Chapter 35. The Finer Things in Life
Palpatine was first and foremost a politician, which in turn translated into an opportunist. Always open discourse with pleasantries was a diplomat's rule number one.
"Your Temple is truly magnificent." And wasted on those who dare not appreciate the finer things in life, eschewing such things as "attachments" or "possessions," Palpatine added under his breath as he and Master Billaba exited the lift into the Grand Concourse. It was largely empty; the few Jedi they passed only serving to reinforce his opinion that they were visually and esthetically a dull lot: their simple and oh-so-neutral clothing of brown and tan so vividly dull amidst such opulence.
As he understood it, the Jedi sought and found richness only within their inner lives, within the Force and it alone.
The Jedi were truly blind or self-deluded, then. This was far from a humble "home" as Master Yoda had put it.
Then again, he had yet to see the truly private places within the Temple. There had been a bit of a twinkle within the aged Yoda's eyes, a private joke as it were, as if he well knew the perceptions of visitors to the Temple.
And he had to remember it was a Temple as much as a home. Even his own new offices, redecorated to his liking, consisted of a formal ceremonial office and a smaller, private one. The Jedi Order, the Guardians of Justice in both name and practice, had both a public and private face, too, as he was fast learning.
So he understood now both the twinkle in Yoda's eyes and the truth.
This was the public face of the Order, the ceremonial face.
So Palpatine was used to ostentatious. As a politician, he could not help it and now, as Chancellor, he could not avoid it. Those of the elite, the chosen, used the trappings of formality as a cloak, a shroud to awe and humble so called "lesser beings" and had since the dawn of time. Trust us, it proclaimed, let those of us most capable make decisions on your behalf.
It was a necessary deception in many ways, but one that also served to reassure the governed, that the government was not impoverished or shabby, but an inspiration and ode to success.
So the finery of his robes, the luxuriousness of his office, the grandeur of the Senate, all served a purpose.
He found it not surprising that the Jedi Order was not immune to such deceptions, if one wished to portray it in such terms. In their own way, these servants of the Force, these beings thought to be exalted above mere mortals though they shared the same commonality of the Force – exalted by degree and training, not wisdom alone.
"Absolutely magnificent," he repeated, once more. Austere, grand and yet inviting, with walls and statuary of cold stone burnished warm by subdued natural light from above, a wide corridor of neither deep shadow or harsh light.
A Temple indeed.
Too grand and formal an edifice for servants of the Force. No hint of his disdain touched the Chancellor's lips. In a small way he even understood. Formality and opulence were expected of the pillars of the elite, and no mistake about it, the Jedi Order was held in that regard by many planets of the Republic, if not always the ordinary citizen.
Charlatans and magicians, many thought them; mythical beings, many others. Servants of the Senate in practice, servants to the Force in their mind. The Jedi walked a tightrope of expectations and duty, much like humble servants of the people such as himself.
And yes, formality
For an Order that eschewed possessions for its members it was a monument built by wealth. Palpatine wondered if residential accommodations were as large and ornate, or the opposite, meager cells with a flat pad where the acolytes of a rich religion lived simply amidst splendor, beggars amongst the rich.
Perhaps soon he would find out.
Pacing slowly through the hallways, Palpatine bent a gentle smile down upon his companion.
Palpatine was a bit of a charmer, Depa had to admit, eyes attentive and full devotion given to his companion. Whether that was genuine, or the mask of a politician she had yet to discover, for it was a bit odd that someone could be so focused on another person in such an unfamiliar environment. Most visitors, especially first time ones, tended to gape and gaze, no matter how well guarded the expression might be.
Palpatine showed little of the casual curiosity she had grown to expect.
Still, he was no ordinary politician, it was clear. He had come in person to Naboo, not surprisingly, since his home planet's occupation had catapulted him into the Chancellor's office, but now he had come in person to the Temple as well to inquire of those who had been partially responsible for freeing Naboo.
It was a gesture much appreciated, even if a mere gesture. If genuine, well, Depa wondered how long it might be until the office made of him a ceremonial instrument of government with little contact with those whom he led.
Still, he exuded a certain charm of manner that reminded her much of the former Chancellor, Finis Valorum. Like him, Palpatine might actively seek to be not too removed from those whom he represented.
Valorum had remained a real gentleman in the sometimes brutal world of politics.
He had been a close personal friend of Qui-Gon Jinn for years and over time the friendship between the Jedi and the politician had expanded to include a number of other Jedi. She herself was one, though the Jedi were far removed from Valorum's usual and more public social circle - that which largely revolved around politics.
None knew the distinguished widower often seen in the company of beautiful and powerful women much preferred quiet evenings alone with friends. Depa had been sharing some of them off and one for a year or so now.
The relationship had served them both well, for there was no pretense and no awkwardness to navigate around.
"So Master Billaba," Palpatine's voice brought her attention now wholly back on him, "now that the formalities are out of the way, tell me, just how are your three Jedi doing now that the Battle of Naboo is some few weeks behind us – our dear Master Jinn," he clucked sadly, "nearly paid with his life for saving my planet."
A small grimace passed over her face, though Palpatine noticed it. One did not need to be a Jedi to read others; he had perfected the art of reading the gestures and body language of a number of species over his years in politics. He had no qualms against using any tools at his disposal to advance his agenda to consolidate and secure the Republic.
"Master Jinn is healed and training his new padawan."
"Splendid! And how is young Anakin doing – such a prodigy must be near to being knighted by now." As expected, his chuckle and the twinkle he was so adept at putting into his eyes almost eased the slight tension he felt within the Jedi master.
"Hardly so." Her answering smile faded into a small frown. "He has had trouble fitting in for various reasons."
It took little coaxing to pull a few details of young Skywalker's "difficulties" out of her. It was all too apparently clear that the Jedi master was fond of all the youngsters in the Temple; she greeted not just the adults, but the various younglings they passed by name. She kept her speculations to herself – rightly so – but Palpatine had a few ideas of his own, some based on observation of the boy and his new master on Naboo.
The Jedi master apparently felt beleaguered and unsupported by his colleagues and no doubt guarded and defended his young charge a tad more vociferously than was wise, further alienating the newcomer.
Well, Master Jinn was a right obstinate Jedi, Palpatine had already observed.
It was perfectly clear the Council member wished young Anakin had found his spot by now. All had known the boy would have trouble adapting – well, all but Master Jinn himself, and he, no doubt, only exacerbated the problem. So the problem was quite clear to the politician.
Anakin felt like an outsider.
The poor boy; unwanted and unloved except by an absent mother. No doubt even such Jedi as the one at his side, clearly concerned with his well being, were indistinguishable in his mind from the others who didn't care or didn't care to care.
He only had Master Jinn – and Chancellor Palpatine, if had had any say in the matter. The boy was a planetary hero – his birth planet's hero – and stepping into a semi-parental role was the least he could do for the boy. It was the only thing he could do, and the right thing as well.
It was a shame that he could not free the boy's mother. To interfere, on a non-Republic planet, would bring political repercussions he shuddered to imagine.
He had fought too hard to have the chance to stabilize the Republic and ensure peace and prosperity to risk all on the welfare of one woman.
Politics, he deemed not for the first time, was not for the weak or timid.
"Wow, wasn't that great? The Chancellor came just to see us!" Anakin was still excited, bursting with energy as the doors of the small conference room closed behind the Chancellor. Qui-Gon looked on indulgently. It wasn't often the boy was praised, though Palpatine's effusiveness was somewhat unexpected.
Anakin was the instrument of the Force's will and any honor should be divided between it and its vessel, even as the praise he himself had received had been accepted and discarded as it should.
All that he had done was in response to its will.
All? a small voice whispered.
"I wonder if the Chancellor is going to see him," Anakin suddenly burst out, a scowl on his face.
"He has a name," Qui-Gon said out of habit, his attention focused more on Anakin's movements than his words.
"You never speak it."
Once his brain caught up with the words, he shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well, no, I guess I don't," he agreed. And why not – the voicing of a name changed nothing. Obi-Wan. As that name crossed his mind, he remembered why. It hurt. It brought back memories of what he wished to forget and memories he once thought he never wished to forget.
It was easier to forget when one forgot the name as well.
Obi-Wan still sat, fingers splayed across his face. He hadn't wanted those memories to rise up and confront him with the past he was working so hard to put behind him.
Naboo.
He wanted to curse the name, but would not allow himself. Naboo had not hurt him; it had merely been the place where he had been hurt. It was the place of his greatest triumph – though he hated to think that killing another being, even a Sith deserved to be called a triumph – and his greatest defeat.
"Your selfless actions were those of a hero."
His actions were those of duty.
"Your determination to save Master Jinn was and is a credit to your training."
His actions were selfish. He didn't want to lose his master. He had, anyway.
"Your skills were those of a knight while you were yet a padawan."
His actions were guided by the Force except for that one terrible lapse.
With a deep, shuddering breath, Obi-Wan blew out the memories. The Chancellor meant well, but it would have been much better had he not come at all, bearing presents of soft words and gentle praise.
It was only while brushing his hand over his chin that he noticed the trembling in his hands had returned.
That night the nightmares returned.