Chương 16: Deposition

[CORE WORLDS NETWORK // EVENING TRANSMISSION // 941 ARR] With Jaster Mereel declared Mand'alor, questions arise once again: Is Mandalore preparing to rejoin the galaxy – or dominate it? [OUTER RIM FREE PRESS // DISTRIBUTED BULLETIN // 941 ARR] MANDALORE DECLARES A LEADER -- UNITY REMAINS ON THE HORIZON Jaster Mereel has been recognized as Mand'alor by several of the Clans, though Mandalorian leadership remains contested.

"Mandalore requires a strong leader who will modernize but keep our traditions alive," said Adonai of House Kryze, confirming Clan and True Mandalorian recognition. The declaration has been rejected by elements of the extremist group Kyr'tsad, who oppose any limitations on mercenary work and believe in a return to the Crusade.

"No real mando'a believes Mereel to be the Mand'alor," stated Tor Vizsla.

"We will not kneel for the comfort of outsiders." The New Mandalorians have issued no formal recognition.

"A Mandalore that returns us to endless war is not a future we accept," said Councilor Ryn Talvek, speaking for the New Mandalorian bloc. While Core coverage has framed the announcement as a singular shift toward outwards aggression, Rim observers note that Mandalorian politics remain deeply divided, with the opening moves of a factional civil war having already occurred. ~*~*~*~ 59 BBY – 941 ARR – Alderaan Last night had been, much like the before, frustrating.

Despite both him and Nu poring over their findings, they hadn't been able to piece together what was going on. They knew who was modifying the documents, House Alde (or at least select members), but they didn't know why or for what purpose. Still, he woke up, made his morning ablutions, and joined Master Nu for an early-morning meditation session.

Feeling better, he and Master Nu briefly talked through the evidence again, fruitlessly, before preparing for their scheduled brunch with Senator Organa and his son, Bail. Their cab dropped them off outside of a nice, upscale restaurant which was all swooping angles and glass. The wait staff were fashionably dressed, and the maître d' led them to their table herself.

"Master Jedi!" Malden greeted them with the same arms-open stance he'd used at the airport, before gesturing to a nearby table.

"It is good to see you again." He waited until they were seated before turning to Rann.

"And I hope you're feeling better?"

"Yes, Senator. I'm perfectly fine now."

"That's good to hear." The man put a hand on his son's shoulder.

"My wife was unable to make it this morning, but my son, Bail, is very excited to meet you. Normally when I bring him along to these kinds of things, he's the only one his age." Rann looked at the other boy speculatively. If they'd been in the Temple, Bail would be a youngling, not someone Rann interacted with normally.

"It's nice to meet you," said the dark-haired boy, smiling amiably. Rann didn't see the man who would become Prince Consort, or that would raise Princess Leia. Bail just looked like a normal little kid.

"Nice to meet you as well," Rann responded, dipping his head reflexively.

"I decided to bring you to this restaurant so you could try some traditional Alderaanian cuisine, Rann." Senator Malden smoothly took control of the conversation again.

"I've been told that Master Nu is already quite familiar, but you need to know your roots, son." Rann looked around. Something told him that most Alderaanians didn't eat like this, certainly not with the familiarity that the Senator and his son approached it with.

"Thank you for broadening my horizons, Senator."

"Please, call me Malden!" The man laughed, a little too congenially.

"All those titles, it's too much."

"Then please, feel free to use our names as well," replied Jocasta. Their waiter came around to ask for drinks, prompting them to open their menus. They sat in polite quiet as the waiter explained the menu to them and gave them the chef's specials before departing.

"So you live on Coruscant?" offered Bail as a means of starting conversation.

"Yeah. How about you?" The younger boy half-shrugged.

"I go back and forth a lot to see dad, but I spend more time on Alderaan. I go to school here."

"Yeah? What's there to do around here?" Bail had a wicked grin, Rann found out.

"Thranta-riding."

"Thranta-riding?"

"It's the best!" He turned to the older Organa.

"Dad, can I take Rann out to the rookery?" The senator seemed to consider his son's request for a moment, with a pleasant smile that didn't quite match the glint in his eye.

"Well, I don't see the harm, if his master permits." Rann turned to Master Nu, trying not to let the prospect of adventure overwhelm him. He knew, intellectually, that their mission was incredibly important, but the chance to ride the massive, flying stingray-like creatures was just too good to pass up. She looked at him a moment before faintly nodding.

"It couldn't harm anything, I suppose. Rann, you must make sure to listen to your hosts." He nodded carefully, understanding the double-meaning of her words. Master was right, this wouldn't just be a way to go flying, he needed to try and pry loose as much information as he could from Bail about his family's activities. Being of the Great Houses, there was a non-zero chance that they were at least able to give context behind why the Alde plot might be happening.

The rest of the breakfast was a tame affair, with Rann and Bail largely eating in silence and watching their elders, waiting for the now-inevitable approval to be excused so they could go off on their thranta-riding excursion. Master Nu and Senator Malden engaged in polite, but ultimately meaningless conversation, inquiring about some pointless detail of the other's job, or asking about an acquaintance. Eventually, they both conceded to the wait of their respective charge's impatience.

"Yunis, please escort my son and his new friend to the rookery."

"Of course." A large, stolid woman in formal-looking armor stepped forward and gestured for them to follow her. Bail grabbed his arm and brushed past the woman, who followed with a barely heard sigh.

"You're going to love it!" ~*~*~ A short journey across Alde Lake later, and they were on the Organa's estate outside the city. They had landed next to a beautiful chateau nestled in the foothills of the Triplehorn Mountains which had a wonderful view of both the lake and the vast grassland plains that Alderaan was famous for.

"Thank you for getting me out of that breakfast," said Bail as they made their way up a narrow mountain trail. A wider, gravel-lined one was visible beneath them, but Bail had rejected going down it on the grounds that this way was faster. And more fun.

"I should thank you," replied Rann. Though he had the feeling that the whole thing had been arranged by the Organas. Their dialogue this morning had been too smooth and the senator's agreement too quick for it to be entirely natural. He figured that Malden wanted for his sons to make connections within the Jedi Order, since the Organa family was known for its longstanding alliance with them.

"Oh it's no bother," Bail chirped cheerily, nimbly hopping up the last couple of steps. Rann shortly stepped onto the plateau, which again had a wonderful vista.

"I really like getting to fly. Isn't that right, Yunis?"

"Yes," she replied laconically.

"Exactly." Bail nodded along like she had made a grand pronouncement before gesturing.

"Here it is!" The rookery lived up to its name, as thrantas of all shapes, sizes, and colors flew around in spirals and circles, dived and swooped, in and out of the cave-pocked stone monolith that dotted the plateau. Though they all looked like cetaceans and were known colloquially as flying whales, some had the more rounded wings of a stingray while others had triangular wings one might associate with a manta ray, making them some odd mix between the two.

Their low, mournful cries filled the air, along with shorter chirps and grunts. It also had a distinctive, animal smell, though Rann couldn't quite place it. Bail led them into the structure, which upon closer inspection Rann could tell was actually carved blocks meant from the outside to resemble a natural, if especially holey, spire of stone. Attendants met them and led them to three smaller thrantas which were already saddled.

Bail explained that they could come in sizes large enough to seat twenty people, though this breed was meant to be ridden by one or two people and bred for endurance.

"You see how their skin is more blue than grey and these golden markings near their eyes and tips of their wings? That's my House's colors. We were among the first Houses of Alderaan to breed them," explained the boy.

"They represent the virtues of our house: grace, service, and endurance. As a Great House, we have served the galaxy for a long, long time, and we will continue to do so." Rann could practically hear the capitalization, and could tell that Bail was reciting something that had likely been told to him many times.

"Is that so? How long have the Organas been around?" Bail shrugged, somehow making the gesture both roguish and aristocratic.

"It is said that an Organa was the primary author of the Galactic Constitution." Seeing as how that was over twenty-five millennia ago, it did speak to the longevity of the House.

"It's actually going to be part of the new exhibition."

"Really?" Rann had to work very hard not to overreact at that statement.

"Yeah." Bail swung one leg over the thranta's saddle, making it quiver in anticipation. He lowered a hand to its side, patting it soothingly.

"Noble Curator Dreya has been over a few times to discuss the whole thing." Rann's ears perked up at that.

"Wow. Are your dad and him close?"

"Our Houses collaborate frequently. But enough of that, let's get in the air!" With that, he whistled sharply, prompting the thrantas to flap their wings. Soon they were out of the rookery and into the open air. Rann, despite holding on tightly, found himself laughing at the wind in his face. Looking down at the shrinking ground, he was amazed by how fast they were going. Soon, they had left the foothills and were in the endless expanses of Alderaan's grasslands.

Bail let loose another piercing whistle, and Rann's thranta turned right to follow his.

"Look!" Bail pointed down below, and Rann could see the mottled grass below. A few more moments' consideration, and he realized he was looking at one of the famed grassed murals that the planet was known for. Bail brought their thrantas to a slow circling pattern, close enough that they could talk with slightly elevated voices.

"It represents the Battle of Alderaan, during the Great Galactic War. My House commissioned it, and it was built with a few other Houses' assistance, including Alde." Rann nodded but couldn't really see it. To him, it looked like faintly geometric patterns of circles, triangles, spirals, and more, etched in many-colored grasses. The lines weren't crisp, but they were surprisingly easy to make out from this great height.

"Look there." Bail pointed to the west. Rann saw a herd of wild grazers.

"They're drawn to the grasses there. Grazers like to move from west to east throughout the day, mirroring troop movements."

"Woah."

"And there." Bail pointed again.

"Those red-winged flare-wings represent the blood, our people's pain and suffering from the Sith attack." He gestured again.

"And that blue/gray stone outcropping over there is basalt, which is associated with my House due to its strength and durability. When the Sith invaded, we banded together all of Alderaan and pushed them back out, which is why the outcropping is surrounded by all those shapes in the mural, they represent the various Great Houses which joined us." Rann looked again, taking everything into account.

The shape of the terrain, specific species of grass, the animals and their placement, even the patches of dirt or sand seemed to have new meanings. Not that he knew what they were. He was suddenly struck with a deep sense of grief and loss. This. This is what being a Jedi means having given up. He couldn't understand his own people or relate to them.

He held no allegiance to their Houses; their art, the beautiful architecture and delicate yet powerful murals were strange and foreign; their history a separate matter that he learned in classes, not taught to him by a mother or father. It was a loss, a choice that he hadn't made. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"It's beautiful," he whispered. Bail nodded, seeming to sense his sudden change in mood. They flew around the plains for a few hours more, Bail pointing out and explaining the various murals and their elements. Apparently, the incorporation of fauna into the murals was a relatively new innovation, only happening in the last thousand years.

Before that, Alderaanian grass mural artists and their patrons had endeavored to keep them away from their works until an enterprising artist from House Veruna had begun a new school of muralists who instead incorporated the fauna, starting with the aesthetically pleasing flare-wings, whose many species were noted for their vibrant colors. That school had essentially taken over the grass mural scene, so that now almost every grass mural, large or small, worked to incorporate every aspect of the grasslands.

Eventually, the thrantas began to chuff and quiver to show their exhaustion. Bail brought them back around to the rookery. As they dismounted, attendants came to lead the thrantas away so they could unsaddle and bathe them. Rann bowed politely before following Bail and his silent guard out. A short jaunt back down the trail, and they were at the chateau.

"That was wonderful," gushed Rann. Despite his monachopsis surrounding his identity as an Alderaanian and a Jedi, getting to see real, live nature after a lifetime on Coruscant was indescribable. He also couldn't shake the sinking feeling that the Organas were part of the plot. He felt a distant memory bubbling just below the surface, but couldn't quite recall. ~*~*~ Bail waved goodbye as Rann ascended the last couple steps to the hotel lobby. He greeted BD-3000 with a small wave, who nodded back to him.

It was only then that he noticed his master was sitting in a high-backed love seat, peering down at a holopad. He made his way over to her and sat on one of the plush chairs. She didn't react, but Rann simply waited. If it was one of her pet projects, it was likely to be an impenetrably dense tome in some dead language and encrypted, besides. Setting the 'pad down, she turned to him.

"Thank you for waiting, padawan."

"Of course, master. Why are you down in the lobby?"

"Our visitor from the Temple is due to join us soon," she said.

"My former assistant, in fact. Miriam." Rann blinked owlishly in surprise. He knew Miriam, of course. He'd seen her around the library or following Jocasta in her role as executive aide, but he'd never really spoken to her. Master Nu still kept in touch with her, but she had taken a role as a principle investigator on some archaeological site, but he couldn't recall the name of the planet.

"She's coming here? I thought she wasn't even on Coruscant." Master Nu smiled faintly.

"The field season at her dig site had ended due to the start of the rainy season, so she decided to return to Coruscant. She landed the day after we left, actually. When I made the request for records, she said she would make the trip so as to allow others to continue their work undisturbed."

"I see." A few minutes later, the doors of the hotel lobby opened. In walked a woman wearing an overcoat that aligned more closely with Mid-rim fashions than the somewhat hidebound Core world of Alderaan. Nu and Rann rose simultaneously and met her halfway. Rann bowed slightly, but made sure to clasp his hands in front of him, not hide them in his sleeves.

As a Padawan on the path to Knighthood, he had the right to address a non-active-duty member of the Service Corps with the full Jedi bow, hands concealed in robes. He found the notion distasteful. So what if his rank within the Order was, on paper, higher than hers? Did that invalidate her many years of experience both within and without the Temple? Was her worth as a Jedi less solely because she was not chosen – or did not want to be a Padawan?

He saw Master Nu join him in his bow, faint pleasure radiating through their bond. Miriam returned it in kind, before handing her coat off to a droid. Her clothes were well-worn and practical, and certainly not Jedi standard.

"Jocasta," she said warmly.

"It's good to see you."

"Likewise," murmured his master, faint smile on her lips.

"And you, Padawan Rann. I remember when you were like a little Tooka, slipping through the archives and driving your now-master up a wall. Now look at you!" Her lips quirked upward faintly.

"I've been hearing good things about you from the librarians back at the Temple. They say you've done a good job keeping this one on schedule. Force knows it's a full-time job." Rann felt heat creep up the back of his neck. In Miriam's absence, Rann had, partly out of necessity, begun taking over her role. He rose early to review Master Nu's schedule, summarized briefings for her over their morning caf, and had quietly started screening messages and meeting requests before they even reached her desk.

In truth, it was too large a task for a newly-minted Padawan. To be executed to its fullest, the job required an intimate, almost instinctive understanding of the Archives, the EduCorps, and the interconnected web of relationships between them and the larger Order. But Master Nu had gently declined the offer of a new aide, and so the task had fallen to Rann. He liked to think he was better at it than expected; he also knew that many librarians, archivists, and researchers alike still felt Miriam's absence keenly.

"Thank you," he replied, ducking his head.

"You mustn't give people the impression that I am something to be managed," groused Master Nu, though her soft eyes told a different story. Rann was mildly surprised at this. His Master didn't exactly do 'teasing,' from what he had seen.

"Of course not," replied Miriam, with a seriousness edging into amusement. After letting Miriam get arranged in her room, they convened in Jocasta and Rann's suite. The three of them were armed with the many different data storage and display technologies which were utilized across the galaxy.

"I took my time on the journey here to look over the Temple's versions of these documents. I also brought a scanner which can pick out the differences in each document, once we feed both to it." Miriam's long hair was out of the braid and fell down her back, a headband keeping it out of her face.

"Very good. Then Rann and I shall examine what you brought, while you review what he acquired."

"Oh?" She turned to him.

"You retrieved this yourself?" Rann shrugged, with studied casualness.

"Yeah."

"What were you up to, Jocasta?"

"Providing a distraction." She sighed.

"While Rann obtained what we required, I was having dinner with Noble Curator Dreya. He turned out to be rather… loquacious."

"Oh?"

"He was trying to impress my master with his new title," chimed in Rann.

"Was he now." Miriam had a sly smile tugging on the corners of her cheeks.

"And was this effective, Madame Nu?"

"No," she replied, tone as dry as the deserts of Tatooine. ~*~*~ A few hours later, and all humor had drained out of them. Despite poring over the texts, they simply could not figure out why they were being modified. They knew that House Alde was the principal actor, and that Senator Malden Organa had some relationship with them. But still not why. What reason could these two Houses have to modify these documents?

"I can find no coherent through-line," murmured Jocasta.

"No matter how I put the pieces together, I cannot divine the puzzle's shape."

"And how would this even work?" mused Rann aloud.

"Even if House Alde modifies their own records, which are generally considered the public's record of events, surely other Houses would come forward with their own to contest this?" Miriam had been sitting in silence, curled up on one of the chairs with her hands wrapped around a warm mug for a while now. She sighed and shook her head, shifting into an upright position.

"Let's ignore that question for now and focus on what we know and what we can learn from it."

"The bulk of the texts modified" said Master Nu slowly, "have been charters, accords, witness lists, and arbitration clauses. All of them to do with either truly ancient Alderaanian history so obscure it takes a true scholar to appreciate it, or emergency succession, interregna, or specific transitions of office."

"Yes. And some of the choices of what they've chosen to display for the new exhibition have been… odd." Miriam's face scrunched in concentration.

"They aren't displaying the original Charter of Alderaan, which has long been considered the foundational document of Alderaan's constitution. Even though it's almost certainly quite fragile due to age, it should be fine for display with a temporary exhibit. Instead, they're promoting the more recent Accordance of Peace and practically claiming it is the constitution, though at its core it's an agreement to limit arms procurement and manufacturing. Who does that benefit?"

"They've been modifying some documents to place House Organa higher up on the list of Houses that signed or manufacturing their appearance wholesale," added Nu. This, again, was an issue of precedence. First signature normally went to the author, while second and third went to the principal witnesses. The closer one was to these three roles, the higher their status in the document.

"So they've not just been modifying documents, but they're also going to attempt to modify people's perceptions of what documents are important," finished Rann. Miriam looked up excitedly, scrambling for a holopad on the edge of the table.

"House Antilles wasn't even in the top five signatories of the Accordance of Peace, were they? They were devastated during the Alderaanian Civil War and wouldn't reemerge for another thousand years."

"So if the Organas and Aldes manage to reframe Alderaan's constitution as resting on that document," spoke Nu slowly, "as well as modify how several other rules of precedent work, they could shake the Antilles' claim to several offices on Alderaan."

"Probably not enough to have them dethroned, but enough to draw attention to it. Especially the colonial offices, where the Organas already have such a strong claim," affirmed Miriam. She was right. House Organa was strongly associated with Alderaan's expansion efforts into the Inner and Mid Rim. Several planets in the colonies still had Organa representatives in the Senate.

A faint, niggling recollection of a memory which had been bothering Rann like a loose tooth (which Rann was now more familiar with, seeing as how he had just lost the last of his baby teeth) came to the fore of his mind. The Alderaan Ascendancy Crisis. In the lore, it was little more than a passing mention.

At some point before the Clone Wars, there had been a question of who would receive the title of Viceroy; an office that had drifted far from its original purpose in the current era, but it did make the holder Alderaan's personal representative to its colonies. A Jedi had been tasked to resolve the dispute and awarded the title to House Organa, which also led to the arranged marriage of one Bail Organa and Breha Antilles. This sent off another cascade in Rann's mind: Alderaan was matrilineal.

For Leia's last name to be Organa meant that not only had her adoptive parent's marriage been precipitated by the plot which he was currently uncovering, it also represented what was essentially a face-saving compromise. Even though the new claimants to the throne might have the name Organa, they were by lineage Antilles. It gave the Organas the throne, but the Antilles the satisfaction of knowing that their blood would still run through Alderaan's kings and queens.

Now, decades before it happened, Rann came to the obvious conclusion: the Alderaan Ascendancy Crisis had not been resolved by the Jedi, it had been manufactured long before they even entered the picture. They had simply been the coup de grace.

"We must review the evidence to ensure that we are correct," announced Master Nu. Miriam sighed before rising to her feet and walking to their kitchenette, brushing Jocasta's shoulder with her hand on the way.

"I'll be making more tea," she called.

"I'm fine," called Rann. He'd had quite a lot already. Besides, the work ahead was too exciting. Rann and Nu pored back over the documents with renewed vigor, excited to have a lead. Soon, they had a rough outline of the conspiracy that finally made sense. It was essentially a campaign to delegitimize House Antilles' claim to the throne, as well as several other titles and offices. Not by modifying the historical record wholesale, or attempting to wipe the Antilles from Alderaan's long annals of history.

Instead, it reframed several key documents to emphasize those in which the Organas had played a large part in, while downplaying those the Antilles were key makers of. This was not the expressly illegal part of the plot. No, that came into their modifications of documents, which focused largely on slightly modifying wording, or changing the ordering of signatories for certain documents. It was the slow work of decades, but the payoff was a king's ransom, literally.

Miriam walked back into the room, carrying two steaming cups of tea she'd brought from the Temple.

"Here you go," she said to Jocasta. Their hands met in the shared act of clasping the mug.

"Thank you, Miriam," replied Jocasta with warmth in her voice.

"My pleasure." A short while later, they had most of the pieces of the puzzle slotted in neatly. With his Master's eye for details and mind bent towards unraveling mysteries, they finished slotting most of the major pieces together and typed up a coherent brief.

"We need to call the High Council to receive further direction," said Master Nu, once they were done.

"We can do that?" asked Rann. He knew that, theoretically, anyone could do it. It was just unlikely that they would choose to meet and instead pawn it off to a subordinate Council or individual. He'd learned it in his Mission Protocol class he'd taken. In the class, it was explained as a necessity, since if the High Council just met with Jedi in the field, they would never have time to do their other tasks, what with ten thousand active-duty Jedi and another hundred thousand Corps members.

It was exceptionally rare for something in the field to be raised all the way to the High Council, even if they were the ultimate authority." You might have a hard time doing such, but I certainly have the authority," corrected Master Nu.

"Besides, this has proven to be… politically dicey, what with Great Houses and their game of thrones involved. And time-sensitive."

"I'll just head onto bed," Miriam said, yawning.

"Goodnight, Rann. Goodnight, Jocasta."

"Goodnight, Miriam." Rann waved, slightly confused at her abrupt departure.

"Sleep well," replied Nu. With that, she activated her commlink. After reciting her credentials and requesting the call be immediately elevated, they were told to wait. A tense half hour later, they were patched through to the High Council, or at least those members available. Soon, the blue forms of five beings flickered into view.

"Master Nu," greeted Poli Dapatian.

"We did not expect to hear from you."

"Nor did we expect to need your guidance on this mission," she replied.

"Is this your first time out of the temple, Rann?" asked Tera Sinube kindly, leaning on his cane.

"Yes, Master Sinube," he was nervous. His last time before this august body had not been particularly pleasant.

"And are you enjoying it?"

"Yes, Master. Seeing and feeling real nature has been amazing." Rann couldn't help but gush, letting himself relax.

"The Room of a Thousand Fountains is wonderful and all, but there's no comparison." The old Cosian chuckled.

"That's good, that's good. So tell me, Master Nu, what you feel deserves our attention?" Master Nu proceeded to explain the conspiracy for their listeners. Rann marveled at her ability to provide enough depth and context to allow their audience to follow without making her case overly long, though it still took over twenty minutes for her lay out the major evidence as well as their conjecture.

Rann noticed that the junior High Council member, Master Katri, would occasionally interrupt to ask questions while the rest held back.

"It's always first missions," moaned Oppo, tugging at his fluffy white beard with dissatisfaction.

"Indeed." Master Dapatian wore a troubled expression.

"A difficult situation, this is," joined Yoda, looking equally displeased.

"Master Rancisis?" The Thisspiasian did not pause in stroking his beard as he answered.

"The situation would be difficult no matter the circumstance, but for it to be Alderaan of all places, with Houses Organa and Antilles involved… this will require careful deliberation."

"Masters." Master Nu drew herself up, bright-eyed and proper, like she hadn't been up until near dawn pulling the facts they were now debating together.

"As I pointed out, there will be a gala tonight, with the exhibition opening the day after. This could cause irreparable harm to House Antilles if not addressed with celerity. Not to mention the ongoing damage being done to the historical record! To allow this to progress will cause permanent harm to both an undeserving party and Alderaan's history."

"And acting in haste could have equally permanent repercussions, Master Nu," rebutted Oppo.

"When and how we act on this information must be part of the deliberation, which cannot possibly occur in less than a day." Yoda grunted in affirmation.

"Agree with Master Rancisis, I do. Discuss this, we must." With Yoda's siding with Oppo, the Council's resolution to wait until a full session could be held to deliberate what he and Master Nu had uncovered was passed in short order. As they were dismissed and the small, blue figures winked out, Rann started in disbelief.

"So that's it?" he asked incredulously.

"They're just going to let it happen." Master Nu sighed.

"The Jedi High Council is a slow-moving beast by nature, Padawan. They like to discuss things fully, hear out every argument, before reaching a consensus." She paused before continuing.

"In truth, I was hoping Dooku and more of the younger Council members would be present. He would have championed our cause. Dooku's always pushing for more independence in the field, more decisive action from the Order." Another sigh, before she turned to him fully, blue eyes searching his.

"Rann, since we are on your home world, I think you should meet your parents."

"What?" He was thrown by the total non sequitur.

"Why?"

"I think," she said quietly, "that you should attempt to meet with them as soon as possible." And then everything clicked for him. Rann knew the basic facts of his parents, at least at the time of his birth. One was particularly important: they were both servants of House Antilles.

"Oh," he breathed.

"You think?"

"It is good to know one's roots, even as a Jedi," she counseled, a gleam in her eye.