A group of young Jedi Consulars, including myself, were approaching the forest. I wasn't putting my best foot forward. The Academy's historian, Master Dorak, had urged - not to say forced - me to attend some sort of religious ceremony held by I didn't know which clerics on Dantooine. I had not particularly paid attention to the flurry of words Dorak was throwing at me. I would much rather have stayed in the Academy, to train, or even meditate. Although the practice of meditation, as taught by the Jedi, was extremely distasteful to me: the idea of standing still and trying to unplug the brain for hours on end was torture for someone who considered movement a much better way of centering oneself. However, I was not interested in this ceremony any more. But, based on the limited amount of information I'd gathered from what Dorak was catapulting, I couldn't escape it. Every year in the system of Dantooine, the most important mystics on the planet would gather to bless the earth, or something like that. The Jedi, who had no connection to this religion which seemed very folky, were always welcome at this event. And the Jedi, believing that they owed some respect to the customs of their host planet, never missed any of these sessions.
I had to wear a ceremonial bure for the occasion, as did all my fellows. The outfit of the Consulars was very simple: an extremely thin brown leather breastplate covered the torso, up to the very dark green belt, which held it firmly against the wearer's body. A soft textile, the same colour as the breastplate, completed the ensemble, below the belt, and reached down to the knees. The Consulars had the usual thick leather boots on their feet, darker than the breastplate, some of them turning light brown from the stresses of time and accumulated missions. Jedi Consulars were known to be moderate in all circumstances. This simplicity was reflected in their choice of attire, even those that might require a few superfluous finery items not usually seen on Jedi.
I was quite happy with this philosophy. I wasn't sure what the future held. Everything was so new to me. So sudden. A little simplicity and sobriety could only help me not to fall into a radical sense of identification. I was going to stay among these people, who were more nuanced than their Sentinel and Guardian colleagues. I perceived a greater wisdom in them than in the other Paths. I felt very fortunate to have joined them. I was brought out of my thoughts by one of my comrades, who stopped me in my meditative walk, holding me firmly by the shoulder:
"We stop here, Corem."
I looked up and realised that I had gone so far into my thoughts that I had not noticed the crowd that had gathered in the forest. Everything seemed to be very organised. The forest was vast. I looked at the crowd and noticed that they were forming a huge circle around a fixed point: a tree that seemed to be older than all the people gathered that day, surrounding it. It was massive. It was at least five times the size of the Ebon Hawk. It was majestic. I took the time to contemplate it, as if to pay homage to it.
"Curious." I thought. "I used to feel sick at the prospect of participating in this farce, but here I am admiring an old piece of wood so much that I am almost ready to bless it myself."
I smiled soberly at this reflection. I took my eyes off the tree and scanned the crowd again. I realised that the Jedi had a location that had clearly been planned. The Consulars and I were in the northeast of the huge circle, the Guardians were towards the south. I gave them a slightly distrustful look. They were all standing tall, their hands rigidly on the lightsabers strapped to their belts. " True men of war." An ironic thought coming from a man who, only a few weeks before, had been a member of the Republic's military. Certainly, it could not be claimed that I was quite at home in it, despite my somewhat profane capabilities.
When I arrived on Dantooine, after the very difficult first few weeks of being mistreated by Vrook, it didn't take much discussion to decide which Path I seemed best suited to. Despite my fighting skills, there was no raw, brutal strength in me that would have paved the way for me to be taught by the Guardians. The power that ran through me was more subtle than that, more refined. There had been a brief mention of training me in the teachings of the Sentinels. But, without being told why, the Masters had quickly decided that it was wiser to lead me along the Path of the Consulars.
I averted my eyes and searched for the Sentinels, who I imagined to be on the opposite side of the circle from my group of Consulars. Indeed, the group of Jedi Sentinels stood to the northwest of the circle, facing the Consulars. The discreet smile I had been wearing up to that point disappeared and was replaced by a pout that betrayed astonishment. Then I began to talk again, alone, in my thoughts:
"Is that... I can' t quite see. Hell, yes."
I squinted my eyes, as if trying to get a better look at what seemed to be troubling me at the time. I looked intently at the distant figure of a Sentinel. It was my former Commander, Bastila Shan; well, not that former, because Bastila Shan had still not been officially reformed from her rank. In the eyes of the Republic, she was still a general officer in the army, and I was her obligee.
After Bastila had helped me remove the blockage early in my training, while I was being asked to follow Master Vrook's very questionable teachings, I had resolved to find Vandar, and suggest that he let the young woman take over my training. The old Master seemed to listen to me, and I even thought for a moment that he would respond favourably to my request. But the next few days had shown me that I might have been overconfident. My instruction with Vrook continued for several more weeks before I was finally entrusted to Zhar Lestin, a far friendlier swordmaster than that old degenerate who took pleasure in torturing me.
It had been several weeks since I had seen Bastila at the Academy. No matter how many times I asked my Masters about this curious absence, I could not get an answer, and was instructed to continue my training without parasitizing myself with futile thoughts. Since that night when she had somehow saved me from Vrook's pressing influence, she had not given the slightest sign of life. She had disappeared completely from the map. Yet, at that moment, she was there, leading the Sentinel group, as if she had never left.
"Where in the world could she have gone?" I wondered, slightly disappointed that she hadn't told me she was coming back.
After all, it was she who had pushed me to take the Jedi training that had been exceptionally offered to me by the Council of the Academy. Despite the promise I had made to her on Taris that I would think about it, I had turned down the offer very quickly. Then she had firmly committed herself to making me change my mind, even if it meant turning my life upside down. But I stood my ground and decided not to be impressed by the Jedi. She had then decided to take it to the next level; since I was not listening, Bastila, who had not forgotten that she was still a serving Commander in the Republican Army, had used her rank to prevent me from leaving Dantooine, instructing me not to leave the academy grounds until further notice. Commander Shan, or that part of Bastila that infuriated me so much, had simply sentenced me to informal imprisonment. At the height of our conflict, which involved our respective pride more than anything else, I had decided that I would join her in the game she had initiated, by becoming the most perfect petty soldier, entirely devoted to her Commander. So, convinced that she would eventually give up, I had fun following Bastila around the Academy, even acting as a mock bodyguard outside her dormitory when she was there - which attracted the attention of the other Jedi. Whenever our eyes met, I would try to give the Jedi the most insincere smile I could summon up, and she would respond with an exaggerated, solemn, but fake, nod. Time was running out, and finally my pride was slowly but surely beginning to disintegrate, unlike Bastila, who seemed almost amused by the situation. I had come to accept that she was much more pugnacious than I thought.
And as I went along, without really realising it, I began to take an interest in the Jedi teachings. In my smart strategy of staying close to Bastila at all times, I found myself having to attend training, study sessions and also meditation sessions. It was a simple curiosity at first, which later turned into a sincere and deep interest. A few days after the beginning of our little joke, I went to Bastila and asked her to take me to the Masters, to receive the training. I expected to see a huge, satisfied smile on her face, but she did nothing of the sort and soberly led me to the Council. The Masters then finally took me under their wing and began to train me.
A few weeks had passed since the night Bastila had helped me levitate the pebble, and although I wasn't starting out very confident, I had made tremendous progress. So much so that I had become the big curiosity of the Academy, almost supplanting Bastila's fame. Bastila who had recently vanished. I couldn't help but feel some disappointment. Deep down, I would have liked to see her more involved in my work. Despite a very rough start, I held a strange trust in Bastila that I did not feel for any of my other mentors.
Caught up in this sense of disappointment, I looked away from the distant figure of Bastila, as if condemning her. But of course the Jedi was too far away from me, and apparently too busy with the event at hand, to realise what was going on in my mind.
Indeed, I realised that the ceremony was already well advanced. I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I had not even noticed that the priests and priestesses were performing the long-awaited blessing. The ritual lasted for almost an hour. When the ritual was over, the crowd changed into a huge, frightening beast for a short time, then became a simple, less terrifying whole, filled with individuals who went back to their respective homes. I stood slightly apart, away from the tumult; I waited patiently for the forest to regain its natural tranquility before setting off for the Academy again. I couldn't help but glance curiously at the Sentinels. Bastila had moved closer to where I was staying, but seemed to be deep in conversation with one of her colleagues. I could see her better. There was no doubt, it was indeed her.
I took the time to observe the ceremonial dress of the Sentinels, which Bastila had also put on. She wore a breastplate, which seemed more like a cuirass made of straps of a very light and thin metal, arranged horizontally, which converged in a central straight line, crossing the entire torso. The metal was dark, almost black. I liked the simplicity of my own outfit, but I had to admit that the Sentinels' attire was not lacking in allure. It was surprising to see such dark colours and raw materials. But then I remembered that the Sentinels were the Jedi branch that directly confronted the dark side, and hunted it down to eradicate its malignancy. Over the armour, a dark brown bonnet, left shining, hugged the Jedi's shoulders, and the long remnants of fabric danced nonchalantly in the wind, sometimes delicately brushing the arms, sometimes coming around the young woman's waist. I also noticed that Bastila was not wearing her usual hairstyle; she had simply tied most of her brown hair up in a sloppy bun on the back of her head, and had left the rest of her hair to the will of the elements, which for the moment lay on the young woman's shoulders.
I found myself thinking things about her that I would never have expected to think. I had to acknowledge that she had not shown a very engaging first approach on Taris, and even a little beyond that. Bastila had been rude, condescending, arrogant. Already on the Endar Spire, she had not hesitated to put me down in front of all my colleagues. Later, she had treated my companions and myself, who had gone to such great lengths to save her from the Vulkar - despite the Sith presence on the planet - as pathetic misfits.
But today was different. She was different. I had learned to look beyond what she had shown of herself. I'd been forced to, to be quite honest. But I felt no regrets at all. Bastila Shan was indeed endowed with human warmth, though she seemed to keep it firmly locked up most of the time.
As I studied her, I noticed that she seemed more peaceful, more confident. At least, in a more serene way. She looked like she was at home here. Naturally elegant, almost magnetising. Curiosity led me to take my eyes off Bastila and observe the few groups of civilians who had not yet left the forest. I was not mistaken. I could see some of the gentlemen still present glancing more or less discreetly at the Jedi. I let out a muffled laugh, with a tense hint of bitterness that I had not necessarily been the first to receive this revelation, and above all, the only one.
I then turned back and went to a rock a few dozen paces behind me, against which I sat, still waiting to see the forest regain its calm. I scanned the ground, and fixed my eyes on a small yellow flower, which had managed to find the necessary light through the trees to continue its fragile existence. Three minutes passed in this way, then three more, perhaps even longer.
I was finally awakened from my apathy by the sound of crushing grass and branches close by. I looked up and saw first a pair of black boots, right in front of me. I looked up a little more. There she was. Bastila crouched down, to be at my level. The long textile that finished the bonnet of the Sentinels' outfit had settled on the Jedi's right knee. I felt a pain in my chest. But it was a pleasant, almost pleasurable pain. Then I focused my gaze on the Jedi's, on those familiar light grey eyes. I had never in my life remembered such a remarkable shade in anyone. And such expressiveness. They seemed to cry out in deep distress, through the indestructible walls built by Jedi doctrine.
"May I?" Bastila asked, with a tempered but kindly smile on her face, apparently not wanting to interfere with my apparent need for solitude.
"Please do." I replied with an involuntary coldness that Bastila appeared to perceive, but ignored.
"It's good to see you." She added.
I was almost disturbingly silent. She seemed to stare at me, as if trying to find out what was going through my mind at that moment. She could have used our bond to get a better idea of my state of mind, but I knew she didn't like to use this method of intrusion.
"I'm glad to see you again, Bastila." I finally said. I paused briefly and continued with my usual liveliness. "Sorry, I have been in my thoughts today." I added with a slight laugh that lacked authenticity.
"Is everything all right?" Bastila then asked, sounding somewhat relieved, but still rather concerned by my enigmatic attitude.
"Yes, yes." I said briskly. "Everything is fine. I'm just feeling a little exhausted. I think my brain is trying to tell me that it would like to get some rest."
"I understand." She replied, finally taking a seat next to me, against the rock.
"I can talk to the Masters, if you like. It's only fair that you get a little more rest. This training is hard on all apprentices. I can't even imagine what it must be like for you. Having to swallow all this in such a short time."
"Thank you, Bastila." I gave a discreetly flattered and grateful smile as I looked down at my hands which were fiddling with a blade of grass. For a moment we remained in an uncomfortable silence. As I worked on the poor piece of grass, a furious desire to ask her about her absence took over my whole being. I exhaled and spoke:
"Where have you been for the last few weeks?"
"I was here." Bastila responded flatly, in an irritated voice. At that moment I feared I had offended her. "On a meditative retreat." She added, giving me an exasperated look, and biting her lips slightly. "The Council felt that I needed to withdraw completely from the world for a while. So I did."
I couldn't help but feel relieved, but only for a moment. This relief vanished almost immediately and was replaced by a feeling of deep unease. As if by coincidence, just after Bastila had helped me levitate the damn pebble, just after I had spoken to Vandar about it, the Jedi disappeared, without giving anyone a word. Was her forced retreat a consequence of my request? Had the Council punished Bastila for investing herself in my training in this way without their permission? I felt guilty at that moment. I wasn't sure about this, but it seemed to make sense. Yet Bastila looked serene, and there was nothing about her that betrayed any resentment towards me. Unable to pursue the matter further with the Jedi, I nodded and changed the subject.
"Why is it so important to attend this masquerade?" I asked with a certain hint of mock condescension.
"Corem. You're allowed to have opinions, but don't be rude. These are religious customs here, it's important to respect them." The young woman reprimanded me.
"Are you a devotee?" I added sarcastically, my eyes sealed on her, as if to disarm the tension I had needlessly built up.
"It's simply the least we owe the people of Dantooine, who have accepted our presence on their planet for so long. Besides, celebrating the cycle of nature, while a bit cliché, isn't the worst philosophy."
"That's true." I conceded. Then I paused briefly, during which time my gaze returned to the blade of grass in my hands, which no longer had any consistency, and I continued:
"Forgive me, but what difference does it make that you are here? I mean, without wishing to sound offensive, it's still a modest event."
"Modest from your point of view. But, for Dantooine, these are very important celebrations." She said as she turned her head towards me, and then fixed her gaze on the distance; she was noticeably embarrassed.
"As far as I'm concerned, my presence is required by the Council, because I received a lot of my training here. And... people know me and like to have me in the gathering at their celebrations. Otherwise, my absence would have been noticed, and we don't want to come into conflict with the authorities on Dantooine."
"Ah." I spoke flatly before resuming: "The Council has brought its great celebrity out of retreat to show her off to all these people, I understand." I added clumsily, a clumsiness I had no idea was there as I pronounced the words.
"Glad to see your pragmatism intact and as alert as ever." Replied Bastila, slightly annoyed.
"Sorry Bastila." I replied at once, eager not to let the Jedi think I was diminishing her.
But at the same time I couldn't help but laugh at my gaucherie, and at the answer Bastila had given me. I saw the Jedi shake her head slowly in exasperation, but in spite of herself she joined in my laughter. We persisted in this bizarre but amusing situation for a short time. Then we got serious again.
"Are you going to resume your retreat?" I asked, trying as best I could to suppress some apprehension about the answer Bastila would give.
"No. I'm getting back into society." She replied with a smile, her gaze directed at me. "I have a lot to do, being now the one in charge of the rest of your training."
I frowned and held Bastila's gaze, totally unprepared.
"Are you going to train me?" I asked sharply. Bastila, with a nod of her head, answered affirmatively. "So you are my Master?" I added.
"No, Corem. I'm a Padawan." The young woman immediately corrected. "Think of me as your preceptress."
I just looked enigmatically at the Jedi, and didn't answer. It made no difference to me. I smiled without realizing it. Perhaps my request to Vandar had finally been heard. Did Bastila even know about my request that day after all? I was beginning to think that the Council had never mentioned it to Bastila, but had considered the matter. They must have pushed her into the retreat so that she could take on her future role as a teacher in the best possible conditions.
The Jedi, visibly incapable of reading my expression, could not contain an embarrassed laugh. Then she added, in a mischievous tone:
"Well, yes, Corem. I know, it's not the most exciting announcement. You'll have to endure my unbearable presence with you, until your training is complete." Bastila paused for a moment, then continued, still joking: "But don't worry, when I'm done making you pay for all those endless days during which you didn't get off my back, I'll take good care of you."
I burst out laughing and resumed more calmly, although I was still smiling:
"I see. Well, I guess holidays are over."
We shared another smile. I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction at this statement. Yet I knew that this future collaboration could possibly be challenging. Since we met, she and I had been blowing hot and cold. At times Bastila was capable of being very pleasant company, and at other times she was the person you least wanted to meet in the whole galaxy. However, I realised that if I was told that someone else was going to be in charge of my training in the end, it would be particularly hurtful to me.
Bastila leaned with her whole back, up to her head, which she rested on the cool, rough surface of the rock. She spoke no more, as if there was nothing more to say, and stared at the tree that had been the centre of everyone's attention some time before. I did the same. The atmosphere between us was serene, simple, healthy. We did not talk any more, it was no longer the time. There was no uneasiness, no discomfort. We were each enjoying the calm that the place had finally recovered. Each one of us, sheltered in our own thoughts.
Two remaining Dantooine chapters to be posted. They've not been translated yet. Then we'll leave the Academy and join Tatooine.
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