“He wasn’t entirely wrong about me, though.”
Kyolath turned back his way. “What?”
Lathril looked straight ahead. “Darth Merce was right. Fear… is my weakness.”
The Mandalorian continued to stare at him — or whatever was happening behind that T-shaped visor. Somehow Lathril found it easier than talking to a face as he went on, though. “I knew terrible fear facing my first Sith. She had been threatening a camp of refugees on Taris, and she unleashed a pair of giant gundarks on my Padawan and I. When one came for me, the ground shook under its feet… it was like the split second between knowing you are about to crash and your speeder going up in flames. I just… froze up.”
Kyolath said nothing. Lathril felt forced to fill the silence.
“My Padawan was all that saved me that day. She didn’t hesitate or doubt. I did. I…” The old shame suddenly flooded him. “I fear I am not worthy to be Jedi.”
“Then what is left?” said Kyolath, and his tone of impatience rattled Lathril’s thoughts. “You wield a lightsaber; you use the Force . If you’re not Jedi, are you Sith?”
“I-no. I don’t know.”
“It seems a very limiting philosophy to me,” said Kyolath dryly. “Consider this then, before I leave you alone to sulk about the Sith as you will. If emotion is so wrong in your order, than why would you revere Keelath for loving his family?”
“That is not why he was revered.”
“Is it? Where do you think he found the strength to face the Dark Siders, if not by what he would lose?”
“I’m not sure how this is relevant.”
“Or perhaps that is why he fell to the Dark Side,” mused Kyolath. He paused, perhaps to gauge his effect on the young Jedi. Or perhaps he was sorting through his own thoughts. “…it is true, that unbridled emotion can lead to disaster, and that is as true for love as it is for hate. However, there is no getting rid of such things. If you had felt no fear before crashing your speeder, or fighting the gundarks, you would be little more than a droid — or worse, considering how advanced the things are becoming these days.
“That is the lesson the Jedi got wrong, just as the Sith got wrong that passion is everything. Your goal should not be to never feel fear, Lathril; it should be to control it.”
“What? I should wield it like a Sith?” Lathril said sharply, eyeing Kyolath.
“If it suits, perhaps,” said Kyolath carefully, and his helmet faced another direction. His tone went vague, as if he was reciting something out of memory. “Ever you should keep your goal in mind, and be aware that the means can corrupt the ends, for all will be measured.”
“…that sounds like the Jedi teaching of conviction.”
Kyolath’s helmet turned back towards him. “Yes.”
Lathril opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Kyolath touched his shoulder. “I’m not saying you should go be like Darth Merce, Lathril. That boy has his own lessons to learn. But don’t you be so afraid of your own fear. Remember what I said. True strength is acknowledging your weaknesses. If your weakness is fear, so be it. Decide what to do about that, Jedi. And decide with conviction, Sunwalker-descendant.”
Lathril looked up at him, blinking. “I never thought I’d hear Jedi wisdom on the tongue of a Mandalorian.”
Kyolath snorted. “What about on the tongue of your commander? I would have you trust and learn from me, if you do nothing else.”
Lathril hesitated, then gave Kyolath a slight bow. “Yes, sir.”
“Very well then, Sunwalker. I’ve had my fill of lecturing you. Get out of here, and if Darth Merce tests you again, I expect you to rise to it, not cause a scene.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”
“You are dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.” And Lathril turned away, riding the lift down with more confusion than he had rode with on the way up. When he reached the bottom, he wondered if he had revealed too much. He had not meant to tell Kyolath about the gundarks, but somehow the Commander had drawn it out of him, just as his son, Darth Merce, had drawn out his fear and anger.
But unlike Merce’s manipulations, which felt all twisted and sick, Kyolath’s words had rung with truth. The same feeling, as when Lathril had seen the Commander’s strangely familiar name flash up on the datapad, filled him now.
“The teaching of conviction…”