The Jedi Temple was a place of learning. This was always the case, and the Temple was always designed to be a place of education. Because of this, the Temple favored small rooms, rooms that would be crowded with even 10 people in them. These rooms were designed for one-on-one training. A Master would teach a Padawan, or two colleagues would share their knowledge. So it had always been, and every Jedi for the past millennia or so was ingrained from the earliest days of childhood that the best way to learn was in a small, one-on-one, way. Even Council members, prestigious as they were, only used the Council Chambers when meeting together as a group. For simple transfers of information, the deeply ingrained habit of using a small room held true.

Obi-Wan was the newest Council member, and that fact often affected what he did, and who he reported to. Shaak Ti was the Council member in charge of the Temple and Jedi health, and the one Obi-Wan needed to speak to about Anakin. Outsiders assumed the Council was a group of people with equal power, but it was far more bureaucratic than that. There was a hierarchy, and there was a chain of command. Yoda was considered the Grandmaster of the Order, but at this point he was little more than a figurehead. Sure the Council cared about his wisdom, but Yoda no longer affected the goals or plans of the Jedi Order, not anymore. Not that Yoda could tell, he was starting to forget things. A retirement strategy was in the works, but had been tabled after Palpatine's move against the Order.

The real power rested in Mace Windu, a strong Jedi who had sat on the Council for nearly 50 years, not that you could tell by looking at him. Windu didn't look 98 years old, but no one from his planet did. It was Mace Windu who guided the Jedi, who had the final say in matters. But the Jedi Order is a huge group, and ony man can't govern it all. The Council was originally meant for an equal share of power by all members, but that failed almost immediately. Members deferred to Windu when he objected, but otherwise, each member of the Council was the leader of his or her own piece of the Order, and Shaak Ti was over the Temple itself, a prestigious position. Unofficially, she was also the one new Council members reported to and took orders from until they were comfortable with Council policies.

Obi-Wan didn't have a role yet, but he had his eyes on intelligence, led by Oppo Rancisis. Master Rancisis was an old man, and would retire in another decade or so. But to be ready for that, Obi-Wan needed to not rock the boat. He reported to Shaak Ti, he took orders from her, even when those orders were to check up on his former Padawan. A good call, since apparently his old Padawan was having mental troubles.

"Master Obi-Wan, what have you to report?" Shaak Ti said. She dressed in the robes of a teacher, rather than the elegant embroidered robes a Council member was entitled to. Her posture spoke was that of a teacher as well, seated upon a simple mat, legs tucked underneath her.

"I spoke with Knight Skywalker, he has resigned from the Order." Obi-Wan replied.

"That much is public knowledge, is that really all you discovered?" She gently chided, reaching for what Obi-Wan had tucked away.

"He seemed... ill. His actions seemed brash, even spontaneous."

"Mental health has been on the decline since we entered this awful war, but what I sense from you isn't about Skywalker's mental health. You still care for your old Padawan, don't you?"

"I do, Master. He has long been a friend of mine, and I worry about him."

"You must let those feelings go, Obi-Wan. You know the code, a Jedi who has left can never return, such is the way of our people, of peace."

"It isn't easy to sever a bond that has been built upon for so long."

"No, it is not. But you must, if you are to move forward." She said, leaving off the implied 'in the council.' "Have you come only to report to me, or to seek my help in severing your bond?"

"I- I seek severance."

"Master Kenobi, you need only ask." Shaak Ti stood, placing her soft orange hands on Obi-Wan's temples. "We shall cut what is dead, so that the healing can begin."

Long after Kenobi left, Shaak Ti remained. The war took its toll upon every Jedi, even those of the Council. No matter what they told themselves, the Council didn't have total control, far from it. So many Jedi were simply fodder in this war, bodies to line the trenches. Often, a Jedi would be thrown into a situation that didn't need a Force user's involvement, whether that situation was a lost cause or a guaranteed victory. The Council didn't assign Jedi in this war, not really. They didn't choose to take part in the war either, but the Force has a way of twisting situations.

Shaak Ti wasn't always on the Council. Years before the Clone Wars started, the Council was guided by Yoda, and Windu was nothing but a junior, the newest member of the Council. Something changed back then, causing Councilors to die or retire, clearing the way for Windu to lead, and muddling Yoda's mind. Shaak Ti had long looked for subterfuge, after all, as governor of the Temple, she had access to all the histories, to all the Guards, to all the Jedi. But that wasn't enough, something twisted the old Council to make way for a new one, something that left no trace in the physical realm.

All this lead to a Sith, who else could twist the Force in such a way? But the Sith had been extinct for eons, there wasn't a Sith when the riots broke out on Naboo, just passionate zealots. Despite the light Dooku was colored in, he wasn't a Sith, just a Jedi who had a different ideology. There weren't really Sith, hadn't been in forever. But the Jedi dropped the name every so often. 'Chasing a Sith.' 'Stopping the Sith.' 'The Sith have returned.' All idle propaganda. But few really knew that. Most Jedi truly believed the Sith had returned, and Shaak Ti wasn't sure why.

But there wasn't time for idle musings and chasing ghosts. Ahsoka wasn't old enough or trained enough to be a Knight, she would need a new Master, and in a case such as that of a student as gifted as her, the Council would decide her fate.

"This is Shaak Ti, place a point on the agenda to discuss Ahsoka Tano's apprenticeship in the meeting this evening."


Daniel McDellum, Senator that led the infamous 'McDellum Incident,' was at a museum. Not just any museum, but the Coruscant Children's Museum of Art, a wonderful organization that put the classics of art on display in a kid safe environment. Sure the works weren't the genuine articles, but the kids couldn't tell the difference, and no curator was going to have a heart attack when a child touched one of the works with a grubby hand.

After a busy work week, Daniel was focused on using his one day off to take his daughter somewhere cultural. An appreciation of the arts was something one never grew out of, and Daniel wanted to make sure Katrina developed that appreciation early. After all, one day she would be powerful and wealthy, and she would need the leg up on her contemporaries. In Daniel's mind, the path his daughter would take it life was already planned and paved, needing only for the youngling to drive upon it.

The museum stood in stark contrast to the buildings surrounding it, a squat plascrete structure in the cultural district, without the adornments the other buildings had. Simple signs, made with actual paint, were the only things to set this building apart from a warehouse. But people don't go to a museum to see the outside, they go to see the treasures within, and the Children's Museum had some of the finest replicas of classic art available. Valuable, but only for learning, practically anyone could copy any object these days, but it actually took a master of the art to make replicas good enough for the art world. McDellum had no doubt the Makers behind this museum were paid handsomely for their efforts.

Daniel was happy and content. Anne and Katrina rarely were able to go on outings with him, such was the life of a Senator, and this one was going to be special. Except for them.

Them, protestors. Empty minded fools that believed every bit of Jedi propaganda that flowed from the Temple. They were here today, in the cultural district, spreading lies in flimsipamphlets, they couldn't even get a decent holopublisher to pick up their filth, showing it for the filth it was. Most of the patrons ignored these fools, but some took a pamphlet, some even keeping it after reading it. These people, ignoring the obvious even when it was dragged out into the public light. Jedi Lovers, people who were blind to the wrongs the Order committed. Daniel wanted to do something, but decided against it. This was his day off after all, his day to spend with his wife and daughter, not a day for fighting rabblerousers.

While Daniel ignored the protestors, the protestors didn't ignore him.

"Excuse me sir, would you care for a pamphlet explaining how the government is targeting the Jedi Order?"

"No thank you, I'm just here to visit a museum with my daughter."

Recognition appeared in this nameless protestor, not that Daniel cared about the man's name. "Wait a second, you're Senator McDellum, aren't you? You caused all this!"

"This is my day off, I'm not a Senator right now." But Daniel had an uneasy feeling, these protestors didn't seem like the peaceful kind, rather the ones that turned into riots when things didn't go their way. Subtly, Daniel activated the emergency call beacon in his pocket. The beacon would alert his driver, who would come pick them up, hopefully before anything unpleasant happened to McDellum and his family.

"Hey! This guy is McDellum, he started all this!" The man shouted.

Suddenly, this very public place seemed very dangerous. The various patrons seemed to disappear, leaving only angry looking protestors. Shouts of 'Jedi hater' and 'Liar' filled the air. Then trash started to fill the air. All Daniel wanted was a peaceful outing with his family, now he was worried about his life. Thankfully, the Senator's craft finally appeared, setting down between the protestors and Daniel, who had his back against the side of the Children's Museum. Escaping to the safety of the inside of the hovercraft, the McDellum family breathed out a sigh of relief. Anne gave Daniel a hard look, no doubt a warning of the unpleasant conversation they would have when Katrina was sound asleep, but right now all she cared about was consoling the frightened child. McDellum needed to contact the Chancellor, Palpatine could give Daniel clones, troopers that could guard his family. Revenge would be sweet. Once the Jedi were ousted as the corrupted organization they were, the simpletons that went around spreading Jedi propaganda would finally be silent, either by their own doing or by government intervention. Sure the Republic wasn't perfect, but it upheld the law, and Daniel looked forward to the day he could go to a museum without being mobbed. Palpatine could help him, the Supreme Chancellor seemed to understand McDellum's stand, and a Supreme Chancellor was a powerful friend.


Temple Guard Davros, member of the Jedi Order, was confused.

Today had started out much like any other, with an agenda given to Davros by the Guard's Quartermaster. Until the business with the Senate and Council, Davros' agenda had remained much the same; assignment to a part of the Temple to guard, followed by free time that Davros could do with as he pleased. Davros had always been productive in his free time, learning a skill, or honing a kata. The life of a Temple Guard wasn't a glamorous one, but Davros took the job seriously. Then a few days ago things changed. A member of the Council, looking ruffled and worried, briefed Davros on the situation, and what needed to be said in the Senate. Why the Council didn't use one of the many diplomats and negotiators in the Temple, he would never know. For some reason, the Council wanted a concealed face for them, not someone trained in the political art. But after all this, Davros thought his job was finally over, after all, what else could be done, in a couple days, someone would actually have to go explain what happened to the Senate, not more stonewalling. This was the end of it, right?

Except, once again, the telltale seal of the Council was on Davros' agenda, a sign that the Council itself had ordered this agenda be given to him. The agenda itself was odd, with no time at all being spent guarding at all. Instead, his day was filled with classes, followed by a meeting with the Temple Superintendent, who was in charge of giving every Jedi a room in the Temple, as well as making sure Jedi had the proper authorization for their respective station. A meeting with the Superintendent meant a promotion or a demotion. Davros read the fine print when he became a Guard. The only promotion he would ever get was to become the Chief Guard, but the current Chief was in good health and wouldn't retire for several years. Normally, that would clearly mean demotion, but Davros hadn't done anything beyond what the Council had told him to, and the classes on this agenda weren't exit classes, the notorious classes that tried to teach a Jedi how to live a normal life.

These classes were nothing a Guard would ever take, 'Troop Deployment in Urban Areas,' 'Efficient Command of Clone Forces,' and 'Countering Insurgents.' Why would Davros need to know that? There were other Jedi who were extremely competent generals, there was no reason to cross-train a Guard to do the job, Davros wasn't even sure if he could take a job. The rules of a Guard were pretty simple, once you joined the Guard, you were in for good, no way out except death or retirement from the Order. Jedi weren't known to play jokes, and the Council seal wasn't something that could be counterfeited. This was real, whatever 'this' was.

The classes themselves were easy enough, simple things for the first day, though clearly things would get more indepth as the course went on. Davros got more than a few odd looks in the classes, but he couldn't blame his fellow classmates. After all, a fully armored Guard sitting in your class can be an interesting experience. The teachers took it in stride though, treating Davros the same as any other learner, a trait Davros appreciated. There wasn't anything left class-wise, it was time to meet the Quartermaster.

Jedi Master Creel, largely considered to be the second oldest being in the Order, right after Yoda. The gruff man looked like the mythical Evl out of fantasy books, with pointed ears and silver hair. No one knew when he had come to the Order, and Creel and Yoda wouldn't talk about it. Master Creel had a reputation as a gruff man, who didn't waste words. An acolyte was truly considered a Padawan after he had requisitioned a room for himself and his Master from Creel, a tradition that had been around for almost as long as Creel. Master's laughed as their Padawan's quivered, but not even a Master wanted to interact with Creel any more than necessary.

"Master Creel."

"Davros."

Not even Yoda was called 'Master' by Creel, it was always your name, and Creel remembered everyone's names.

"I was instructed to report to you."

"You've been promoted."

"I didn't know Guard's got promotions."

"They don't, you did. Here's your packet, congratulations."

Davros was still reeling, but there wasn't any reason to stay here, the packet could be opened when Davros got back to his room, wherever that was now. Pulling a small chip from the simple flimsipacket, Davros held it to the comm unit on his arm, and after a moment, the update appeared on his HUD, offering directions to Davros' new living quarters. The Guards lived on the lowest personnel level of the Temple, a communal floor that housed the entirety of the Guard. But the directions on Davros' HUD were to the North Spire, one of the five spires of the Temple, each holding highly coveted living quarters. Masters and highly ranked Jedi, such as Quartermasters or Strategists, lived in the spires, the majority of the Jedi lived in the base of the Temple. This in itself was evidence that Davros wasn't a guard anymore.

Reaching the room, Davros opened the door. It wasn't much, a bed, desk, chair, kitchenette, and refresher. A large window behind the desk offered a view of Coruscant, bathed in sunset. Not luxury, but far beyond sharing a room with 30 other beings, all in small bunks. Davros emptied the packet on his new desk, revealing a collar insignia and a simple message written on flimsi. The Temple had terminals, but the Council often chose to use the traditional flimsi to deliver messages. The message Davros held in his hands was from Mace Windu, congratulating him on his new rank as 'Head of Domestic Security', ending with a time tomorrow to meet with Windu.

This didn't happen. Guards didn't stop being Guards. The Council must have something in store for him, why else would millennia of tradition be broken? Davros was only 25 years old, but the insignia in the packet gave him the rights and privileges of a Master, unheard of for someone so young. The message said nothing about the rank of Master, just the title of Head of Domestic Security. Maybe this was a bit of subterfuge. The list of Masters in the Order was public knowledge, as well as any promotions to Master. Knights were far too numerous for such a log, giving them anonymity. Davros had plenty of questions, but those would have to wait until he met with Master Windu tomorrow. For now though, Davros planned to requisition a new lightsaber. A staff with a three foot hilt was fine for ceremony, but wouldn't cut it if Davros was going to be in combat. Maybe one like Count Dooku has, a duelist's hilt would be useful in Domestic Security.


A Jedi outside the Order has few friends. This simple fact was exacerbated by the problems in the Senate. Anakin, freshly resigned from the Order, had nowhere to go. The Chancellor was an option, but Anakin didn't want to be under the Chancellor any more than he wanted to be under the Council. He needed to get offworld, Anakin wasn't a fool, a Jedi that leaves the Order is bad press, someone would be along to 'silence' anyone who dissented. Anakin had tried to find possible places of refuge all day. He had spent the night at Dex's Diner, but it was stupid of him to endanger his friend like that. Anakin didn't want anyone to get hurt, least of all someone who couldn't defend himself. Which was why he had to get offworld. Any longer with Dex and he might become a target.

But finding a way offworld when you have no money and no rank is a bit difficult. Anakin had never cared about money before, what was money to a Jedi, who had no belongings beyond the robes on his back and the saber on his hip? Most shuttles offworld were piloted by a droid, impervious to mind tricks. Besides that, anyplace that was safe to work in wouldn't take an employee without basic identification, something Anakin also didn't have. It wasn't until he tried to live without the Order that Anakin realized how much of his life was controlled by it.

Exhausted, Anakin stopped at a public park to rest. The chief tool of a Jedi was his mind, and Anakin needed to get his chief weapon in order. Choosing a large rock secluded among the trees, Anakin sat and tried to clear his mind. Meditation was the first lesson taught to a youngling, a technique to clear the mind, opening a Jedi to the force. Meditation was a stepping stone, a tool that built a foundation. Healing one's self with the Force, seeking vision of the Future, or even shadows of the Past, virtually every advanced technique was tied to meditation. Anakin didn't seek healing or visions, choosing instead to simply calm himself with the Force.

The problem with that is the Force often has a will of its own, and if you open your mind to hear the Force, you might just find the Force talking to you. The park was gone, instead was a quiet meadow, without the constant noise of Coruscant. Anakin found himself in this meadow, but he wasn't sure where he was. He had been to many planets, but lots of planets have meadows. Without a sound, a ship of Confederacy design descended in the meadow, and Count Dooku stepped out, oblivious to Anakin's presence.

"Alderaan, a planet of peace to end a war." Dooku said to himself.

Alderaan, nothing special, nothing noteworthy. Pacifists, but willing to give aid to refugees of the war. Anakin couldn't recall Dooku or the Confederacy ever coming to Alderaan, which meant what Anakin saw was potentially a vision. He couldn't warn the Jedi, they wouldn't believe him, and would probably try to kill him. No, this was his fight, his duty. The Hero With No Fear, even without the Order, Anakin still believed himself to be a Jedi, and Jedi protected the innocent. A ship would need to be found, Anakin needed to get to Alderaan before Dooku did, lives counted on it. But Anakin couldn't tell the Chancellor, he certainly couldn't tell the Council. They were watching him, this was his test, his gauntlet to prove his worth. Anakin would not lose.


A young human boy, possibly 18, sat in front of a chess board. The boy wore simple workers clothes, rough cloth designed to protect instead of make a fashion statement. No one sat on the opposite side, the boy seemed to play by himself. The room was simple, unadorned, a small fire occasionally broke the silence in the hearth, but the boy took no notice of it, his attention entirely on the elegant chess board, which seemed to be the most valuable object in the room. Each piece was hand carved out of some strange material, which practically glowed with an internal heat.

"The Chosen One to Alderaan." The boy said, his voice confident, like a general giving orders to his troops.

The piece that resided in the spot normally reserved for the king lifted up into the air, coming to rest near the right edge of the board, halfway down. This behavior didn't bother the boy, who was still staring intently at the pieces scattered around. Any schoolchild could recognize the classic game pieces and board, but the pieces didn't move as they would in a normal game, often moving over each other or even leaving the board entirely. This strange behavior didn't seem to bother the boy, he simply kept focusing on the pieces, watching their movements with a mixture of excitement and determination.

"The pieces are in place." The boy said, leaning back in his chair. "Let the games begin."