"It is with great honor and humility that I have agreed to represent the people of my planet in this debate before the great Galactic Senate."
The rest of the new Rhodian senator's mindless droning was lost on the Supreme Chancellor of Galactic Republic as he contemplated the words of yet another superfluous piece in the political game. Resplendent in robes of deepest sapphire, the chancellor was imposing figure atop the central obelisk as he carefully surveyed the gathered senators, representatives, and aids. Thousands of beings of all races from every region of the galaxy packed into a single cavernous chamber with the singular goal to write and establish the laws and governances that would apply to them all, to decide as a unit what was the best course for the citizens of the Republic.
Idiots. Idiots and liars and thieves glutting themselves on delusions of grandeur who then had the gall to think themselves the makers of the galaxy. The gods of its fate.
The fool kept talking, kept spewing his senseless facts and supposed research.
At the heart of the matter, beneath the meaningless details of cultural history and the possibility of heretofore undiscovered antiquities, was money. Mining royalties to be exact. That was what this all came down to despite the senator's blathering on about why his planet should be the one to be granted full rights to some moon or other in the Middle Rim. The fact that the region in question had been recently surveyed and showed great promise as a future provider of the much-needed, and economically lucrative, ore essential in the creation of durasteel was a point the senator didn't deem relevant to mention.
Ignorant snake.
The senate was a cesspool of the self-centered ambitions of disingenuous politicians who could not see past their own greed to the hypocrisy within. They wore them well those masks of service and duty, love and pride. They stretched them so tight across scheming faces it was a second skin, impossible to distinguish from the original as honeyed words of duty, service, honor, and humility poured from poisoned lips.
Honor. Humility. Two ideals whose meanings were always in flux, their virtues as tumultuous as the seas of Kamino. Yet, they remained. Paragons of all that was just and good. Goals to be striven for.
Sheev Palpatine had long concluded that the Sith of the past were wrong to spurn them. Was it not honorable to bring balance? To achieve order? Was it not humble of him to be the one to do so? To take upon himself this great task?
This galaxy of squabbling senators with their petty egos and corrupt systems would be brought under his care. He would bring structure where only chaos reigned. He would grant consistency and stability to the disorganized, disillusioned masses. How could they be anything but grateful?
He would have the power to run the galaxy as it should be run: united. And it would be his magnanimous hand stretching across the stars to hold even the most distant reaches of the Outer Rim in his grasp that would ensure its continued prosperity. His Empire. An institution that would safeguard against the rotting stain that was democracy.
One voice for all peoples and races. His voice blazing a trail in a new era of progress.
And by his side: the most powerful Force-wielder to enter the galaxy in its known history. The Chosen One. It was only right after all. Who could say that his rule was not ordained when the Sun himself stood by him?
But first, arrangements needed to be made. Ties needed to be cut. His sister. The Moon. The dratted girl that would not die.
A regrettable death to waste such talent, but a necessary one. The girl had showed early on that she would be the more difficult of the two to turn, and with the elder Skywalker's emotions so closely tied to his twin, the removal of the girl should all but seal the Sun's transition to the Dark Side.
If only she would cooperate and die.
She had proven a surprising challenge to kill, outmaneuvering his apprentice time and again. Though, that was primarily due to the luck and skill of others rather than her own strengths. No, the girl was a weak link that needed to be severed for his plans to move forward. Dooku's failures would be dealt with in due time.
The count's usefulness was coming to an end whether he saw it for himself or not. There was no room in his Empire for the sniveling of a grasping former-Jedi who continually failed in his tasks.
However, that was a matter for later. He could not reveal his hand just yet, so Dooku would be allowed to continue to strut about, to bask in his self-importance like a plump fowl who did not realize the ax was about to fall.
As the Rhodian Senator concluded his presentation regarding his planet's hopes for numerous archeological digs and ancient history revealed—still willfully overlooking any mention of mining—Palpatine thought back on the more pressing issue that had been brought to his attention by his spymaster earlier that day.
The relationship between the Moon and that of the Sun's own master, Knight Kenobi, was deepening.
Both troubling and reassuring this was. It was further evidence of the prophecy's progression, but a bond between the two was something that could turn potentially problematic if not handled with care. The reports of secret glances and stolen hours alone had sickened him to read, but they had revealed a weakness. The two young people were hesitant with their affection, too scared of the implications behind the prophecy to truly commit to one another. An infatuation that would be swiftly dissolved. It was take a subtle hand, but with the right sway—yes, that would do nicely.
Anther senator from a Mid Rim planet drifted forward in her circular pod to address the gathered crowd, and Palpatine gave her absent-minded nod of approval. He immediately wished he hadn't as the senator in question at once began a well-practiced tirade in stark opposition to the speech her colleague had just made. Roars of anger and approval alike met her opening statement.
The chancellor settled back into his seat and let the pandemonium run its course. Another day wasted in the mindless jabbering of self-righteous bureaucrats. The temptation to implement his plan now, to be done with the nonsense and disorder raised its ugly head. He fought it down. This was not the right time. The people were not ready. But soon. Soon they would be.
It all started with the Moon. The slip of a girl who could hardly be called a Jedi had the potential to tip the scales away from his ultimate goal, and that could not be tolerated.
Analise Skywalker would die, the Natural Bond she was unconsciously forming with the Sith-killer Kenobi would fade, and the Sun would be ripe for the taking.
Together they would rid the galaxy of the blight that was the Jedi and their weak-minded ideologies.
Together, they would mold the crippled Republic into an unbeatable empire of strength.
Together they would shepherd in a new age of the Sith.