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Cal was never the most academic student. He knew that. His memory was better than Human standard, but memorization was never his favorite thing.
There was exactly one exception to this rule.
The Eternal Story was an epic poem, sometimes performed as a play, detailing the entire history of the Jedi Order, all twenty-five thousand years of it. It told of everything from major rules to important cultural practices like pyres for the dead and the Gathering at Ilum to even the silly traditions like the annual youngling play. It had landmark duels, important achievements of the Order, and notes on the constant debate between members on the best flavor of tea. Each year, the epic was updated, the number of stanzas added dependent on how eventful the year was.
The condensed version of the epic took nine days to recite in Basic and twelve to recite in Dai Bendu. The full version took sixteen days in Basic and a whopping twenty in Dai Bendu. Cal knew he was at least a little bit insane because he memorized the full play in the original Dai Bendu.
It started as an exercise from an old crechemaster to work on his pronunciation, history of the Order, and focus. Cal was the only youngling he knew of who continued memorizing stanzas after ageing out of that particular crechemaster’s care. It was soothing for him. It calmed him, tracing out the history of his people in melodic verses. After a particularly bad psychometric episode, Master Tapal had realized its potential as a way to quickly recover, and since then, Cal recited the Eternal Story after every echo that left him sick to his stomach. He even started reciting it during meditative actions - not during meditation itself, he preferred use his lineage meditation mantras or to not speak at all, but if he was on kitchen duty or knitting with the Knitting Club that a couple squads in Pine Battalion formed, he would usually end up reciting the Eternal Story under his breath.
After the Purge, it became exponentially more important. Cal lost his master, his culture, everything. He knew it wasn’t safe to recite the Eternal Story, but he ran through it in his head, finding comfort in how he could follow lines through their stanzas and know the words even if he could not recall them off the top of his head. When it became clear that the Jedi Council did not survive, that his culture was dead and the Empire was twisting what little remained, Cal made a vow to not forget.
His connection to the Force was broken. His master and everyone he’d ever cared about was dead. His culture was already being tarnished and forgotten scarily easily. He would not lose this connection to his history as well.
The other scrappers thought he was weird. Wiry human kid with a Corrie accent, spouting nonsense and getting seizures on shift. Cal didn’t really care. They all kept their mouths shut because Cal was the best at climbing the most precarious structures and squeezing himself into the smallest spaces, and none of them wanted to risk the dangerous work Cal did if they could have someone else do it. As Imperial security increased, Cal’s whispers grew quieter, until he only dared speak Dai Bendu in his head. But he never stopped telling himself his history.
Once he joined the crew of the Mantis, he allowed himself to start saying it aloud again. Cere sometimes used Dai Bendu words or phrases with him, and honestly? He felt more comfortable there than he had in the last five years, maybe more. Here, his now-mindless recitation of the Eternal Story was okay. It would not get him hurt.
In fact, telling himself the Eternal Story was now so second nature that when Merrin asked what he was muttering while he was working on his lightsaber, it took a few minutes for Cal to realize what she asked.
“You were saying something, Cal Kestis,” Merrin insisted.
“What?” Cal asked, exasperated. “I wasn’t saying anything, I was probably just mumbling some of the lyrics to Suugan Essena.”
Merrin scowled. “It was absolutely not that. It was a language I do not know but, I recognized some of the words from things that Cere says, so–”
“Oh, wait!” Cal said. “I know what you’re talking about. That’s just the Eternal Story.”
“The what?”
“The Eternal Story,” Cal explained. “It’s this super long poem-play that tells the entire history of the Jedi Order, all twenty-five thousand years of it. They used to update it every year, but of course since the Purge . . .” He trailed off.
Merrin looked contemplative. “Twenty-five thousand years? That must be a very long poem.”
Cal nodded. “Yeah, the full version in the original language is twenty days.”
“How much of it do you know?”
“All of it.”
“Impossible,” Merring stated. “You are lying.”
“No, I’m not!” Cal insisted, laughing and rubbing the back of his neck. “I know all of it. It’s actually pretty simple, at one point I just start saying the next words out of habit and I follow that stream all the way through the poem. It was super helpful during my Order History and Force Philosphy exams.”
“Because you knew when all the important philosophies and arguments happened.” Merrin nodded. “Clever.”
“You know the entire Eternal Story?” Cal and Merrin turned to see Cere standing in the doorway, a shellshocked expression on her face. “The entire Eternal Story?”
“Um, yeah,” Cal answered, hesitant. “I can’t, like, go to a specific section on demand unless I left off there, but once I start, I can go through the whole thing.”
“Cal,” Cere started, excitement growing on her face. “Do you understand how important that is? We lost the Archives when the Temple fell and every day the Empire erases our history, but Cal, you know our whole history.”
Cal furrowed his brow for a moment, then his jaw dropped in realization. “Oh!”
However Cal felt about this realization, Cere was practically vibrating now. “This is– incredible! Do we have a holocron anywhere?”
She disappeared, presumably off to find a holocron. Merrin turned back to Cal.
“Cere is correct,” she said. “Knowing your history is a gift.”
Cal didn’t respond, still a bit dazed. He knew the Eternal Story, and therefore he knew the whole history of the Jedi Order. He was a living memory of everything he lost, his whole culture. He remembered, and so the Jedi culture could live on. Future Jedi could learn of their history, instead of piecing together what they could from folktales and the few remaining artefacts that escaped the Imperial hammer. More than that, he could preserve a record of Dai Bendu, if they also recorded the corresponding translation. Languages were lost easily if there were no speakers, and the few Jedi who survived the Purge probably forced their language out of their mind for survival’s sake. It was pure chance Cal memorized the Eternal Story, and now he had the chance to preserve it.
Cal smiled, a weight lifted off his shoulders.
—
Years later, long after recording of both the full Dai Bendu and Basic versions of the Eternal Story finished, the crew of the Mantis ran into a rebel cell on Lothal.
“Caleb?”
“Cal?”
Caleb Dume and Cal Kestis were in the creche together, and both were relieved to see the other survived. Cal was even more surprised to see that Caleb had gained a Padawan in the time since the Purge.
“It’s amazing, teaching Ezra,” Caleb told him, passing him a small cup of tea and pouring some from a thermos for himself. They were sat atop a huge smooth stone, looking out across the beautiful fields of Lothal. “I just wish I remembered more. There’s so much about being a Padawan that he’s missing out on, not just the community stuff. I barely remember any Dai Bendu, did you know that? We grew up speaking it, and now I can barely remember the word for tea.”
“I think I have a solution for that,” Cal said, noting the sadness etching itself into his friend’s face. “You remember how Crechesmaster Jauhn used to make us recite the Eternal Story, the full thing, whenever we go into trouble?”
“Yeah?” Caleb’s face scrunched up. “That was so long ago, though, how could you remember any of– wait a minute!” Caleb’s head jerked around to stare at Cal. “You crazy nerf herder, don’t tell me you actually memorized it!”
Cal laughed. “The whole thing! The extended version, in the original Dai Bendu, and a translation! We even added a few more stanzas for the years after - ah, after the war ended." Now it was Cal's turn to give a sad little smile. "Come on, I’ll get you a copy.”
Gaping, Caleb followed Cal to the Mantis.
Later, as the two crews parted ways, Caleb clasped Cal’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmured, and Cal grinned back.
“You better not take that back when your kid drives you up the wall complaining about learning a new language,” Cal joked.
Caleb snorted. “He’s picking up Ryl and Mando’a just fine, he needs a challenge.”
After the Mantis took off, Cal watched the planet recede below him with two of his people, happy in the knowledge that records of their past were being passed down despite everything. Despite constant persecution from the Empire, despite the burning of the Archives, despite the Inquisitors breathing down their backs, and despite more and more of Jedi culture slipping out of their fingers in the sands of time. This story – their story – would continue to be told.