It was a warm, crisp morning on Armala Prime when Artien Oardea walked out onto the balcony of the Council chambers. The golden sunrise shone from between the city skyline below, sending rays of light bouncing off the rooftops in every color imaginable onto the jedi temple. A light breeze danced on the wind as it often did, being that the chambers were elevated so high from ground level, and Artien felt more at peace in that moment than he had in quite some time. In fact, it was so tranquil that he felt pulled by the Force to sit and meditate for a while.

So he did. Artien sat cross-legged on the balcony as the sun rose over Alyrun City below him. He could feel the energy; the dim excitement of the early-risers, the fatigue of the late-night party-goers, and the calm of those like him who were simply enjoying the morning. It was all so far removed from the troubles and trials of the Jedi, and the politics of the Republic. He couldn’t remember a moment in recent memory where he hadn’t been concerned about some issue or another, or been late to meet with one Senator or another. Imdali had graciously offered to convene with the Trade Delegation this morning, and Artien thought it had to have been the Force at work. He’d needed this time to bring him back to his center.

“Finally taking a moment’s reprieve, I see.”

Aalosine Natha, Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. Artien knew it was her even before she spoke. Though his eyes were closed and his physical being practically separated from the rest of the world, his spirit was in tune with all of it. So in tune, in fact, that he had forgotten his physical state entirely, creating an awkward silence as Aalosine waited patiently for a response.

“I can leave, if you’d like.”

“No.” Despite the interruption, he was quite glad for the company and felt so calm that even the presence of another couldn’t disrupt his meditation. He motioned for Aalosine to join him at his side. “Please.”

She did as he beckoned, sitting in direct parallel with her legs crossed and arms slightly bent before reaching out through the Force. It took her a bit longer to focus than it had taken Artien, but he imagined that was only due to the immense stress that being the de facto leader of the Jedi put on her shoulders. She was not much older than Artien, really, and he liked to think that he was still a fairly young man himself - or at least, his prime certainly hadn’t passed him up just yet. However, the Jedi lifestyle demanded much more of them than life did for the average citizen of the galaxy.

Still, she was troubled, that much was clear. They all were, these days. While there had been no open conflict with the Sith Empire in decades, the aftermath had left a bitter taste in the mouths of those who had fought in the Imperial War, Artien and Aalosine included. They all knew that while the Empress herself may promote peace, there had to be an ulterior motive; and even if her encouragement of cooperation between the Empire and Republic was genuine, the Sith Order would never abide such a thing. For the Jedi and the Republic, it had been a decades-long waiting game to see how long the peace would last. The Sith could only reign in their barbaric tendencies for so long before spreading chaos throughout the galaxy once more.

“Your thoughts drift to a dark place,” Aalosine absently commented. “Are you not content to simply enjoy the serenity in this moment?”

Truthfully, no. Artien had never been very good at taking the positive when it came, instead being inclined to always think ahead and prepare for the worst. There were those in the Order who would say that it was unbecoming for a Jedi to dwell on the negative, but Artien knew the value of pragmatism. Whether he hoped for the best or not, there would always be conflict, and the jedi had to be ready to stop it. The fighting at Galliant all those years ago had taught him that.

The mere thought of it was enough to drag him out of his serene meditation. The war had been over a decade ago, but the scars it left on the hearts and minds of those who’d fought it ran deep, even for a jedi. Artien sighed, resigning himself to the fact that the trance was broken and he was being brought back to a reality in which he was still very much feeling the effects of those scars. Even those who hadn’t fought could see the telltale signs of a former soldier reliving their greatest trauma, and none had witnessed quite so much as the men and women who’d lived through Galliant.

Aalosine eyed him curiously as he stood to his feet, though she didn’t say anything more. As a jedi, a scholar, and a veteran of the war herself, she knew better than anyone how quickly the memories of that dark time could overtake someone.

“Forgive me, Master. I have been trying to live more in the moment.”

Aalosine chuckled at that. “Taking advice from Master Brinvar, I see. I didn’t think he’d actually get through that thick hide of yours.”

Thick hide? Artien struggled for a moment to discern the meaning of Aalosine’s statement. He was pantoran, and as such his cutaneous layers were no thicker than that of most other species - certainly not any thicker than that of a human like Aalosine or Brinvar. 

His perplexed wonderings amused Aalosine even further, apparently, because she couldn’t contain her laughter. “It’s only a joke, Artien.”

Artien grunted. “I’ve never known you to tell jokes, especially in times like this.”

Aalosine let the comment sit for a moment, for what purpose Artien could only guess. Though he had made it through his time as a jedi all the way to knighthood under Master Eei’s tutelage, Aalosine had been his mentor and spiritual guide ever since his master’s passing during the war. It was she who he had modeled himself after, and she who led him along the path of a stalwart jedi. Humor was something that, while certainly not harmful, they had never really had the time for, nor was Artien interested in entertaining it. Their duty went far beyond such things.

Still, the days held a much darker and more foreboding presence recently, something that every jedi had felt. It made sense that some would take solace in more light-hearted acts; in fact, at that very moment Artien could swear he heard a raucous laughter coming from whatever jovial activities Masters Ghe and Brinvar were participating in. They were the bright side of the Council, where Aalosine, Shaseh and Imdali were the pragmatists. Master Taaks, the oldest and wisest among them, was often the tie-breaker in disputes.

But this was not a dispute, nor were the other Councilors present. Instead it was simply Artien and Aalosine, sharing a rare moment that neither had much time for.

“I fear we may not have any cause for jokes in the future,” Aalosine said after a long silence. “Perhaps I’m trying to make up for that.”

There was an odd word to hear from a jedi. “Fear?”

“It’s only a figure of speech, Artien.”

She believed what she was saying, but Artien felt it was much more than that. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Not many other people would have been able to ask that question without receiving a stern lecture about the hierarchy of the Jedi Order. Aalosine was Grandmaster, and as such there were surely a great many things that she didn’t see fit to share with her peers, let alone one who wasn’t even on the Council. Still, the relationship between the two of them was somewhat less guarded than most of their interactions with other members of the Order, and Artien felt no guilt for prying.

Similarly, Aalosine felt no agitation at being prodded - or if she did, it faded quickly. They had entertained many such conversations in the long years of their friendship, and many long nights discussing the intricacies of the Force and the politics of the Jedi. There was no one else in the Order who knew Artien’s worries or misgivings like Aalosine, and he expected the opposite was also true. They were each others’ sole confidants, placing a great deal of responsibility on both of them. 

Aalosine sighed, opened her eyes, and after a moment she stood to her feet and walked to the balcony’s railing in order to get a better view of the city. Artien dutifully followed after her, situating himself at the opposite end of the railing where the balcony’s corner allowed him to lean on it and still face his partner in conversation.

“There’s a disturbance in the Force when I meditate recently,” Aalosine stated, still casting her gaze over the golden rooftops of Alyrun City. “Do you feel it too?”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

There were always minor disturbances that Artien was aware of, but he had also learned that different individuals sensed disturbances in different ways. What one jedi may be aware of, others may not. Where one may sense dozens of small disturbances in a day, another may sense only a single disturbance in the span of a month. That didn’t detract from anyone’s senses or place importance on any particular sensations, but it often did tell a great deal about the state of one’s emotions. Someone in distress often felt great disturbances that turned out to be personal dilemmas that needed solving. Of course, the converse was true as well; when there was a real threat to balance, sometimes even the most peaceful of minds couldn’t sense it.

What a nebulous entity, the Force.

“I’m not truly certain what I feel,” Artien replied. “The Sith plot against us, that much I know. While the Republic advocates peace with the Empire, the dark side lies in wait for any chance to devour us.”

“It’s not that. I sense it too, but we’ve all known their intentions for some time.” Aalosine pushed off the balcony railing and took a few steps back, pacing back and forth for a moment before focusing her attention. “Do you never think about Trya’ak, Artien?”

“No.” The answer came quickly; too quickly. The second Artien heard his former padawan’s name, his mind had determined to lock down. He had trained himself to show no emotion for this topic, nor any hint of remorse for the events that had transpired between them. If it concerned Aalosine in any way, she didn’t show it.

“I’ve attempted to put the entire affair far from my mind,” she said as she continued pacing, “but recently his exile weighs on me more and more. It may take time, but I don’t believe he’ll be the last.”

Artien shrugged and looked at the floor. “Jedi have left the Order for as long as our history can recall.”

A disapproving glare was cast his way. “You know that’s not what I mean. How long has it been since this Council exiled a jedi in good conscience? Centuries? A millennia?”

Likely only Master Taaks knew the answer to that question. It was true that actively banning a jedi from the Order wasn’t something that happened enough for anyone but the Chronicler to remember. Trya’ak’s expulsion had caused quite the stir, even as the Council tried their best to pretend it hadn’t even happened. Drama had no place among the Jedi, and as such any events of such a serious nature were often downplayed to the point that most never even heard of it. Still, Trya’ak had been quite the presence among Armala’s Temple, and his absence had been a difficult one to keep quiet.

Still, that didn’t negate the validity of the Council’s decision. Just because something didn’t happen often, that didn’t mean it wasn’t occasionally necessary. 

“It’s never been an uncommon fact,” Artien continued weakly. “The sith wouldn’t exist if not for jedi falling from the path of the light.”

Aalosine shook her head, looking up at Artien intermittently in between paces back and forth across the balcony. “But did he fall?”

A dark look crossed Artien’s face, and he knew it far before he even said anything. What she was implying was simply illogical, and they both knew it. Furthermore, what was causing her to go down this line of thought? She had never been one to second-guess herself or the actions taken by her most trusted peers.

“He drew his lightsaber on me, Aalosine.”

“So might I under the right circumstance,” Aalosine quickly retorted, her voice beginning to pitch higher than normal. “Do you remember what it was like to be a rash child, Artien? He was likely scared or confused - don’t you find it odd that he has not only stayed far from the Empire, but also remained right here under our noses since his exile?”

“Aalosine I’m asking you to listen to yourself.” His voice was becoming more gruff with each passing moment, but his anger was controlled. It was always controlled. Artien’s emotions could not lead him to the dark side. “You’re defending a man who studied the dark practices of the Sith for months in secret, only to attack me when confronted. The fact that he has remained in Alyrun City does nothing but make me more apprehensive for the day when he attempts to approach us once more as a friend, only to shove the knife further into our backs. I will not stand by and watch as our Order is so casually wounded, and I will not stand to listen to the most steadfast Jedi I’ve ever known second-guess herself!”

Silence stagnated between them as they both digested Artien’s words. In honesty, he was scared that of all people, Aalosine Natha questioned the decision to exile Trya’ak. That she was so perturbed by whatever it was she felt. Why else would she be wondering about past choices? This was not the confident, brave, stalwart beacon of Jedi belief that Aalosine was; it was not the woman Artien knew. 

Whatever disturbance she had divined from the Force, he knew it must have terrified her.

But he would never admit his fear, nor she hers. The teachings of their Order forbade it. It was their duty to purge such emotions from their very being through meditation and reliance on the Force. Even between two people who held such respect and admiration for each other, it was forbidden to acknowledge such a simple thing as the emotion of fearing the unknown. All they could do was tell one another to trust in the Force rather than give in to their base instincts, and Artien knew that neither one of them had the fortitude in that moment to do so. So, he shut it down before either of them had time to consider giving in.

Still, he knew he had been harsh, and while it may have been warranted, he didn’t want Aalosine to think she wasn’t able to voice her opinions with him.

“I’m sorry, Aalosine -”

“No,” she interrupted, and in seconds the vulnerability present only moments earlier faded from her countenance. Her eyes became a dull fire raging with determination and solidarity. Something had struck a chord deep within her, and it brought Artien no small amount of relief to see her rigid strength return so vigorously.

They both took a deep breath as a sort of numb sensation permeated the air. It was almost a cleansing, in a certain sense. The same way that meditation might free one of all stressful encumbrance, the reinforcement of one’s ideals served as an equally powerful purging of doubt and worry. To even entertain such emotions was typically looked down upon in the Order, but one couldn’t overcome what one didn’t understand.

“Thank you, Artien,” Aalosine continued. “I needed to hear that, especially coming from you. Doubts like these have spread throughout the Jedi lately, and it seems not even I am immune to it.”

No thanks was necessary. If anything, Artien wanted to thank Aalosine for being so honest. It was something he had struggled with as well, although clearly to a lesser degree. He had never questioned the righteousness of the Council’s choices, but he wasn’t deaf or blind. He also heard the whispers, particularly among younger jedi, about how their doctrine and morality was failing them. 

Artien couldn’t possibly see how these rumors held any sway. The Order had remained a bastion of safety and watchfulness for thousands of years, despite the Sith returning time and again to tear them down. There had never existed a single other institution that could claim the timelessness and longevity of the Jedi, not even the Republic that they supported. And yes, while many had their problems with the Republic, no democracy could ever be perfect. There was virtually no reason to believe that the teachings of the jedi were anything other than a tried and true system for promoting peace and morality.

Still, Artien thought he knew the reason for this wave of concern running through the Order. Following the Imperial War, in which no small number of jedi had been turned to the dark side - including Aalosine’s own mentor, Master Brelor - it became remarkably easy for some to wonder if there hadn’t been some merit in abandoning the Jedi. After all, dozens if not hundreds of their allies, friends, and even mentors had turned their backs on the institution that had raised them. For the weak-minded, that led them to conclude there must have been something wrong with the Order.

For Artien, Aalosine, and those like them, it only solidified the belief that they were just. The dark side corrupted everything it touched, and that didn’t exclude jedi who had fallen victim to doubts. If they weren’t strong enough in their resolve, they would surely fall. That was why it was so important to shut out even the notion of discontentment and doubt. Without trust and obedience, it became too easy for evil to win. 

“None of us are, unfortunately,” Artien said, breaking a silence that he had let go on for too long. “I am concerned for the younger members of the Order. It isn’t unusual to hear even Knights speaking openly about their issues with tradition.”

Aalosine nodded in agreement. “It’s easy to blame everything on the war, but I believe this lack of discipline stems solely from within. Masters Ghe and Brinver teach awareness and acceptance, but not to temper one’s instincts and desires.”

“Their teachings have merit.”

“But not control. If the next generation of jedi is to be taught anything, it must be control over one’s self. We can’t have our very foundations questioned by those who should be inspiring confidence in them. Am I wrong?”

Artien didn’t think so, but he knew the rest of the Council wasn’t going to like it very much. Imdali would come around to whatever Aalosine advocated, and Roloshan likely would as well - she’d simply need a bit more convincing. Ghe and Brinvar, however, only wanted to focus on the positive aspects of the Order, which included promoting emotion if it proved to be productive. Taaks would likely be ever the wild card, content to neither agree nor disagree. Artien had sensed in him a growing detachment from the bureaucracy of the Jedi, but it hadn’t proven to be a bad quality yet.

Still, Aalosine was right. The promotion of positive feelings following the war had led to an acceptance of negative ones as well; an unforeseen side-effect, certainly, but one that could still lead to a dangerous place. Similarly, positive emotions could be just as destructive as negative ones if twisted. Joy and love could take a person to amazing places until they become robbed of it, sending them spiraling into a darker abyss than Artien dared to think of.

“It won’t be easy to convince the rest of the Council.”

That was all Aalosine needed. Whether she had their support or not, that simple statement meant that she had Artien’s, and she knew it. His support was all that was necessary for her to set her sights on getting the Council to see things her way.

“Leave the Council to me, Artien,” she said with a genuine smile. “The future of the Jedi won’t be held back by politics and indecisiveness.”

Then without warning, she left the balcony and began heading back toward the Council chambers.

“Where are you going?” Artien asked.

She didn’t even stop to face him when she replied. Instead she just kept walking, renewed by the stubborn faith of her most trusted ally. “There’s convincing to be done.”