The snowy haired imp paused and stood his ground as a devious little glint flickered in his somber jade green eyes.
Braze paused, taking a moment to consider the woman's argument and her somewhat dismissive departure. It was clear to him that while he had hoped for a robust debate, the woman seemed more interested in asserting her superiority than engaging in genuine discourse. He mused to himself about the irony of the situation. Here he was, a young Padawan, open to questioning historical narratives and eager for intellectual challenge, only to be met with condescension rather than constructive conversation.
He began to wonder if perhaps her demeanor was not just a momentary lapse but a more ingrained trait. Could it be that she was naturally predisposed to narcissism, incapable of genuine intellectual debate? It seemed she was all too willingly wrapped up in her own self-absorbed fantasies, adorned with delusions of grandeur where her views stood high above everyone else's, beyond reproach and beyond the possibility of being wrong.
"Strange," he thought,
"how some who claim to know the truth are the least willing to question it when presented with a different perspective." Her insistence on the genetic lineage of Revan as indisputable fact, without presenting concrete proof or acknowledging the possibility of historical manipulation, struck him as a curious way to approach a debate. Almost as if she believed her self to be omnipotent of history. Perhaps she believed herself to be some deific being.
It seemed to Braze that she preferred to inhabit a fantasy where her views were the center of the universe, equating her beliefs with cold, hard facts, without the rigor of proof. This, to him, was not the path of true knowledge but a mirror of the very hubris and closed-mindedness that the tales of old warned against.
Braze's demeanor shifted from defensive to inquisitively assertive as he responded.
"But let's consider the evidence systematically—were those genetic reports ever peer-reviewed, or are we just taking them at face value? It's essential to validate such critical data, especially in a galaxy where cloning and data manipulation are commonplace." His voice conveyed a genuine curiosity, laced with a trace of skepticism about the veracity of the records.
"I would rather learn for myself and question and seek the truth," he continued, warming to his theme.
"Consider this possibility: the individual known as Revan likely existed, but what if the legend of Darth Revan has been grossly exaggerated or even entirely fabricated? History is often written by the victors, who can twist the facts to fit a narrative that serves their purposes."
Pausing for a moment, he looked around, ensuring he had the attention of his audience.
"I'd like to see these reports referenced by a credible source, one that has no stake in the lore of Revan. If these documents or genetic proofs are as concrete as claimed, they should withstand rigorous scrutiny and debate. Why? Because that is the only way we can truly honor our commitment as Jedi to uphold the truth."
He leaned forward, his gaze intense and focused.
"We must challenge what we're taught to accept as historical fact. We cannot afford to blindly follow legends without questioning their origins and accuracy. "
He paused as he shifted his weight to another foot and packed the rest of his things in to a messenger bag.
"And as for the Dread Pirate Roberts, it's from an old story, a title is passed down to maintain a legacy, regardless of the original person's involvement. It illustrates my point perfectly—legends can be manufactured and maintained without the original individual. I feel genuinely sorry for what your childhood may have been if you don't know about the famed dread Pirate Roberts. "
He paused, a rueful smile crossing his face as he added,
"And don't worry, I'm not about to claim Coruscant is flat or endorse ancient superweapons. I'm just advocating for a more critical examination of what we accept as historical fact."
It would seem he was keenly aware of other silly nonsensical theorists that existed and perhaps he knew exactly what he was doing with his little booth.
Yet somewhere, somehow, a whisper lingered in the cosmos, as if the universe itself held the true secret... that mischief was not just Braze's pastime, but the very fuel that drove him.
