The Tragedy of Darth Christus the Righteous
PALPATINE (with measured amusement): Did the Jedi ever tell you the tragedy of Darth Christus the Righteous?
ANAKIN (turning away from the performance, intrigued): Darth…Christus? I've never heard that name in any Jedi teachings.
PALPATINE (knowingly amused): Nor would you. Such teachings are carefully concealed—locked deep within the Jedi archives, under labels like "heretical doctrines" and "forbidden knowledge." Darth Christus was once a Jedi himself—extraordinarily powerful, unusually virtuous. Sith lore maintains that he could manipulate midichlorians directly—multiply them at will, traverse nebulae unharmed, even nourish five thousand younglings from a single ration pack—though, of course, these accounts may contain a certain poetic embellishment.
ANAKIN (skeptical, yet curious): That sounds dangerously close to heresy.
PALPATINE (gently, with quiet intensity): Precisely why neither Jedi nor Sith could tolerate him. Christus began teaching radical notions—that the Force belonged equally to all beings, regardless of lineage or midichlorian count. He preached compassion instead of vengeance, mercy even toward the irredeemable, redemption outside all known doctrines. Most intriguing of all, he supposedly had power to save others from death—yet willingly chose not to spare himself.
ANAKIN (curious, confused): Why wouldn't he save himself if he truly possessed such power?
PALPATINE (quietly deliberate): Perhaps to illustrate a deeper truth beyond mere strength—something no Jedi Council or Sith Lord could possibly abide. His message of love, humility, and forgiveness threatened to unravel their carefully preserved balance of control. After all, both Jedi ritualism and Sith ambition depend upon the authority of their respective orders—neither could permit a teaching that offered true freedom and reconciliation to the galaxy.
ANAKIN: So…he became everyone's enemy?
PALPATINE (voice edged with bitter irony): Ultimately, yes. The Jedi arrested him first, charging him with heresy, corruption of younglings, and defilement of their sacred ways. Quite conveniently, the Sith quietly lent support from the shadows. Perhaps it was the only recorded instance of Jedi and Sith openly cooperating—uniting to snuff out an idea powerful enough to threaten both orders.
ANAKIN: They collaborated to execute him?
PALPATINE (darkly amused): Indeed. After a public display—a travesty of justice carefully orchestrated by Jedi priests and Sith inquisitors—he was condemned and put to death. But instead of eliminating his teachings, their actions only magnified them. In a cruel twist, Christus became infinitely more influential after his execution than before.
ANAKIN (pondering deeply): Did anyone ever truly grasp the message he left behind?
PALPATINE (with a slight sigh): Some claimed to understand. His followers insisted he had conquered death itself, ascending beyond mortal limits through the Force—but skeptics naturally dismiss this as hopeful myth. Nonetheless, his teachings linger, troubling Jedi meditation halls and whispering restlessly through Sith sanctuaries. Remarkably, in sacrificing himself, he may have achieved the ultimate victory.
ANAKIN (uncertainly, after a pause): Do you think such teachings—even such powers—are actually possible?
PALPATINE (leaning forward subtly, voice lowered with quiet certainty): Certainly not from a Jedi...