Part 29: The Essence of Titles.
At the Jedi Temple, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was known for serenity. The perfect image of a man who is adored by the light side of the Force. Whom every good Padawan acknowledges as the role model they should aim to resemble. His pace is measured, his movements precise, his words crafted by efficiency and succinctness.
Even in battle this understated elegance never gives way to irritation or speed. The Negotiator, as he was becoming known thanks to the HoloNet, would not let the slightest hint of vulnerability show itself to the world, as he talked sword drawn enemies out of bloodshed. Rhetoric was his skill, his persuasive way with words considered an art form by Senate as well as Temple. Politicians would scorn, those tainted by rumours of corruption or unsavoury alliances, but all would admit, in private at least, that Master Kenobi could beat them in debate, without seeming to even to try.
For those fortunate or unfortunate to witness him in battle, when negotiations entered the aggressive phrase, they saw the same art practised with the lightsaber. Defence held until it became an advantage, the enemy remaining ignorant of his defeat, only to realise at the last that their surrender, whether mortal or no, was foreseen from the moment they drew his laser blade upon themselves.
Therefore, those who claimed they saw Master Kenobi running from the enormous grand entrance lobby of the Temple all the way to the Healer's Ward, were widely treated with disbelief and derision. Nevertheless, it was true, and he had the best reason in the world for abandoning his usual grace that day.
Master Windu was there to greet him at the threshold of the Ysalamiri barrier, and even the solemn Korun could not restrain himself from smiling in bemusement at the sight of his friend coming to a sudden halt before him.
"Is she?" He asked, the end of the sentence he dared not to think, let alone speak.
His future fellow Councillor put him out of his misery. "They're both fine, Obi-Wan," he said, placing his hands about midway on Soresu Master's arms. "In fact you only just missed it." Mace withdrew his hands and turned aside to let him pass.
Obi-Wan resumed his usual pace once more as he navigated his way through the reception area to the room from where he could sense his wife's unique signature through the Force. There was another present too, no longer muffled, further evidenced by the bundle in Padmé's arms, from whom the Senator looked up to welcome him inside.
Words failed him as he reached her, leaning over slightly to brush her lips with his own, before turning azure eyes to the babe in her arms, who regarded him calmly, the bond of fatherhood long established. Tentatively his hands reached out, one to touch the soft small cheek, the other to the tiny hand, whose grip encircled a finger instantly.
"How are you?" He asked at last, turning to her, the apology written in his eyes.
"I am well," Padmé assured him, smiling. "It happened so fast, too fast for you to arrive in time. A hour earlier, and it would have been the floor of the Senate which witnessed the birth."
"Wonder what the HoloNet would have made of that," Obi-Wan murmured. "Did I arrive in time for a name?"
"Unless you want to keep Baby Girl Kenobi," Padmé returned.
Obi-Wan pretended to think about it. "Hmm, no, I think we'll go with the one we decided on."
"Then prepare to hold Cordé Amidala Kenobi," Padmé said, and he adjusted his arms, carefully slipping out his captured finger so he could take the babe from her.
"Hello, little one," he murmured as he held her, recalling his days from volunteering in the Crèche. Another image passed through his mind as Cordé's dark blue eyes returned his gaze; a surgical room, the feeling of tragedy, his wife's eyes forever closed.
But then he glanced at Padmé, and the vision faded away.
The rituals for knighting are relatively simple. After a night spent alone in meditation, the Padawan would walk to the Knighting hall, where at the beckoning of his Master, they would enter that grand room to kneel before twelve Masters of the Order, whose ignited sabers pointed to the floor in a glowing, humming circle of light.
Master Yoda would say, "We are all Jedi. The Force speaks through us. Through our actions, the Force proclaims itself and what is real. Today we are here to acknowledge what the Force has proclaimed." His gaze would then land upon the initiate before continuing with, "Step forward, Padawan. Anakin Skywalker, by the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, I dub thee, Jedi Knight of the Republic."
The braid would be cut as the rank was pronounced, whereupon another Master, usually a Council Member would say, "Take up your lightsaber, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight. And may the force be with you."
A general salute would then follow, as the Masters present acknowledged the newly fledged knight and his great achievement.
For Anakin Skywalker, the ceremony was no different, except in its delay, the ceremony postponed frequently due to one far flung planet battle or another. Nor was the ritual any different for his Masters, whose own ceremonies had been conducted with just as much understated pomp and circumstance, the last twelve years ago.
Obi-Wan could not sense his now former Padawan's thoughts concerning the long awaited for ceremony, for Anakin kept himself shielded most days, the war making openness in bonds a rarity. Aside from his trials, the Negotiator and the Hero With No Fear, as the Chosen One was now called by an adoring fan base, had not been apart in serving the Republic, standing side by side on those far flung planet battles which delayed this important rite of passage. Until his marriage, Obi-Wan had been able to discover most of what his apprentice was thinking, but since Anakin came to know of his mentor's feelings for the woman he loved, a distance was observed, which not even little Cordé could conquer, though she was spoiled rotten whenever her 'uncle' came calling.
Thus he could only speculate as to what his Padawan thought of this ceremony, contrasting such deductions with what passed through his own mind twelve years ago. Master Yoda had resided over it, bemused by a pupil's insistence to take another trial when he had killed a Sith on Naboo barely a month ago. Yet he knew Obi-Wan would not want to be singled out or regarded as the new standard to which every Padawan now needed to aim. So Kenobi took another trial, passed it with distinction, and afterwards bestowed his braid to Qui-Gon, sending the beads to Padmé. Quietly he wondered what Anakin would do with his, holding no expectation to receive either, considering the recent distance between them.
So he was not surprised when the newly fledged Knight dropped the braid into the hands of Qui-Gon Jinn. The Chosen One had always been closer to the now frail Master. His illness was suspected of being in its final stages, though the Healers still possessed no idea as to when said stage would end, or if a cure was not beyond the realm of possibility. Qui-Gon left it to the will of the Force, teaching at the Temple when his health permitted, or receiving visits from his colleagues and friends when it did not. He had been Temple bound since the beginning of the Clone Wars, his strength no longer able to withstand combat, unable to avoid the frequent seizures. Yet the Living Force resided with him, allowing him to remain in the here and now, for the present.
"And these are for you, Master," Anakin said, causing Obi-Wan to come out of his introspection in time to catch the beads poured into his free hand. Gratified, he wordlessly closed his hand around them, before taking his apprentice in an embrace, the distance healed over by this one simple gesture.
Padmé came home from the Senate one afternoon to discover a sight not witnessed outside the Temple walls. Dormé beckoned her in with a nervous expression, unsure if her mistress would permit the visit before she returned home, a worry the Senator quickly put to rest with a few comforting words and a quiet nod, before walking further into the living room of the apartment. Respectfully, she bowed before the Grand Master, who had turned from his young pupil to acknowledge her arrival.
"Senator Amidala, pleased to see you, I am," he greeted.
"Master Yoda," Padmé returned, before bending down to take her daughter in her arms. Cordé was just over a year old, with her father's shade of hair and her mother's eyes, possessing a serene disposition and a compassion which rivalled both her parents. Rising back up to her full height, she added, "what brings you here?"
"Requested at the Temple, yours and Miss Kenobi's presence is," Yoda replied, resting his hands upon his gimmer stick. The revered Master was an unofficial tutor while Obi-Wan was serving on the front line, and Cordé one of the few younglings to receive her first lessons outside the Temple.
"What for?" Padmé inquired, curiously.
"Surprise, is all I will say," Yoda answered, before walking towards her.
Padmé let the Master pass by her, then fell into pace behind him. Silently she followed the Jedi to the turbolift, where they took one down to the path level of the Core. Around them Coruscant's populous gave the procession a respectful berth, the Grand Master using the Force to divert any deep degree of interest until they reached their destination.
Keeping a tight hold of her inquisitive daughter, Padmé followed Yoda through the grand entrance of the Temple and into another turbolift. Only when she reached their destination did she at last realise why he had invited them here.
Neither Senator nor youngling were startled by the darkness surrounding the humming glow of lightsabers, the blades angled towards the floor, encircling a kneeling Knight of the Order. Yoda took his place as the presiding Master, and gestured with his hand for Padmé to stand in the space behind himself and Mace Windu, the Korun Master acknowledging her presence with a smiled glance before turning to the kneeling figure in the centre of the twelve being circle.
"We are all Jedi," Master Yoda announced. "The Force speaks through us. Through our actions, the Force proclaims itself and what is real. Today we are here to acknowledge what the Force has proclaimed." His eyes turned to the Knight kneeling before them. "Step forward, Knight." the man rose from his knees, took a pace forward, then knelt down once more, this time to receive the saber as it passed above his shoulders. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, by the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, I dub thee, Jedi Master of the Republic."
"Take up your lightsaber, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master," Master Windu requested. "And may the force be with you."
Obi-Wan rose from his knees and unclipped his blade. Igniting the weapon, its blue glow travelled from the floor to the ceiling, as he acknowledged the Masters before him with a return salute. He then powered down the blade as the lights were waved back on, before smiling at his wife and daughter.
Padmé stepped forward and wrapped her free arm around his waist. "Thank you, for this surprise, Master Kenobi."
"My pleasure, milady," he replied, bending his head a little to kiss first her, then Cordé. "I had to spend a night in meditation, which is why I didn't let you know I had returned."
Padmé nodded. "I'll let you off, just this once," she smiled at him. "Do you have time to for a celebration with us?"
"Of course," he replied, stepping away to turn to one of the Masters to alert them to their departure.
"Not so fast, Master Obi-Wan," Yoda declared, causing all eyes to turn to him. "One thing more to give you we have."
The Masters led the family into the room next door, and the Councillors among them took their customary seats, leaving a few places empty.
"Take your place, Councillor Kenobi," Master Yoda requested as he indicated to one of them.
The being who greeted Padmé and Cordé in the entrance lobby of Cantham House was not one of the household staff, or one of the trusted aides. Instead it was a scruffy dark haired youngling, about seven years old.
"Hi, Senator," he greeted, sketching a brief bow before running out of the door. Padmé turned to watch him go, curious at the sight and manner of the stranger.
"I see you've met Han," Senator Garm Bel Iblis remarked as he joined her at the threshold, causing Padmé to turn to face her Corellian colleague.
"Han?" Padmé queried, bending down to let Cordé walk into the apartment, for the youngster was now quite adept at the newly acquired skill.
"Han Solo," Garm explained. "I met him during my schools lecture tour back home in the last recess."
"He must be an intriguing pupil for you to take him on so early," Padmé mused, inviting the Senator to continue.
"Yes, he asked me two irreverently phrased yet highly pointed questions," Garm continued as they arrived at the living room of the apartment. "The first regarding the ethics of the anti-alien bias starting to creep into the legal structure of the Republic, the second about some very specific instances of corruption involving some of our colleagues in the Senate."
"Not the sort of questions you'd expect from a seven year old," Padmé remarked, and her companion nodded.
"Which is why I offered him a job. He has no family, no credits to his name, and was in enough trouble with the school that they were almost relieved to rid of him." Garm smiled. "They have no idea of the true worth of the pupil they're abandoning. He's become my courier and unofficial informer. The last person anyone would suspect."
"So we are making progress at last?" Padmé asked.
"Not as much as we would like, " Bail answered as he greeted her, "but some." he handed her a datapad. "This is what we have so far."
Padmé sat down and scanned through the information. When she reached the end of the evidence, she raised her thoughtful gaze to Bail. "Why is it that now we have just enough for the Courts, he controls a super majority which will prevent us from charging him?"
"Same reason as always," Finis Valorum replied, "they're anxious to end the war. Or to acquit themselves of responsibility within the matter."
Padmé returned the pad to Bail, her thoughts inevitably focusing on her husband, and his possible whereabouts now. Despite his appointment to the Council, Obi-Wan's negotiating skills, both rhetoric and aggressive were still demanded upon the battlefield, in a war which the Separatists were doing their level best to intensify recently.
"In other quarters," Mon Mothma said, breaking the silence and rousing Padmé from her thoughts, "work is at last complete. When you next visit, you can tell them they may begin when they feel ready."
"That is a relief," Padmé remarked. "The propaganda has been increasing of late." As she spoke her gaze settled fondly on her daughter, who abruptly stilled, a small smile stealing across her face. "If you'll excuse me, Senators, I believe my husband has returned."
Mon Mothma turned in the direction of her friend's glance and smiled. "It's extraordinary how well that bond works, considering her age."
"The Force runs strong through the Kenobi family," Padmé revealed, as she lifted her daughter into her arms, "according to Master Yoda."
Inclining her head in farewell, Padmé departed from Cantham House and took the turbolift to the penthouse residence for the Senator from Naboo.
"Obi-Wan?" She called after entering the apartment. Her husband appeared from his hiding place on the balcony, unable to hide the happiness he felt at seeing them, though a sheepish expression fell across his daughter's face.
"I see I shall have to stop letting her know if I want to surprise you," Obi-Wan murmured, wrapping an arm round Padmé's waist before leaning down to brush his lips against hers. The passion and emotion within the exchange took his breath away, causing him to pause before deftly taking his daughter into his arms to greet her. His blue eyes met the brown gaze of his love with an eloquent unspoken promise of what was to come.
"How long do you have?" Padmé asked.
"A month," he replied, causing her to let loose a grin. "I thought we could spend it on Naboo. Everything is packed aboard the ship, waiting for you to say yes."
Her reply was just what he desired.