MOTF Book II: Ascension Chapter 12

“Darth Umbravon,” Darth Holos, head of the Sphere of Infiltration, and greatest Sith Intelligence Agent in the entire Sith Collective began. “Would you mind illuminating the Council as to the events that took place on Dathomir?”

“Yes my lord.” Darth Umbravon stood in the chambers of the Sith Council on Korriban, a day after returning from Dathomir. The Council chamber was not as extravagant as he had expected it to be. It was dark and cold, with nine thrones of stone spread across the room, each with a Sith Councilor atop it. Umbravon could not tell where Darth Holos’s gaze fell behind the expressionless mask he wore over his face, but if he had to guess, he’d assume it fell on him, as did the gazes of the other Sith Councilors. Each one had a very distinct focus, each one with their values and skill sets expanded along different paths. There was one aspect they all had in common however; power. They may have developed their power in different ways and for different purposes, but it was undeniably there in each of them. The power of the Dark Side of the Force ran deeper through them than anybody Umbravon had ever fought, trained with, or studied under.

“As you are no doubt aware,” Umbravon began, reasoning that the Council knew the exposition to what he was about to tell them, as well as considering the notion that a small degree of flattery regarding the Council’s awareness couldn’t hurt him. “The Jedi on Dathomir implemented a battle-meld. My…” Umbravon paused, searching for the right word, “a few of my fellow Acolytes and I recognized the threat and set out to eliminate it. We approached a Nightsister temple, and Sangara used it’s energies to assault the minds of the Jedi and disrupt their connection to each other.”

“And the Rostu brothers?” Darth Slazer inquired.

“They attacked us in an attempt to stop us from disrupting their meld,” Umbravon explained, a hint of pride in his voice. “Me and the two other Acolytes, Ignus and Nighthawk, held off the Rostu brothers as Sangara continued to disrupt the Jedi’s focus. I killed one of them, and severely injured the other before he escaped.”

“I find it curious that you mention the other Sith by name,” Slazer began a hint of suspicion in her shrill voice. Umbravon was beginning to find the red skinned female zabrak to be one of the more distasteful members of the Sith Council. She was the head of the Sphere of Dueling, always encased in black armor and armed with half a dozen lightsabers, each of a different model. Her dueling abilities among the Sith were unparalleled. “Most Sith would be content to claim all of the glory for themselves.”

“I simply believe in giving credit where credit is due,” Umbravon explained, unsure if he was comfortable with where this conversation was going.

“Or you deserve less of the credit than you are leading us to believe, and believe an apparent show of humility will earn our trust,” Slazer responded, her tone of voice accusatory. So this is where she’s going with this Umbravon realized. Fury and hatred surged through him, gnawing at the inside of his very being, waiting to be unleashed. But he kept them in check. This was the Sith Council, he could hardly unleash his fury upon them as he would a fellow acolyte or a Jedi. Not yet anyways…

“I’m not foolish enough to lie to the Sith Council,” Umbravon began, choosing his next few words carefully and betraying no fury in his voice, despite using a subtly more stern and assertive tone of voice than he was previously. “Though I received assistance from Ignus and Nighthawk, Rostu died by my blade, and my power.”

“Well then,” Darth Malvot, head of the Sphere of Sorcery chimed in. “It would appear this matter has been sufficiently clarified. We are now aware, and somewhat impressed with the manner in which you and your allies disrupted the Jedi battle-meld. You indeed played your part in the battle of Dathomir, and our victory was ever so sweetened by the deaths of so many Jedi. Your efforts have been appreciated, and you may return to your training.”

In contrast to Slazer’s shrill voice, Malvot’s was relatively soft and pleasant to listen to, almost enthralling in a way. While most would’ve taken this for a kinder more benevolent personality, Umbravon knew the true reason behind this not so subtle difference between the two Sith. Both Darth Slazer and Darth Malvot embodied the characteristics of the Sith they led. Slazer was a warrior first and foremost, direct, forceful, and in some ways, a bit crude, and her shrill forceful voice reflected as much. Malvot was a sorcerer, an inquisitor, a woman devoted to the deeper mysteries of the Dark Side, and she was far more subtle and cunning than Slazer. When Darth Malvot spoke and complimented him, Darth Umbravon felt like he wanted to trust her. But as somebody who had been the victim or perpetrator of multiple surprise attacks back fighting alongside his squad on Innamorta, Umbravon knew all too well that appearances could be deceiving. Beneath her poised appearance, Umbravon recognized that Malvot was capable of a treachery different but no less malicious than what Slazer was capable of.

Darth Umbravon silently wondered how many Sith had lost their lives by failing to realize this truth, instead finding themselves ensnared by the Sith lady’s subterfuge, undone by their own ignorance. He remembered the one and only time he had been in the throne room of Darth Odious, Dark Lord of the Sith. A Sith Lord had questioned his orders and paid for it with his life. His first lesson upon arriving on Korriban had been explicitly stated by the Dark Lord himself; the Dark Side has no time for the weak or the ignorant. Many Sith eschewed the value of cunning and patience, falling slave to their emotions, something Umbravon had resigned he would not do the very day he chose his name, the very day he became a Darth. Many of these more narrow-minded Sith worked only to eliminate weakness rather than ignorance, something Umbravon supposed was a consequence of the Jedi and Sith codes.

It was easy to understand how so many Sith placed much more emphasis on correcting their weakness rather than their ignorance, given that overcoming weakness was a core tenet of the Sith code. Likewise, it was also easy to understand how a distaste for ignorance could be viewed as no more than the ramblings of pretentious Jedi Masters, given that that had been mentioned in the Jedi Code rather than weakness. Despite how distasteful Darth Umbravon found many of the Jedi beliefs, he could not help but respect, even admire, their distaste of ignorance and pursuit of knowledge and understanding. Now what was to be done with such knowledge and understanding, that was where Umbravon’s views would almost certainly differ from what the Jedi believe and would likely follow a more Sith approach. Where many Sith failed was their failure to understand the Sith code’s position on ignorance, believing weakness to be infinitely more detrimental. But what was ignorance if not a form of weakness? As a Sith, Darth Umbravon believed that weakness of all sorts was to be despised, while strength and power was to be sought after in all of its forms. He held as much distaste for the skilled but barbarous fool as he did for the pretentious schemers who believed martial prowess was a primitive instrument of power to be shunned. A true Sith should not be weak in combat, or ignorant. A true Sith should strive to excel in all areas.

As with all other Sith, Umbravon had learned the history of the Sith Order in its many incarnations. He could not help but be drawn to the great Dark Lord Darth Bane, and the Order he forged from the ashes. Each and every Banite Sith was immensely powerful, each among the most powerful Sith who have ever lived. Each could be described as a true master of combat, both with a blade and the Force. But the Banite Sith had also been vastly intelligent and cunning. To Darth Umbravon, Darth Bane and those in his order were the perfect representation of what a true Sith should be. Not a master of one, not a dabbler in all, but a master of all. For what was the Sith imperative, the way of the Dark Side, if not mastery of everything that could be mastered? It was for this reason that Umbravon had not joined one of the nine Spheres of Influence. Each sphere represented a specific focus on the Dark Side of the Force. Umbravon simply couldn’t neglect all other focuses in favor of one. After becoming Acolytes, many Sith would join one of the Spheres for specialized training. Other Acolytes would pursue a different path for their continued advancement, many training under masters independent of the Spheres of Influence. Darth Umbravon and his friends had yet to find any master they could trust with the task of their training, so they trained on their own, and with each other. Despite the lack of formal training, Umbravon and his friends had evolved from mere apprentices to some of the most powerful Sith Acolytes in the entire Galaxy, and Umbravon knew he was ready to become something more, something he had desired to be for the past year; a Sith Lord. With no Sphere, no Master to promote him, the avenue he would need to take in order to secure such a title would be complicated to say the least. He would need to ask the Sith Council’s approval, something that should not be done lightly.

He thought back to the Sith Lord who had been killed by Darth Odious as soon as he had arrived on Korriban. Darth Odious was the Dark Lord of the Sith, with centuries of experience. Umbravon’s own knowledge of the Dark Side was thus relatively limited in comparison. He could not say with certainty whether or not that lord had deserved to live or die or whether the Dark Lord had been well within his rights to kill him or was just being a complete psychopath. He imagined in the future he may ponder this again, but what was important to him now was what had been learned from that experience. Darth Umbravon had seen the mistake of that Sith Lord, and was firmly resolved to not end his life on such a note.

“Is there something else you wished to speak of?” Darth Malvot asked, noticing the pause he had just taken.

“Yes my lord,” Umbravon began, willing his voice not to quiver as he began to make his request. Is this the wrong time to make such a request? Umbravon asked himself. He felt anxiety, fear, even panic, but he quelled them by mediating his passion, control, and a desire for power. No! I just played a crucial role in maintaining the Sith control of a planet, now is as good a time as any to request lordship. “This council is responsible for the promotions of all Acolytes and Lords independent of the Spheres of Influence, and in light of recent events, I would like to be considered for lordship.”

Darth Umbravon could not help but feel some degree of shame, panic, and even fury as he heard a stiffened chuckle or two from within the Council chamber. Darth Slazer even let out a shrill “Ha!” Again, Umbravon worked to control his emotions, but that was growing increasingly difficult. He felt mocked, vulnerable, lonely, and the presences of the Sith Councilors in this chamber made the fibers of his being prickle. Almost an emotional itch, an irritation. At was as if the tension between the various members of the Sith Council had seeped into the room in palpable waves, and Umbravon couldn’t help but wonder if he had been somehow infected by it. “And why should we take your request seriously?” Darth Malvot asked. “Why should we grant you lordship? What makes you worthy?”

Umbravon swallowed nervously. There was something inherently unnerving about just being in the same room with these people, much less scrutinized and judged by them, knowing that they could kill him at a moment’s notice if he crossed a line. For better or worse, he was now stuck in this situation, and there was nothing he could do but try and make a compelling case for himself. He chose to speak his next few words with dignity, unwilling to betray in his words how he really felt, even if he suspected many of the Sith in this room could tell through the Force. “I played a pivotal role in the securing of Dathomir, I killed a legendary Jedi Master, and I am more powerful than half of the Sith privileged with this title.”

“You and your friends played a pivotal role in the securing of Dathomir,” Darth Cha, head of the Sphere of Martial Arts chimed in.

“The circumstances of your duel with the Rostus are unknown to us,” Darth Slazer added. “And we would have to be fools to trust you with an impartial explanation.”

“You’re a boy trying to prove himself a man,” Darth Stovar, head of the Sphere of Archives piled on. “A boy of fifteen simply does not have the experience and refinement necessary to be a Lord.”

“Yes indeed,” Darth Malvot began. “You possess immense power Umbravon, but you lack the control, the refinement, the mastery of that power. Umbravon, we have weighed your request for lordship, and found it wanting.You leave a lot to be desired Umbravon.”

Darth Umbravon barely held back an outcry of fury. He deserved to be a Sith Lord, and this woman was taunting him, repeating his name several times, with what he believed to be a deliberate omission of the title Darth. “It’s Darth Umbravon,” he said coldly, partly out of anger, and partly out of hope it would perhaps impress some of the council. He had no such luck.

“You are hardly any more worthy of the Darth title than you are of being a Sith Lord!” Darth Malvot scoffed.

Umbravon recoiled, he had just been drawn into a trap. To respond would mean the potential endanger of incurring the council’s wrath, but to not respond would be a display of submission, of weakness, and he knew he could not do that. He could not cower after making such a bold request. What he was about to do was dangerous, but there was indeed no good option to take at this point. He reasoned that if he played his cards right, he could stand up for himself without dying. “The Dark Lord himself gave me this title. I would think that makes me worthy.”

Darth Umbravon saw a brief fearful expression flash across Darth Malvot’s face before it was forced away, replaced by a hateful glare. He suddenly realized that mentioning the Dark Lord had been a mistake. In a second, Darth Malvot dismissively flicked her left hand in his direction, and a conflagration of violet lightning hurtled towards him. With all of the power he could muster, Umbravon threw a protective Force barrier between himself and the lightning. Every ounce of his strength, will, rage, and fear was placed behind that barrier, but it was not enough. The violet forks of lightning tore through Umbravon’s barrier and struck him. Umbravon cried out in agony as his entire nervous system lit up in pain. He could feel his flesh blistering and burning beneath the blast of Malvot’s electric fury. He felt a sharp impact as his body flew back, twisted through the air, and smacked into the hard stone floor of the chamber face first, convulsing in agony and torment, his screams echoed across the chamber. It had only been a brief blast of lightning, ending as abruptly as it had begun, but even so, Umbravon’s body continued to convulse for a few more seconds before he slowly began to rise.

He first rose to his hands and knees, his muscles still twitching. His entire body ached, his clothing was scorched, black blood was dripping from his mouth onto the floor, and smoke was rising from his blistered and peeling skin. His head throbbed as he finally stood, his muscles weary, and his legs quivering beneath him as if they were unsure of their ability to support his weight. His vision was blurry, but he could see the each of the Sith Councilors staring upon him. Taking one last look at their judgmental faces, Umbravon turned around and staggered out of the council chambers. He made his way outside of the temple, the cold nighttime winds of Korriban biting at his blistered flesh. He began to walk back towards his living quarters.

Halfway back, Umbravon stopped. Sensing there was nobody around, he dropped to his knees and punched the ground beneath him with his right fist. The stone walkway cracked under the impact. You fool! he chided himself. You completely karked it up you karking idiot! Darth Umbravon felt anger, rage, and fury, at himself, at the Sith Council, and at Darth kriffing Malvot. This time he didn’t quell his emotions, he let them swell within him, let them intensify and grow, like a self sustaining reaction. With a loud outcry of fury, Darth Umbravon thrust both of his hands out towards a nearby landspeeder and watched as the multi-ton hunk of metal was swept into the air by a wave of power. The landspeeder hurtled through the air for several meters before inexplicably halting a dozen meters away and two meters above the ground. Umbravon felt it. Somebody else was here. Almost immediately, the red blade of Umbravon’s lightsaber flared to life as he took the hilt in a two handed grip, waiting on the approach of whoever it was that had come to him in his moment of vulnerability.

“Are you so desperate to become a Lord that you would challenge the will of the Sith Council itself?” a calm and collected voice said as the landspeeder slowly descended to the ground.

“Who are you?” Umbravon asked, restraining himself from shouting and instead taking a more suspicious but curious tone of voice.

A lone figure stepped out of the darkness of the night next to the landspeeder. It was a lanky man, clad in black robes and a billowing cape. His face was pale and gaunt, his eyes and hair a matching pale yellow. Umbravon had seen this man only once before. “Darth Vanquil?” Umbravon asked surprised.

“You remember me,” Vanquil noted.

“How could I not?” Umbravon replied. Darth Vanquil had been the first Sith he had ever met. The Sith master had saved his life back on Innamorta, and offered him a choice. He offered him the choice to become a Sith, one that Umbravon had taken and never regretted since. “You changed my life.”

“You changed your own life,” Vanquil replied. “I merely helped you do it.”

“This is no chance meeting,” Umbravon said. “Why are you here?”

“Because I can feel your frustration, your anger, your fury,” Vanquil replied. “You have the feel of a man who has been wronged.”

“The Council refused my request to be a Lord,” Umbravon responded. “They believe me to be too young, too wild, too “unrefined,” whatever the kark that means. They find me unworthy. They seem to be completely unimpressed with me.”

“Quite the contrary,” Vanquil replied. “The Council is actually far more impressed with you than they are willing to admit.”

“Darth Malvot casually dismissed me with a flick of her hand,” Umbravon countered. “She made me scream in front of the entire council with her lightning.”

“Yes,” Vanquil replied. “But the council did not expect you to survive that, much less be able to stand afterwards. You had the nerve to challenge the Sith Council and the resiliency to survive their retaliation. Very few can say the same. I am one of those people.”

“You don’t belong to a Sphere?” Umbravon asked.

“Please,” Vanquil scoffed. “I was like you. I didn’t want to devote myself to a single discipline, nor did I trust any of the members of the Sith Council. Instead I learned through intuition and observation, mastering the blade and the Force through the study and understanding of those around me. You are intelligent and clever, but I feel you do not possess the same intuitive understanding. You seem to have built yourself up through focus, willpower, and determination, seeking knowledge and power wherever you can find it, working to hone your powers on your own, collaborating with your friends in training.”

“Yes,” Umbravon replied, astonished by how accurate his statements about him had been so far.

“I managed to become a Lord, and then a Master by following my own path,” Vanquil explained. “And now I am here to help you claim what is rightfully yours. You are not wrong in your belief that you are more worthy of the title of Lord than most who possess that title. You simply have to prove it to the Council.”

“How?” Umbravon asked. “How can I prove my worthiness to the Council?”

“Your fight with the Rostu brothers is too vague for the Council,” Vanquil explained. “You must provide them with a more concrete showing of your power. There is a very powerful Sith Lord by the name of Darth Solu. Expert martial artist, talented force wielder. The Council is strongly considering making him a Sith Master, and various members of the Council covet him, wanting him to be a part of their sphere, namely Darth Malvot, Darth Cha, and Darth Nash. If you are ready to become more than just an Acolyte, you must challenge this Lord to single combat and defeat him.”

“What happens if I defeat him?” Umbravon asked, intrigued by Vanquil’s offer.

“Then I will assist you in requesting lordship from the Council, and they will not refuse.”

“And if I fail?” Umbravon asked. “If I cannot defeat Darth Solu?”

“Then he will kill you,” Vanquil nonchalantly replied.

“And why are you helping me?” Umbravon asked.

“Because I can sense your power,” Vanquil replied.

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Umbravon responded. “What are you hoping to gain from this?”

The next two words Darth Vanquil said surprised Darth Umbravon. “An apprentice. I can help you become a Lord, and you can become my apprentice, one who can assist me.”

“Your slave?” Umbravon asked, hoping to get a feel for Vanquil’s offer.

“My student,” Vanquil replied. “You will assist me in my endeavors, and I will train you to become more than you ever thought you could be. You are not only to be my assassin, but also the receptacle of my knowledge.”

“And why should I want your teachings,” Umbravon inquired. “What power do you wield that I could want.” Umbravon could sense Darth Vanquil’s power, and it rivaled or exceeded that of many of the members of the Sith Council. Nevertheless, he felt like a greater understanding of the man offering to be his master was something to be desired.

Vanquil did not speak, instead, he casually extended a hand towards the landspeeder, hoisting it several meters into the air with barely any effort. His eyes were not fixed on the landspeeder, instead they were fixed on Umbravon. Darth Umbravon’s eyes however were fixed on the landspeeder. He noticed Vanquil’s fingers flex slightly, and suddenly the frame of the landspeeder began to cave in in the area closest to Vanquil’s hand. Several tons of metal twisted and warped around itself, compressing and condensing upon that singular point. Vanquil drew the collapsing landspeeder towards himself until it was but a few feet away. Then, he unleashed one last telekinetic blast and a short burst of blue lightning. The crushed and twisted multi-ton hunk of metal exploded, a million shards and scraps of metal flying in every direction. A billowing flame erupted from what Umbravon had assumed had been the engine and extended several meters. Umbravon was forced to shield his eyes and erect a barrier of Force energy to absorb the metal shrapnel and force of the explosion, but even so staggered a single step backwards. When he looked back, Vanquil was standing in the exact same place he had been a moment ago, completely unscathed by the explosion that had happened but a couple of feet away from him.

Before Umbravon could speak again, Vanquil spoke up. “Why don’t you save us both the time and accept my offer.”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Umbravon replied.

“You have a practiced hesitancy Darth Umbravon, but behind all of your questions, there is no choice to be made,” Vanquil replied.

“Why not,” Umbravon asked.

Vanquil smiled with anticipation. “Because you and I both know you’ve already made the choice.”

——————————————————————————

The five Jedi Padawans sat aboard a shuttle in hyperspace on the way back to Coruscant while their four masters were in a different part of the shuttle, piloting it and managing its other functions. Despite their greatest efforts and victory at Mother Veliya’s Fortress, the Battle of Dathomir had been lost. But as Arthur quickly realized, that had not been the only thing that was lost.

Than Rostu’s skin was naturally dark, but the entire right side of his face had been burned and scorched black. Despite the bacta patch he had applied to his injury, Arthur suspected that Than Rostu would likely carry the scars of that battle forever. But his face had not been the worst thing he had lost. Staz Rostu, his twin brother had died. Jaya’s master had died. Arthur watched as Bado wrapped his arms around her, trying his best to comfort her.

“There were four of them,” Bado explained to Arthur, Jaira, and Terro. “All our age. There was a girl meditating. She was the one disrupting the Jedi battlemeld. The three others were boys, and Master Rostu thinks they were all Innamortan. Master Staz Rostu’s killer had dark hair and blazing yellow eyes. He was easily the most powerful Sith acolyte I have ever seen.”

“That would’ve had to be the case,” Arthur replied, hoping to lift Jaya’s spirits. “Staz Rostu was a great Jedi. It would take a lot to bring him down.”

“One of the other Acolytes wielded a saberstaff,” Bado continued. “He was the one we first encountered. He defeated us using a blend of Ataru and Juyo. The third Acolyte had a blaster and a lightsaber. He almost killed us, but our masters saved us.”

“Could you tell what race of Innamortan any of them were?” Arthur asked curious.

“The Acolyte with the blaster had purple blood,” Bado offered. Suddenly, Arthur felt an outcry of pain in the Force. Raw emotional agony surged through the room. Arthur was about to race over to Jaya to comfort her, when he realized that the pain was not emanating from Jaya, it was emanating from Terro.

“What’s wrong?” Jaira asked, placing her hand on Terro’s shoulder.

“Nothing,” Terro replied, his voice shaking and cracking. Arthur could feel only a fraction of his pain through the Force,

“You can tell us,” Arthur replied. “We’re your friends and we’re here for you.”

After a few seconds, Terro cried out, “It was Fernin!!!”

Suddenly Arthur understood. Purple blood in an Innamortan had to mean a Spearton Blastidonez hybrid, and they all knew of one such hybrid their age that had become a Sith; Terro’s brother. Arthur walked over to Terro, who was now bawling, and embraced him. A couple of seconds later, Jaira joined in, and then Bado and Jaya rose to their feet. The five friends stayed in that embrace for several seconds before separating.

There was a solemn silence for a couple of minutes before Bado broke it. “Something is troubling me,” he said. “After Master Staz Rostu was killed, Master Than Rostu… I don’t know. He… he got…”

“Angry,” Jaya said, finishing the sentence for him. It was the first time she had spoken in the past hour. Her voice was hoarse. Arthur knew this must be taking a severe toll on her. Their defeat at Dathomir and the loss of Staz Rostu had shaken them all. Arthur was surprised when Master Mongooku defied the Jedi code, permitting Than Rostu to train both Jaya and Bado. Arthur understood the reason behind it. Jaya, Bado, and the Rostu brothers had all been so close, it would be cruel to split the living three of them up after Staz died.

“Yeah, angry…” Bado replied. “He attacked the dark haired Acolyte with a fury I have never seen from him before. I could feel his… hatred through the Force, and it was unsettling. It felt almost like he was drawing on the Dark Side.”

Now it was Jaya’s turn to comfort Bado. “Every Jedi struggles with their emotions,” she said. “Losing Staz is taking its toll on all of us. But Than is a great Jedi, even if he did brush with the Dark Side, I believe he is strong enough to continue to be a great Jedi. Even some of the greatest Jedi have had their experiences with the Dark Side and their emotions, but what’s important is that they managed to remain or become great despite that. Revan, Aryn Leneer, Mace Windu, Obi-wan Kenobi, Jax Pavan, Ferus Olin, Jaden Korr, Luke Skywalker, Mara Jade Skywalker, Cade Skywalker- practically every Skywalker ever- and even Master Mongooku has have struggled with the Dark Side before.”

“What?!” Arthur exclaimed, both surprised and confused. “What happened with Master Mongooku?!”

Jaya hesitated a bit before answering. “I was doing some reading in the Jedi archives, and I found something. Centuries ago, when Darth Erix had been the Dark Lord of the Sith, and Mongooku’s father, Avacarus, had been the Grand Master of the Jedi Order, he and his older brother, Gildorun, had been Jedi Knights, fighting side by side in the war against the Sith Collective. They were described in the archives as an unstoppable duo.”

“He has never spoken to me of his family,” Arthur replied.

“That’s not surprising,” Jaya responded. “At some point in the war, Mongooku’s brother Gildorun fell to the Dark Side, corrupted by Darth Erix, and became a a double agent among the Jedi, giving the Sith valuable information and sabotaging the Jedi Order from the inside. Eventually, Gildorin assassinated Grand Master Avacarus and his wife. He murdered both of their parents. When Mongooku found out, he chased his brother through the underworld of Coruscant and cornered him in an abandoned warehouse on level 1315 that had once been used to store nanodroids back during the Clone Wars.”

“What happened in there?” Arthur asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“According to the Jedi Archives, Mongooku has never spoken to anybody about what happened in that warehouse, claiming that he was too ashamed about what happened, but only one thing is known for certain. Both Gildorin and Mongooku entered the warehouse, but only Mongooku was seen leaving it. After that point, no more records of Gildorin exist.”

Arthur almost staggered back, astonished at what he had learned. Master Mongooku, Grand Master of the Jedi Order, Arthur’s own master had killed his brother in an act of revenge! This troubled Arthur, but deep down, he knew that his master was still the greatest Jedi in the Galaxy, even if he had darkness in his past.