My dear brother,
I’m sending you this message from a small settlement on Kashyyk. For whatever reason, these Wookiees tolerate me for now. I can cook an excellent bantha surprise without getting hair in it. That seems to please them. I’m thankful for sanctuary in relatively neutral territory. A coalition claiming to be the New Republic lists my name among the thousands they wish to capture and try for war crimes, because I once worked for the Empire as an economic adviser. I also hear rumblings of a so-called First Order, fanatics loyal to the defunct Empire who would flay me alive for treason.
So for now I stay hidden.
But even if I have to stay in exile, the truth about the Imperial downfall doesn’t. Whoever comes next to rule the galaxy needs to know: the Empire was not defeated by a self-taught Jedi or a pathetic fleet of misfits, but by its own towering hubris.