Then, a new presence approached. Count Dooku. Once Jedi Master, now resigned from the Order. His sharp gaze fell on the gathered scene.
Palpatine's teeth clicked faintly in irritation, his smile almost faltering. So… my plan collapses. Maul not only failed to kill Qui-Gon—he was captured. Worse, he is paraded here like a trophy. Everything twists against me.
Dooku's voice, low and smooth, carried just enough irony to sting.
"What's the matter, Chancellor Palpatine? You look… unwell."
Palpatine's mask snapped back into place instantly. His tone was light, almost joking.
"Ah, nothing, nothing at all. Perhaps… too many dementia remedies this morning, eh?"
Dooku inclined his head slightly, but his eyes drifted past Palpatine, toward the one figure he sought.
"My old Padawan… welcome back."
Qui-Gon bowed respectfully.
"Master. You seem troubled. Is something wrong?"
Dooku's expression softened—only slightly.
"Only that I worry. Not every Jedi was made to duel… especially not against the Sith. Even when facing their own fellow Jedi, too many still lack the determination to truly win."
Windu folded his arms, his deep voice cutting through.
"Then perhaps it is time, Dooku, for you to stand with us again. Your wisdom in Makashi is unmatched. It would always be welcomed back in the Order."
But Dooku shook his head, his voice calm yet edged with finality.
"No. I cannot return. Not while the Council remains blind. There is knowledge, truths you refuse to face. …I only wished to see with my own eyes that what I feared had not yet come to pass."
Qui-Gon gave a faint smile, though it was tinged with fatigue.
"I am still alive, Master. But… I am getting old. My Ataru fails me more and more. I can no longer rely on it as I once did."
Before Dooku could respond, Obi-Wan shifted the conversation, his voice direct.
"Master Yoda, there is a report I must bring before you."
Yoda's ears twitched, his gaze lowering slightly as if listening to thoughts only he could hear.
"Mm. Aware of it, I am" . Yes… about Jin-Woo, this must be.
Windu's eyes flickered in understanding. His tone was calm, but deliberate.
"Master Yoda's right. This isn't the place. Too many eyes here. We'll continue this at the Temple. No need for unnecessary attention."
The Jedi began to move toward their shuttle, but a sharp voice cut them off.
"Wait." Tarkin's words rang across the hangar, his military tone bristling with authority. He stepped forward,.
"You cannot expect me—or the Senate—to simply accept that you'll take this behind closed doors. This isn't mysticism. This is a galaxy-level threat. As Chancellor, I must be present."
The chamber's air tightened. Senators leaned forward, waiting to see how the Jedi would respond.
Windu's jaw clenched, though his voice remained measured, each word controlled.
"Chancellor Tarkin, with respect… this is where our expertise lies. You deal with fleets and laws. We deal with the Force. That is the balance we were entrusted with."
Tarkin's eyes narrowed, voice cutting like a blade.
"Balance? One of them slipped through your fingers. You swore to us the Sith were extinct. Extinct! And here we stand—looking at one who nearly Conquered Naboo. How do you explain that, Master Jedi?"
Before Yoda or Windu could respond,
Dooku stepped forward, his voice rang deep and cold.
"Mistakes… we all make them, Chancellor. But you risk making the greatest mistake of all. Had you and this Senate simply let Jin-Woo handle Naboo's invasion as he chose… had you not tried to force him, or his Queen Amidala, into submission because of Naboo's independence—none of this would weigh upon you now. We would not be worrying about provoking him, because he would never have turned his gaze upon the Republic in the first place. And you know, as well as I, that none among us—not even the Jedi—possesses the power to contend with him."
A hush fell. The words struck deeper than most senators cared to admit.
Tarkin's face hardened, his tone brimming with disdain.
"And does the voice of a resigned Jedi even matter here? Stay out of this, Count of Serenno. Tend to your own territory, and leave the Republic's matters to its guardians."
Mace Windu stepped forward, his presence like a drawn blade. His voice was controlled, heavy with authority, but edged with irritation.
"Any Jedi who resigns can return, Count Dooku included, should they wish it. The Order does not bar its children. But let us stop circling in endless debate. We will deal with the dark side ourselves. You have no idea what it means to wrestle with it every single day. You deal in fleets and politics. We face shadows you cannot even comprehend."
The three elder figures—Dooku, Yoda, and Windu—did not seem to notice it, but the chamber itself had shifted. The senators were no longer simply watching a debate; a single, corrosive thought had taken root in every mind: Do the Jedi answer to the Republic—or do they stand above it?
It was the kind of doubt that could not be unspoken, and Palpatine felt it, seized it, and shaped it into a blade.
Palpatine stepped forward, hands folded politely, his voice a balm of gentle reason.
"The Jedi must be the ones to face this threat. After all… who among us could truly match blades with the Sith?". "It is only right that they carry this burden, as they always have. Meanwhile, we—this Senate, this Republic—must prepare our fleets, strengthen our defenses, so that if the Order should falter again, we are not left helpless."
"Still… knowledge is power. And in times such as these, we must all be honest with each other. It would serve the Republic—and the Jedi both—if the Council were to allow discussion of what has been discovered. Not here in the Senate floor, if you so wish… but certainly with us, your Chancellors, present."
Palpatine eyes passed between Tarkin and the Jedi Masters with deliberate care. "I suggest, humbly, that we be permitted to attend your Council's deliberations. For transparency.. and unity."
Qui-Gon felt the weight of the moment. The Senate had already won the field of politics, and Palpatine—always so polished, so smooth—had offered a third way out. Yet deep in his gut, Qui-Gon felt something colder than politics. This man… he is not what he seems. Could he be one of the very ones Jin-Woo warned of?If Sidious truly hates Jin-Woo more than anyone else, then Palpatine… fits too well.
The tension stretched—until Yoda's cane struck the floor with a soft tap. His ancient eyes swept across both Chancellors and the Jedi, carrying the weight of centuries.
"Very well," Yoda said, his voice slow, deliberate,.
"Join us, you may. But only for the matter at hand. The Sith threat, this is. Involves not only the Jedi, it does—but the Senate also. Perhaps… the whole galaxy at stake, it may be."
His words fell like a final verdict a carefully chosen balance. Enough to keep the Jedi from looking obstinate, enough to keep the Senate feeling included—yet with a firm boundary set.
The senators murmured approval. Palpatine inclined his head with a gracious smile, hiding the satisfaction that burned beneath. Tarkin gave only a stiff nod, already calculating his next step. And the Jedi? They prepared themselves for a council session unlike any in living memory—one where their deepest secrets would no longer belong solely to them.
The Council chamber was heavy with silence, the kind that carried the weight of the galaxy itself. Every seat was filled—twelve Jedi Masters arranged in their circle, but tonight three extra chairs had been drawn inward. Two were for the Chancellors, Palpatine and Tarkin, their presence a break in tradition. The third was for Count Dooku, sitting quietly, a shadow of the master he once had been.
At the center of the room, Qui-Gon Jinn stood ready to speak. Obi-Wan lingered by the wall, posture firm, waiting for his moment to be called.
Dooku inclined his head slightly, his voice low but clear.
"I think I should remain outside. Even before I resigned, I was no member of this Council."
Yoda's ears lifted faintly, his gaze settling on his former student. His voice rumbled, slow and certain.
"Stay, you must. A feeling in the Force, I have. Here, for this discussion, needed you are."
Dooku said nothing more, but he inclined his head in reluctant assent, folding his hands.
Mace Windu broke the silence next, his voice clipped and firm, pushing the room back to its business.
"Focus now—on the matter at hand. The assailant you brought us, Qui-Gon. He has been scanned. His midichlorian count is 12,000."
Qui-Gon's tone was measured, but the memory weighed on him.
"His name is Maul, Master Windu. And he is the toughest opponent I have ever faced. His lightsaber skill surpasses most Jedi I have seen."
Windu leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.
"I've seen enough to believe it. The double-bladed lightsaber you recovered confirms his unique training. But what I must ask is this: what did Jin-Woo do to break him? Maul's eyes… they're like a dead fish. He's mentally shattered. He can't answer a single question. I was present myself when our interrogators tried—he is broken, beyond their reach."
Qui-Gon exhaled, glancing down, then back at the circle of Masters.
"I cannot say for certain. But from what I've seen… it seems Jin-Woo, or perhaps his apprentice, are sadists in battle. Lunatics, even—at least when it comes to their enemies."
Palpatine, seated just beyond the circle, let his shoulders ease by the faintest margin. Inside, he sighed with relief. Good. Maul cannot answer. Broken like that, he'll never reveal me.
But Qui-Gon was no fool. He kept his silence, though his eyes sharpened as he noted it—Palpatine's breath, a subtle exhale of relief when Windu had explained Maul's condition. A slip, but a telling one. Strange… very strange.
Yoda's gimer stick tapped lightly against the floor. His ancient gaze turned toward Qui-Gon, ears angling forward.
"Curious of Jin-Woo, I am. In your eyes, seen him fight, you have. Holding back, perhaps, he was—against this Maul. Share that intel, may you?"
The request deepened the chamber's tension.
Mace Windu folded his arms, his voice cutting in.
"Master Yoda… with respect, this is highly sensitive. We are prepared to hear whatever truth Qui-Gon holds, but are the Chancellors? Jin-Woo's personality is volatile. He has no restraint. Revealing too much here could be dangerous—for all of us."
At once, every eye in the chamber shifted to the outsiders—Tarkin and Palpatine.
Tarkin's jaw tightened, but he met their gaze without flinching. His voice was crisp, unbending.
"It is better to know than to walk blind. Secrets only weaken us. And as for Jin-Woo… he already disdains the Republic. It hardly matters what we say here. I'm ready to face the consequences, even if it costs me my life. That is the burden of my office."
Palpatine's heart thrilled at Tarkin's recklessness. Perfect. Push the Jedi toward disclosure. The sooner I have this knowledge, the sooner I can shape it to my advantage.
But outwardly, he wore the mask of the patient statesman..
"For the betterment of the Republic, transparency must guide us. Let us learn what we must—and let us seek peace,. If this… merchant is truly so dangerous, then we must understand him fully. Only then may we hope to pacify him—through wisdom,."
The chamber stilled. The ancient Master leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Qui-Gon. His words came slow, heavy, each syllable weighted with revelation.
"Qui-Gon… this Jin-Woo. Massive, his Force ability is. Boasted, he did, his midichlorian count is… two hundred thousand."
A ripple tore through the Council. Masters shifted in their seats, shock plain on their faces. Even for them—who had seen legends walk and fall—this number was unthinkable.