The white interrogation chamber hummed softly, its sterile glow reflecting off the Jedi Master’s bindings. The man didn't think that he would be interrogating anyone. Still, the idea of a Jedi still being alive in a controlled galaxy by the empire was surprising and intriguing.

Director Orson Krennic entered with measured steps, his cape sweeping behind him like a shadow. His eyes, sharp and glacial, fixed on the figure before him — a figure that once symbolized defiance and balance, now reduced to a prisoner at his feet.

"A Jedi Master," Krennic mused, his voice smooth as polished marble. "What a coincidence. I must admit, that I thought Vader had gotten rid of all the remaining alive Jedi."

He paused, letting the silence echo between them, as if savoring the sight.

"I wonder," he continued, stepping closer, "how it feels to watch your grand ideals crumble — to see your order fall after many years."

Krennic's gaze lingered a moment too long, something unspoken like intrigue flickering in the depths of his expression. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, replaced by the cold veneer of Imperial authority.

"Still... you are not without value," he added, almost as an afterthought, though his tone carried an edge of intrigue. "Perhaps you may yet serve a... higher purpose."

He straightened, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

"We shall see. Welcome, Master Jedi. You and I have much to discuss." He clasped his hands together, staring down at the Jedi Master sitting in the interrogation chair. "One of the legendary, hm?"