Learning his craft, no matter how unwillingly.
Because now he was waiting to see his Master again, intending to ask one last time for permission to lead the task force. But he had something new to throw into the pot, one last lure; his most persuasive yet.
The ripple had been subtle as a whisper, a gentle sigh cast to the ether and let loose. The final breath of a thankless life.
But Luke had sensed it, some distant, twisted connection to his old Master remaining despite the distance, both physical and spiritual, which separated them now. Sat cross-legged in the silence of meditation on the ebonised wood of the cavernous Practice Hall floor, he had stilled in rapt, focused attention, his lightsaber laid before him, sweat from the hours-long training session cold against still-heated skin, studying the subtle ripples of cause and effect within the Force.
His ability to meditate following the exertion of duelling exercises was incredibly heightened by the intense concentration required to master his art. If nothing else, the long years he had spent here beneath Palpatine's demanding, uncompromising scrutiny had presented him the reason to develop a precise, powerful attunement to the Force, partly because he learned from and desired to improve upon the formidable, flawless example set by his self-assured Master and partly as vital defence before this most unforgiving of critics.
Was it Darkness that he touched now? Was he lost, that he could call this raw, dynamic power so decisively and fluidly to him, and if so, then why could he dismiss it with equal effortless ease?
Because he could step beyond it, could reach out with precise, delicate focus to slide between the hair's-breadth chink, the brink which separated shadows from darkness, to connect with a unique, distinctive power of such incredible, flawless harmony that with it he could almost feel the galaxy turning, sensing the infinitesimal changes in currents and eddies which marked any event of relevance, tracing their effect spreading out into the void, complex patterns of reality and potential overlaying and rebounding...
And it was here that he sensed the shift, frail and insubstantial, gone in an instant.
It was strangely reassuring that the passing of a single life, even one as significant as this, caused barely a ripple on the surface of that complex order. Humbling to realise how utterly inconsequential the lives of even the most influential of beings were in the greater scheme of things, the galaxy rolling on heedless of their struggles, failures and accomplishments both.
Still, he felt a certain sadness... regret even, that events had unfolded this way. The last thing he had said to his old Master was that he would return. Now that option was spent- though perhaps it had been long before today.
Luke opened his eyes and stared at the burnished black floor, allowing a moment of silence out of respect if no greater sentiment; he was, after all, probably the only being in the galaxy who had a close enough connection with Master Yoda to have sensed his passing.
The moment stilled, expectant...
The only being with a close enough connection...
Now, finally did the wave of effect impact against his receptive perceptions-
He rose quickly, heading for the door, plans and tactics whirling through his mind. He had an audience with his present Master to arrange - and Master Yoda was the subject.
.
Ushered in by Mas Amedda, Luke walked quickly the length of the Private Audience Chamber, working hard to conceal his anticipation and intent. It was a gamble, he knew, but one he was willing to take - at this point, with time running out before Mon Mothma's meticulously-induced trip to Bothawuii, a calculated risk was a reasonable one.
Chances were that his past close association to Master Yoda had afforded Luke the connection to sense what Palpatine had not; he had, after all, been unaware of the old Jedi Master's continued existence before Luke had exposed him.
Which meant that for once, Luke held the upper hand; knowledge was power, his Master had drummed that into his head time and again. Well now he had something that Palpatine wanted - had always wanted - but until now, Luke had been unwilling to relinquish.
Now, if he played his hand well, Luke had a chance at what he wanted- what he needed in order to move forward.
.
Palpatine watched his Jedi walk smoothly the length of the chamber, new purpose in his step. One week after being denied permission to go after Mothma, his Jedi had not been so impolitic as to mention his objective again yet, but Palpatine had been waiting for his next move. Tenacious as he was, the boy didn't give up on anything so easily, particularly something of this much importance to him, so the Emperor had been curious as to his Jedi's next strategy.
He remained furious that Skywalker had interacted with the Rebellion, no matter how remotely, in order to secure his objective, and no matter how much Skywalker maintained that luring Mon Mothma out of hiding was his only objective, there was a greater issue at stake here, one that seemed not to have occurred to the boy as yet.
Whether he believed Skywalker or not was immaterial- the fact remained that his Jedi had been able to conceal enough information from Palpatine to be able to carry out this complete operation, probably over a protracted period whilst he was in the Palace recovering from the attack, without once revealing any aspect of it to Palpatine, either physically or mentally.
Which brought up the disturbing realisation that the boy could now lie to him very effectively-
What else was Skywalker hiding?
He dropped to one knee before Palpatine now, head lowered, long, dark hair still wet from the 'fresher following the extended lightsaber practice which he always hid behind when incarcerated here in the Palace, falling back on countless hours alone in the Practice Hall as a method of remaining removed from Court and the company of the unworthy, the power-hungry, the Courtiers and the sycophants which populated any center of true authority.
The boy hated them all, Palpatine knew, though he himself rather enjoyed their company; it remained a constant fascination how low sentient beings would stoop to realise their own greedy ambitions. A private entertainment to push until he found each one's breaking point.... and then to coax them that little bit further.
True power lay not in the possession of planets and systems, but in the complete control of those who lived their lives within his influence. To own one soul - to truly command it - was worth a system of planets, more addictive than any dry and distant census of populace and assets.
The boy had yet to realise that... but he was learning; Palpatine hadn't failed to notice the changing dynamics of his relationship with his 'watcher', Mara Jade. In hindsight, she had presumably become an impediment when he had begun his operation to snare Mothma, and unable to remove her without drawing attention to the fact, he'd begun a far subtler game.
Whatever it was that had brought him to his Master today, it was significant. Mas Amedda had received a short visit from Skywalker less than an hour earlier and had promptly cancelled and rearranged long-standing appointments planned for that morning, entering when Palpatine's previous meeting was finished to inform the Emperor of the 'essential' schedule changes, completely committed to providing The Heir with immediate access.
It was rare indeed that the boy used the Force to compel his requirements on Palpatine's personal staff, not least because he knew that his Master disapproved- as point of principle rather than any more benevolent consideration. Still, it amused him that his fallen Jedi had done this now- and to Amedda, enforcing his will so adeptly and so completely that the Chancellor still had no idea that he'd been manipulated.