Calling the Imperial Knights blind to the darkside would be something born out of the hubris of Sith teachings. Only a Sith would have the gall to underestimate the Knights to such a degree. Only a Sith would believe themselves to be above the knowledge and understanding of an Order that had laid them low so many times. Only a Sith would cast insults and judgements without reasoning to back it up.
The Imperial Knights were ignorant to the Twilight.
The Knights were not bound by their Code to refuse or to reject their emotions. That would be a fool’s game and anyone that had paid a single second of attention to Galactic History would understand that all that breeds is genocidal tyrants and death-cults. It was a tale that played on repeat in the waves of the Force every couple generations. Ages ago, it was Vader. More recently? Carnifex. Of the latest it was the New Sith of the Maw. The Imperial Knights, the Silver Jedi, and the Blackguard all recognize that simple truth that comes with learning to be a sentient.
You cannot control your emotions.
All you can control is your actions around them, how you respond, how you channel them.
To the Imperial Knights, digging into that bastion of power, the negative that we like to hide away from, the Heart of Darkness, is something that gives you the label of Crestfallen and thrown into a courtroom such as this. In the same thoughts that he listened to the dictator Fel damn the Knight Cewr, he listened to the man throw out terms such as “purge” and “inquisition.”
When Ravraa would tell Atsá stories about the Imperator Tavlar, the type of man he was, the presence he held when he entered a room, it painted the picture of a man that cared for nuance. A man that understood where to draw lines and when to level patience. A man that allowed Ravraa to push for rehabilitation instead of condemnation and punishment.
In his place stood this shallow imitation. An Emperor draped in the same title that would see all free-men thrown to the call of war.
Sith, New Imperial, Galactic Imperial…
The title meant the same at the end of the day. They all used the same words. The same dictates. They persecuted and hated what they failed to understand. Burn the witch, kill the other, and let the Force sort out whoever is left bleeding out on the hill of Imperialism.
Atsá had to blunt the desire to smile when he listened to Cewr defend himself.
A cut straight to the core of the Emperor’s character? Brave move.
He was milling with the rest of the Pages of the Order, careful to not make much of a show, lest he draw too much attention. Too many prying minds.
That had been lesson one he had learned at the mountain of knowledge possessed by the Blackguard.
Mask who you are, lest they find you.
Afterall, he only wanted the best for the people of the New Imperial Order, regardless of where they fell on the spectrum of the Force.
He assumed that was what everyone was after.