Despite Windu's fervent beliefs, Anakin found out days later, his Master's representation had been in vain. The Supreme Chancellor now controlled every single clone of the millions which protected the Republic, and almost immediately he ordered them to abandon their search of Utapau, concentrating the majority of the troops on Muunilist.

This abrupt and shocking move immediately split the Senate down the middle, as half the senators defended Palpatine's actions and the other half attacked them. Utapau had been largely considered to be a prime candidate for the Separatist leaders' hiding place, and to desert it so suddenly was seen as suspicious among those who had opposed Palpatine from the beginning. All this, however, had very little to do with Anakin—he tried to make sure that politics never did—and so he remained very indifferent to the doings of the senators. Palpatine was the one politician whom he considered trustworthy, and surely the Chancellor must know what he was doing. Otherwise, Anakin's pragmatic mind reasoned, he would hardly have been elected Supreme Chancellor in the first place.

Anakin was forced to get much closer to the sordid world of politics, however, hardly a month after he agreed to take the Trials. Since that day, the Order had grown very busy indeed; at any given time, the Temple would only house half of its full capacity, so many Jedi were away on missions. Windu and Anakin were busy as well, sent on so many missions that, in that month, Anakin spent less than a week at the Temple. Their last mission had been to Byss, ending with the forceful arrest of several powerful Separatist sympathizers—Anakin expected something equally exciting when he was summoned to the Council Chamber at the end of the month.

He was, however, gravely mistaken.

As soon as he stepped into the room and bowed, Master Yoda began to speak, wasting no time at all. "An attack, there has been, on Chancellor Palpatine's life," he announced to the room at large. Anakin's heartbeat quickened for a moment before Yoda continued. "Survived, he has, but killed, several of his aides were."

Ki-Adi-Mundi broke in, speaking directly to Anakin. "The Chancellor is far too important to be lost so easily. He has requested a Jedi bodyguard, and the Council feels that this is a more than reasonable request."

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Anakin thought he understood.

"You want me to guard the Chancellor?" he asked. Yoda nodded, and Windu spoke.

"I'll be away for a month on Bespin, leaving tomorrow," he said. "It would be best if you had something to do between now and when the Trials begin."

"Difficult, it is not," Yoda assured Anakin. "Simply protect him wherever he goes, you must."

"Including Senate meetings?" Anakin asked before he could stop himself. Yoda nodded, and Anakin shot his Master a pleading look that said, quite plainly, Couldn't I stick needles under my fingernails instead? Windu responded by merely raising a very stern eyebrow, and Anakin, knowing he had lost, turned back to Master Yoda.

"I accept," he murmured, quite unwillingly. "When would you like me to start?"

"Expecting you as soon as possible, the Chancellor is," replied the Jedi Master, "at his apartments."

Had anyone been standing right beside Anakin, they might have heard him mutter, very quietly, a word for which Obi-Wan had chastised him several times in the past. All that the Council saw, however, was the obedient bow and the quick exit.

There wasn't much for him to pack, only a few extra robes, which Anakin threw without ceremony into a small bag. Dear Force, an entire month of diplomacy, of standing behind the Chancellor for hours, of waiting and waiting and waiting for the Senate to adjourn. With an exasperated gesture, Anakin threw a datapad violently in the direction of the bed, missed, and sent it smashing into the wall. Wincing, he hastily picked it up—thankfully it wasn't broken—and tucked it into a side pocket of his bag.

It was less than twenty kilometers to Palpatine's apartments, a journey which was made in a very short amount of time. Anakin took a taxi, so as not to render a Temple ship useless for thirty-five days. After shoving a few credits into the taxi driver's grimy hand, he started up the steps from the Chancellor's landing bay, a growing feeling of dread in his stomach. There was a door at the top of the stairs, but before Anakin reached this, it opened from the inside and a female Bothan, covered in dark fur, stepped out.

"Master Jedi," she greeted him. "The Chancellor has asked me to show you to your rooms. If you'll follow me…"

Immediately she turned around and went right back through the door. Anakin, not wanting to be left behind, sped up his pace. For the most part, there was only silence as she led him through the sumptuous halls, but they passed a great many doors, and every once in a while the Bothan would say something like, "This is the Chancellor's bedroom" or "Through there, and the kitchen's just on your left". Anakin did his best to remember all this, and by the time they had reached his rooms, he had a vague mental map in his head of the floor.

Opposite Anakin's door were two large double doors, the sort that swung back and forth on hinges. The Bothan raised a hand in the direction of these.

"That," she said, "is the Chancellor's private study. He's in there now, but I'm sure he'll see you presently."

Without another word, she left, walking briskly down the hallway. A bit bewildered, Anakin entered his own chambers, to find a sitting room, small but comfortable. Off this were two doors, presumably the bedroom and the refresher, but these Anakin did not explore. Throwing his pack carelessly onto the sofa, he sat down beside it and leaned his head back against the cushions. No sooner had he stopped moving than it hit him how tired he was. Mission after mission, without a moment's respite—maybe a little peace and quiet wouldn't be so bad, at least at first.

The healing side of the Force beckoned; Anakin's eyes closed almost of their own volition, and he gave in to it.

Thud—thud—thud—thud—

The sound of quick, precise footsteps on a hard floor.

"Your Excellency, this is the Jedi."

The noises were perfectly clear, so much that they were almost painful. But Anakin could see nothing, for all was lost in a confusing mix of harsh, false red light. Dark shapes swirled before his burning eyes.

The voice that spoke then was more croak than tone, the voice one expected to hear coming from the throat of a toad. It skittered sharply over the syllables, rattling against the words. It came from right beside him, and was not altogether unfamiliar. "Leave us." And a pause. "What have you to say for yourself, Jedi?"

Anakin tried to open his mouth to speak, but stopped suddenly. The redness was clearing—his eyes fluttered as he fought to see, but it was like trying to gaze into the sun.

"I am not alone in my cause." This voice was strong and proud, but the shape that it came from was so small, crouching on the ground like an animal in front of him. It too was not unfamiliar—desperately he tried to think whose voice it must have been. "Nor will my death do anything to save your reign from destruction."

The toad voice spoke again, spitting out words like blaster bolts. "Yours is a dying breed, Jedi. Your death may do nothing, but my reign is quite safe."

"You are wrong!" cried the shape on the floor exultantly. "There are others like myself, thousands more—"

The shape was human, Anakin saw now, kneeling awkwardly on the ground—but its face was raised.

"Other Jedi?" asked the toad voice; it came from something short, something small, but latent power creaked through its every movement as it stood. His vision was clearing, but he could still not see this one any more plainly. But on the floor, the human was growing more detailed by the second—if only this unnatural redness would fade…

"Others," the human repeated, his face glowing. "Others who despise you and would see your Sith empire die, others who would gladly sacrifice their own lives if it would mean the end of your own, others who number in the millions! Your throne is far from stable, Your Excellency!"

The crack of lightning snapped unexpectedly through the air—he jerked backwards as a sharp blueness cut across his red vision, and a horrible burnt smell filled the air. The human collapsed, and as he fell, his face came into perfect focus.

Ferus?

Ferus Olin—but older. He looked thirty, perhaps even older than that, but there was that same tell-tale streak of brightness in his hair, and though his face had lost its youth it remained the same.

Before he realized that his best friend was lying on the ground, dead, the other being turned toward him. He saw the shape of a hood, and the outline of a face underneath, so hard that it looked as though it had been cut out of stone.

"Find these 'others' of which he speaks," ordered the voice from under the hood, that awful toad's voice that grated against his ears. "Destroy them. That is your task."

And he bowed.

Anakin burst out of the dream with a long, gasping breath—he felt as though steel bands around his chest had just been loosed, and he gulped in air like he was drowning. His hands were trembling; Anakin passed a hand over his face, a habit he had picked up from Obi-Wan, and found that his forehead was covered in sweat.

He knew, just as he had known before, that what he had just seen—or rather, heard, for the most part—was no ordinary dream. But this time, he knew what it was. There was a holo-projector embedded in the low glass table in front of him. Anakin pounced on it and fumbled with the buttons until it turned on.

"Contact the Jedi Council," he said, and within seconds, the voice-activated system had connected him with a beep to the projector in the middle of the Council Chamber. Anakin could see Windu sitting between Yoda and Plo Koon.

"Master, I—" he blurted out, before he remembered that others could hear him as well. He hesitated, looking at the other Jedi Masters. Windu understood.

"Whatever you have to say can be said here," he told his apprentice. Anakin grimaced, but continued. "It happened again," he said.

Windu leaned forward. "Another vision, you mean?"

"Yes, and it was worse."

A frown crossed Windu's face. "What do you mean, worse?"

Anakin took another deep breath—even the memory was enough to cause his chest to tighten painfully again. "The other one was just sad, but this was—I sensed the Dark Side in it."

He could hear the concerned murmurs coming from the other end. Windu looked solemn.

"What was it?" he asked. Anakin bit his lip until he tasted blood.

"There was red light, everywhere, it made everything very hard to see. But—but I could hear, and I heard someone speaking to a Jedi. He asked if the Jedi had anything to say for himself—it sounded as though he were being punished for being a Jedi. And the Jedi said something about—something about a cause, and that even if the other person killed him, his reign would still end."

"An Outer Rim leader?" suggested Windu, although his voice betrayed the fact that he did not truly believe that. Anakin shrugged uncomfortably.

"Maybe," he conceded, "but I don't think so." In as few words as possible, Anakin related to the entire Jedi Council everything that he remembered about the nightmare. He described the voice he had heard in great detail especially, hoping they would be able to provide him with a name or face, but the Council was as lost for answers as he.

"Please don't tell Ferus what I saw," Anakin begged finally. "It would only worry him, and I—" He stopped, but he did not have to explain to the assembled Jedi Masters the guilt that he felt at seeing his friend's death in such a way.

"Don't worry, Anakin," Windu assured him. "Padawan Olin will never hear of this—nor, I think, will anyone else."

It didn't entirely alleviate the burden Anakin felt, but it did help.

"A Sith empire, he said?" Master Yoda questioned. Anakin nodded. "A dark future indeed, this predicts, and a near one as well."

Seeing Anakin's face, which was very pale, Windu hastened to add, "But the future was changed through his vision last time. Perhaps that will happen again."

Anakin stopped listening for a moment. He could have sworn he heard something moving outside his door.

"I think the Chancellor is coming," he said, his voice lower. "I should go."

"Remember, Anakin, this is only what may be," Windu reminded his Padawan. "Not necessarily what will be."

Anakin gave a half-bow, ending the conversation, and the hologram flickered and died. It was a good thing, too, for just then the door opened, and Palpatine strode in.

"Anakin," he said warmly, reaching out a hand to clasp the Jedi's. "It's been a long time since we last saw each other."

Anakin's spirits lifted slightly. Chancellor Palpatine had always been kind to him, and just the sight of someone so stable and strong made him feel better. Surely no Sith empire could exist while this man headed the Senate.

"I'm glad to see you again, Chancellor," Anakin said, making a slight bow, but Palpatine dismissed this gesture with a wave of his hand.

"Oh, come, Anakin, we are old friends," he said with a smile. "Surely there is no need to stand on formality."

Anakin smiled as well at this, and Palpatine took his arm in a strong grasp, leading him across the hall into his study. "You and I must talk," he said, by way of explanation.

Only once before had Anakin been in this room, and then, as now, he thought it perfect. A few tall, graceful sculptures, done by some of the most talented artists in the galaxy, stood against the richly colored walls. Its wide windows opened out onto the world of Coruscant—one felt as though all of the planet could be seen through that plasti-glass—which eliminated the feeling Anakin got sometimes when in a room where there was no window, as though he was in a cage. Here there was no chance of that. It was, Anakin thought, a room where one could be very comfortable.

Palpatine did not sit down, but instead began a slow walk around the perimeter of the room, and Anakin walked with him. "I was very glad to hear the news," he said. "So you're to take the Trials this year?"

Anakin nodded. "Master Windu feels that I'm ready for it," he replied. It was a sign of Palpatine's intuitiveness that he looked at Anakin askance.

"And do you feel that you are ready?" he asked. Anakin bit down on his lip uncomfortably, looking down at the soft carpet as they walked. His boots looked thick and clumsy on it.

"I—I don't know," Anakin admitted. The unsurety he felt came across clearly in his voice, more so than he would have liked. "There were times that I was certain, but the more I learn the more I think that I still have so much to accomplish before I'm worthy. And there are other times—" He bowed his head, guilt washing over him again. "There are times when I know, deep down, that I am infinitely far from such an honor."

There was no noise in the room, but for the soft whispering of Palpatine's long, elegant robes against the floor. The Chancellor gave him a knowing look, and after a moment, spoke.

"You mean the Sand People?"

Anakin nodded again, too ashamed to speak.

"And the Tatooine prisoners as well, I assume."

His head shot up. "How do you—?"

Palpatine raised his eyebrows. "Rest assured, Anakin, I have not been spying on you. Your friends have not betrayed their confidences either." He sighed. "To be honest, Anakin, you have fascinated me for many years. I see a powerful future for you, and I made a point, a long time ago, of knowing as much about you as I could."

Anakin didn't know whether to feel flattered or scared; he settled on a little bit of both.

"You're right," he said finally, the despair he felt coming out at last. "Chancellor, I can't tell you how much I regret my actions on those occasions. How could someone like me ever become a true Knight?"

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Palpatine asked, surprise in his voice as he stopped and turned to Anakin.

"I give in to my anger far too easily," Anakin said, frustrated at his own faults. "I let it take me where I should not go—where a Jedi cannot go!"

Palpatine looked grave. "Anakin, I have no wish to make you distrust the Jedi Order, but I have long felt that no good can come of their denying of the human emotions."

"What do you mean?" asked Anakin, confused. Palpatine began walking, and Anakin followed him automatically. The Chancellor appeared almost regretful as he spoke. It was clear that whatever he was about to say, he said with great reluctance.

"The Jedi…forbid any strong emotions, such as anger or extreme want, selfishness, or even love." He looked at Anakin sorrowfully. "But human beings were not made to live in such a way. Whatever being created mankind created them to feel. It was not your fault that you attacked those people. You see, Anakin, if emotion is bottled up for too long, it will inevitably explode. You have experienced this."

It was a moment before Anakin found his voice. "But—what about those Jedi who never get angry, who never feel anything strongly at all? What about the Masters, on the Council?"

Palpatine appeared very serious indeed. "It would be my own personal opinion—not necessarily to be taken as truth, you understand—that they have ceased to be entirely human. They are…something less." Looking into the Jedi's troubled eyes, he said softly, "You may not qualify, in their minds, to be the perfect Knight—but if you did, Anakin, can you imagine the price you would have paid?"

Anakin stepped back a pace, overwhelmed. It seemed suddenly to be a tremendous struggle to speak—it was as though a weight lay on his mouth, holding his lips shut. At last, he managed, "The Jedi are set apart from the rest of the galaxy. It is the only way we can truly protect it and fight for it."

Palpatine inclined his head. "Forgive me," he said, "if I caused you to doubt. If that is your belief, Anakin, then surely you would know better than I."

A few more words were exchanged, but they were no more than empty pleasantries. Anakin was miserably distracted, and excused himself to his rooms as soon as possible.

Twilight was already falling over Coruscant. Anakin watched the giant sun set from his window; his thoughts were in turmoil.

He did not sleep until very late that night.