I had been about eight years old during my first visit. The younglings flying with me and Ahsoka this time were unlikely to be any older.
Younglings…
Yeah. Thanks a lot, Yoda. Thanks a lot…
Taking a group of kids on a field trip… Though, really, they weren't children in the usual sense. The picture was entirely different. Younglings weren't a pack of unruly teenagers; they possessed a completely different level of upbringing in general—and self-control in particular. Yes, there were jokes, games, and harmless mischief, but… there was something more.
The Force.
An unknown, mesmerizing ability—for them and for me alike. With every new step, it became more fascinating. I still remembered my own excitement when I first managed to hold a small metal sphere suspended in the air with telekinesis for several minutes. And the motivation here was different, too. This wasn't "behave yourself or you won't get ice cream." This was far more serious. If you tried hard enough, you could be accepted as a Padawan—and then become a Jedi Knight. Or… you would end up in the Service Corps.
Moreover, I was surprised to realize that I didn't actually mind it..
After meetings with Drallig, I often found myself explaining things to younglings who inevitably gathered to watch our antics. It wasn't just idle curiosity—there was a genuine hunger in their eyes. They wanted to learn how to do the same. Hmm. I hadn't noticed such aspirations in myself before. And I certainly hadn't considered myself particularly gifted as a teacher. It was only here, while teaching Ahsoka, that I had begun to enjoy it.
At that moment, those very younglings appeared, accompanied by a rather young Jedi mentor. I counted them quickly. As Yoda had said—exactly twenty.
Most of them were humans. One Togruta, one Twi'lek, two Zabrak, a Rodian, a Duros?… yes, that was right. One Selkath—unusual to see one here, given how rarely and reluctantly they left their homeworld—and also a Balosarian girl, with two cool segmented antennae on top of her head. Well, at least they're prepared. That's good. Each of them carried a small backpack, and over their shoulders lay warm fur-lined cloaks.
Sensing Ahsoka's presence as she silently stood beside me, I addressed her mentally.
Do you want to take the reins?
I'm not entirely sure what "reins" means, but yes. I'd love to.
Ahsoka stepped forward. The Jedi mentor bowed silently and immediately withdrew, evidently having other duties to attend to. He had completed his task: delivering the little kids to its destination.
"Hello, everyone!" smiled cheekily Ahsoka.
"Hello, Padawan Tano!" the younglings replied in near-perfect unison.
"So, younglings, today you're going on another excursion. We're traveling to the most sacred place for the Jedi—Ilum…"
While Ahsoka delivered a short lecture—judging by the fragments I caught, a variation of the story once told to her—I quietly observed the children. My gaze lingered on two familiar faces: Cindy, the Twi'lek, and the straw-haired Liora, both from the Snurgling clan. I also recognized Ashla, Rebar, Ziris, Merle… and the Selkath boy with the complicated name Abussiniann… The future of the Jedi Order… Which, as I knew all too well, had no future.
Gradually, my thoughts drifted toward events yet to come within the Jedi Temple—more precisely, to Order 66. Now, armed with near-complete knowledge and the ability to calmly analyze and weigh facts, I found myself approaching a logical conclusion.
Yes, in some ways, Palpatine had been right. Each of his actions could be logically justified—at least through Sith logic. But… following his duel with Windu, he surrendered to the Dark Side, and the situation with his apprentice, Vader, only worsened matters. Overconfidence betrayed him, and Palpatine, who was not only a Sith but also a politician, a brilliant schemer, and one of the most powerful Force users in history, was no more. The trap he had prepared for the Alliance became his own.
And yet, before his fall, he was capable of orchestrating operations on a much larger — and more ingenious — scale. The Clone Wars alone were proof enough.
"You fought in the Clone Wars?" Luke once asked Kenobi, long before any cartoons or comics—back in Lucas's very first film.
The conflict entered galactic consciousness precisely as the Clone Wars. Palpatine... he had executed a truly mesmerizing combination: he created and orchestrated a war of galactic scale, and yet the losses among the inhabitants of this very galaxy were negligible. Clone armies and droid armies clashed in brutal battles—mostly on barren worlds or far from population centers. Everything went smoothly, if not perfectly—there were a few hiccups—but the desired result was achieved. The Republic was transformed into the Empire, and the Jedi were destroyed.
Or almost.
Those who were useful—or who didn't loudly proclaim themselves Jedi—lived quietly and peacefully, largely unmolested. The Inquisitorius did not emerge from nothing, after all. Even those who continued to consider themselves Jedi rarely rushed to rebuild the Order or openly oppose the Sith; at most, they caused minor inconveniences. The only truly notable incident was the ambush on Vader, when they tried to chop him up with a cortosis blade. Aside from that… everything was relatively calm.
One could argue endlessly about the age-old enmity between the Sith and the Jedi—about who was right and who was wrong. It began so long ago, back on Tython, that judging it now was pointless. For at their roots, they have the same group of Force-sensitive beings from the Je'daii Order.
And then…
The Jedi and the Sith fought.
The Jedi destroyed the Sith.
The Sith slaughtered the Jedi.
Both Orders rose and fell. Both were drenched in the blood of their enemies.
But still—
Yes, the Jedi were the true Guardians of the Republic. For the most part, it existed only because of them—both the Old Republic and the New. Yet that was exactly what they were: guardians. Before Ruusan, the Jedi still wielded real influence over the galaxy, when Chancellors could be chosen from among their ranks. But after that…
After that, they stepped aside, relinquishing power to ordinary beings.