I would have preferred if Revan had been uniting the galaxy against the Sith Empire ruling in secret, that the Mandalorians really were just pawns, and Revan knew that, and wanted to stop it. But no, that just conflicts too much with the overly simplistic light vs. dark dichotomy of
Star Wars. Btw, here is something Darth Bane said from
Rule of Two:
"Are they trapped in there?" Zannah asked. She was staring at Bane with an expression of both awe and terror.
"Trapped. Dead. It makes no difference," he answered with a shrug. "Kaan and the Brotherhood are gone. They got what they deserved."
"Were they weak?"
Bane didn't answer right away. Kaan had been many things — ambitious, charismatic, stubborn, and in the end a fool — but he had never been weak.
"Kaan was a traitor," he said at last. "He led the Brotherhood away from the teachings of the ancient Sith. He turned his back on the very essence of the dark side."
Zannah didn't reply, but she looked up at him expectantly. The role of mentor was a new one for Bane; he was a man of action, not words. He wasn't used to taking the time to share his wisdom with another desperate to learn it. But he was smart enough to understand that the lessons would have far more meaning if his apprentice could figure out some of the answers for herself.
"Why did you choose to become my apprentice?" he asked, challenging her. "Why did you choose the way of the dark side?"
"Power," she replied quickly.
"Power is only a means to an end," Bane admonished her. "It is not an end in itself. What do you need power for?"
The girl furrowed her brow. Her Master already recognized this expression as a sign she was struggling to come up with an answer.
"Through power I gain victory," she said when she finally spoke, reciting the final lines of the Sith Code she had learned only a few hours earlier. From her tone it was clear she was trying to work through her limited understanding of the dark side to arrive at the answer Bane wanted.
"Through victory my chains are broken . . ." she continued, slowly searching for an answer just beyond her reach. A second later she exclaimed, "Freedom! The dark side sets us free!"
Bane nodded his approval. "The Jedi shackle themselves in chains of obedience: obedience to the Jedi Council; obedience to their Masters; obedience to the Republic. Those who follow the light side even believe they must submit themselves to the Force. They are merely instruments of its will, slaves to a greater good.
"Those who follow the dark side see the truth of their enslavement. We recognize the chains that bind us and hold us back. We believe in the power of the individual to break these chains. That is the path to greatness. Only if we are free can we reach our full potential.
"The belief that an individual must not bow down before anyone or anything is the dark side's greatest strength," Bane continued. "But it is also our ultimate weakness. The struggle to rise above those around you is often violent, and in the past the Sith were constantly at one another's throats."
"Isn't that a good thing?" Zannah interjected, "The strong will survive and the weak will die."
"Weak does not mean stupid," Bane countered. "There were those with less power, but more cunning. Several apprentices would band together to take down a powerful Master, hoping to elevate their own position among the Sith. Then they would turn on one another, making and breaking alliances until only one remained — a new Master, but one weaker than the original. This survivor would then be taken down in turn by another band of lesser Sith, further weakening our Order.
"Kaan recognized this. But his solution was far worse than the problem. Kaan declared all the followers of the dark side — all the members of the Sith Order — as equals in the Brotherhood of Darkness. In doing so, he betrayed us all."
"Betrayed you?"
"Equality is a lie," Bane told her. "A myth to appease the masses. Simply look around and you will see the lie for what it is! There are those with power, those with the strength and will to lead. And there are those meant to follow - those incapable of anything but servitude and a meager, worthless existence.
"Equality is a perversion of the natural order!" he continued, his voice rising as he shared the fundamental truth that lay at the core of his beliefs. "It binds the strong to the weak. They become anchors that drag the exceptional down to mediocrity. Individuals destined and deserving of greatness have it denied them. They suffer for the sake of keeping them even with their inferiors.
"Equality is a chain, like obedience. Like fear or uncertainty or self-doubt. The dark side will break these chains. But Kaan could not see this. He did not grasp the true power of the dark side. The Brotherhood of Darkness was nothing but a twisted reflection of the Jedi Order, a dark parody of the very thing we stood against. Under Kaan the Sith had become an abomination."
"And that's why you killed him," Zannah said, thinking the lesson had come to an end.
"That is why I manipulated Kaan into killing himself," Bane corrected. "Remember: power alone is not enough. Patience. Cunning. Secrecy. These are the tools we will use to bring down the Jedi. The Sith are only two now-one Master and one apprentice. There will be no others."
From the
Revenge of the Sith novelization:
"Do you remember," Palpatine said, drawing away from Anakin so that he could lean back comfortably in his seat, "how as a young boy, when you first came to this planet, I tried to teach you the ins and outs of politics?"
Anakin smiled faintly. "I remember that I didn't much care for the lessons."
"For any lessons, as I recall. But it's a pity; you should have paid more attention. To understand politics is to understand the fundamental nature of thinking beings. Right now, you should remember one of my first teachings: all those who gain power are afraid to lose it."
"The Jedi use their power for good," Anakin said, a little too firmly.
"Good is a point of view, Anakin. And the Jedi concept of good is not the only valid one. Take your Dark Lords of the Sith, for example. From my reading, I have gathered that the Sith believed in justice and security every bit as much as the Jedi—"
"Jedi believe in justice and peace."
"In these troubled times, is there a difference?" Palpatine asked mildly. "The Jedi have not done a stellar job of bringing peace to the galaxy, you must agree. Who's to say the Sith might not have done better?"
"This is another of those arguments you probably shouldn't bring up in front of the Council, if you know what I mean," Anakin replied with a disbelieving smile.
"Oh, yes. Because the Sith would be a threat to the Jedi Order's power. Lesson one."
Anakin shook his head. "Because the Sith are evil."
"From a Jedi's point of view," Palpatine allowed. "Evil is a label we all put on those who threaten us, isn't it? Yet the Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power."
"The Jedi's quest is for greater understanding," Anakin countered. "For greater knowledge of the Force—"
"Which brings with it greater power, does it not?"
"Well . . . yes." Anakin had to laugh. "I should know better than to argue with a politician."
"We're not arguing, Anakin. We're just talking." Palpatine shifted his weight, settling in comfortably. "Perhaps the real difference between the Jedi and the Sith lies only in their orientation; a Jedi gains power through understanding, and a Sith gains understanding through power. This is the true reason the Sith have always been more powerful than the Jedi. The Jedi fear the dark side so much they cut themselves off from the most important aspect of life: passion. Of any kind. They don't even allow themselves to love."
Except for me, Anakin thought. But then, I've never been exactly the perfect Jedi.
"The Sith do not fear the dark side. The Sith have no fear. They embrace the whole spectrum of experience, from the heights of transcendent joy to the depths of hatred and despair. Beings have these emotions for a reason, Anakin. That is why the Sith are more powerful: they are not afraid to feel."
"The Sith rely on passion for strength," Anakin said, "but when that passion runs dry, what's left?"
"Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a great deal. Perhaps it never runs dry at all. Who can say?"
"They think inward, only about themselves."
"And the Jedi don't?"
"The Jedi are selfless—we erase the self, to join with the flow of the Force. We care only about others . . ."
Palpatine again gave him that smile of gentle wisdom. "Or so you've been trained to believe. I hear the voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi in your answers, Anakin. What do you really think?"
Anakin suddenly found the ballet a great deal more interesting than Palpatine's face. "I . . . don't know anymore."
"It is said that if one could ever entirely comprehend a single grain of sand—really, truly understand everything about it—one would, at the same time, entirely comprehend the universe. Who's to say that a Sith, by looking inward, sees less than a Jedi does by looking out?"
"The Jedi—Jedi are good. That's the difference. I don't care who sees what."
"What the Jedi are," Palpatine said gently, "is a group of very powerful beings you consider to be your comrades. And you are loyal to your friends; I have known that for as long as I have known you, and I admire you for it. But are your friends loyal to you?"
Anakin shot him a sudden frown. "What do you mean?"
"Would a true friend ask you to do something that's wrong?"
"I'm not sure it's wrong," Anakin said. Obi-Wan might have been telling the truth. It was possible. They might only want to catch Sidious. They might really be trying to protect Palpatine.
They might.
Maybe.
"Have they asked you to break the Jedi Code? To violate the Constitution? To betray a friendship? To betray your own values?"
"Chancellor—"
"Think, Anakin! I have always tried to teach you to think—yes, yes, Jedi do not think, they know, but those stale answers aren't good enough now, in these changing times. Consider their motives. Keep your mind clear of assumptions. The fear of losing power is a weakness of both the Jedi and the Sith."
Anakin sank lower in his seat. Too much had happened in too short a time. Everything jumbled together in his head, and none of it seemed to make complete sense.
Except for what Palpatine said.
That made too much sense.
The fog inside Anakin's head seemed to solidify into a long, dark tunnel. The point of light at the end was Palpatine's face. "I don't—I don't understand . . ."
"Oh yes, that's very clear." The Chancellor's voice seemed to be coming from very far away. "Please sit, my boy. You're looking rather unwell. May I offer you something to drink?"
"I—no. No, I'm all right." Anakin sank gratefully into a dangerously comfortable chair. "I'm just—a little tired, that's all."
"Not sleeping well?"
"No." Anakin offered an exhausted chuckle. "I haven't been sleeping well for a few years, now."
"I quite understand, my boy. Quite." Palpatine rose and rounded his desk, sitting casually on its front edge. "Anakin, we must stop pretending. The final crisis is approaching, and our only hope to survive it is to be completely, absolutely, ruthlessly honest with each other. And with ourselves. You must understand that what is at stake here is nothing less than the fate of the galaxy."
"I don't know—"
"Don't be afraid, Anakin. What is said between us here need never pass beyond these walls. Anakin, think: think how hard it has been to hold all your secrets inside. Have you ever needed to keep a secret from me?"
He ticked his fingers one by one. "I have kept the secret of your marriage all these years. The slaughter at the Tusken camp, you shared with me. I was there when you executed Count Dooku. And I know where you got the power to defeat him. You see? You have never needed to pretend with me, the way you must with your Jedi comrades. Do you understand that you need never hide anything from me? That I accept you exactly as you are?"
He spread his hands as though offering a hug. "Share with me the truth. Your absolute truth. Let yourself out, Anakin."
"I—" Anakin shook his head. How many times had he dreamed of not having to pretend to be the perfect Jedi? But what else could he be? "I wouldn't even know how to begin."
"It's quite simple, in the end: tell me what you want."
Anakin squinted up at him. "I don't understand."
"Of course you don't." The last of the sunset haloed his ice-white hair and threw his face into shadow. "You've been trained to never think about that. The Jedi never ask what you want. They simply tell you what you're supposed to want. They never give you a choice at all. That's why they take their students—their victims—at an age so young that choice is meaningless. By the time a Padawan is old enough to choose, he has been so indoctrinated—so brainwashed—that he is incapable of even considering the question. But you're different, Anakin. You had a real life, outside the Jedi Temple. You can break through the fog of lies the Jedi have pumped into your brain. I ask you again: what do you want?"
"I still don't understand."
"I am offering you . . . anything," Palpatine said. "Ask, and it is yours. A glass of water? It's yours. A bag full of Corusca gems? Yours. Look out the window behind me, Anakin. Pick something, and it's yours."
"Is this some kind of joke?"
"The time for jokes is past, Anakin. I have never been more serious." Within the shadow that cloaked Palpatine's face, Anakin could only just see the twin gleams of the Chancellor's eyes. "Pick something. Anything."
"All right . . ." Shrugging, frowning, still not understanding, Anakin looked out the window, looking for the most ridiculously expensive thing he could spot. "How about one of those new SoroSuub custom speeders—"
"Done."
"Are you serious? You know how much one of those costs? You could practically outfit a battle cruiser—"
"Would you prefer a battle cruiser?"
Anakin went still. A cold void opened in his chest. In a small, cautious voice, he said, "How about the Senatorial Apartments?"
"A private apartment?"
Anakin shook his head, staring up at the twin gleams in the darkness on Palpatine's face. "The whole building."
Palpatine did not so much as blink. "Done."
"It's privately owned—"
"Not anymore."
"You can't just—"
"Yes, I can. It's yours. Is there anything else? Name it."
Anakin gazed blankly out into the gathering darkness. Stars began to shimmer through the haze of twilight. A constellation he recognized hung above the spires of the Jedi Temple.
"All right," Anakin said softly. "Corellia. I'll take Corellia."
"The planet, or the whole system?"
Anakin stared.
"Anakin?"
"I just—" He shook his head blankly. "I can't figure out if you're kidding, or completely insane."
"I am neither, Anakin. I am trying to impress upon you a fundamental truth of our relationship. A fundamental truth of yourself."
"What if I really wanted the Corellian system? The whole Five Brothers—all of it?"
"Then it would be yours. You can have the whole sector, if you like." The twin gleams within the shadow sharpened. "Do you understand, now? I will give you anything you want."
The concept left him dizzy. "What if I wanted—what if I went along with Padmé and her friends? What if I want the war to end?"
"Would tomorrow be too soon?"
"How—" Anakin couldn't seem to get his breath. "How can you do that?"
"Right now, we are only discussing what. How is a different issue; we'll come to that presently."
Anakin sank deeper into the chair while he let everything sink deeper into his brain. If only his head would stop spinning—why did Palpatine have to start all this now?
This would all be easier to comprehend if the nightmares of Padmé didn't keep screaming inside his head.
"And in exchange?" he asked, finally. "What do I have to do?"
"You have to do what you want."
"What I want?"
"Yes, Anakin. Yes. Exactly that. Only that. Do the one thing that the Jedi fear most: make up your own mind. Follow your own conscience. Do what you think is right. I know that you have been longing for a life greater than that of an ordinary Jedi. Commit to that life. I know you burn for greater power than any Jedi can wield; give yourself permission to gain that power, and allow yourself license to use it. You have dreamed of leaving the Jedi Order, having a family of your own—one that is based on love, not on enforced rules of self-denial."
"I—can't . . . I can't just . . . leave . . ."
"But you can."
Anakin couldn't breathe.
He couldn't blink.
He sat frozen. Even thought was impossible.
"You can have every one of your dreams. Turn aside from the lies of the Jedi, and follow the truth of yourself. Leave them. Join me on the path of true power. Be my friend, Anakin. Be my student. My apprentice."
And this little gem from KOTOR 2.
EXILE: I need to know why you cast me out of the Order.
ZEZ-KAI ELL: We told you it was because you followed Revan to war. But you ask because you are not certain of that answer. Nor were we. The day we cast you out, that is the moment I decided to leave the Order. Because I do not believe we truly faced the reasons you were exiled, and if we do not examine such truths, then we are already lost. I think it was because we were afraid. It is a difficult thing to live one's life with the Force - to see a vision of what it would be like to be severed from it. It is more frightening than you know.
EXILE: Why are you on Nar Shaddaa?
ZEZ-KAI ELL: I had thought perhaps that here upon the Smugglers' Moon, I might find some evidence of the threat we faced. The bounties on Jedi and their disappearance - I did not believe the two were connected, but there was a chance. And the strong currents of life here on Nar Shaddaa make perceiving a Force user difficult. I could use it to cloak my movements and watch without being discovered.
EXILE: [Awareness] That is not the only reason... you came here to hide.
ZEZ-KAI ELL: No, you are right - that is not the whole truth. It is difficult to detect a Force user on Nar Shaddaa, and I knew it. This threat we face... it leaves wounds in the Force when it strikes. It leaves nothing.
EXILE: And you were afraid.
ZEZ-KAI ELL: To live life without the Force, to vanish and die and leave only an echo - it was terrifying. To be connected to all life around you, then to have it stripped... I can only imagine what it must have been like for you. But even that imagining cannot compare with the truth. But there is more than that. On Nar Shaddaa... one cannot escape what was left from the Jedi Civil War. From the failure of the Masters, from our failure to properly train Jedi, came disaster. And I wondered, if perhaps, the teachings of the Jedi had been our failing all along. There have been so many failures, by teachers who believed in the Code with all their being - Master Arca failed Ulic, as Master Baas failed Exar Kun, as Kae and Zhar and the others of the Council failed Revan... and Malak. For all the acts we do to preserve the galaxy, from such an arrogance that all we do is right and just, I wonder if there is a counter-effect that is created, that strikes back at us. Exar Kun, Ulic Qel-Droma, Malak, Revan, you... all Jedi. There is something wrong in the Force, a wound, a sound that is growing, like a scream. You can hear it echo on Nar Shaddaa, sometimes when the moon is on orbit. It is a frightening thing to feel, that perhaps being connected to all life is not enlightenment at all, but simply another doom. And I think that maybe, perhaps, to forsake the Force as you did, to cut loose our bonds, may not be the wrong thing to do. You taught me something important in the Council Chamber long ago, exile, and it has stayed with me all these years. You were right to do what you did. Everything you did.
EXILE: Why did you cut me off from the Force?
ZEZ-KAI ELL: Is that what you think? We did no such thing, but it is a technique that has been used as punishment in the past, yes. It is a rare sentence, and to my knowledge, it has only been done once, at a moment where a Jedi discipline has failed. What caused your loss, I fear, was different. I am not certain I understand it - we did not understand it fully, then, and only recently do I feel we may have become enlightened. It is easy to cast blame, but it is perhaps time the Order accepted responsibility for their teachings, and their arrogance, and come to recognize that perhaps we are flawed. Not once did I hear one of the Council claim responsibility for Revan, for Exar Kun, for Ulic, for Malak... or for you. Yet... you were the only one who came back from the wars to face our judgment. And rather than attempting to understand why you did what you did, we punished you instead.
Wish this kind of thing had been in Last Jedi. We really need to stop being so absolute with light and dark side. There have been Force users who mastered both. It's like a choice between Communists and Fascists. It's both two piles of shit. Why not go with a third party?
"A culture's teachings - and more importantly, the nature of its people - achieve definition in conflict. They find themselves, or find themselves lacking."
— Kreia, Knights of the Old Republic 2: The Sith Lords