say that our Chief Librarian's schedule is full, but I seem to recall that you quite enjoyed your time in Alderaan and a little time outside the temple might do you good."

"Thank you, Oppo. I quite appreciate it. Yes, this will serve as a good first mission for my padawan and I."

"Then I shall relay the good news to the honorable Senator. And tell me about your padawan. Do you think he'll enjoy the tea?"

"Undoubtedly. Rann has quite the adventurous palette, don't you?"

"I got Master Dooku Shig from Kih'Keldabe." Rann grinned mischievously. It was one of those little secrets of the Order that 'asking someone to tea' was code for either a casual fling; or inviting them to join the Shadows. Since both masters had been trained by Yaddle and he was thirteen, it was clear which they were referring to.

"You what?" Jocasta turned to him with faint reproach.

"Have you been leaving the Temple without my permission?"

"I've been leaving the Temple since I was ten," Rann explained.

"And you didn't think to tell me?" He looked up coolly as his Master's brows slowly knit together.

"I thought you knew and just weren't saying anything, Master." Oppo's whiskers twitched, a low purr rolling through his throat.

"Ah, the honesty of youth. How rare it is to hear it spoken without fear of consequence." Rann fought the urge to grin wider. The Thisspiasian's tone wasn't unkind, more like a teacher watching an old trick performed well. Jocasta folded her arms, the movement sharp and deliberate.

"And how fortunate for him that consequence seems to avoid my padawan as easily as he avoids supervision." He shrugged.

"Avoiding supervision builds character." Usually that would have earned him a sharp correction. Instead, Jocasta just looked at him. Her silence stretched longer than it should have. He could not read what was in her face. Not anger. Something quieter.

"I see," she said at last, her voice softer than before.

"You thought I knew, and simply did not care." Rann hesitated. Her tone was calm, but it left him uneasy.

"I thought you noticed," he said slowly.

"Maybe you just didn't mind. You have a lot to manage." She did not answer right away. Her eyes lingered on him, and he had the strange sense that she was seeing him clearly for the first time in months. Oppo's coils shifted slightly as he spoke.

"Padawans learn the habits we teach them, whether we mean to or not." The words sat heavily between them. Jocasta inclined her head a fraction.

"Then perhaps I have been teaching the wrong habits." Rann glanced down, unsure what to say.

"Guess we'll find out on Alderaan."

"You will," she replied.

"And so will I." Oppo let out a long hiss of amusement.

"Progress," he said.

"A good omen for your journey. Alderaan favors those willing to see clearly, even themselves." Jocasta straightened her robes.

"Then it seems we are overdue for clarity." Rann met her gaze again. Something in her expression had changed. It felt unfamiliar, careful. He smirked slightly.

"If there's tea, I'll manage."

"Force help me," Jocasta muttered, though the sigh carried a trace of fondness. Rann wasn't sure how to feel. Oppo's fur shimmered faintly in the afternoon light.

"He reminds me of you, Jocasta. Curious, certain, and far too clever for the comfort of his elders."

"Flattery," she replied, gathering her datapad, "will not make me forget that you encouraged him." The Thisspiasian's eyes gleamed.

"Encouragement and acknowledgment are not the same thing. I simply recognize a familiar hunger."

"For trouble?"

"For knowledge," Oppo corrected gently.

"And perhaps a touch of mischief. The two often travel together." Jocasta sighed, though the corner of her mouth softened.

"You were always too patient with us, Oppo."

"Patience is the only luxury the wise can still afford," he said.

"Take it with you. Alderaan rewards the patient." She inclined her head.

"And you, as always, make your counsel sound like prophecy." He smiled faintly.

"Then may it be one." Rann followed his master toward the door. The scent of tea leaves and old parchment lingered behind them as the office doors slid closed. Jocasta's stride was steady, purposeful, but quieter than usual. She said nothing as they turned toward the turbolift that would take them back to their quarters. For once, Rann didn't fill the silence. They both had preparations to make, and perhaps more to think about than either had expected.