( 32 BBY )
Sifo Dyas woke up slowly, groggily wincing in pain at the light streaming in through the window of his study. In that moment he would have made any conceivable sacrifice to simply return to sleep, but eventually gave up and pulled himself upright.
He had to wait a moment for his stomach to stop churning before he tried to stand up. His toe hit an empty bottle that skittered across the floor clinking loudly on the far stone wall, and stabbing pains shot through his skull at the noise.
Feeling too sick to eat anything, he left his office with nothing in his belly but a sip of water and a headache pill. His bedroom had its own ensuite shower and bathroom, and after washing his old bones started to feel slightly more alive again. The fact that they used actual water rather than sonic showers was entirely down to the Count's demand for luxury, anything he didn't like or saw as unpleasant was, 'Beneath the dignity of a Jedi,' and in this moment Sifo was grateful for the man's high standards.
Sifo was a teacher, and even if he had just one student he didn't want to give her the false impression that he was coming apart at the seams.
After brushing his teeth to hide the smell of bile, Sifo shaved and used the toilet, before tying his hair back in a simple topknot and putting on a clean set of robes. However he felt inside, Sifo Dyas looked at himself in the mirror and all he saw was a professional, experienced Jedi Master staring back who was maybe slightly paler than usual. As long as his mental shielding was up, no one should be able to guess he'd drunk himself into a stupor the night previous.
Popping a few more breath fresheners just in case, Sifo walked across the hardwood and rug floor of his room, out into the empty halls of the Master Level. There was enough space on this floor of the Temple for a dozen Jedi Masters to stay, but so far only two of its rooms were occupied, the other belonging to Narec. Ky, being the responsible young man that he was, was already down in the Training Level working in the faculty office, typing away at his terminal.
When Sifo stepped through the door, he was grateful to see a warm caf-stim already waiting for him on the counter.
"Master Sifo." Ky greeted with a respectful bow.
"Master Narec." Sifo returned, before taking a soothing sip of the brew. "I would have thought you would be sleeping in. What time did you return last night?"
"A bit after midnight." He answered, glancing over at the time. "I made sure all the new children were introduced to their rooms and settled in. Blirtz took the night watch, and I went to sleep so I could be ready for the tour this morning."
Sifo shook his head in bemusement, impressed by the man's consistency and work ethic. Sure, Ky wasn't exactly the best swordsman in the Order, let alone the New Temple, and his connection to the force was a little on the weak side, but he was focused, socially minded, and endlessly patient. For Dooku's collection of ragtag exiles on a most likely doomed attempt to bring civilization to the lawless Outer Rim, the man was very much the lynchpin holding the whole thing together. When the knights wanted something, they spoke to Narec, not Sifo or Dooku.
In many ways, Dooku was the one who set the vision and direction for the New Temple, and Ky was the one who made it actually happen. All Sifo was really there to do was train Dooku's daughter because the Count didn't trust anyone else enough to handle it and had promised the Council he wouldn't do it himself. In his own mind, Sifo was just there to make sure Tan'ya, and by extension the Republic, was ready for what was coming.
"How'd the recruiting go?"
"Well. On Coruscant, I was able to persuade Master Cin Drallig to train Prialla in his methods of teaching younglings, so soon enough the Temple will have its first full time instructor in lightsaber forms."
"That's very good." Sifo congratulated him.
"Yeah, but it does mean we'll be a little short handed until he's satisfied she can teach each form."
"She did always enjoy lightsaber dueling." Sifo thought it was a good fit for her skill set. "Any more knights choose to join us?"
He shook his head. "Not from Coruscant, but I did manage to convince a few dozen agri corps members to come out here and see what could be done about restoring a bit more of Indinor's ecosystem. I also diverted to Corellia, and just one Green Jedi has agreed to come and help us, if only to see what we're doing here."
Despite himself, Sifo was impressed. The Green Jedi were notorious for their unorthodox ways on Coruscant, but in reality just adhered to a very different, strict orthodoxy of their own. To convince even one to part with their beloved Corellia, from whose flag they took their green moniker, demonstrated just how persuasive Ky could be.
"And the Younglings?"
"Well, before we got to Coruscant, Raxus Prime and Secundus yielded plenty of recruits. Not as many who I think will be Jedi one day, but I'd say we have at least half a dozen in there with the potential. Mandalore though..." Ky shook his head.
"It was almost a complete waste of time. Even the New Mandalorians are very family focused. I couldn't convince a single mother or father to agree to their child being trained at our Temple, and I got a blaster pointed at me just trying to talk to any followers of the Old Ways. The only recruit we got from the entire sector was entirely due to Prialla."
Intrigued, Sifo took another sip of cafstim as Sifo continued the story.
"She disappeared somewhere in Sundari City, and a few hours later she called me on her communicator. Asked me to come pick her up. From Mandalore's Moon. Concordia."
Having arranged for Mandalorian instructors to oversee the Clone Army's training program, Sifo knew enough about the various different factions of that culture to know who it was that lived on Concordia. "Death Watch? She was abducted by Death Watch?"
"Not quite, thank the Force." Ky shook his head. "Somehow, she managed to get herself baptized in the Living Waters, and hitched a ride to Concordia with a little ultra conservative sect called the Children of the Watch."
Despite his time in the sector, Sifo had never met them, only heard of them in distant rumors. They sounded mad to him even by the poor standards of Mandalore, the absolute epitome of why those people just weren't fit to rule themselves.
Somehow it seemed to be a feature of all Mandalorians that they committed absolutely and completely to one kind of radical ideal or another, the New Mandalorians being no exception. A radical commitment to pacifism was almost as bizarre, self-destructive, and impractical as the True Mandalorians' commitment to the SuperCommando Codex, or the Death Watch's deification of the Neo-Crusader movement.
Maybe if Sifo wrote some kind of doctrine appealing to Mandalorians culture, and committing its adherents to some kind of sensible political middle ground and framing it as a new and radical movement, the entire Mandalorian civilisation could be fixed?
Most likely he'd just create another faction for the next inevitable civil war.
"Did the Children of the Watch take her hostage?"
"No, she just realized they were trying to induct her into their religion, and took her helmet off."
"And they didn't shoot her?"
"Apparently not, the Children of the Watch won't hold anyone who wishes to leave against their will."
"Shockingly sensible of them."
"I thought so too when I went to pick her up. Anyway, out of nowhere, one of the uh, foundlings, that's what the Children call their younglings, asked if we could take her away as well. I tested to see if she was force sensitive, and well, she was. Very force sensitive, actually. The strongest youngling I've ever seen apart from Tan'ya. I told her if she got her guardian's permission she could come with me to the New Temple."
"And the Children of the Watch approved?"
"After she ripped her helmet off in front of them, they declared her an exile. So… yeah, I guess after a fashion they did."
"Poor girl." Sifo murmured.
"She was crying, and apologizing, saying she just couldn't live the rest of her life under a helmet. They all just turned their backs on her as she stripped off all the armor she was wearing and hurried aboard my ship."
Shaking his head, Sifo said, "What a strange tale."
"Yeah, Mandalorians, am I right?"
"And how are you holding up?" Sifo asked, allowing an edge of concern to slip into his voice.
"Excuse me?"
"You're working seven days a week, and working from the hour you rise to the hour you rest on each of them. Are you sure you're taking care of yourself?"
Ky's hands froze above the keyboard for just a moment before he resumed typing. "I'm fine."
"Not that I mean to imply you can't take care of yourself." Sifo worried that he'd offended the man. "But as a Jedi Master you do have a responsibility to set an example for others."
Ky glanced over, eyes sliding down to where Sifo's hipflask was pinned to his belt, hidden by his robes. Sifo felt his face heat up with embarrassment, as Ky briefly made eye contact with him before looking back to his typing.
"Perhaps you should worry about the example you set first." Ky murmured softly, and sharply.
Feeling like he'd been doused in cold water, Sifo hurried away from the man's desk and staggered into the hall outside.
He thought he'd been hiding it well. Of course he never drank during the day, and he was careful never to leave a mess anywhere. Ky had spotted it, and the two of them almost never saw each other! Surely others had noticed as well. Did Dooku know? Did Tan'ya?
Now that he was looking at himself, Sifo could almost see a pot belly starting to form. Even with his regular lightsaber training, age and the common symptoms of heavy drinking were starting to show on him.
It wasn't like he had a leg to stand on, either. There was no excuse he could make that anyone would understand. Were people reading him as an old Jedi with bad habits, or did they suspect he was hiding something? Not just bad habits, dangerous ones. Maybe it was unlikely that someone would see him indulging and assume he was trying to drown his guilt for illegally creating an army, or manipulating his student into becoming a perfect weapon, but it was plausible that in a drunken stupor he might divulge something he shouldn't.
Only the Force could know what would happen if someone found out about the army. At the very best, they would have to be persuaded to keep their mouths closed, all too likely Dooku would be forced to make more… permanent arrangements.
Murder. Sifo couldn't euphemise it. The Clones were such a massive secret that was so vital for the future of the Republic that of course it was worth killing to keep.
His constant drinking could easily have ended up with someone being murdered. It was a sobering realization, even in a literal sense.
Not letting himself think too much, not giving himself a chance to procrastinate, Sifo acted. On his way back to the faculty office he dropped his hip flask in a dust bin and didn't look back.
At least not at first.
...
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