Author's Notes: Well, here is Aetius's short conclusion. Many thanks to those of you who read this story, and more to those who reviewed it. A million thanks to Gipper 40 for contributing so much to it.

Essential Statement

And now I come full circle, back to where I began. I was brought to Coruscant but for one purpose: to be "tried" and then executed.

There was a massive uproar when I was brought back. Crowds filled the streets; angry protestors waved signs. They proclaimed my swift and harsh judgment for bringing war upon them. This is what they believed.

As I was taken off the ship—I could hardly walk so I had to be transported via some kind of floating, sick man's contraption—I was barraged by reporters and other media hounds. My "escort", though it detested me, fought hard to get the people out of the way.

I was taken first to a hospital in order to treat this radiation sickness that I contracted during the glassing of Doliani. Once there, they decided that although the disease was untreatable, I would not die, at least not yet. They then transported me to a maximum-security prison only a few minutes ride away from the Jedi Temple. I sulked there in this morose stupor for some time, not knowing what to do, awaiting only my judgment.

Oronis, my guard, was the only person who tried to talk to me as someone other than a monster. I think it is because of his simple, naïve curiosity.

At first I didn't want to talk to him, to speak to anyone. I just wanted to rot away in there, bide the time until my own death. But he was persistent, he asked me sensible questions, and eventually he learned about some of my past.

I could tell he began to feel sorry for me once I told him about Elyana.

I related the whole story to him, and he encouraged me to keep going. I could see that he took pity on me, on my tragic situation, on the fact that I had to endure the death of someone I loved so much. He encouraged me to write it down.

Even so, I do not think I would have until the preliminary hearings of the trial. I was set up as the defendant, of course, with the Republic accusing me of the most lofty and inhumane crimes associated with anyone since Darth Malak. But what angered me the most were the drastic and insidious misrepresentations of my character. The questions they'd ask, that the media threw at me, they were so wrong! So malevolent! So…hateful!

"Is it not true," they'd ask, "that you referred to yourself as Darth Ransom in your time on Doliani? Did you not study ancient Sith holocrons in an effort to learn so-called 'dark side magic'?"

"Is it not true that you murdered your mentor, one Andury Kalkannis? As well as your friends and former master?"

"Is it not true that you seduced a young woman named Elyana Kerensa, hoping to draw her to your deviant way of thinking?" And then, "Did you not engage in sexual intercourse, a violation of your Jedi creed, with this woman?"

It was this that riled up such indignation within me. It was so false, so wrong, such a glorious bastardization of the facts that I could not just sit idly by and allow it. They could defame me all they wanted, but how dare they say such things about Elyana? She did not deserve to have her character dragged through the mud like this. She was not responsible for anything, and that they would treat her as some kind of object, some stone that I used to hurdle into power…it was too much.

It was not unlike relating the story of a lame man…but in the retelling he could walk. Or spreading lies about some unknown soldier confessing his country's secrets…when in reality he never said a word even under hours of torture. It was malfeasance of the highest degree. They knew nothing of the truth, and they knew nothing of what drove me.

How could they think I murdered Kalkannis? Was it not merely in self-defense for what he had continually done to me? And wasn't it deserved, considering everything he had done?

How could they think that I seduced Elyana? That I just used her as a tool in some kind of power play? I loved her…but they would not even grant me that.

And how could they possibly think that I referred to myself as a Sith? That I embraced the dark side? I clearly have not. I found no holocrons, studied no Sith technique. I don't even know what a Sith is, aside from the fact that I am not one.

This misrepresentation is why I decided to write this book. Oronis supplied me with a pen and plenty of paper. I wrote as much as I could in the little time I have left. I tried to overcome my ailment. I'll hope you'll forgive the misspellings and the blood from my coughing. I'll hope you'll forgive my rants and my righteous fury. Look past these bloated things at the core of my tale.

And now, my noble reader, it is your turn. You have journeyed with me into hell, and now you see who I am—what I represent.

It is your turn. Your role is to judge me. Am I so guilty? Or is it the fault of all those manipulative hypocrites and unmitigated idiots that this has happened?

Look at what the Order has done to me. They were not content to steal away my life, to take me from my family and force me to be a slave. No, they had to do more. They had to deny me the opportunity to even love someone. I was given but one person to ever relate to, to ever long for, to ever love, but their wise "rules" decreed that this was a sin. And because of this…she was taken from me. She was murdered by one of their sycophantic servants, who had not the capacity to even understand what he was doing.

Was it so wrong to decide that I wanted nothing to do with them anymore? To flee to a new country and help it to fight to survive? To help it overcome the abusive system of the Republic?

Am I a villain because I wanted my life for myself? I merely used an opportunity I was given to break free from them. The Republic didn't have to fight us, that was their choice. I didn't kill millions of people, they did.

But the Republic was not even content with this. They had to also spread all these lies about me. They had to call me a Sith. They had to accuse me of using Elyana for nothing more than sex and power. They accused me of murdering the people who had tried to betray me. I have been subjected to so much slander, and still they are unsatisfied.

So I wrote this book. It is my charge against the Jedi Order. And against the Republic that shelters them.

It is your role to judge its merits.

I have demanded answers for their actions, justification for my mistreatment at their hands. I know I will not get it, but you will outlive me, and perhaps you will see. But I doubt I will get any sort of reprieve to this torment.

The only thing I ask of you is this: do not ever hold Elyana responsible for what has happened. It is simply untrue. I would give every minute of my life back just to relive that one day we spent together at the retreat on Doliani. I wanted nothing more than to just flee from everything and live with her. I wanted nothing more than just her. It wasn't love that "drove" me to fighting the Republic and the Jedi. Even in light of the horrid treatment of the Outer Rim at the hands of the Republic, I would have not gotten involved if I could have just had her back. It may be selfish, but it is true.

But that was not to be. It was as if fate was mocking me, twisting up my life, taking away the one person I held dear. I would be denied even Elyana, even the woman that I loved. I was to have nothing. And so that is why I fought. Not because of love, but because they took my love away.

Always remember that.

They will soon execute me. The main trial begins tomorrow, and I will most assuredly be found guilty. I will be sentenced to execution as a political prisoner guilty of high treason. My life is forfeit. My book is a charge to them, let us see if they have an answer.

But when they kill me, won't the answer be obvious? That they will kill me simply to silence me? Simply to "prove" that "might makes right"? Well, then you will have it. They will say nothing and simply strike me down.

Is this because they have no answer?

—Aetius Glendower, year 21481 (3519 BBY)

The historian reached the end of the page. There was nothing left on it but several noticeable creases and a few stained drops of blood. Behind it was an empty flyleaf.