Prologue: Reflections
The building was a piece of the city. The city was a piece of the planet. The planet was a piece of the sector. The sector was a piece of his galaxy.
But within the building…there was another piece. A man. One man.
The man was a piece of the council. The Council was a piece of the Order. The Order was a piece of his Force.
Supreme Chancellor Palpatine smiled. His Force. Indeed, it was his Force. He had mastered it…he controlled it…he knew its secrets.
And because he ruled the Force, he ruled the man.
He was his already. He felt it.
But the man—the Jedi—had exposed him. Revealed him for what he truly was.
Or so he thought.
He had only revealed his name…his title. Given him but a taste of his power…not even that, actually. Only a mention, a description. Nothing more.
Ordinarily, Palpatine would have smiled at the thought; but the fact that he would be soon revealing the fullness of his power…that gave him pause.
He studied the window, noting the reflection upon it. A man, old but not wizened, trimmed but not frail, calm but not peaceful. He saw the hands, almost spidery, wrap around the arms of the chair; saw the body, robed in black and gold, lean back pensively. And the eyes. Calm and brown…but within, a flicker of yellow. A flash of fire.
A sigh escaped him as he looked past the reflection. This was his city; a piece of his galaxy. He had worked so hard, his entire life…and it was his now. All that was left was to remove those who would deny him his right.
He studied the sky, filled once more with different craft, full of beings moving about as though the destruction had not happened…but there, all over the cityscape, the wreckage of buildings. Signs of those who had died, fallen…the cold metal wreckage was all that remained as a sign of the suffering and death that had taken place. They would be clearing it for months, this work.
Palpatine smiled and settled himself, shutting his eyes. It was his work. And it was good.
But now he turned his eyes inward…to the real work that he had done…and he remembered.
Darth Maul. No other name. He had been trained from birth after the death of Plagueis…he had been strong, fiery, almost the perfect killer. But he had been flawed…overcome by a Jedi. Over two decades of work had been lost…
But fortune had come to him.
Darth Tyranus. Once Count Dooku, a noble Jedi, one of the strongest…but he had left, disgusted at the Jedi. He had not been easy to turn, but the promise of power, reformation, and life had been enough to sway him. And so, with his help, the Clone Wars had begun.
But Tyrannus was too experienced, too cunning for his own good. And there was one more powerful than he—one who was now almost within the grasp of the Sith. One who would make two once more—for he had struck down Lord Tyrannus, beheaded him at the feet of…
Darth Sidious.
The most powerful Dark Lord of the Sith since the Darth Order had begun. Perhaps the greatest in the history of the Sith. He was the one who had been placed into the Republic…who had gained the position sought for so long. He had taken the Dark Side—which served him, as opposed to him being its servant—and he had twisted it to his own. So it was.
"And so it will be," Darth Sidious hissed, not opening his eyes.
But there was no more time for meditation…he had to prepare. He placed himself within the shroud of the Sith, playing his threads out to wherever they extended…and his last thought before he hid himself was a message sent to the one who would serve him…
You do know, don't you, if the Jedi destroy me, any chance of saving her will be lost.
Darth Sidious smiled and gave himself to the Dark Side.