He didn’t speak out of anger. He didn’t need to.

The Jedi sat bound to the chair—wounded, silent as ever, their navy coloured uniform dirty with soil after long fights. Their face was sounded, with many bruises and wounds which came from the branches they had been climbing on earlier when escaping from Kreel's squad.

“You fought well,” Kreel said finally, his voice low and steady. “Most don’t last five minutes against my squad. You lasted thirty minutes." His eyes held a hint of respect, but the Jedi couldn't see his face anyway.

He stepped further into the room, gaze flicking down to the hilt on his belt.

“Recognize the color?” he asked, almost quietly. “I earned this in the arena. Didn’t expect to carry it into war again.” His eyes behind the stormtrooper helmet scanned the former Jedi Master, his body freezing for a moment, unmoving, as if he was studying them. Entirely.

He stood tall in the room, hands clasped together behind his back now, more of a soldier now than an interrogator.

“You don’t have to make this harder than it is. I ask questions. You answer. Maybe you can still live in the end."

He paused.

“Name, rank, Which Temple trained you.”

A long moment passed between them, and he began walking towards the captive.

“I know what you were taught. But you're not in the Temple anymore. You're in Imperial custody now... You understand what that means, I'm sure.” For some reason, he didn't threaten them with his lightsaber just yet. He was surprised by that. But he couldn't deny that he respected this former peacekeeper.