Summary: Sequel to Swaying Forces. Every year, Jedi younglings are given a tour of the Temple Guard quarters the day that the newest members are gathered together to train. The Clone Wars do not stop this. Two-shot.
A/N: Rakesh Brem is the name I have given the Grand Inquisitor, the main character of this series. Further notes on him and the appearing Guard and/or Inquisitorius members will be listed at the end of the fic on AO3.
Younglings Are The Future
Every year, Jedi younglings are given a tour of the Temple Guard quarters the day that the newest members are gathered together to train.
This is that day.
As the first rays of the sun kiss the majestic spires of the Jedi Temple, the air hums with an electric anticipation. Every Jedi to ever come through the Temple has been a part of this tradition, and, peace providing, every future Jedi will follow after them in this regard. The younglings have been looking forward to this day for as long as they have known of it. And the Guard, well, this is their annual opportunity to appeal to those young masses, to ask them to consider this path for their futures. After all, the Jedi Temple Guard must gain new members to keep itself going, to keep their sacred Temple secure from those who might wish harm upon those under their careful charge.
But this year, the air crackles with an undercurrent of unease, as the Clone Wars ravage the galaxy beyond the walls of the sanctuary.
Even still, Cin Drallig will not let the war change such an ancient tradition. He calls upon Unit Arrel as the sun spills molten gold across the capital of the Republic, and carefully extracts four members of their ranks to help in teaching their ways to the Padawans and Knights who have sought refuge from the war among the Guard.
Rakesh Brem has never considered himself worthy of teaching, but find himself in uniform before the Battlemaster, he does. He knows at once that it will be a long morning. As the hour of the younglings' arrival approaches, he pulls on his mask and breathes in deeply.
There is no emotion; there is peace.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
There is no chaos; there is harmony.
There is no death; there is the Force.
The Sentinel remains still when the door to the Guard Halls slides open. Beside him, in equal states of detachment, Tindri, Jurr, and Brakan hold their positions as well.
As the younglings file into the large Hall, their bright eyes sparkle with a mix of excitement and curiosity. They are followed closely by their crèchemaster, a gentle-eyed Pantoran who has nurtured them, and others, since the moment that the Jedi Seekers brought each of them to the Temple.
Their footsteps echo softly on the polished flooring for a moment, before they come to a halt a respectful distance from the door. The Sentinel listens as the children whisper among themselves, his heightened hearing catching more words than those of his companions'. The Force sings with joy, and the assembly of trainees in the Hall's center seems to relax as the wave of warmth floods over them.
The crèchemaster takes a moment to silence her charge, and then nods to Cin Drallig, who pivots on his heel to greet the younglings.
His voice holds a welcoming wisdom of its own. "Welcome, younglings, to the Temple Guard quarters," he bows. "Today, you have the opportunity to witness the training and dedication of those who have chosen to serve as Temple Guards. These brave individuals have dedicated themselves, body and soul, to protecting the sacred grounds of our Temple and ensuring the safety of all who reside within.
"As Temple Guards, we strive to embody the core principles of the Jedi Order," Drallig continues, his tone smoothly morphing into a sort of wistful authority. "We protect the innocent, uphold justice, and maintain the harmony of the Force within our sacred Temple. We stand as a shield against darkness and serve as a beacon of hope in troubled times. And these times, they are quite trying. That is one of the reasons we have gathered you here today:
"Watch carefully, and take what you learn with you into your apprenticeships. There is no telling how long this war will last, and it will do you well to learn what you can, to be ready should your calling come- whether that be to the Guard, or to the front lines."
The Battlemaster gestures for the younglings to approach, following their eager nods of comprehension, and they do so with hardly a beat of hesitation, their eyes darting from the stoic forms of the Temple Guards to the identical, glimmering lightsaber pikes that hang at their hips. The younglings have seen lightsabers wielded by Jedi Knights, but those of the Temple Guard hold a special- an almost forbidden- allure.
Master Drallig is silent for a moment, a small smile upon his lips, his gaze dragging fondly over the flock, then more proudly over the patient trainees. Young Trohr Cassusk is among them somewhere, an anxiousness radiating off of him that Rakesh and their other present unit members are not allowed to ease. To do so would be to break the indifference of their careful facade, something they mustn't do when setting an example for their current audience is critical.
On his left, a warning jabs at the Sentinel through the Force, and he is quick to push all trains of thought aside for later analysis.
My apologies, he projects back, short and simple.
There's a flicker of amusement from Drallig's direction, a small recognition at the disturbance within the members of his star unit. He clears his throat, and all eyes fall back to him. "With that in mind, I would like to introduce Jurr Arrel, one of my most revered captains," Cin announces, extending an arm to the masked Tholothian. "Come forward, my friend."
A ripple of something passes over the younglings as Jurr steps from the ranks of his isolated unit and comes to stand a few paces away from the Battlemaster's side, falling still as a statue once more, awaiting further orders.
"He has been among the Guard longer than most," Drallig tells both the younglings and trainees alike, "and he will demonstrate the stances I relay to you. Watch him closely, for he will only show them a handful of times." His tone changes. to one of professionalism. "Today, our focus will be on Form II: Makashi. Jurr?"
"Ready when you are, Battlemaster," his vocoder emulates.
Cin seems pleased with his response, and nods toward the rest of the sidelined unit. "You may roam the group. Correct their errors, and teach them the stances as you have come to know them."
The Sentinel feels the invisible current of the Force pulling him forward, guiding his steps past the group of younglings and into the nervous ranks of Guard trainees. Behind him, he senses the subtle movement of his compatriots, Tindri and Brakan, as they follow suit, spreading out to engage with the group. They move slowly, deliberately, taking stock of their charge as they wait for Drallig to set the session in motion.
"Let us begin."
And from behind Jurr's mask, as he draws his golden blade, come the ancient verses of the Jedi Code:
There is no emotion; there is peace.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
There is no chaos; there is harmony.
There is no death; there is the Force.