32 BBY

Tan'ya's eyes fluttered open at the sound of her alarm, and she blinked blearily at the darkened roof of her bedroom. Groggily she groped about in the shadows until she found her chronometer, and rubbed her fingers against its surface as she searched for the button to turn the alarm off. Once again her room was silent, except for the rustling of her pajama's brushing against the bed sheets as she stretched and yawned.

Finally she sat up, her long dark locks, a shade lighter than black, fell down around her shoulders. Now awake, she reached out in the force, deliberately and gently flicking the lights on before heading into her ensuite bathroom. A few minutes later she emerged from it, changed into her practice robes with a toothbrush in one hand, and a hairbrush in the other. Once her hair was free of knots, and her teeth free of plaque, she bent over to pull on a pair of soft soled boots, before climbing out the window.

The morning air at the top of the mountain ruffled her wavy locks, and she dropped several stories down to the ground floor with featherlight grace. Assisted by the force, she landed soundlessly in a gentle crouch, before standing and walking through the garden.

Tan'ya wasn't the first to arrive at the flat square of grass set aside for exercise and play - Asajj was already there, waiting. She was dressed similarly, in slightly loose Jedi robes fit for exercise, a mix of black and brown colors that the New Temple Jedi tended to prefer.

"Good morning." Asajj called out, picking a bit of sleep from her eye.

"Good morning, where's Father?"

"He said he had an important meeting on Coruscant." She shrugged. "Hardest worker in the Galaxy."

That was barely an exaggeration at all. Whether he was at the Palace, at the New Temple or traveling the length and breadth of the Galaxy, the Count was constantly occupied by something. It wasn't that he neglected his family, Dooku made every effort to share meals with his children, speak to them and keep up with their interests, to be a good father and a husband, but it was hard to do those things when he wasn't present.

Tan'ya understood, she really did. Her father was a busy man who a great many depended on. Compared to her first life she definitely saw Dooku much more than either of her former parents in Japan. Not to mention Tan'ya's mother was always there for her in this life. Athemeene was the bedrock of their family, attentive and devoted, infinitely patient and kind, and she was remarkably clear thinking.

Really, Tan'ya had nothing to complain about.

She was literally a princess in a palace with two loving parents, a bright future of incredible personal wealth, martial prowess, and far reaching influence. By any sensible metric, Tan'ya had never had it so good. She lived in comfort and peace, working towards achievable dreams, surrounded by a wonderful family.

Honestly, what kind of an ungrateful Disney princess would complain about this lifestyle? Some silly child staring wistfully out a window and dreaming wistfully that daddy would pay attention to her?

Pathetic.

That wasn't Tan'ya. She was an adult in her first life, a war leader in her second, and now she was a responsible heir and a Jedi in training. That's all there was to it.

Occasionally Father wouldn't have time for her.

So be it.

"You okay?" Asajj asked.

Of course she was, but even so Tan'ya hesitated to answer just long enough for her mother to interrupt them. Athemeene walked out into the garden, dressed in a similar manner to them, though she really didn't need to be for what they were doing.

After having her fourth child six months ago, Athemeene had been concerned about how heavy she was getting and started looking into some ways to exercise. Probably for the best, too. Tan'ya's grandmother was genuinely obese, so she suspected her mother's side of the family had a fairly slow metabolism. Tan'ya's father, looking for more ways to spend time with his family, had asked her mother if maybe she'd like to start learning lightsaber forms in the morning, and so this had become something of a normal ritual.

Honestly, watching her Mother slowly move through the basic Shi-cho forms with a wooden sword reminded Tan'ya of a scene from her first life. In Japan, and in China on the few occasions he'd visited it, he'd seen plenty of old people standing in a group, holding old plastic swords and stretching and leaning about to stay healthy. What was it called again? It was so long ago, it took a moment for the word to come to her. Tai-Chi, that was it.

After having four children, and never being particularly athletic previously, Athemeene had put on quite a bit of weight. Tan'ya estimated that at this point her mother probably weighed nearly as much as her father, so it was definitely a good thing she had taken up exercise to stay healthy.

"Good morning, Tan'ya." Athemeene yawned and smiled, reaching out to cup her daughter's chin affectionately. "Your Father had to go to Coruscant."

"Asajj already told me." Tan'ya answered. "It's alright, he's the one who's missing out on a nice weekend."

"...Yes, he is."

Athemeene smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Tan'ya realized she might have just gotten her father into trouble.

Athemeene looked over to Asajj, and her eyes seemed to warm up a little. "Good morning Asajj. It seems we will be following your lead today."

Asajj bent over to collect a pair of long, straight wooden swords before passing them to the two of them.

Soon enough, they settled into a series of thrusts, stabs, backsteps and holds as the sun rose over the distant mountains and bathed the garden in warm pink light. Asajj set a fairly slow pace, conscious of who her students were. Being a child, it wasn't a good idea to tax Tan'ya's joints and bones too sorely lest her growth be stunted, and anything too intense would be beyond Athemeene's ability to follow.

By the end of the hour, Tan'ya felt a little fatigued, while Athemeene was sweating profusely and panting slightly.

"Good work." Asajj encouraged them, not looking at all affected. "You're getting a lot better, My Lady."

"Oh, just call me Athemeene." Tan'ya's mother swatted at her half heartedly, and not for the first time. She reached into a pocket and took out a handkerchief, which she dabbed at her face. "No need to flatter me, either."

Asajj and Tan'ya stayed behind to practice their Makashi forms a bit more, while Athemeene went inside. Both of them were much more advanced students, not to mention actually force sensitive, so they had more to work on.

Finally, the two retired and went inside for breakfast. Athemeene, Renth, Madale and the newest child, a boy named Ideon had already eaten. That didn't stop Renth running in to show off his new Jedi robes. He was due to start as a youngling at the New Temple in just a month's time, and he was clearly incredibly excited for it. Often Renth would wear his uniform to breakfast or to play, and more than a few times he'd come into Tan'ya's bedroom when she was studying to see if he could play with her wooden practice sword.

Of course she let him, and had even occasionally been tempted into joining him to play Jedi. Obviously, such childishness was beneath her, but as long as she completed her studies for that day, what harm could it do to entertain her younger brother? And, well, it was fun. Renth would make whooshing sounds with his mouth every time he swung the sword, and often scuttle to the top of a rock or a fountain in the garden, eyes gleaming with barely contained energy as he copied the lightsaber forms he'd seen his father, sister and Asajj practice.

Of course he always managed to get himself filthy with his games, covered in mud, tree sap or pollen in turns, and on more than one occasion he'd lost his shoes somewhere and hadn't been able to find them. His mother fussed endlessly about him hurting himself. Yes, there was a risk of that, but the Palace grounds full of servants was probably the safest possible place to let a boy just be a boy.

The palace was more alive than ever. Father complained about it endlessly, saying he was never able to find a moment's peace, but his words had no fire or bitterness to them, just a stubborn refusal to admit he'd lost an old argument. They had personal servants and gardeners, chefs and groundskeepers. Pinned to the wall of the main room was a list of holo-numbers to call in case something was broken, and a repairman from the city below could be summoned.

At Athemeene's suggestion, Dooku had one of the mansions on the grounds set aside for any Jedi guests who were passing through, turning Serenno Palace into another outpost in the Outer Rim. A lot of more traditional Jedi from Coruscant refused to stop there, seeing Dooku as a corrupting influence on the Order, but plenty more still were grateful to use the shelter if they were in the area. On one memorable occasion, a witness for a major corruption case against the Mayor of a district of Coruscant had stayed there for protection for a few weeks until a more permanent safehouse could be found.

Right now the only Jedi guest on the grounds was Asajj, but she could hardly be considered a guest at this point. Accompanying Dooku as his Padawan often meant staying at Serenno during the middle of the week, and one of the rooms was permanently set aside for her. She even kept some of her personal possessions there. Seeing Asajj at a family dinner or on a weekend wasn't surprising at all, and Athemeene even sometimes took the girl out into town to buy her some nice dresses or get her hair and nails done. Dooku had tried explaining to his wife that Asajj was a jedi, and such vanities would only get in the way of her duties, but his wife always waved it off as a little harmless 'girl time.'

Tan'ya had been dragged out for 'girl time' only once, and had never allowed it to happen again. The good thing about being force sensitive was it allowed her to know when her mother was coming, and what her intentions were. The Palace grounds always had plenty of places to hide.

After practicing Form II for much of the morning with Asajj, Tan'ya retired to her bedroom to focus on her many assignments. After that first Life Day, Master Sifo had massively increased Tan'ya's workload. She had assignments in a wide array of topics appropriate for a Jedi, like astro-mathematics, politics, history, diplomacy, starship piloting lessons, leadership and of course, military history and current theory.

The two more volumes of the Complete History of the Republic Tan'ya had transcribed from Sifo had taken on a massive focus on the military development of the Republic over its society and culture. The first volume did a better job balancing the people and culture of the early Republic, and directly connected how their attitude and beliefs had informed their military decisions. The most recent two volumes put almost all their focus on the major military leaders and their personal histories, cultural and technological changes were only mentioned to contextualize battlefield tactics. It came across as less of a history of the Republic, and more a history of the Republic's major military figures, as well as their opponents.

Not that Tan'ya didn't find it all fascinating as a fan of military history, but feedback on the holonet wasn't all positive.

Sifo had trusted Tan'ya to arrange for the paperback edition to be published, and in keeping with the first volume had cover art depicting hyperspace maps from the galaxy relevant at the time periods. Currently they were working on Volume 4, which was going to mostly be about the Great Hyperspace War.

Tan'ya was a little worried that the quality of the Volume was suffering, as Sifo took the time to examine more and more commanders from the absolutely massive conflict. It was a bit like reading about World War 2 from Earth's history, but every time a new general was introduced the author took the time to cover his early childhood and rise through the ranks to establish their attitude and tendencies in battle. It was difficult to keep track of so many names, even when the characters were relatively unimportant to the outcome of the overall war, and it made it hard to follow the larger narrative and events.

When Tan'ya mentioned her concerns to Sifo, a sad look had come over his features.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to be too critical-"

"It's fine, Tan'ya." Sifo had forestalled her. "This- It's what I want. So, don't worry about it. Just trust me."

So the volumes had been written as Sifo had dictated, and Tan'ya had noticed their sales dwindling as people lost interest. It was a shame, really.

As a budding historian, Tan'ya thought there could have been real value in a Complete History of the Republic that more closely followed the structure of Volume 1.

The massive quantity of work Sifo had given Tan'ya took up most of her days. She was reminded of her time at university in her first life, often spending ten to twelve hours a day on studies alone. It was stressful, and boring, but all in service of becoming a Jedi sooner. Compared to the other students at the Temple, Tan'ya was on a vastly accelerated course.

Father approved of course, and when she did see him he was quick to tell her that he was pleased with how fast she was learning. Sometimes it felt like Sifo was desperately trying to drown her in work, but Tan'ya had endured much worse in the past.

Compared to the battlefields of the Great War, this was nothing. Tan'ya was easily able to handle the stress, the occasional sisyphean thoughts that none of this would ever end, and she didn't feel lonely at all. Not even a little bit.

Having started her training sooner, and progressed much more quickly as an adult in a child's body, Tan'ya was simply too advanced to join the other younglings at the New Temple's academy. They would slow her down, and she would break their spirits just by being so obviously better than them. It was the right decision to keep the classes separate, one that Tan'ya fully endorsed.

She wasn't lonely, she had plenty of company with her younger brother, her mother, the occasional visits from her father, and of course, Master Diyas. It wouldn't be too long at all until Tan'ya was a Padwan, and her endless studies would be exchanged for practical, more engaging hands on experience.

Tan'ya was fine, she was sure of it. She could definitely handle this.

The sun was setting over Coruscant, leaving much of its surface in the darkness cast by looming towers. Even at the mid levels, the only natural illumination came from a hint of orange light reflected from the glasteel surfaces of those few structures tall enough to rise above the skyline. Countless speeder headlights flashed across the sky in long winding lines, struggling through their commute home.

Piloting his own speeder, Dooku flew in the opposite direction to the flow of afternoon traffic, the droid driver in the seat next to him slumped over and deactivated. For a moment the orange sunset of Coruscant shone on his face, before he dipped down below the skyline and parked his vehicle in an alleyway at surface level.

Stepping out of his vehicle into the shadows, Dooku followed a whisper in the force down the street. Eventually he stopped at a restaurant with a sign in the door that read, 'Mon Cal Cuisine is closing permanently. Thank you for your patronage.'

When he tried the door handle, he found it unlocked and stepped inside to find a cold, empty kitchen, and all the serving tables and chairs stacked up against one wall. He was tempted momentarily to turn on a light switch, but decided against it.

The point of a secret meeting was not to be discovered.

The lone whisper in the force was joined by others now, as two pinpricks of glowing gold lingered in the darkest corner of the room.

"I see you've been practicing with the Dark Side." The throaty voice drawled.

It had been a shock for Dooku to learn just how easy it was to conceal the Dark Side from the Jedi. The only hint even an experienced user of the Light might have to identify someone in the Dark was a momentary soft chill when they touched the force, one that on a planet like Coruscant was easily mistaken for a more mundane, urban cold. It wasn't strange really, that the Dark would thrive in the long shadows cast by the neon illuminations of a dead world, spreading right inside the so-called 'temple of democracy' itself.

He was always careful to avoid the Dark while at the New Temple, or when he was visiting the Grand Temple on Coruscant, as some were now calling it. Long before Dooku had left that blind Order, he had carefully experimented with the Dark. The mind altering effects that the Jedi code warned of were very real, and he had seen plenty of deranged, gibbering dark siders while serving. Even his former apprentice, Komari Vosa, a fully trained and powerful Jedi in her own right, had been nothing but a puppet for it in the end.

He wasn't like them. Dooku's will was durasteel, and his resolve was like the tip of a vibroblade. He would use the Dark Side, he would not be used by it. It would not be his fate to be put down like a rabid beast, not when there was still so much to do.

The Galaxy had to be brought to Order, and here they would see it done.

They never met twice in the same place, and never left a digital record of their meetings. Palpatine was arranging things in the senate, while Dooku focused on building up the Outer Rim into a credible opposition. If one of them needed something, they would reach out to the other through the Dark Side, and a suitable meeting place would be arranged.

"Any progress to report?" Palpatine asked.

"The aristocrats continue to gather around me. They're upset by their trade routes being closed by pirates."

"Goood. They've sampled the wealth you can offer, they'll crave it more now they've been cut off."

As far as business partners went, the aristocracy of the Outer Rim were especially needy.

Once they sampled the small but lucrative trade deals Dooku offered them under the table, they only hungered for more. A palace was an expensive thing to keep, and a great quantity of credits was needed to maintain the barrier between the rulers and the ruled. It wasn't just about armies, ships and security, but about showing status. There was a romance to autocratic rule, a story that had to be told. To stay in charge, often you had to make the masses believe a change in regime was impossible, and that lie was easier to sell if you believed it too.

Ornate royal guards, vast gardens, towering palaces. These things were incredibly expensive and utterly vital for the continued survival of an aristocratic class.

In just shy of two years, vast swathes of the Galactic Northeast had fallen under Dooku's sway. He wasn't officially the ruler of anything more than Serenno yet, but his influence was growing every day. Murmuring into the Duke of Raxus' ear about how much easier this would all be without the burdensome Republic, how much more they could all be making with open trade produced a nod and sad sigh. An independent Outer Rim was no longer unthinkable, but a distant dream they wished was real but just couldn't see a way to.

All Dooku had to do now was show them a viable path to independence, and he'd have half a dozen sectors ready to take it overnight.

Right now an independent Outer Rim was a pipe dream, destined to be crushed by the Hutts and Trade Federation even before the Republic was involved. To get people to commit to his Confederacy, Dooku needed them to believe it was possible. Legitimacy came from security and reliability, and those things came from power. Much like the aristocracy Dooku rubbed shoulders with, he needed his power to be seen to truly cement his growing powerbase.

Having the New Temple up and running was a big step towards that goal; the promise of direct Jedi protection alone was what brought the Duchess of Mandalore into his clientele. His method of organizing the Temple, having a Jedi assigned to the protection of a sector for a year before moving them to another, was working well. The sheer intimidation factor alone of knowing that you might face a jedi was enough to sway most criminals into being more discreet in their villainy, and the less sensible ones served as perfect examples to the others. Few things in this galaxy were as naturally terrifying to the devious mind as watching a single Jedi tear apart a swarm of blaster equipped fighters without struggling at all.

The only problem was that Dooku didn't have many knights to share around. The half a dozen sectors who had signed onto his plan enjoyed the security he offered, and opened their worlds up to the Jedi for recruitment. Even now Narec was leading a recruitment drive, aimed at only those worlds which fell under the New Temple's protection, but it would take at least a decade before his first class of Younglings were ready to become Knights and protectors of an entire world at a time.

The New Temple was a long term project, one that would yield rich fruits, but couldn't currently stand against the greater powers of the Outer Rim. To really push his plans forward, Dooku needed to be able to stand up to the Hutts and the Trade Federation, and he simply couldn't do so from within a slimy Nemoidian protection racket. The House of Serenno needed to stand out, head and shoulders above the rest of the Outer Rim, a bulwark capable of protecting not only itself, but its allies as well.

For that, Dooku needed an army, and he happened to be friends with a man who had a great deal of experience in building such.

"Why did you call this meeting?" Dooku asked. "You wouldn't risk exposure for a progress report."

"The Clone Army has been commissioned, and your… 'New Temple' is being overseen by another Master. Your friend, Sifo Dyas, has served his purpose and is now too great of a risk. The time has come for him to be… eliminated."

A chill ran down Dooku's spine, and immediately he felt ashamed of his own weakness. They were bringing the Galaxy to Order, sacrifices had to be made. Palpatine was obviously correct. Sifo knew too much, and could unravel all their plans just by opening his mouth. Dooku had visited his old friend's quarters in the New Temple, and seen the empty bottles in his trash bin. Guilt was crushing Sifo. He dreamed of being Lord Horth reborn, but the truth is he only had a fraction of that great man's will and moral fiber.

Sifo was weak, and a danger to their plans. It was a sad thing, really to see him grow stagnant like the rest of the Order. They had been great friends, even from such a young age, but Sifo really didn't have the vision, the ambition necessary to see what had to be done. Peace wouldn't be won by retreading long dead conflicts between dead Sith Empires and a broken, stagnant Republic. Order would require a forward looking vision, one not fixated on the past, but full of great dreams for the future. Sifo was becoming such a weak and feeble old man, Dooku might even be doing him a favor by cutting his life short.

Better to burn out than fade away, after all.

Dooku knew with certainty that he had to be eliminated.

He was resolved to do it himself.

Tan'ya would be devastated.

It was a strange thought to have so suddenly, but it resonated so clearly that Dooku blinked, focussing on it. Not just Tan'ya, but Athemeene too. Sifo had shared many a meal with his family, and had taught his daughter so much.

Dooku couldn't eliminate Sifo, the man was practically a brother to him. They were family in all but blood. Sifo had even disobeyed the Order to help him end the Serennoan Civil War! If Dooku couldn't trust Sifo, who in the Galaxy could he trust?

Palpatine spoke. "I see… You lack resolve."

"No." Dooku said, sharply. Mind racing to find excuses that might satisfy the man. "You're right, he knows too much, but he can't speak without exposing himself. I will… supervise him more closely, and if there is any risk of him talking, I will deal with it personally."

Those golden eyes narrowed on him, almost seeming to frown. "You can control him?"

"Yes, I can." Dooku asserted. "Indeed, I still have need of him. For our war to happen, we need not just one army but two, and who else could ever be a better architect?"

"...Very well." The Sith drawled, and maybe for the first time Dooku realized exactly what dealing with one truly meant. "Sifo lives, for now."