| abstract
| - History and destiny have come to the manor. They are here to open the door for Josym to another life, a new road that isn't about the inheritance of power through wealth. No, this is about a bloodline of a mystical power that stands higher than the sorry concerns of the material world. Lord Arcadin is here for an extended and unannounced visit. But it does explain the funny little smile Reunahn couldn't hide this morning. Like the proverbial man of the mountain, he kept the secret. A little surprise of great importance, especially now that we know the truth about the third important uncle in Josym's life. Our visitor unwound a most complicated and tragic tale in the drawing room. Over endless cups of cha and kahve, he brought out some of the hidden antiques stored in the attic of familial history. What glorious, wondrous, tragic, secrets were unveiled over the course of several hours. How do I record these memories that I heard? Where do I begin? At the end, perhaps? Josym Huranz was thirty-three at the time of his death on Saleucami. The catastrophe of Order 66 took his life, as it did of those other Jedi swept aside during the First Purge. He was shot at point blank range, after he had tried to defend three padawans in his charge from slaughter... To only focus upon the matter of his death is unjust to the years he was alive. So now I'll shift to those days instead, to provide a better understanding of this exalted son, the last Jedi in a long line that stretched back almost to infinity. Lord Josym Huranz was the second child and son of his parents' marriage. (This was rare one union of convenience on Deiu where the respective spouses actually loved each other. Love is a real bond among the Novordoras clan). He was born late in the evening, in the midst of a thunderstorm. An odd portent that could have come straight from the screens of a melodramatic holonovel, but Arcadin remembered hiding under his bed while the tumult outside the maisone was taking place. His father discovered him under there several hours later when it was time for him to see his new brother. Two sons for the Prestature, what is known as the "heir and spare" among stupid people. Such a blessing--until the Jedi came round. I still don't understand how that process worked, or why those strange monks felt compelled to take away children before they were old enough to even form memories in their brains. But Josym Huranz was less than a month old, and two knights arrived to pull him away from Deiu. No message was sent to the Prestat, or the Council of Ancients. Their prestige afforded rights not likely to be challenged in the courts. On Coruscant, far away at the center of the galaxy, the masters felt a new life form emerged into the Force continuum. By their terms, this infant belonged to their collective, and had to be raised by his kind. So he was taken away from one tribe, to be indoctrinated by another. Ah, the circle of growth in all its imperfect glory. The Huranz clan had no contact with their precious scion until he reached his thirteenth birthday. It was standard practice for the Jedi to create a permanent separation between initiates and their birth cultures. Attachment to any material elements, people and things, was forbidden. Asceticism in many societies seemed the ideal way to pursue all matters of spirit. If this approach is the ultimate means to understanding the divine, I'll never know. But it was agreed upon throughout the ages, and maybe it worked for those groups, so it's useless to debate the merits and flaws of a religious system. Josym Huranz broke that tradition, not just on his birthday, but also many times during the rest of his life. He wasn't the first padawan to reach out and contact his blood kin. There were very few repercussions from On High when the students discovered their backgrounds, though some elders felt this was an indulgence that should have been prohibited. But this son of Deiu was fortunate to have a permissive master, who encouraged him to restore contact with the kin who let their child join the Order thirteen years previously. The first Josym grew into a typical offspring of the Novordoras line: strong, not tall, but well-muscled, a fine sportsman, robust, and possessed with excellent health. Like his future nephew, he was a coppery blond with blue eyes, and gifted with a great joy for life. (I can't imagine how a lively young sort could ever have survived within the constraints of the Temple. I suppose there's a certain kind of freedom for some in the restricted existence of the spiritual life. But from the perspective of one who has spent all her years in a confined role, I can't imagine freedom is possible within the tight swaddling of rules topped by restrictions). Josym The First rose up through the ranks fairly quickly. From the Bear Clan, through the anxious days that passed until he was formally chosen by Master Roisine, and into the start of his career as a knight, he learned the arts of bravery and strength necessary to perform his duties. He went through the Knighting Ceremony at twenty-four, and spent his final nine years traveling from world to world, doing whatever the Council asked. Unfortunately, as he noted in the communiqués to his oldest brother and sister, he was also being sent to do tasks assigned by the Chancellor. He never questioned the dictums of the Code, or the orders passed down from the Dictator-In-Charge and his obedient flock of senators. But in the letters home, Josym revealed all his doubts and disagreements about the actions requested of him and the other knights and padawans in the name of a peaceful Republic. The Jedi weren't meant to be law officers, but Palpatine utilized their services in this capacity anyway. He served as a General, a well-deserved achievement to be sure. But it was ultimately a promotion borne from necessity, since the ranks of experienced leaders were decimated. Relative youth and limited experience in combat didn't prove the drawbacks for him that might have been the case for another man thrust into the same role. Through almost two years of battles, skirmishes, and the oh-far-too-rare lulls, Josym Huranz proved to be a model soldier: fearless, patient, willing to take up both the lightsaber and blaster. Time passed, though, and chipped away at his essential self. His joy, resilience, especially his faith in the superiority of the Light Side, all seeped away. Only the animated shell of a man remained in name and body. He no longer believed in the Force, not after the Council ordered all among their ranks to participate in acts of legislated murder. His sister noticed the fullness of his devastated soul during the week leading up to her wedding. Then, one day, it was over. Josym Huranz was cornered like a game animal with three padawans on Saleucami---a single blaster pierce through the chest ended his life. The Novordoras clan lost a bright treasure, yet it was several years until the truth of his demise was revealed to them (through means not yet revealed, which is no doubt for the best at the present time). One curt message from the newly formed Office of Imperial Military Affairs, Internal Security Division was delivered over a standard comm channel. First there was the insincere opening: "It is with deepest regrets that our establishment must inform you of the death of..." Then came the shock---he was accused of murder and suicide. The poorly constructed legal nonsense was designed to put the family into a state of paranoia. Having a Jedi as part of their bloodline might be turned against them under the new regime. Treason has always been a capital offense, but the definition of what counted as a crime against the state includes almost everything under Imperial law. Being related to a known Force user no doubt ranks in the top five. So Lady Casana had every reason to beg for Lord Arcadin's intervention when her unborn child was threatened. Mtah Di'sallach was not making an idle threat that night---he truly wanted to kill his son. I briefly held some hope after the oubliette revelation that perhaps Josym's father was simply an evil-tongue man who was given to saying horrible things when under the influence of intoxicants. Which isn't to say that would be any excuse, but it would mean the Prestat is only a mean and petty ignorant fool. But no, he's a creature far more despicable, and to know that man would take the most traumatic experience of his wife's family and use it to solidify power in his marriage...it's beyond comprehension!! He was, and still is, prejudiced against sensitives, for what reason only his withered dead heart knows and would never reveal even past death. Yet, in some tiny grace of fortune, he lacked the necessary influence to get rid of his spouse and future heir. If only he had chosen to participate in politics instead of being the typical apathetic aristocrat, then he might have become First Minister and leader of the Ancients' Council. Then it would have been legal for him to practice random acts of petty tyranny, and the freedom to enact revenge against those he despised. Fortunately, he's never been ambitious. Indolence can be a blessing, yes? The night ended with the weight of past tragedies upon our shoulders; when Lord Arcadin finished his tale, no one seated in the drawing room spoke. What more than silence could be the proper conclusion to the revelations that had poured forth into our brains? Now Josym can finally begin to fathom the origins of his gift, and the awareness of the truth behind his namesake's life and death. This latter pursuit shall become interesting now that he has inherited his uncle's signet ring. This token of days past will now be a permanent fixture on his right hand, littlest finger, as once dictated by ancient Jedi custom. This precious gift was received upon the first Josym’s accession to Padawan. It’s a simple circle made from burnished gold chromium, inset with a carving of Najahal in her full ascent regalia. His uncle wore it until he became a Knight. Eventually, it found a refuge at the Maisone Lyris when he came home for Lady Casana's wedding. It has remained in the possession of Lord Arcadin for all this time. He suspected that someday it might prove wise to pass along the heirloom. Now this ring is in the custody of a new and rightful owner. May the Deities grant the Empire shall cease to be a curse of the present, and soon become a cautionary lesson for the future consigned to history texts and memoirs. Then perhaps all that he’s learned tonight can actually be used for a purpose. Given what transpired this evening, I didn't get a chance to speak with Josym about other matters, especially the discs he's had custody of for the last few weeks. Ever since I passed them into his care while we stood in the closet, it's been a mystery what he thinks of the contents. Recent matters have prevented us from discussing it---but since the past is becoming relevant, perhaps we'll get an opportunity to talk.
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