JEDI HoloNet

Aydirn Harlon Talon Calenarth was born on 452.14 ABY, in the mist-veiled highlands of Serenno, on the outskirts of what is now known as The Third Estate He was the second son of Lord Adenoyd Hadron Diego Calenarth, a senior statesman on the Estate Council and third cousin to Serenno’s crown prince. His elder brother, Otto Gunnar Marius Calenarth II, was the heir apparent to House Calenarth—bred from birth to serve the regime. Aydirn, though noble by blood, was cast in a different mold.

Not long after his birth, the marriage between Lord Adenoyd and his wife, Carolin Sylvia Aela Da’al—a noblewoman from a house known for publicly opposing Serenno’s annexation into the Estate—was annulled without explanation. Her name was quietly erased from official records. Her once-prominent family, long vocal in the planetary senate, was accused of sedition and exiled during the political purges that followed Serenno’s realignment. Aydirn never saw his mother again. Within the stone-laced halls of Castle Calenarth, her name was never spoken. The maternal bloodline was treated like a tolerated stain. He was raised without answers.

Though a second son, Aydirn received the finest education privilege could buy. His instructors were decorated scholars and tutors, their robes stitched with accolades. They came expecting arrogance and indifference from another spoiled noble child—but what they found unsettled them: a boy who learned without being taught, who corrected errors in political treatises from memory, who seemed to perceive truths others missed.

Aydirn was not outwardly curious. He did not ask questions. He obeyed, studied, memorized. Yet his grasp of language, logic, and subtle human cues was astonishing. He could sense reprimands before they were voiced. He once described the uniform of a guest moments before the footman announced them. What began as precocious intuition slowly turned into something more unnerving.

Among his tutors was a visiting scholar—secretly sent by the Da’al family to gather news of the children they had been forced to leave behind. While quietly submitting reports, the scholar also recorded Aydirn’s uncanny abilities. He used his lectures to weave in the suppressed history of House Da’al and the legacy of the Jedi Order, which was carefully obscured by political censorship up to that point. It wasn’t long before Aydirn began connecting these fragments to his own life—just as unseen wheels began to turn.

In hushed tones, a Jedi Watchman submitted a report to the Jedi Council. The boy was not merely gifted. He was powerful in the Force—and he was being raised at the heart of a regime whose expansionist doctrine had already drawn the scrutiny of the Republic.

The decision came swiftly, and in total secrecy.

One evening, after an extended study in planetary jurisprudence, Aydirn was summoned to the terrace by a steward. There, a silent vessel waited. No explanation was offered—only a cryptic reassurance: “Everything will be sorted out.” There was no farewell from Otto. No mention of his mother. No glance from his father. His departure was as silent as the boy himself—observant, obedient, and without complaint.