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Chapter 5 - Ruusan Reformation

Qui-Gon Jinn was many things, stubbornly persistent being chief among them. Many would accuse him of sticking his nose where it did not belong.

It was a trait it seemed he and his new Padawan seemed to have in common.

Qui-Gon had no reason to doubt Master Jocasta Nu; however, he had never liked the woman.

'Dislike' was something his Master Dooku would have chastised him on, but Qui-Gon knew his own distastes were typically born from impressions he received from the Living Force.

While Qui-Gon might not always understand what the Force was trying to tell him, he had learned to trust it.

Dooku had always held Jocasta in great esteem, to the point where he quite believed his old Master would have preferred the archivist to have been his Master rather than Yoda. Dooku might say, if he was present, that Qui-Gon's dislike of the woman could be accounted for by his ingrained desire to be contrary.

So it was with a vindictive sense of pride and horror that Qui-Gon discovered that Jocasta had indeed been holding out on them.

She had told them Obi-Wan had been researching Mandalore.

Which wasn't a lie, he had been, but he hadn't just been researching Mandalore nor the Mandalore of today.

No, Obi-Wan had fallen down a reactor-shaft of information and connections Qui-Gon himself had never reflected on though he had long questioned the Order's way of doing things.

The Ruusan Reformation was considered by many to be the herald of the Golden Age of the Republic and the Jedi Order.

Qui-Gon had come to believe the opposite; the consolidation of the Order on Coruscant and their submission to the Senate sounded good in theory.

But the reality was that the Order had seen its numbers decline sharply, and the Corps had grown less and less effective to the point of near non-existence.

These were things Qui-Gon not only believed but had statistical evidence that he had often pointed to and subsequently saw it all falling on deaf ears. It would be a lie to say a part of Qui-Gon hadn't grown quiet and sullen about it over the years.

Something Tahl teased him about mercilessly.

But what Qui-Gon was reading —in the privacy of his new room on his personal data-pad on which he had downloaded the full storage of the computer Obi-Wan had been using before he had been kidnapped in a bizzare assassination attempt— was a neatly compiled data file of the same evidence Qui-Gon had been attempting to call to attention for years.

Only, little Obi-Wan had made connections he had failed to make. Not only was there a consistent downward trend of Jedi Knights, in large part due to the lack of coupling within their own population whose children had every likelihood been Force gifted, but the downward trend followed that of Mandalore's history.

Mandalorians had been at war with the Sith for as long as the Sith had existed; sometimes, that violence spilled over onto the Jedi Order. 'The enemy of my enemy' meant little to a people who routinely made enemies of everyone.

But wasn't it peculiar that the violent encounters between Jedi and Mandalorians skyrocketed after the Ruusan Reformation?

For surely, the Jedi stepping back from titles and directly influencing politics should have appeased tensions between them and the Mandalore system. But they hadn't, and why not?

In the files Obi-Wan had been collecting, it seemed the youngling believed it had something to do with Jedi Knight and Mandalorian Tarre Vizsla. A man who had left the Order and had waged his people against the Order to his own subsequent death.

But why?

And more importantly, why were all the links to Vizsla dead? Even the current clan had restrictions on their data, a tab popping up that it needed Council permission to open.

Was that a good enough reason to bother Mace at three AM?

Qui-Gon thought so, and he was about to discover if Mace felt the same.

Mace woke with a start, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He was at the door in an instant, hitting the open button with a fist as he searched the face of his guest.

Qui-Gon, with a datapad in hand.

"What's happened, is Padawan Kenobi alright? Has there been another attack?" he demanded, any trace of sleep shrugged off like water off a turtleduck's wings.

"No, everyone's fine. But I need your passcode."

Relief slammed into him, rage replacing it as the energy of fear tangled into something new; unfocused energy.

He snagged the datapad from the other Master's grasp, unlocking the files without a thought, he turned his back on the man, "Start the kettle."

"I need—"

"I need tea," Mace interrupted. "And you can make it in silence while I deduce whether or not you should have clearance to access these files you felt the compulsion to rouse me from bed for."

Qui-Gon grumbled but wisely did as he was instructed.

Mace was not in the least surprised to find himself reading documents about Mandalore, after all, Qui-Gon was one of their best investigators for his inability to let things lie where they were.

But as Mace read on, he became increasingly more disturbed.

The Vizsla Clan had apparently become a sub-cult group of bandits and marauders known as 'Death Watch'.

Mace flicked back to the restrictions on the documents and found that the Council Restriction had been laid on public documents.

Not only was that highly illegal and downright unethical, but it meant in no uncertain terms that whoever placed the restriction had been complicit in covering up the radicals' crimes. Literally, clipping the wings off any police warning or piracy mark.

Mace wasn't sure what was worse, that this had been an edict from some long ago Chancellor of the Republic or if it had been a Council Member who had overstepped their rights.

"Well?" Qui-Gon asked.

Mace held up a finger as he dug deeper, finding a very organised filing of documents that he immediately concluded had not been Qui-Gon's handing work.

Which meant it was Obi-Wan's investigation. No wonder Yoda had wanted him as a Padawan.

Mace almost groaned out loud when he read the sub-heading The Ruusan Reformation, a subject in which Qui-Gon had a number of opinions about. His exasperation, however, didn't last long as he connected the dots Obi-Wan had linked together.

Tarre Vizsla was a controversial figure, who had been a Jedi before the Reformation, and had become the Mand'alor afterward…

The documents that had been inaccessible to both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon detailed Vizsla's death; the man had attempted to lead a small force of extremely talented Mandalorian warriors against the High Jedi Council.

Mace held out his hand, calling his own datapad to his hand, a few entries and clicks away proved to him that whatever this was, indeed, was a conspiracy of some kind.

One that might very well be over a thousand years old.

Older than Yoda himself.

And didn't that just sound like a migraine in the making?

Qui-Gon sat beside him, holding out a cup of tea.

Mace took it, setting both pads aside as he gathered his thoughts.

"Well?" Qui-Gon prompted.

Mace sighed, "It's not good."

"Am I meant to be surprised by that? What was behind the data-restriction?"

He sighed again, "Tarre Vizsla died attacking the Jedi High Council directly."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Mace answered, looking off into the distance. "The majority of Vizsla's history has been erased from the archives, I couldn't even tell you who his Master who trained him was."

Qui-Gon pinched his brow, "I had hoped this would be something old, given the nature of these events happened a millennia ago, but the assassination of Obi-Wan tells another story."

Mace looked into his tea, the steam rising off its surface like smoke from a snuffed candle, "This reeks of internal dissent."

"A youngling was captured and nearly assassinated not far from the creches. Whoever did so had the ability to shield sound as well as another's emotions from the creche masters who are trained to be more sensitive, more empathetic. They can feel the very presence of shields."

They fell quiet for a long moment, before Qui-Gon voiced the horror that had presented itself to them.

There were only three possibilities for the Jedi capable of such a thing: the Council, the Shadows, and the Temple Guard. The chance that it was an independent Master who had fallen was discountable in that there would have to be more than one with a united purpose. That chance was too slim, because the Guard would have stopped them, at least, they would have had a lead by now.

The Council was unlikely, mostly because every single one of them had had alibi by way of a late Council meeting. The Shadows were innocent for a similar reason; they were deployed, Mace had even risked pinging them all to ensure they were where they should be and alive.

None of the Shadows had been present at the Temple.

Which led one possibility; the Temple Guard. The Temple Guard who had no alibi because there was no way to identify any of them aside from within the Guard itself.

This meant a number of things, firstly, that the creches were unsafe.

Yoda had moved into the wing himself, meditating at the entrance, forgoing sleep, to take care of sentry duty himself.

Nowhere in the Temple was safe anymore, now that they could not trust their most loyal.

So Mace had called their Shadows home as he and Yoda made plans to evacuate the Temple and leave the Guard behind until they could solve their own case internally.

It was quite possible they might never be able to trust them again.

Where would they take the Order?

Tython, which had been the touchstone Temple of the Corps. The Temple there was much smaller, but it would suffice for the population they had. It was an unneeded reminder of how far their population had declined. What was now ten thousand had been closer to fifty thousand a millenia ago, and well over three hundred thousand if you included the Corps members.

As soon as the Shadows returned the creche masters would be informed and the creches would be emptied. The Shadows would take up the Guards duties, the majority of the healers would depart with them as well.

Any young Knights and Masters with a Padawan would be moved to Jedha.

Leaving only seasoned Knights and single Masters to remain on Coruscant and oversee the Guards' progress.

Mace would go to Jedha with Depa and Yoda would go to Tython with the younglings. He feared what scattering their population would do. He also worried what the influence of the Jedha monks would have on their Padawans.

Qui-Gon might subscribe to their philosophies but Mace worried what a horde of teenagers would do with 'all experiences are gifts from the Force, be it love, joy, or grief'.

But it was better than keeping them near the Guard who they could only hope had a few deviants and the rest had sincere integrity, not a complete corruption of over a hundred Knights and Masters.

Mace's eyes dropped again to the datapads.

Obi-Wan had been almost killed for this investigation, no, for a mere research project.

And just surface information at that.

Who would kill an initiate for researching their declining numbers and the relationship between Mandalore and the Order? And why?

Qui-Gon, while not easy pickings, had been doing the same for years, and done so loudly.

Why had no one tried to kill him?

Or had they?

How many of Qui-Gon's missions had gone off the hyperlane?

Mace's breath caught, leaving him gasping as realised something. A thought that hit him like a punch to the gut.

Qui-Gon looked at him sharply.

Mace said simply, "Feemor."

Pain shone in Qui-Gon's eyes but he askee, "What about him?"

"He was murdered by Mandalorians."

"So?"

"He was your Padawan and he was trying to bring three younglings from the Mandalore system to the Temple."

"Yes…" Qui-Gon said slowly.

"Obi-Wan is also from the Mandalore system."

Qui-Gon blinked, "Oh."

Mace didn't know what one had to do with the other but he knew this much, coincidences don't run so far.

"Don't move him to your new room yet," he said.

"Why not? I just finished moving in and unpacking."

"Then pack back up."

"Why?"

"I'm sending you both back to Jedha."

Qui-Gon's brows shot up, "I'm not opposed to that but I thought you said they were radicals."

"I still think that but I need you and Obi-Wan to be safe, take Tahl with you. I will not lose any of you, especially before I figure out who was behind this atrocity."

"Alright."

Mace was silent a moment longer, "Tholme and Vos shall depart with you as well."

Qui-Gon searched his face, "You are truly worried."

"That would be an understatement."

Obi-Wan dreamed of Master Tholme, dreamed of his blade cutting through the joints of Mandalorian armour.

Fear choked Obi-Wan, fear of Master Tholme, fear for the Mandolarians.

The Mandalorians had been angry at him, but Obi-Wan had deserved it. He didn't want them to hurt, to die, and Obi-Wan felt them die.

Their lights extinguished in a flash of emerald.

In the dream, Obi-Wan was afraid of Tholme who seemed taller than ever as he approached him slowly.

But Obi-Wan who knew better, who was unable to act, wasn't afraid, saw the concern in Tholme's eyes as he tried to soften his scowl.

His dream self didn't understand, holding his shaking fists up as if he could possibly take on someone like Tholme.

But Tholme continued forward, dropping to his knees before him, the Master held out his hand.

"You're safe, I'm going to keep you safe," Tholme said in Basic.

But his dream self couldn't hear the words, but when Tholme opened his arms to him, Obi-Wan ran to the man.

The language didn't make sense, but his intent was clear in the Force, and no one had ever offered Obi-Wan such kindness.

He felt guilty just thinking that, guilty that the Jetii who held him, who had just cut down his aliit, felt so safe.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, letting his head drop on Tholme's shoulder. He felt so tired and he couldn't help but sink into the warmth and safety of the Force embracing him and shielding him from harm.

Obi-Wan awoke with a start, Ali-Alann's arms tightening around him, though he remained asleep.

He would move into his new rooms with Qui-Gon.

Only they wouldn't be new.

And though he missed Qui-Gon, he dreaded being in his old rooms.

But as it turned out, he had no idea what the day had planned for him.

"We are not taking the nexu with us," Qui-Gon told her.

Master Tahl gestured to the nexu who was trying to fit herself on Obi-Wan's lap.

Depa wasn't sure what was up, but when her Master asked her to watch after three Masters and two Padawans she hadn't understood the need until now.

She tugged on the bond between her Master.

He opened his mind to her and she grumbled down the bond, -You didn't say anything about the nexu.

Mace's amusement was tangible, -Why do you think I asked you to babysit?

She huffed, closing the bound and said aloud, "Alright, let's get going."

Obi-Wan snagged Quin's hand, tugging him onto the nexu's back. Quin squawked, grabbing on tight to Obi-Wan's waist as the nexu bounded onto the transport.

Tholme sighed in defeat, following after them.

Depa crossed her arms, waiting for the two flirting Masters to get over whatever argument they were having.

She cleared her throat, and the Masters broke their staring contest, both of them blushing.

Depa waited for them to go ahead before following after them.

The nexu curled up into a ball around the two younger Padawans. Obi-Wan looked exhausted and Quinlan looked a bit guilty, his silence at odds with how close the pair had been until Quin's last mission that had gone bad in a terrible way.

Depa took the pilot's seat.

"What are they going to think when we bring a nexu to their Temple?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Well, it's good that you're friends with them then, isn't it?" Tahl teased.

"We can't leave it on the ship," Tholme said. "So the issue is moot now."

That shut everyone up for a while.

She could only hope it lasted.

AN: Thoughts, vipers, or feedback, pretty please?