Ken was more than a bit frustrated that Zhar used him to flat out humiliate a fellow jedi like that. But if that was the lesson that was needed to be imparted then so be it. Ken was told that pride was a emotion that was poisonous if you felt it after an accomplishment you shouldn't let it get too you. If you felt it during an evil act then you should not perform that act again. And that if you couldn't control it, then it would control you. Nim had warned him about young jedi who couldn't handle that but in contradiction he saw in Org that you should be proud of your status as a jedi. In truth he wondered what he should feel. In truth he was a jedi and he was proud of it no matter what anyone told him otherwise. Years of hard work, training, and hardship brought him to this point. However when Master Zhar praised him he felt a bit...cold? Why? Was he really that disappointed in himself that he felt Master Zhar's praise was misplaced? However when Aria came up to bat he knew this would be a more challenging fight. Ken knew that this would be a more difficult fight she was stronger in the force and she didn't have that temper from the outward look at it. "Very well then Master Zhar. If it is an offensive show you wish then that is what I will give you. Though I do wish I had my actual saber for this." Ken said as he pulled up his saber and made an X motion into the air with his saber using just his wrist and hand. He then brought up his blade forward right above his face straight up. It was a taunt, or rather a challenge, from the Makashi masters of old. Ken's choice to go with Makashi over his preferred Niman was too not only show Zhar he was not restricted too just Niman. Ken had learned enough from trainers that he was a fairly competent Makashi fighter. His feet were apart and firmly put on the ground at shoulder width, his grip changed and his blade was held downward in his right hand thumb extended along the hilt and pointed directly at Aria. He quickly put the other training blade down into his belt. "Now let us start." Ken said as in a blur of motion augmented with the force he marched forward and attacked Aria with a speedy and quick on slaughter of lightsaber blows. Controlled, precise, and fast they came in quickly not giving Aria a chance to breath or make an offensive stance of her own. He didn't aim for Makashi's signature moves just yet but the blur of motion would test her to see just what technique she had to offer. Of course there was a chance that Ken may not know it off the bat but he couldn't let her get too much an advantage on him she had already seen him fight and his arms were numbed slightly by Alek's strikes.

As Arren Kae strode past the Moryr the Cathar lowered her head slightly, both a sign of respect but also because of the slightly harsh ultimatum she had delivered unto the Padawan. The elder woman’s hair billowed behind her, a silver sheen of flowing light that followed her from the room. Without her presence the force felt lessoned, the absence of what was previously a beacon as their senses were opened receded and once more returned to normality. She had been cold in her delivery to the Padawan, but Moryr didn’t doubt that it had been necessary to be so. The message was an important one, and one that Xeviiy no doubt needed to hear in such strict terms in order for this to sink in. It was a hard lesson but with the wound that had been inflicted was evidence enough that she needed to listen, after all in the real world such wounds would be life threatening and dire, to say the very least and mistakes could not be made regarding the lives of the innocent.

Moryr was reluctant to comment or show that she agreed fully with the lesson, after all she was sure that would have sunk in on its own and it would not have been her place to pass such feedback to another’s Padawan – especially where she herself was also about to ask for further guidance due to her uncertain demeanour and current emotional state. She felt somewhat as a child who had witnessed another being scolded and felt some pretence of guilt that she had witnessed it but not shared in it.

Xeviiy spoke and excused herself before leaving the room, seemingly not so happy herself with the outcome, as she said it would take time to come to terms with things. Moryr made a note to speak with the Padawan when she could, to assure her that she respected and even felt somewhat that her attempts to avoid violence were admirable in her eyes, if not only to a certain point.

After a few moments of silence Moryr turned to Master Kasari and spoke “Truly a hard lesson for some, though it saddens me to see such an… optimistic viewpoint be quashed so. It is refreshing to see one be so opposed to violence as opposed to embracing it, as misguided as it ultimately may be in some situations”

She left time for the master to respond, before progressing on to what it was that was troubling her.

“I admit that I feel lost without my own master” she began, the words almost flowing from her like a small torrent “I find myself a Knight without assignment or guidance due to the… unconventional nature of my relationship with him”. She danced around the issue slightly somewhat, unwilling to say the exact words, half hoping she already knew and half wanting to avoid the judgment that may follow if she did not. “Suffice to say I will be without his presence which I have known throughout my training and did not expect to be so lost without it, though I understand it is required for my growth.”

She hesitated before adding further “I feel that to be cut off so entirely from him is unnecessary, though of course respect the wisdom and authority of the council. It is hard to come to terms with their decision and I fear my feelings are clouded and I cannot with good conscience allow this uncertainty to simmer and build lest it change into something more”.

She held her tongue further, awaiting whatever questions or words that would come. She did not intend to withhold anything from the senior Jedi, laying the issue bare and open to her scruples despite the slightly unforthcoming nature of her initial explanation. Moryr was unused to such feedback from anyone other than Muddar, and so could not help but display caution in her attempts to ask for guidance, especially after seeing first-hand how unkind some lessons needed to be in order to make an impact.

The Cathar fiddled with the sleeve of her robe as she spoke, her eyes darting to and fro, pausing only briefly on the taller woman’s face, her nerves again showing through in her body language and demeanour.

Zhar remained stoic, and Aria couldn’t get a read from him regarding Ken’s comments. There seemed to be a lot of thoughts floating about in the Jedi Knight. What was Zhar’s intention? Alek had to learn to control his anger, she needed to learn more about combat as her masters’ always urged. But, Ken? He was a well-known and respected knight in the order. Skilled with the sword, but mostly a calm practitioner of the force leaning towards the peace of things. To Aria, he seemed every bit the type who would be a master sooner rather than later. Perhaps there was more to it, especially when she saw a slight smile creep onto Zhar’s face when Ken had decided to go offensive at Zhar’s comments.

Aria lifted her saber up, the golden yellow glow catching the first stroke of Ken’s assault. It wasn’t the last as a string of swings and slashes came her way. Offensive. Aria’s weakness. Her eyes narrowed, Zhar did this on purpose; pushing Ken into the direction to manipulate her. If she wasn’t continually blocking saber strokes, the padawan might have burst out into laughter from the brilliance of it.

Her opponent was fresh off of a battle, and perhaps somewhat tired from the kind of assault Alek laid forth. She took the moments she could to see Ken’s footwork, and adapted to his Makashi. He was exerting himself, and she had all the energy she could need so to begin Aria settled into the Soresu form. It was a great form for deflecting blaster fire, but within a duel it had excellent defensive capabilities with the least amount of exertion. Niman was also a top tier option, but Aria wasn’t confident enough with her ability to utilize it.

It was strange, really. Aria fought against the usage of the lightsaber whenever she could, however, once locked into a duel all there was once the plasma was crossed… was battle. There was her, and there was Ken. Two opponents and the area around them. Zhar did not concern her within the heat of conflict, not now. With the sudden speed and augmented nature of his attack, Aria was pressed to fend off the original assault. She had to dig deep within her skill-set to see the arcs and paths of Ken’s saber, for he was just as advertised. Patient, and his abilities were well honed.

But, Aria was not like Alek. Alek’s power was immense, and if properly channeled—lethal. The raven-haired Jedi had a cool, collected presence. Her breathing though caught off guard from the first strike became focused, serene, as if she were drawing from an endless well of the force though she had no idea just how much she could truly tap into. Zhar constantly raved about her natural skills, and her cutting intellect. Her intelligence shined with practiced and true footwork, trying to provide Ken with no room for an attack. The blaze of lightsaber flashes glimmered off of her ponderous gaze.

Aria could switch into Juyo to slip through the balance of Ken’s attacks, but she hesitated. She simply would have to wait it out, look for the opening she wanted. Juyo would be the last line of defense.



Kavar nodded respectfully over to Anna at her introduction. “I still talk with the Republic enough to know about a quick-rising lieutenant. We need more people like you, Anna.” Anna was flustered from the compliment coming from a Jedi Master. “Thank you so much, the Republic would be pretty lost without the Jedi. It’s an honor to be here, I never thought I’d ever step foot into the high council chamber.” Anna did a bit of an awkward bow, to which Kavar laughed.

“No need for that here, lieutenant. We’re on equal ground. Bowing is simply custom for those within the order.”

“A sign of respect, I’ve read and heard.” Anna added. “I just wanted to, you’ve done so much for the Republic… Anyway, two knights informed us that you have important matters to discuss.” Anna stopped and looked over at Leon. “Sorry, they informed Commander Athos of the matter at hand.”

“Your lieutenant is tenacious, Leon. I sense a bright future.” Kavar noted. Lonna Vash, Atris and Zez-Kai Ell still remained within their seats.

“Dark times seem to be stirring.” Zez opened up.

Lonna followed. “We will be having a team of Jedi bring you in person proof of a rather immense operation occurring out on the outer rim worlds. The reason we refuse to send it to Republic HQ via holofeed is because we don’t trust the channels. Things have to be kept quiet.”

Atris was the last to speak. “We have evidence of a Mandalorian Assault army taking down an entire planet. They didn’t have a chance, and it’s no simple raid. It’s war. Invasion.”

“I wanted to inform you first, Leon.” Kavar said. “There’s no one else within the Republic Military that I trust more than you. I tell you because I think they’d listen to you. We expect war on a galactic scale, but we don’t know what the Order’s move shall be. But, we want the Republic to be prepared for a full scale invasion force crossing into our territory. The evidence Lonna spoke of will be brought to you personally. They will then go on a scouting mission to assess the threat… I wish I had better news to give, but that’s where we are.”

Ken saw that his opponent was not going to try to move into a counter offensive but he also sensed that she wasn't particularly calm in the midst of Ken's offensive flurry. Ken knew he had plenty of options at his disposal now and he would pick the right one if given the chance. Ken started to slash with less force but he started to stab at Aria's defensive blade probing at her with the blade. If this was with his usual saber this battle would be much easier. But this standard training saber hindered his ability to maneuver his saber. Ken pressed on Aria breathing in slowly and methodically controlling his breathing. His lessons he learned on his time on the wookie homeworld served him well. His fellow consulars had condemned him for his equal focus on his lightsaber skills alongside his force abilities but he wasn't going to go into any situation half cocked. His green saber weaved a beautiful arc of emerald waves as his blade smashed against Aria's wall.

What would he need to do in order to get Aria to fall? Would he need to change into another style? Would he need to keep with Makashi? He could use the force but anymore than he did already would be frowned on by Zhar probably. For now he just needed to wait for her to make a slight slip up even the smallest one would leave her open for him to disarm her or push her back. The defensive style she was using wasn't going to withstand his Makashi assault for much longer. He would eventually find a way into her guard he just needed to puncture her guard! Ken's mind was a blur of thoughts and it was hampering his ability to think of a complex strategy but Org Gle had drilled into him that a jedi needn't think to fight merely let their body do it's job. Ken was in auto-pilot his mind focused on strategy, his body weaving and bobbing a probing but steady offensive.

Leon smiled slightly, letting out a small exhale through his nostrils, “Yes, she is Master Kavar, she helps me stay on my paperwork when it starts to pile up.” He responded to the Jedi Master, a small chuckle escaping out of him mouth, it was almost natural for him to speak with the masters once more, something he thought would've been more difficult considering he had left the order years ago.

He put his prosthetic arm up, his hand lightly gripping the bottom of his chin as he paced back and forth slightly, taking in the information and thinking about to proceed next, “Mandalorians are attacking the Outer Rim? That is troubling, I wonder why they're doing it.” He spoke aloud, the last part of his sentence getting a bit quieter.

The masters mentioned how they didn't trust the holofeed channels which was a little odd, there were definitely secure lines that could be used to contact people well above his rank, “Masters, forgive me if you think I'm questioning your choice to inform the Republic this way, it's just...odd choosing to inform the Republic this way, there are secure channels and they can't be hacked into.” He added, he hoped they didn't take it as disrespect, it just felt like more was going on with that then they were letting on, though it was probably just him looking too close to the details and seeing extra stuff where there is none.

When they finally finished speaking with what they had to say, he couldn't help but sigh a little, “Thank you masters for the information, I just hope another war doesn't break out, it seems like the one with Exar Kun only finished.” Leon responded back to the Jedi Masters; though the Republic was healthy and bustling, all it took was one good war to put them in a vulnerable state again, he hoped that wasn't the case.

Xeviiy shifted from side to side a bit as they started to exchange pleasantries, her eagerness was getting the better of her and she couldn't help herself, “Come on, come on, we get it the Jedi and Republic are lovey dovey, get to the point.” She spoke quietly to herself in an impatient tone. When they finally did get to the actual details of what was going on, Xeviiy's eyes widened under the veil covering them, she couldn't believe what she was hearing, though it was partially difficult, as the room wrapped around, it's walls became thicker for more support, so she heard them, though it was more of a light muffle and slowly made her way near the doors, pressing her head slightly close to it.

“Mandalorian's are attacking the outer rim? But why?” Xeviiy whispered to herself, pondering why the mandalorians would be attacking the outer rim, there were a few planets out there sure, but most of the valuable resources were either trade ships or the core worlds themselves, so why would the mandalorians do something like this? Something that would no doubt get the Jedi and Republic's attention? She didn't know the answer, but perhaps listening in more would enlighten her more to the situation.

As the conversation continued on, she couldn't help but agree with Leon when he asked why they chose to give the information to him directly, even if they were concerned with security, couldn't they have just met with someone more important than Leon?

She noticed that the conversation was getting quieter, making it harder to hear, though she managed to make out that they were planning on sending some people on a scouting mission, her curiosity was getting the better of her for sure now, she never seen a mandalorian before outside of the library that held information on them, she was debating whether or not to perhaps sneak onto the mission, even though that wasn't really part of her character, when something in however, she always tried to satisfy her curiosity.

Though she didn't realize it, the door she'd been leaning against had been slowly cracking open as she spied on the closed meeting, pressing closer against it, trying to hear more of the conversation, unaware that things were wrapping up, until finally the door gave way, swinging wide open and Xeviiy herself face-planting onto the ground.

Getting her arms under her and pushing up a bit, she looked towards the people in the room, it seeming like they were all staring at her; she quickly got to her feet, “Um...uh, sorry masters I was just...uh...”

Leon couldn't help but look when the door swung open and then shook his head slightly when the young padawan was stammering to explain herself, “You went for too much, young one.” He spoke quietly to himself, no doubt the council wouldn't be too pleased with the spying, if they figured out that's what she was doing, as well as the interruption, even if the meeting was pretty much over.

”Questions are more true than answers. This is the beginning of wisdom.”

That Which Binds I
The Aundus-Valay, Above Zetrea
Outer Rim

Beads of perspiration swam across the young boy's dark brown skin, catching the light of the rising sun and glowing with a golden aura. His eyes were shut tight and his breathing heavy. In the distance – beyond the veranda upon which he sat with his legs folded beneath him – the treetops swayed and a chorus of alien avians chirped and whirred, greeting the coming of the day.

Despite his concentration he could not shut these things out. They rose around him and barraged his mind, pulling his thoughts to a thousand places each time he became aware of the world, unable to maintain his focus.

Finally, he let go and opened his eyes.

“Master,” he began, “What is the Force?”

Across the veranda his teacher opened her eyes – their dazzling sapphire catching his breath, as they always did – and smiled. “The Force is all around us, Jata. It is all life, all things.”

“But what is it made of? Can I touch it? Taste it?”

“You cannot touch what has no form,” Terzeh'halam laughed, raising her arms above her head in a luxurious stretch. She rose from where she'd sat and came over to her pupil, settling down beside him.

“But that doesn't make sense. You keep saying it's all life, and that it's all things, and that it guides us and has a will of its own. It has to have … I don't know. A body? A brain?”

Her hand, a paler shade of blue than her eyes but no less dazzling, ruffled the thick curls of his hair. “You must let go of these notions, Jata. It is not a sentient as we perceive sentients to be. It is not corporeal because a corporeal form would be of no use to it. It does not live, though it is made of life.”

The Padawan shook his head. “Still doesn't make sense. The Force can't have a will if it isn't sentient. You keep telling me that gods do not exist but you keep talking about the Force like it's a god.”

“No, Jata. Not a god. Not divine, not exactly. It is a presence, a connective energy that suffuses the galaxy. It has many sides and those sides have many sides, turning endlessly from one to the other. I have spoken to you of the Light and the Dark, of the balance that is struck between them. These are of the Force but not; they would not exist if we did not exist. Reflections of those who are connected to it.”

Her lips curled into a soft smile. “It is the spirit of the galaxy, and as it connects us, so too do we connect it, an infinite system of links, a grand and endless chain.”

Kujata sighed. His teacher removed her hand from his head and clasped it to her other, folding them in her lap. Around them the wind rose, catching their simple clothes and seeping through the coarse fabric to cool them against the burgeoning day.

“It surrounds us,” Terzeh said, gentle as the wind around them. “and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together. It is born of all life, as we are born of it. We serve it and it guides us, and in its Light we-”

One of her eyes cracked open a hair, seeking out her young apprentice. The boy finally let out the snicker and snort he'd been holding in. Terzeh frowned at him.

“It … it penetrates us,” he explained, giggling.

That earned him a smack.



Zeti Trankan danced the swords, and she did it with a fury unrestrained. All before her was drenched in red and soaked in the splattering mist of those who dared stand in the way; she was a whirlwind of carnage that swept through the halls of the Aundus-Valay like some sort of divine retribution. Where once-rational thought had pulsed within her mind there was numbness, a moment caught in carbonite. Where once there had been intent, there was only instinct.

Behind her a salvo of blaster fire rained outwards towards those too distant for her blades to reach, precision shots that never once grazed her, for she and the squad were as one, all swept up in the battle lust and the flow of the galaxy's beating heart. Each step forward was as one unit, and though others around her fell to the enemy's scattered return fire she emerged each time unscathed, dancing through it and over the dead as if they simply weren't there.

In her mind she saw again and again the death of that nameless Zetrean soldier. A slip, and a fall, and the cruelness of life. She did not believe in destiny, nor any of the forces that the galaxy attributed to higher planes. She did not believe that all things happened for a reason or that all things followed a master plan. What happened, happened, and as much of one's life as possible should be lived wide awake, lived fully and under one's own power.

The Mandalorians knew better than most that life is what one makes of it. That each moment you fight, each battle you win, is one more accomplishment. One more badge of merit to wear on the march towards the grave. All beings die, but they can die with purpose. They can die with honor. There is no higher honor than combat. No finer display of the power one can wield over their own life than their actions and reflexes on the battlefield.

To have that taken away, wrenched completely from her grasp just as she joined the fray – it was worse than anything she'd ever imagined was possible. The coldness in her gut would not abate. There was no way to undo what had been done. No way to go back and fix what was broken. Her first kill was an accident, was the simple idiocy of another being. There was no honor. There was no glory in that. Only shame. Her first kill and she had failed her family completely.

She had failed herself, her father, and Mandalore all.

No matter how much she fought … no matter how many battles she won … that scar would never, ever heal. Galling. Embarrassing. Unfair. Horrifying. It tore at her like the dark heart of a black hole, devouring every ounce of light in her until there was nothing left. She could feel it all slipping away, could feel the impending doom that bore down upon her. As soon as the battle ended there would be a reckoning. She would have to face her brothers and sisters and she would know humiliation.

A humiliation that would live with her for the rest of her days.

So she danced the swords and kept ahead of the pack. She put aside her blaster and leapt into the melee because in doing so she could keep fighting, could prolong the inevitable. She could soak those green slashes on her armor in the blood of the Zetreans and bury them deep, hide them from the world, because she did not deserve even the mark of a recruit. One mistake and she was tainted. Her father – how could she face him now?

Somewhere behind her his overcharged blaster roared again and again, flashing out and blowing apart enemies and barricades alike, his daughter easily stepping past and slipping beneath each salvo, dreading the moment that the dance came to an end, because she could not bear it. She could not turn back to him. She had to keep fighting, keep moving forward.

Another of her fellow recruits fell beside her, a smoking hole in his armor where the plates had failed to ablate the energy of a blaster bolt. She had known him all her life, remembered much about him, had once harbored feelings for him in a fit of whimsy – and now he was dead, and she was jealous of him, for he had died with honor.

Heat soaked her cheeks and she dared not stop the dance to wipe those streaks of water away. She pressed onwards, hopping over a pair of white-clad Zetrean troopers to fall into a third, lancing her blades through his armor, the vibroswords practically laughing as they deftly seared through with almost no resistance. Ancient though they may have been, the relics in her hands had never once failed her. It was only she who had failed.

Zeti roared as she pulled her blades from the dying trooper and whipped them to either side to clean them, then pointed them towards the next batch of troopers who even now scrambled to take up positions at the far end of the alley they'd advanced into. Overhead the klaxons still raged and the emergency lights still bathed the ship in their nightmarish glow.

A halo of crimson fire thundered past her as she raced forward, twisting out of the way as one of the Zetreans sighted her through his scope and depressed the firing pin. Instinct drove her and she trusted it implicitly now, lost in the moment, caught up in the waves of combat that pushed her onward, side-stepping the blast with ease.

Ducking as she slipped beneath a collapsing bulkhead that shattered from the blast of an errant grenade, she slid the rest of the distance and rose from her crouch into a frenzy of sword strikes, laying waste to the trio of defenders who stood no chance against a Mandalorian in close combat, even one as green as she.

But it wasn't enough. Still it wasn't enough! She needed more victories, more honor; she had to try to bury the sin deeper, to push down that moment, to try to wash it away …

Zeti plunged her swords into one of the Zetreans at her feet, freeing her hands for just a moment. She tugged her helmet from its mounting and cast it aside, then unclasped the armor plates from her arms to leave only the black pressure suit sleeves as a defensive layer. A fan of tangled, sweat-soaked hair swept out behind her as she shook her head.

Honor is life, she thought, her mind still alight with static and that one single moment, over and over and over again. For with no honor one may as well be dead.

The swords fell once more into her hands, and she staggered onwards once again, plunging into the glory of war to push back the moment she'd lose everything that ever mattered.



The turbolift sealed behind them just as a salvo of blaster bolts raced across the hall, splattering viciously against the plasteel and sending up waves of smoke in their wake. Kujata slammed against the far side of the lift as his small companion lurched forward to do the same, dragging his massive blaster rifle behind him as he did so. The last sight they caught of the enemy was one of furious outrage – not that Kujata and his companion had survived, but that they had turned tail and fled.

Even now, as they rose up through the decks and put distance between themselves and the ones who had come for their blood, Kujata could feel their emotions in a brutal tangle, a web of primal joy and immense anger, that chemical flood of the hunter denied their prey. It was dizzying, nauseating … that they could kill so easily, so fervently, and be themselves horrified when others refused to do the same.

All around him he could feel the edges of that tangle spreading out, sinking deep into the ship. A darkness in it. A deep vertigo that came from brushing his mind against it, from reaching out through the Force to try to understand it. This was something strange, something on a scale he hadn't felt since … since the war. Since the coming of the Sith and the horrors they trailed in their wake.

But above that, above the mantle of shadows that gathered and the echoes of screams through the unifying Force that bound him to the fates of all those who lived and died around him, he sensed no true malice.

Nothing of those who bore claim to evil, to darkness incarnate. Of those who took to heart the lessons and values of an enlightened civilization and tore them apart, inverted them, and turned them to the service of annihilation. These people clad in their strange armor, who sang their battle songs in a language he had never before encountered … they did not feel to him to be 'evil' as he'd been taught it, as he had found and hunted it in decades past.

It was new in that respect, but achingly familiar in its execution.

Oh, but he knew full well the siren call that languished in the wake of so much death.

It pulled at him even as he rose above it, slithering deep into him, into the thoughts and dreams that dwelt beneath the surface of his mind. A taste familiar, but of a time long ago. Agony rode waves of the Force through the Aundus-Valay, voices crying out only to be silenced, cut short before their natural time, an affront to that which he believed to be the Light. This roared and gnashed and stank of the Dark, but without a hand to guide it, without intent.

Rather, it felt like a consequence. As if the echoes of their carnage were cast from a stone that was itself, somehow, an echo. An act that resounded forwards from a time long ago, flung from hands long since withered to dust. One more link in an infinite chain, the sigil of causality writ deep in its ceaseless motion.

What does that even mean? he mused, surprised at the thought that had come to him. What am I trying to say?

And, perhaps more dizzyingly: From whence did that image come? It hadn't felt like his own thought.

“I thought we were headed for the escape pods,” Kujata said at length, pushing the chaos of thoughts and memories from his mind.

The diminutive Jawa beside him shook his head, snickering. “Leej did not lie! Leej merely … desires bigger pod for making escape. Cannot find any craft fit for him in lower decks, kindly Jedi, and must set sights higher. Know perfect vessel.”

“So you felt the need to risk our lives by sprinting across a wide-open slaughterhouse?”

“Knew Jedi would protect!” he chittered, blinking his luminous eyes rapidly. “Jedi keeps word, does he not? Besides, would use grand mystic lightsaber to protect Leej, if worse becomes much worse!”

The weapon of a Jedi Knight. Easy to unveil when it's all fun and games, when the swinging of the blade bears no echoes of its own. It could be a tremendous plaything – though Terzeh would have vehemently disagreed – and made for an equally tremendous deterrent.

It was a symbol of the Order and a symbol of what they stood for, a weapon of a civilized people in a civilized organization spouting civilized philosophies, in service to what they claimed to be a higher power. Not a god, but the next best thing.

But wasn't that utterly paradoxical? The symbol of an order of serenity and tranquility, whose very code decried the unveiling of anger … represented by a weapon used to kill.

And the lives these weapons of light had taken – across the decades, across centuries, from the time their progenitor was first called to life. A staggering body count. An impossible weight. How fickle the Force was, how hypocritical its mask of the Light, to demand of them peace but allow them to wield its power to kill. If he'd believed in any divine powers – or that the Force itself truly had a will of its own – he would have known them to have a sense of humor as dark and unrelenting as anything he'd ever dreamt of. And worse.

How close to the edge would he fall if he ignited that blade with an intent to kill again? How much more suffering could he bear to cause with it, should the time once again fall upon him? His hands – shaking now – were still stained with a coat of blood that would never come clean. Years could pass, and had passed, and the slickness of it faded, but he could still feel it there. Could still sense the wounds his own actions had opened in the flow of life around him.

Cruel was the Force. Cold. To gift its children with the ability to feel the connectedness of life around them – to be part of a greater whole and to drink deep of its power – but to be cursed with the task of defending it and taking lives from that very same whole.

Another wave of nausea shook him. A great many deaths sent another pulsing echo through the Force. Close by, very close. Not below, but above. Kujata and his errant companion rose from the nightmare of the lower decks into a fresher, cleaner, much more opulent sort of hell. Great.

“Leej,” he said, touching his fingers to the coldness of the hilt at his side. “Why did you have to pick me for your schemes? Would have been so much easier for me if you'd grabbed someone else.”

The Jawa – caught in the midst of checking the leads of his blaster rifle's energy cell for dust and grime – paused. He blinked his luminous topaz eyes upwards at the Jedi for a moment, then nodded. “Because was easy mark. Obvious outsider, big fancy coat, big time business connection. For hours looked for chump who Leej could fleece! Then voice in Leej's mind says 'Leej, this kindly sentient is sucker you are looking for!' and so stalked you to garden.”

A surprisingly large amount of good will radiated off the tiny being. Maybe a hint of smug self-satisfaction. Kujata didn't try to dig deeper. He was content with that, with knowing it was just blind chance. The galaxy liked to pull these surprises on him, on everyone. Just the luck of the draw.

Well, that luck had put him in a position where a life depended on him. Maybe not an innocent life – the Jawa had done the bare minimum to ensure his unconscious friend's safety when they'd departed the cantina, and would likely still try to sell Kujata back to the Temple once they were free of this mess – but an honest one. Mostly honest. Sort of.

At least the Jawa wasn't running around killing anyone.

Ah well. Time to choose.

How far would he go to save Leej's life? Or his own?

Surrounded by this much death, by this much hate … how far did he dare push himself? Would death be preferable to … to a fall? So much weight rested on that word. So much horror. A steep path it was, and one most could never claw their way back from. And in this sort of place, with lives on the line and the smell of blood in the air, and adrenaline pumping through the bloodstream, and that voice in the back of his mind urging him on, to just one more hunt, one more kill – it would be so easy to let go.

It was beyond difficult to maintain a Jedi calm when the whole world burned.

Would he kill again, would he draw his blade and risk everything to save the life of a being who probably had no real concern for Kujata?

We don't get to make that judgment call, Terzeh would have said. We are not the arbiters of justice, nor the final law of what is right and what is wrong. We are defenders. We protect. That is the lightest and the heaviest of our burdens, and it will always come at a tremendous cost. A sacrifice is not a sacrifice if there is no consequence to the choice.

In that moment he would have given anything to see her again. To hold her in his arms and hear her voice, to have her wisdom at his side.

But the dead live on only in memory.

“Get that blaster ready, my friend,” he said, reaching out through the Force to seek what lay in store for them. “I have a feeling you're going to need it here in a moment.”

He didn't have to touch the Jawa's mind nor peek within the hood to the see the feral grin the being flashed. “Oh, weapon is always ready, kindly Jedi. Kneecaps and groins of all enemies everywhere will rue arrogance of attacking fine upstanding Leej. Will learn that price is steep indeed.”

The Jedi Knight laughed despite himself.

As the turbolift slowed to a stop he swore he could almost hear the rattling of chains, but it was banished the moment the doors slid open. He drew the saber at his side and thumbed it on, bathing the chamber in its light.

Showtime.



Searing heat surged through molten durasteel as the final bulkhead door buckled and exploded outward, crashing into plaza's expansive marble tiles. They shattered with a tremendous crack, signaling the first salvo of blaster fire from the defenders across the way. They'd gathered to themselves a series of barricades hewn from toppled pillars and shattered cafe furniture in the vain hope that it would slow the advance of an enemy force they could not bring themselves to fight in an open arena.

Through the breach came a wall of white-clad Zetrean troopers, soaking up most of the opening blasts without so much as a twitch, their bloodless bodies discarded moments later as the Mandalorians stormed through in force. No demands for surrender. No pleas for the defenders to lay down their arms. This was not a war of conquest; it was simply a war. Conquest was incidental. This was not about dominance. This was about glory.

At the head of the defensive line that held the plaza – a plaza which had once entertained only the most important and affluent sentients aboard the luxury cruiser – was a being of extraordinary courage. A woman who under different circumstances might very well have come to appreciate the life offered by her enemy; a woman who had fought all her life and known little else.

When the Mandalorians unleashed hell upon the defenders she did not cower, nor duck low. Instead, she barked commands to her troops to return fire to buy her cover. She snatched up a plasteel tabletop and used it as a makeshift shield, rapidly crossing the plaza's splintered tiles, her arms torn to shreds where the shield did not hold.

But still she ran, until at last she had met the enemy in person.

She did not drop the shield. It slammed into the first of the Mandalorians who stepped close, and swung it about madly to keep them at a distance once the armored foe fell. No words were exchanged, not even when the shield fell apart and she took a bolt to the chest. No words needed to be exchanged. Instead, she let her deeds speak for her – at her waist flashed the lights of a half-dozen thermal detonators, activated just before her mad dash.

One of the Mandalorians closest to her leapt to her fallen body and struggled to unhook her belt. As he fumbled with the clasp the blades of the Mirialan in their midst slipped in and sliced the stretched leather clean apart, and moments later the belt was hurtling back towards the defenders. But they'd already begun to scatter to the turbolifts that lined the far side of the plaza, abandoning their post to take full advantage of the time their commander had bought them.

The belt of suicide bombs exploded with an immense buckling shockwave, ripping across the frescoed ceiling high above, tearing the overhead lights from their mountings and plunging most of the plaza into darkness. Only fires lit by blaster shots still cast their fearful light into the yawning chamber – a vast hollow that even now filled with the sound of grinding metal, twisting and bending where the detonators had warped their structural integrity.

A few more exchanges of rifle fire burnt lightning flashes of ruby and emerald into the growing darkness, but it was over quickly. Those who had not escaped into the turbolifts put up virtually no resistance; the fight had gone out of them. These were the children of a life of luxury, not of conflict. They did not have what it took to truly live.

Finally free of the heat of battle, Zeti Trankan came to a halt at the edge of the abyss, seeking someone, anyone, she could race to. Another life to take. Another chance to prove herself, to strip herself of the shame. But there was nothing. Nothing left. Just the hungry dark that spread out beyond her boots.

A hand fell on her shoulder and she reacted swiftly, twisting round and slashing savagely with her swords, but a strong strike numbed her arms and she lost control of the blades before they could meet flesh or armor. A guttural cry escaped her as she tried to break free of the gauntlets that snapped down over her wrists but she could not, could not get away, could not get free …

Until she heard at last the soothing words of the man who held her. Clad in crimson armor, soaked in blood, his bald head and long scar fading into focus. Oleg. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to find the words to say, an explanation for the depth of her failure, for the immensity of the shame she had brought upon herself and the man before her …

But he simply nodded. He put a hand on her cheek and nodded, then pressed his forehead to hers for a moment before releasing her from his grasp.

“Rest a moment,” he said. “You've done well, Soldier.”

And it felt as if all the darkness fell away.

She was dizzy, and the world swam around her, but she kept her balance and held firm against the flood of exhaustion which now began to rise. As she gathered up her blades and began wiping them clean, her father turned to what remained of their company.

He tapped out a series of commands on the device strapped over the bracer on his right arm, calling up a miniscule holomap of the Aundus. A few more clicks at the keys on the device two main paths lit up in red, spinning outwards from their present location high in the upper decks of the ship.

“Two objectives, two teams,” the Rally Master began, drawing his soldiers in closer. “Ahead of us lie the diplomatic hangars, and to the left a turbolift to the command deck and the bridge. Soldier Ducar, I assume you still have the-”

The red mane of Soldier Ducar framed a big grin. The Mandalorian held up a melted chain, an identity tag dangling from its length. “Still fresh, Rally Master.”

Oleg Trankan nodded. “Ducar leads the hangar team. I'll take the command deck.”

His daughter looked up suddenly, unsure. It was if a sound … but there was nothing. Her mind was playing tricks on her. An aftershock of the adrenaline, the fading of combat chemicals.

She sheathed her blades and fell in with the rest of the team as her father pointed out roughly half the remaining squad to follow Ducar. He seemed to hesitate for a moment when he laid eyes on her, as if unsure what to do with her. The old fear returned, stronger than before, the falling of a curtain … but his expression lightened and he raised his fingers to gesture for her to join him.

At that moment she felt it again, that strange sensation. A far-off song, perhaps, like something once forgotten that wouldn't quite come into focus.

A single chime echoed in the empty plaza.

To a one, the Mandalorians raised their weapons in the direction of the sound, aiming toward the turbolift at the far end of the plaza as it slid into position. At that distance – and with the immense weight of darkness that filled the chamber – it was difficult to tell which of the doors was about to open.

Until the one in the middle unsealed and cast its pallid light into the plaza. A pallid light which moments later was punctured by a brilliant scarlet blaze and the unmistakable snap-hiss of a lightsaber coming to life.

The Mandalorians did not hesitate for even a second. They unleashed hell.

Soresu was not working to Aria’s hopes’, being taken off guard from the instant attack prevented her from properly getting into her defensive guard. Though proficient, and naturally skilled, she had her limits within her current position. Backing up and deflecting saber strokes only served to give ground and ultimately give Ken the opening he needed to deliver duel-winning strikes. Thoughts flashed through her mind. The unease of her vision was still with her. Blades and fire, helmets, fierce chants, the Mandalorians. She could hear Arren in the back of her mind from old dialogues. “Be as unpredictable as the arrival of an ocean storm.” Her former master’s words rang quietly, and then louder. They rang true.

Aria augmented herself with the force, enhancing her speed. Her reflexes quickened, and her focus sharpened granting her enough time to deliver the parry she needed. With the use of the force, Aria transitioned into Ataru and leapt into the air while spinning her saber to provide a defensive guard. She somersaulted over Ken and landed with feline grace upon the elevated platform signifying the outer ring of the duel arena. It was the high ground, but it meant little with so many options for Ken to leap up there. This time, Aria leapt back into the ring and went on the attack.

Ataru suited her in many ways, her nimble footwork, her cat-like grace and athleticism. The only problem was her lack of conviction behind an attack, no matter how impressive her movements were. All of her moves, all of her skills, the force flowed within her in such a magnitude it demanded the Juyo form.

Yet, Aria resisted.



Anna too, found the Council’s decision to operate in this nature rather odd. But, the face of Kavar never moved or twitched in the slightest. From what the lieutenant could see, Kavar and the other master’s had considered this for a long duration of time and didn’t seem particularly distracted by Leon’s reasonable question. It was all odd, and she found herself positively stunned by the news. Mandalorian raids?
Invasion? Possible war? This was the biggest news since Exar Kun.

“I’m well aware of the secure channels, Leon. We take use of them, and we trust them but soon they’ll have to be changed. We have no idea if the Mandalorians already know a way into the secure channels. Besides, the secure channels are operated by Republic men we neither know nor know how they’d react. News trickles down. This way, we avoid panic. We also avoid any potential escaping of this knowledge. Complete security is best at the beginning of potential war as it’s always a delicate time. And Leon, I’m sure you know that secure channels are not always secure. The Exar Kun wars taught us that, did they not? And, we selected you because your record is impressive. You were once a Jedi and proved to be a trustworthy commander and ally during trying times. We hope that you carry out this duty with the same honor, but also hope it will not have to be carried out any further than this.”

Right when Anna was about to speak up, there came a stumble of a Miraluka into the council chamber. Leon was amused, and Anna smiled at the ambitious young Jedi. The white-haired, Atris, however did not seem as pleased. Knowledge had most likely been spilled. Valuable knowledge.

“Don’t leave, Xeviiy.” Lonna said, to which Atris finished, “Come,” pointing to the center of the chamber where both lieutenant and commander remained standing. Zez-Kai Ell shared a chuckle with Kavar although the situation was of dire seriousness. “Xeviiy, you should know better than to spy on the council. Master Kasari would not be pleased to hear about this, especially considering the circumstances of this meeting.” Zez sighed.

“What do you suggest we do, Kavar?”

“Xeviiy. There’s no use in lying, I assume you heard everything. If any word of this meeting reaches the ears of other Jedi, you will be exiled. I’m also forced to play my hand in a way I didn’t expect. You will have to accompany Leon and proceed to join the private investigation team that will arrive from Dantooine.”

Anna butted in, stunned. “But she’s just a child, masters. You can’t actually mean to send her into a possible war scenario?”

“I’m afraid that we must.”



After her thorough verbal lashing upon Xeviiy, Arren left the room and silently walked down the hallways of the temple. Her own thoughts left stirring, wondering about the strange energy flowing from the padawan. She did not discount Moryr either, seeing much confusion and conflict within the Cathar woman. Over weeks, even months, Arren realized there were many young Jedi seemingly coated within chaotic tides of force energy. But, what was it? Destiny? Her answer began to materialize in the solitude of the Room of A Thousand Fountains. Silver, glimmering, gorgeous fountains arrayed themselves flawlessly within the room. Water flowed continuously, returning back and flowing once more. The swooshing hum of water streams reminded her of the natural pattern of the force at its most peaceful.

Was this the true nature of the force, or perhaps a perceived bias of the light side? Did the force actually have a true form within darkness or light? She always wondered if the force simply was chaos, neutral, with no selection of one thing or another. Destiny, fate, all chosen at random.

Arren went through her datapad, connecting to her own messages to find a long note sent from her former padawan. Aria. She still remembered the first time she met the young girl. Dantooine, many years ago. The moment would remain imprinted within her mind and soul for all of time. Some spoke of greatness, a future paragon of light. Others believed her to be a testament to the order. But, Arren, she saw an untapped well of the force. In truth, it was more of an ocean one could either be overwhelmed from or soothed in a rolling tide of gentle waves. Aria. Aria was power.

So, when Arren read each word she took none lightly. Dreams that lingered were no idle thing to be discarded. The force never worked in a strict fashion the council seemed to expect at times. Always, always a surprise lurked around the corner. The master replied.

This was no dream. It was a vision. To wait would be unwise for either of us, so I urge you to come to Coruscant.

Arren

Arren kept her message quick, a waste of words was akin to a waste of time; and time was perhaps the most valuable thing in the galaxy.

Kasari found Master Kae’s response to be cold, perhaps too cold. It hurt to see Xeviiy… demoralized? Thrown into the fire so soon and coming out unsure and confused after a predictably difficult test from Arren. Though, despite her own kind-hearted nature, Kasari chose not to voice her own dislikes of the silver-haired woman’s methods. Kasari had never seen them demonstrated so bluntly and without hesitation. After all, the Jedi never dealt in absolutes: yet, perhaps to think as such was to be blind of Kae’s intentions. Things were, unlike many masters believed, gray. To not battle, finding morality within a battle: in some cases that philosophical mindset had to be placed a side. Die, or do not die. Kill, or do not kill. One must simply do what is in accordance with the situation. A hard thing to learn, and an even more difficult thing to straddle the line between right and wrong. That was where she envied Arren, the woman seemed to walk the line without falling too far on either side.

Much like Arren, Kasari tended to push against the accepted ideologies of the order. Arren pushed a gray view of the force, whereas Kasari bended the views on attachment and compassion. Kasari aided Xeviiy in sneaking out to see her family, and she would happily do it once more. She was not there for the decision on Moryr’s master, but, whispers about the suspicious bond between master and apprentice was not lost on her.

Was it truly terrible for a Jedi to love? Attachment leads to the dark side, but Kasari believed all emotion could lead to the dark side if taken to the wrong extreme.

“Xeviiy has much to learn, and many lessons that will test her strong ideals. It’s the hardest part of becoming a Jedi, and it’s akin to a child growing up. Innocence can’t be retained forever, sadly.” In turn, Kasari provided the warmest of smiles to Moryr. The Knight did not need to be scolded or shamed for the things she felt.

Kasari placed her hands on Moryr’s shoulders in a perhaps unexpected embrace of companionship. “I believe the things that you feel are natural and ever present within the force. Your loss and confusion makes sense to me, and I wonder if the council’s decision was misguided; though I suppose that’s not correct of me to say.” The master sighed. “Where does the force guide you? I do not believe following its trail would make for a wrong choice.”

Leon couldn't help but agree with the Jedi Masters, there had unfortunately been some spies inside the Republic during the war with the Sith and Exar Kun as well as slicers that had managed to break into secure channels of the Republic and gain information, though it wasn't constant, it happened enough that he understood now the reasons the council made and why they had selected him to receive this information and relay it back to his superior.

He knew there was at least one man in the military he could talk too, his friend and a general of the Republic, Rylken Sulmar, no doubt he won't be pleased to hear this, especially since he only had a few more years until retirement and now the Republic may be plunged into war again, well if that was the case, then no doubt Leon would be there to meet the challenge.

Xeviiy slowly entered in to the council's chambers, feeling that she would be reprimanded for spying on the council, she didn't mean to however, just her curiosity had gotten the better of her unfortunately and it ended up getting her into some slight trouble. “I know Master Zez-Kai Ell, it's just...I got over curious that two high ranking officers were meeting you, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to spy on your meeting.”

Leon couldn't help but smirk a little at Xeviiy's comment, he didn't blame her, he had been curious himself and if he was in her shoes, he would've probably done the same thing, although probably would've done a better job at not getting caught. “Don't worry about it kid, we all get a little curious, though I think the masters would agree that next time you shouldn't spy on the council.”

Xeviiy nodded to Leon, she knew she had messed up and genuinely did feel bad that she had spied on her fellow Jedi, but she was at least glad she wasn't being reprimanded as bad as she thought she was going to be.

She soon focused her attention when she was addressed by Kavar, her face having a slight look of shock when she was told that if she were to discuss this with the other Jedi that she'd be exiled, not that she would have, but this just showed her how serious the situation was, though she'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little excited to be going with the scouting party. She hadn't been on many missions or to many planets, just mostly Coruscant and Dantooine, so to be heading somewhere completely new, it definitely peaked her interest.

Xeeviy bowed slightly, “Yes master, I understand, I won't speak a word of this to anyone.” Though this isn't the way that she had wanted to get on the mission, no doubt losing a few trust points with the masters that pretty much ran the Jedi Order, she was glad to be on it and she would definitely make it up to them, “And don't worry masters I won't ge-” She was in the middle of speaking when the Lieutenant interrupted her.

Xeviiy couldn't help but be slightly irritated that her age was coming into question, it probably didn't help either that she was still cooling off from that vision session she had, and as a result was unable to hold her tongue back, “Listen lady, I may be young still, but I'm more than capable of going on a mission like this.”

Leon was starting to like this padawan more and more, she was bold as well as a bit outspoken which at times wasn't always a bad thing, it helped keep people on top of things and in check, she reminded him a bit of Anna in that regard. “Easy now kid, I'm sure Lieutenant Sparvic didn't mean anything by it, just that this is quite an important mission and she's just a bit surprised the masters would put you on it.”

“I'm not a kid...but I guess I see your point, still though, I can handle myself, that's the whole point of being a Jedi and if there's a potential for war, then I think as many Jedi as is possible should be sent to investigate.” Xeviiy spoke out again, though it was rare from her usual, slightly quiet demeanor, she would speak her mind if she didn't like or agree with something.

Leon smiled slightly, “Alright alright, you're not a kid and I partially agree with you, but with things like these, the fewer people there are, the better, but I don't mind a padawan joining us on this mission, if anything I'll at least be able to put it down as babysitting service and get a bit more pay from the Republic.” He let out a hearty laugh, joking of course. Xeviiy herself noticing the banter the man was giving her, “We'll see who babysits who when I outclass you in everything you're supposed to do.” She bantered back, giving a small smirk in return.

Leon knew he definitely liked this padawan before him now, deep down she had a passion, a passion to serve the Jedi and even the Republic, no doubt the masters would see her attitude as improper behavior for a Jedi, but an attitude like that was sometimes needed, just to balance out the stiffness of the Jedi Order. “Hmm, well I guess we'll see.” He then looked to the Jedi Masters, “Well if that's all masters, I'll take my leave, report this to someone I know, don't worry, he's a good friend, he'll know what to do and who to speak too.” Giving a slightly lazy two finger salute before turning around, beginning to head out the door.

“Wait!” Xeviiy spoke up as they started to leave, quickly making her way over to them.

“Hmm? What is it padawan?” Leon paused, turning around to face her.

“I was wondering if I'd be able to go with you back to your headquarters, I've always wanted to see what Republic officers did in there.” She responded eagerly, perhaps being a bit over zealous and ambitious with everything, but when you studied as much as she did, needing a bit of excitement from it, no matter how small was bound to rear it's head.

“Well...I don't think anyone there would have a problem with it, you are technically a Jedi, well I suppose it's alright with me, but you best check with the masters if it's alright with them, I know stern they can be sometimes with stuff like this, plus it's not my call alone to make.”

Xeviiy's face lit up, a big smile reaching across her face and then she quickly turned around, her attention returning to the council, “Masters, I was wondering if it'd be alright for me to go with the Major and his Lieutenant back to their headquarters? I won't be gone very long and I'll behave.” She asked, bowing slightly to try and persuade them. She knew that she was already slightly in trouble forcing the council to put her on this mission and then to ask for a favor was pushing it, but the council wasn't unreasonable and who knows, they might see it as a way for her to stay out of further trouble with Leon and Anna with her.

Ken had been watching his opponent's defenses crumbled slowly as he slashed and jabbed at her with his training saber. Ken however did not let his advantage give him false ease as he knew what it was like to let his ego carry him away. His eyes watched her like a kath hound would stalk a prey during his hunt. In the end however Ken saw an opening and tried to take it but Aria force jumped away. Thankfully Ken's well practiced technique didn't fail him and he didn't stumble backward instead he quickly moved to intercept Aria. He turned around and kept his blade steady but loosened himself prepared to defend himself. His saber in hand Ken went to attack Aria with a saber strike...but it was a feint. Ken's other hand raised up and was raised directly level at Aria's chest. It only took moments for Ken to call upon the force and he focused as he blasted Aria with a light blow initially but that too was a fake out as a much tougher force blast came immediately afterward. He needed more time to focus his full power but even without the full power of his force abilities behind him Ken knew his abilities were more than sufficient to handle most situations. In the mean time Ken kept his saber near him ready to block if it failed him. Shii-Cho was the most basic of forms but in this case it would serve him well enough until he gathered his bearings to decide a better course of action should this force blast fail to knock Aria down.

Markus smiled as he read the message and quickly walked towards the sparring room. It had been years since he had some practice with his friend kale in years. He remembered the last time they fought where he was able to defeat him quickly. But that was 19 years ago, and Kale had become a Jedi now. He wondered if he had become any better at fighting with all those years gone by. Markus's sword skills had also improved. But he didn't have all the holocrons and masters to teach him. Meaning that he could be at an disadvantage. But that really didn't matter to Markus. As long as he could finally fight with his friend again he was contempt. As he entered the practice room he remembered the many times he practiced here. How many times he had fallen flat on his face. And how it had stressed him out. How many times he had been sparring making his skills better and better. Then again it really had payed of. Where it not for his hours of practicing and fighting. He would not have survived his exile. He would have died in his first fight. He saw Kale leaning against the wall his hand tipping against the wall. He had already grabbed a practice saber. He looked up at Markus and smiled at him.

"took you long enough to get here."

"Only a minute mind you." Markus said grinning as he grabbed another practice saber.

"So what are the rules Kale? only sword fighting or force powers as well?"

Under his seemingly blank expression, Zhar was pleased. He wasn’t one to normally duel his own students until they were ready, so having them face a well-trained Knight was an exceedingly excellent option. Just from this one duel, the rate of Aria and Alek’s learning could excel far beyond most other padawans. He could see the discomfort in Aria’s face, no matter how much calm she could exude. Ken’s offensive style had taken her off guard, and forced her into choosing an attacking style. Adapt, learn, become what one must in order to achieve victory. A true lightsaber battle between soldier, mercenary, sith, jedi… The hard truth was a battle was usually to the death. Being in tune with the sword was synonymous with being in tune with oneself and the energy of the Force.

The force push worked. Aria was lifted off of her feet and thrown back near the wall. Her switch to Ataru was successful, but only for a momentary period of time. Caught in the panic, the constant attack of Ken… Aria felt the first stirrings of something inside of her. Something different, but not quite foreign. She fought against battles and duels, yet she loved the Echani rituals. At every turn, she contradicted her nature. And now, as the padawan managed to get herself up onto her feet and in a quick defensive position.

Aria felt thrilled. The rush of battle coursed through her veins and a sudden pouring of force surrounded her in waves. She switched into Juyo. Zhar cracked a smile. In response to Ken, Aria delivered a force push of surprising power and leapt back into battle with him. With controlled anger, unleashing her emotions, she breathed in the thrill of dueling with Ken as if it were second nature. Her golden yellow saber flashed and thrummed with life. Her own saber strokes falling down with her building fire.

“Ahhhhh!!” She screamed out.



Anna had more than a few things to say to the padawan. She kept her mouth sealed, and thoughts to herself while Leon bantered with her and talked with the council. It was more than just what Leon assumed her worry was for. Anna may not have seen war, but she was an adult. This padawan was young, not a knight, not a master; and she was about to be thrust into a mission in which no one knew exactly what might happen. Her worries, stress, and frustration festered; but with a deep breath she allowed herself to simmer. Perhaps Leon was right, and perhaps Xeviiy was right. Jedi could do incredible things, why should this padawan be so different in her capabilities of protecting herself?

It seemed Atris had read the lieutenant’s mind. “Don’t burden yourself with too much worry, Lieutenant. The force is strong and will protect Xeviiy. We don’t intend for her to be within the line of fire. She may prove a surprise to you.” Anna nodded and looked over at the eager, fiery padawan. Despite Atris’ words, Anna couldn’t fully agree. The nature of a fire fight, the nature of a war, is unpredictable. Meaning to do or not do something makes no difference – That’s what she learned with chasing criminals in the underbelly of Coruscant. Anything that can go wrong, will, so prepare accordingly.

Kavar put his hands together. “Then, I believe this meeting is concluded. I support the idea that Xeviiy should accompany you both back to Republic Headquarters. A Jedi’s mind should not only be wrapped up in the words of our archives, but from experience. You’re free to join them, Xeviiy.” Kavar stood from his seat, and so did the rest of the council signifying the end of their deliberations.

Anna glanced over at Xeviiy. “I didn’t mean any offense to you, earlier. Considering our mission, there are a lot of priorities to be concerned about. I’ve put criminals behind bars, but a war mission is a whole different animal from what I’ve read. Leon would probably know more about scouting missions than I do.”



Kale twirled his saber around in circles, walking into the dueling ring. They were right next door to the other room where Aria and Ken were fighting. Sounds of lightsaber crackling seeped through the walls. With a press of the switch, the blue plasma sang. The beam burning vibrantly in the air as he looked over Markus with a grin.

“It’s been a long time.”

Too long, far too long. Nineteen years since Kale and Markus had last stepped into the ring together for a sparring match. He had never quite lived up to the level of Markus and Lonna, but Kale was a tricky fighter with plenty of deceptions at his disposal. A smart duelist who could be lethal if taken lightly. Nineteen years could only make him better.

“Sabers only, for old time’s sake. Pure swordsmanship skill only. I can’t think of anything better.”

Ken's force wall that had been erected earlier in the battle proved sturdy enough to protect him. However he was forced back on his feet, sliding across the floor. Ken immediately fell back into a defensive Makashi by pure instinct. He back pedaled as Aria charged at him. He was astonished by her rush but she wasn't strong enough to break his guard physically. Ken felt perturbed by the ferocious nature of the attacks but he forced himself to focus and let his emotions flow like calm waves. This wasn't particularly new to him just unexpected. He had once before faced another jedi in a situation like this but in a more serious situation. Ken wasn't sure how to he would handle this situation however. He blocked in a hurried fashion his make-due makashi barely holding up. Aria was skilled but..she wasn't focused was she? That meant...it was worth a shot. Ken dug deep into himself and prepared to see if he could really pull it off. 'Master Org please...let this work like it would for you...' Ken said as he suddenly swung back at Aria in an attempt to gain the offense as he pushed against Aria he swung his lightsaber at Aria's blade with all he had...and at the same time called on the force. He pulled the blade he had recovered from the floor from his belt to his left hand. He ignited the blue training saber and attempted to force Aria to yield by stabbing at Aria's throat with the blade. If he failed however Ken didn't like his chances...Jar'Kai was by far his least trained style. He knew Shii-Cho by nature, Niman by it's simplicity, Makashi only enough to implement it into Niman and for duels like these. Jar'Kai...it was a literal copy of what he had seen his old master do. Any moves he would pull out from it would be improvised and clumsy at best. Still he hoped against hope she wouldn't see the attack coming.

Leon smirked when Xeviiy's face lit up, if nothing had changed since he had last been in the Jedi Temple, then he knew that she probably wasn't allowed to leave it frivolously what with her still being a padawan. “Oh thank you masters!” Xeviiy exclaimed, bowing to them quickly and then started to head towards the exit, Leon and Anna not too far behind, “Don't worry masters, we'll look after her and make sure she doesn't get into trouble.” He half waved as they began exiting out of the council chambers with Xeviiy.

Xeviiy glanced back when Anna started to speak to her, “Eh, don't worry about it, I get it to some degree, but I'm not just some little kid that can't protect herself, I'm with the order, they've trained me since I was little...I'm sorry though for being rude, sometimes words escape my mouth faster than my brain thinks.” She smiled with a small chuckle.

“So...how do you know the council? I didn't manage to catch that bit when you guys were talking.” Xeviiy spoke up after the short silence as the three of them continued walking through the temple.

“I used to be a padawan such as yourself.”

“What really?” Xeviiy couldn't help but respond with a shocked expression on her face.

“Yep, if you're wondering why I'm not with the order now, it's because I felt I wasn't good enough for the order, see I have a difficult time manipulating the force externally, so such things as telekinesis or force push and pull are a little more difficult for me. The one thing that I was better than most at was using the force to enhance my body's natural abilities, but I never thought that would be really useful to the Jedi Order, so I sort of put a self imposed exile on myself, then someone from the Republic recruited me and that's how I got to where I am now.”

“Wow, well I guess that would explain those stories I've heard about you, if you are that guy that did all those incredible things in the war against Exar Kun.” She responded.

“Yeah, some people think me a bit of a legend, though I don't really see it, I just did what anyone else would've.” Leon answered back, a little quieter as he thought back to some of his past battles he was in years ago.

“Well you had the force with you, that already gave you more of an advantage than most of the other soldiers you were with.”

“Perhaps, but that doesn't mean they didn't save my life as much as I saved theirs, the force is a powerful ally, but so are the people you fight with, the force alone can't allow you to do everything by yourself.”

They soon made it out of the temple and then began walking towards the headquarters, thankfully it wasn't too far away, no doubt one of the reasons it was built so close to the Jedi Temple, so news could be sent to them quickly.

“Oh no!” Leon exclaimed, smacking his forehead as he let out a sigh.

“What is it, sir?” The Lieutenant asked, finding his outburst to be random.

“I just remembered Lieutenant, I'm going to have a ton of paperwork when I get back.” He let out a slight chuckle.

“Well you're the one who had to take one of your infamous breaks and then the whole news with the Jedi, you've got no one to blame but yourself.” Anna responded cheekily.

“Yeah yeah Lieutenant, no need to rub it in my face.” He sighed, he hated paperwork, it always seemed like it was never ending, at least on the battlefield he usually didn't have to worry about that.

“I take it he does this a lot then?” Xeviiy spoke, noticing the two seemed to have a unique bond, if they weren't together, they would be, at least that's how Xeviiy saw it.

“Yeah, I have to remind him all the time about his work, I feel like his mother a lot of the time more than his Lieutenant.” She chuckled, glad that she and Xeviiy were starting to get along better than than had moments before.

“What did you say, Lieutenant?” He gave a serious glare to her, Xeviiy feeling a bit nervous when his demeanor changed, though she started to relax when Anna rolled her lips in, trying to avoid laughing, though it was unavoidable. “You really think that facade works on me anymore, it's not like how it was on day one.” Leon's struggled to keep the facade anger expression on his face, but soon a smile cracked from it, “Well I thought it was worth a try, at least I managed to trick the baby Jedi.” He chuckled, glancing over to Xeviiy.

“Baby Jedi huh? Well I bet this 'baby Jedi' could trounce you in a sparring match.” She smiled to him with a determined look on her face, something in her being brought when she talked to him, plus it also had something to do with when she had that vision session with that strange woman.

“Perhaps after we get to Republic HQ and I inform a general about this, just make sure to not bother the other soldiers who are busy with paperwork.” He spoke to her.

“Don't worry Major, I'll stay with her and show her around the place, let her get a feel for what it's like in the Republic.” Anna interjected, Leon giving a nod. It wasn't that he expected her to misbehave, just it would be his ass if his superiors saw an unauthorized person inside the building, even if they were a Jedi who just barely had clearance with the military.

It started to become early dusk when they finally entered the HQ, Xeviiy was in awe of how busy it was, a man quickly rushing over to them, “Major! Where have you been, paperwork has been piling up.” Leon let out a sigh, “Relax Sergeant, I'm here now, just give me a few minutes and then I'll help take care of it.” The Sergeant saluted and then quickly rushed back to his desk as the three started to walk through the building, down a hall on the left until they reached a door, a name plate next to it reading 'General Rylken Sulmar'.

“Alright, here we go, no make sure to be respectful to the man, he's stern but not unreasonable.” Leon warned, a lot of the generals were like that, though he figured they had to be, otherwise the chain of command wouldn't be taken seriously if they were relaxed and care free.

He knocked on the door, “Come in.” An older voice came from the other side, the door sliding open as the three of them stepped inside, “Ah Leon, good to see you...” An older man with black hair, grey streaks on the side as well as a full beard spoke, looking to be in his late fifties, he paused when he saw Anna and Xeviiy, “...and you brought guests.” He smiled to them, Leon giving a quick salute, followed by Anna, though Xeviiy didn't. “Xeviiy...” Leon spoke in a hinting voice, trying to get her to do the same.

“It's quite alright Major, Jedi aren't truly known for military protocol, are they?” He asked her with a smile, she looking surprised in return, “You know I'm a Jedi?” She asked the older man curiously. “Well of course my dear, it's quite obvious what with your attire, not to mention that shiny hilt you have attached to your side.”

She looked down to her weapon before looking to Leon and then the older man once more, “You don't seem stern like the Major said.” She retorted, Leon's eyebrows shooting up before he lowered his head into his palm, shaking it. The General unable to help but let out a hearty laugh, “Well in my office I'm a bit more laid back, plus the Major and I are old friends, so he gets a break on that front, but I assume you're here with more important matters than a greeting?” He looked to Leon, quickly becoming more serious.

“Yes General, I visited the Jedi Temple, they had been expecting me, they bring news about Mandalorian raids on the Outer Rim supposedly on a conquest based on the information I've been given. They wish for my Lieutenant and I, as well as this young Jedi to accompany the scouting party they're going to send to investigate, they said we'd be meeting up with some others they've selected, here is the information they gave me.” He reached behind him, handing the datapad over to the aged General.

He began to review some of the data that was on it, his brow furrowing the more he read, “Why was this not simply sent to us via a secure channel?” He asked as he paused his reading to look at Leon.

“The Jedi Council were concerned that the channels weren't secure enough and didn't wish for this information to be leaked and potentially cause a panic or allow others to benefit off the chaos or alert any Mandalorians or their sympathizers.” Leon Responded.

The General nodded his head, “Yes, I understand now. They were right then to have this delivered personally, if such information were to get out without a calm explanation, no doubt there would be chaos that could severely harm the Republic...” He let out a sigh, “...I really hope this doesn't lead to another war, I'm only a few years from retirement, thank you for bringing this to me, I shall inform the other Generals and we'll bring this to the Senates attention.”

“Yes, sir!” Leon spoke loudly, saluting and began to head for the door before Anna approached the General, “Sir? I don't mean to take up anymore of your valuable time, but I was wondering if Major Athos could have someone else take over his paperwork, just so he isn't fatigued when the mission begins.” Leon was about to speak up when the General let out a chuckle, “Sure Lieutenant, can't have a legend like our Major here to be fatigued, I'll have someone else take care of it, not to worry.” Anna smiled and the clapped her feet together, giving a salute, then started to exit the General's office with Leon and Xeviiy.

“Are you two trying to get me into trouble? You're just lucky he was in a good mood.” Leon spoke as he let out a sigh.

Xeviiy and Anna looking at each other before letting out a small giggle, “Nothing wrong with testing the waters, Major.” Xeviiy teased as they started to walk down the hallway, “How about we get some food from the cafeteria and then we can spar like you wanted.” Leon suggested, Xeviiy smiling and nodding eagerly, she definitely changed a little, she still believe in her idealism, but she wasn't so avert to combat now, at least if it was a sparring match.

“No lesson is truly learned until it has been purchased with pain.”

That Which Binds II
The Aundus-Valay, Above Zetrea
Outer Rim

Rain roared down against the city, drowning it in an alum-grey veil that spoke of secrets and shadows. It whispered as it swept across the thin ceiling above them, and fell in great waterfalls down before the window which hung open, even now. The breeze was cold. It chilled Kujata to the bone, seeping endlessly into the room as if to devour all the warmth that once blazed in his flesh.

“Be as the river, swift and strong,” his master said, flowing from one pose to the next, the heavy blade in her hand moving with a languid but unwavering pace. Terzeh did not seem to feel the chill.

He met her first strike with his own practice saber. Then the next. “Course and surge. Confident and sure.”

Each blow grew stronger but felt no quicker. Simply gathering momentum, gathering weight. Each strike precise. Each strike an expression of her words. Following the cadence of her voice, of her movements, and the pulse of the world around them.

Until at last his defenses broke and her blade met the joining of his shoulder and neck.

“Do not cease at that which stands in your way. Overcome it.”

And so he fought, flowing into the oncoming storm, his blade sweeping swift and sure from one place, one moment, to the next. The dazzling crimson fire flickered and cracked with each blaster bolt it caught, calmly and unconsciously returning them to the place from whence they came. He paid no mind to anything beyond the immediate now, the circle that marked the maximum reach of the saber he wielded – nothing else mattered.

He was lost in it from the moment the enemy opened fire. Lost to the motion, to the memory of it. To those sleepless nights of swordplay in city after city, to the clacking of practice sabers on the mat to the squeal of clashing light in the darkest heart of the jungle. He knew nothing of the names or of the history of his stances. They did not matter. Each bore a mark of purpose but each was weak on its own, for none of them were complete alone.

Those he'd fought held nothing of themselves in reserve; what he was, how he fought, was a reflection of those he'd hunted, those he'd killed. Words on a page, voices in the dim light of holocrons – they spoke of perfect worlds and of proper ways but cared little for the practicalities of combat. And seemed to have cared even less for the core of what they were. They covered combat in the framework of a science and ignored the truth beneath the surface.

If all things were connected, then so too were all things. Each element of style, each form, was a current of the river. Each step, each breath, one piece of the whole. Kujata could not divide out the elements of its being and did not try; he surged, and coursed. He was his lightsaber, and the lightsaber was of himself, and it passed from one bolt to the next as if it knew where each would land, grasping them for an instant and flicking them back into the fray, for they too were a part of the whole.

The Force is as much of death as it is of life, he remembered. It is impossible to believe otherwise.

Whose voice had spoken those words?

His? Or hers?

But the thought passed over and through him, and he did not dwell.

Here in this moment he found himself in a garden once more, a peaceful moment amidst the hustle and bustle, a state of mind that did not cease but rather flowed around, never stopping, for to stop was to succumb. Odd, how hard it was for him to feel this – this peace – when he was divided from the blade in his hand. It spoke volumes on who he was, but this too he relinquished. It had no place in the moment.

Other rounds joined the fight from somewhere behind him and he allowed them to pass. The mad screaming that accompanied them told the Jedi Knight that they were his companion's contribution to the fight, and thus they too had a place amidst the field of crossing fire. The Jawa's voice rose and his language joined the war-cry of the enemy, becoming a wall of sound that merged wholly with the retort of blaster fire to form the essence of conflict.

I have missed this, he realized.

But felt nothing. In the hours to come perhaps he would glean some meaning from that thought. Perhaps it would strike him more surely than any blaster bolt, and perhaps it might be the one that claimed his life. To cast him into a pit from which he could not escape, mired in the taint of the Dark, swallowed by it. Utterly. Wholly.

That was not now. Nor here.

Now he fought. Now he passed from each moment to the next, recognizing only that which was within his sphere, thinking of nothing but the sweep of his humming blade and the brilliant ruby light that trailed in its wake.

And that was why he'd feared this.

He was about to let go. To surrender to the pumping blood in his veins and the breath that thundered in his lungs. Not to hate, nor to aggression – to the movement. To the absence of thought and the passing of each moment in service to the blade. Some of the blaster bolts he deflected ricocheted into the yawning dark above and around, but not all. Some met armor and flesh. Some struck and threw his enemies to the ground. Each simple twist of his blade … even at this distance … could kill. And it killed.

A few lives already stolen in service to the one life he fought to protect. All the rationalization in the world had led him to this. The wisdom of his peers and of those who had come before, leading him to this moment, this brink. And he could not bring himself to feel anything about it. Not a glimmer of trepidation. Nothing of reservation or better judgment. Only the flow of thoughts as they rushed from what was into what would be.

Time stretched out around him, expanding and flattening like the halo of some mad devouring black hole in the center of the universe. He reached out and the Force responded. He sunk his hands into the threads that bound all things that lived and he played upon them, created a symphony of motion from their resonance. It was deeper than a release; it was absence of everything.

He lost sight of the shattered plaza and of its ruined marble and of the bending and twisting of steel high above.

Lost sight of the being who had driven him to act. Who had pushed him into the choice to join the fight. To relinquish the fragile self he'd constructed across the span of a decade and return to what he was. This … thing. This beast of instinct. Meditation in violence. The dance of light as it rained around him and ripped reality apart. It was as he was, for he was what it was.

They called it darkness. Too close to the edge.

And perhaps they'd been right to push him away. The elders in their robes and masks of stern wisdom, speaking of things they knew nothing about. But they had not been there. They did not hold those memories in their heads. They could only see the aftermath, the result of what had happened. History resounding forth from action – an echo born of echoes. A chain of events that led from the beginning to the end, be it comprised of weal or of woe or everything in between.

More bodies fell.

But he did not think on them.

Instead he thought of the Council all but casting him out. He took that moment – his branding as a pariah, the stripping of privileges but not his title – into his hands and turned it round and round, observing it from all angles in rapid succession. Stripped of emotion it struck him as a simple event. There had been nothing to it. Perfunctory. Without emotion it was no different than any other event, no matter how deeply it cut. Ostracized not for a crime he'd committed, but for the dark deeds he'd done for the Order.

Removed from sight because they could not bear to face what they had sanctioned. They strove for the Light, but they refused to see it for what it was – it was truth. The Light was truth, and the Light was pain, no matter what prosaic Jedi wisdom posited. Kindness was born of agony, for how could one measure the weight of a good deed if in want of a shadow to contrast it with?

A lake of the Force swelled out in all directions, to the edge of his blade and beyond now. Another dead enemy in strange armor, and then another, each felled by their own aggression. And he felt nothing. They meant nothing. Was this the fall, at last? Was this the precipice and was he in the midst of leaping headlong over its edge?

Perhaps it was better this way. To lose himself completely.

Terzeh spoke often of causality as an expression of destiny. Of the will of the Force. It guides all things, she said. If only one would listen.

Was it destiny, then, that led him here? To the choice he'd made? To save one life – and his own – and by doing so take another? And another? Was it destiny that led him time and time again into conflict with the core of the Jedi Code? That led him to commit terrible act to preserve the pristine sheen of the Order that bound him to these battles? It was not his to choose, not in the end. Was it?

In truth he often felt nothing of destiny, nothing of inevitability. Except in the darkest moments of his life. Except when faced with choices that were not choices at all. Causality, a chain of linked events that once begun cannot be undone. Destiny, the guiding force of a life that sets these things in motion. Two sides to the same coin? Or were they joined on a single face? For they both stank of the erosion of free will, and could both have been the reverse that undercut it.

How was he to know?

Even those amongst the Jedi who professed wisdom could only guess. They acted on their feelings and gut instinct and claimed that it was truth. Some clung to the teachings of those older and smarter than they, thinking that in the path of sycophancy lay the keys to elevation above the mundane, but they all fell away in the end. The Force was their lifeblood and it was born of life, but they failed to recognize that the balance of all things required that the Force be also of death, and thus their destruction.

What was the point of wisdom if it answered no questions? If it only gave pale comfort as the light faded and was swallowed by the longest night?

Give me something, he thought, amused that he'd thought it. Was he asking this of the Force? Or the spirits of those who had fallen before him? Give me anything. Show me that there is purpose. Show me which side of the coin life is meant to fall upon. Something real. Anything real.

Shouts from one of the enemy – the one in red, who barked orders and expected to be obeyed – commanded the soldiers to cease their salvo. Leej did not stop even as the enemy sought cover of their own. A pair of detonators came sailing through the air and Kujata caught them with a flick of his free hand, casting them out and away, trusting his instincts to lead them to where they needed to be.

Even as he did so one of the blue-clad warriors emerged from the remains of the enemy squad and closed with Kujata, wielding a bayonet affixed to the end of his blaster rifle. His red hair gleamed in the dim light of the ruined plaza.

The physical fight fell beneath the Jedi Knight's concern. Whatever the soldier's prowess, it was not enough to challenge one steeped in the Force. It was overconfidence, Kujata knew – and could be his undoing. But he did not bother to correct the course of his thoughts and instead let the moment, the fight, play out.

Is it the chain? The Force? Or it is true absence, the void of intent, that rules me? Which is it to be? Am I to find purpose, or am I to lose myself entirely?

His lightsaber struck true and pierced the heart of the enemy before him. Smoke rose for a moment from the cauterized wound as he fell, and was still.

And in that moment there was … a tremor. Something that shook the balance of Kujata's mind. It felt as if everything he was, everything that supported his crude matter and tranquil mind, was suddenly tilted. At once the whole state of calm that he wore as a mantle was torn free as something deep and ponderous gripped the edges of his mind.

Cold chills filled every nerve and his stomach twisted in a sudden knot.

“It is the spirit of the galaxy, and as it connects us, so too do we connect it, an infinite system of links, a grand and endless chain.”

Terzeh's voice came to him as the feeling grew stronger.

“Honestly? I've no idea. Can't explain it. You just popped into my head when I was working out the details, and who am I to deny the mysteries of my own mind?”

Camana Xair, echoing in his thoughts as he raised his blade once more.

“I don't care who you are and I don't care where you're from, you will have to wait.”

He was as the flow of water, but had not passed the obstacles in his way. He had been content and buried deep the anger and the storm where once he would have cut past it. Tempered by age, he had taken each simpler path offered to him, accepted each of the vagaries of the galaxy without thought.

One.

“Kindly one looks like man in need of drink.”

After.

“Then voice in Leej's mind says 'Leej, this kindly sentient is sucker you are looking for!'”

Another.

His heart was racing.

The feeling that thrummed in every inch of his body seemed born of the places around him where the Force was strongest, like some manner of immense wave that touched his edges before slamming fully into him.

A vast chain drawing tight now. All things out of balance but plunging deep into a stronger truth, one that was not peace nor emotion, but more complex, a grander weave.

And in that moment another warrior leapt at him and nearly broke through his defenses as he reeled from his churning thoughts. A quick fighter, slim as shadow with a tattered sweep of raven hair and the emerald skin of a Mirialan, soaked in blood and gore. Missing much of her armor and drenched in sweat, riddled with exhaustion, but possessed of a fury he had not known himself in a very long time.

Two swords slashed out and wove through his sluggish defense like a vibroknife through bantha shit, slicing flesh and drinking deep of his blood.

And all around him surged the sensation that, for an instant, the whole of the galaxy fell silent.



Ducar's body still smouldered as she lunged over him and closed with the Jedi Knight.

Every fiber of Zeti's being was aflame with a flush of immense fear and incredible euphoria in one combined; one of the most dangerous enemies in all the galaxy stood before her and she would not allow this opportunity to slip through her fingers. Exhaustion was nothing, anguish was nothing, hesitation was impossible. She heard her father call out for her but she did not heed him, nor even really hear him.

All was forgiven, perhaps. Perhaps none had even seen her sin. Perhaps the weight of her burden would never really be sated and she would live in shame for the rest of her life. But perhaps that would be outweighed by the saber of a Jedi Knight hanging from her belt. Only one way to find out. Some might have shied away from this, but not her. Zeti was Mandalorian, as her father before her.

A feral grin escaped her – she could not help it. Here, with this foe, she had a chance to prove herself a second time. A second chance to blood, and against the most dangerous prey.

How many chances did one get at an opportunity this immense?

The Jedi seemed dazed as she reached him and impulse drove her blades in for the kill without pause, lancing through his slow parry and cutting deeply into his arm, pulling them free with a burst of blood. This was a Knight? This was what the elders spoke of around meals in the mess in the latest hours of the day? This was the enemy her father had warned her of and cautioned her against time and time again?

He had killed many of her brothers and sisters by returning their blaster fire with his lightsaber and they'd feared his defenses were impenetrable. He'd batted away detonators without even touching them, and for an instant she'd thought he was something more than human, more than any living sentient. And perhaps he was. But Ducar had gotten close and proved it could be done, and won great glory for himself and for his aliit in death.

And now she'd drawn blood. She knew that the Jedi could bleed.

Which meant the Jedi could be killed.

And if all she managed to do was wound him before finding her own death in service to Mandalore, then perhaps it would be enough to win her a glorious death of her own. Something that only minutes before had seemed so agonizingly far out of reach. The galaxy was an unjust place and it could be superbly cruel … but she was no coward. At the end of the day, at the end of her life, she would prove that to her family. She would die for Mandalore and his Crusade, and prove to the galaxy that they were no ordinary people.

That they were so much more.

In the instant her blades snapped back to a ready stance the Jedi seemed to come back to himself. His gaze fell upon her, but instead of anger or outrage he seemed … curious. Uncertain. But not immobile. His blade flashed out as if to test her defenses and she ducked low and swept aside, easily avoiding the weapon's deadly beam, dancing around him for a second strike to try to take him on his exposed flank.

But he was quicker than she'd expected, suddenly facing her direction even as she struck. The blades of her ancient swords slammed into the crimson light of his Jedi weapon and shuddered in her hands, vibrating as they threw sparks and acrid smoke on contact. The metal was old and worn, the weapons both veterans of countless battles, but it held; somewhere in their alloy must have been a thread of cortosis.

If she'd been truly smart she would have taken her father's knives before closing with the Knight, but it was too late for that now.

That the blades still held saved her life a second later when his counter strokes flared into her parries, a heavy but oddly calm assault which explored the reaches of her weapons with the precision of an experienced combatant. The same sort of testing strikes she would have expected from any one of her father's generation, blooded in war against enemies just like this. Was this where they learned it? Or was this a quality that all seasoned killers possessed?

A quick succession of strikes and counter strikes filled the space between them, Zeti's footwork proving itself as she nimbly swept across the range of the Knight's weapon, trying once more to open a gap in his attention to slip through and strike a killing blow. But he held firm, easily matching her speed with his confident positioning, switching stances rapidly as he kept up with her zealous assault. A strange cacophony filled the air as their weapons clashed, and some degree of heat began to flood the blades in Zeti's hands. But she would not let them go nor break off the attack; to turn away now would mean complete dishonor.

The other Mandalorians kept their positions behind the barricade, still wary of the tiny alien on the other side of the dueling ground who still had his ridiculous blaster rifle trained on their position. At least he wasn't trying to fire directly into the melee; it would likely have spelled Zeti's death, though the Jedi would probably have been able to deflect each bolt as he had before. In that light, it spoke to his honor that he did not order his soldier to take the shot.

Another fast exchange of strikes passed and Zeti used the momentary break in their cadence to slip beside the Knight once more, but instead of pressing in for the flank she doubled back and whirled into her next attack without hesitation, the tips of her swords whistling in through the sudden window her opponent presented. Instead of taking root in his now-exposed side the weapons met with a resistance she could not explain, and she was thrown back a few paces.

“You caught me in a moment of … unusual connection to the Force,” the Knight said, bemused. “On any other day you'd have probably killed me there.”

Wasting words in a fight for his life? He may show glimmers of honor, but definitely didn't posses a Mandalorian's sensibilities. Her heart was racing as she leapt back in, her swords a whirl of motion as she summoned what was left of her energy reserves.

From the corner of her eye she thought she saw something close to worry on the Rally Master's face as he glanced up above the barricade, but it passed immediately and she could not have sworn it was there at all. It did not matter. He would respect her after this. He would feel pride in her. She would prove that her first kill had been a fluke, that the shame would not rest on the aliit, on him. She would take another life to expiate the sin of a dishonorable kill, and if the Jedi was not sufficient …

A guttural grunt escaped her as she put all her strength into the next blow, turning a finesse strike into one of brute force, hoping to overpower his one-handed defense. But he neatly flicked her attack to the side and stepped out of the way, raising his lightsaber and its blood-red incandescence up into something akin to a fencer's stance.

“Almost. You show a lot of heart, kid, but you lack precision. If you'd hit a little higher I wouldn't have been able to catch that one so easily.” He wiggled the tip of his lightsaber a little, almost playfully. “But really, not too bad. You have good instincts. Or … well, maybe it's-”

He was going to be playful? She'd be playful too. Mandalorians were all about fun and games, after all. As he mouthed off she slipped one of her blades into Ducar's corpse at her feet, and cut the Jedi off by slinging a swordful of blood towards his eyes. The Jedi flinched and stepped back, but not quite a full reversion into his fencing stance. She dipped low as he slashed out at her, and whipped her blades up to rend his stomach.

But he managed to catch the blades and this time put an immense amount of effort into it. The playfulness dropped from him instantly, like the shedding of a mask. He slammed his lightsaber down and sheared clean though the ancient swords in Zeti's hands then delivered a kick that threw her off her feet, stronger than anything she'd ever felt before.

And once more she felt that odd sensation, that distant voice that seemed to echo in the cavern of her soul …

It came in waves, like an ocean storm. Ebbing and flowing. As she pulled herself up off the ground and readied the broken lengths of her vibroswords, the squirming in her stomach grew stronger and stronger, welling up until she was fighting the urge to vomit. Weakness, she thought. Why do I show weakness now? Why do I feel dizzy? Why do I see the faces of the dead rising up before me?

But as she had done before, she summoned her anger. And it buried that sensation down, and replaced it with a sense of renewed vigor. Weakness? Never again. She would never again show weakness before her clan, nor her father. She would not let them down. Could not afford to be made a mockery. Could not bring shame down upon them. She would become the killer again, as a true Mandalorian must.

As the anger welled up in her she saw a look pass across the Jedi's face that she could not read. And then he shook his head. “I should have figured,” he said. And he brought his sword up again, readying for the next clash.

What is that supposed to mean? Did he think her stupid for continuing her attack with broken blades? If that's what it was, then he was in for a rude awakening. A Mandalorian was rarely unarmed. And any who believed a Mandalorian at a disadvantage was easier prey did not understand the aliits of Mandalore's Crusade at all. Combat bred capability and adaptability; only the strongest lived to gain full rank.

The green stripes on a recruit's armor were there not a mark of shame, but rather to make them easier targets for the enemy. To force them to learn to survive. Any who had earned the right to live – who had proven capable and adaptable enough to blood themselves at a disadvantage – had also earned the right to remove the slashes they bore.

And the Knight would learn that the hard way.

He closed in and swung his lightsaber in lazy arcs as he did so, leaving molten trails in the marble below. Coming in for the finishing blow. Arrogant, and careless.

Every nerve and muscle fiber in her body coiled. Her vision narrowed to just what lay before her, to the dark-skinned man who wore a tattered coat and an expression of unwarranted serenity. She counted each moment by the beats of her heart and heard nothing but the rush of blood in her ears. He stepped closer, and closer …

She would duck low again, a feint. He could react as he did before and try to take her with a full downward swing, but as he did so she could flinch back and snap in from above, using the remaining length of her blades in a reverse grip to kill him in a single strike. But she could not afford to miss. His blade might still twist out and take her in the gut. And if he did not sweep down …

Closer, and she could hear the sound of his lightsaber dopplering as it tore at the ground, inching closer, a wake of sparks trailing behind …

One moment. It would be decided in a single moment. Whose reflexes were better, whose counter strike was surer. And she believed she could do it. She had to. Stoke the rage, keep focused, measure the breaths, focus, focus …

He stepped into range and whirled his crimson-bladed saber into a two-handed grip, and she lunged low, but even as she did a horrific shirek of steel overpowered all other sound and attention in the plaza, the trellising that supported the ceiling of the damaged plaza finally giving way, collapsing in on itself as the wounds that sunk the chamber into darkness took their final toll. Chunks of twisted steel and duracrete came raining down upon them and the Jedi Knight leapt back, throwing his hands out as he did so.

Whatever sorcery he worked, whatever superhuman power he wielded, it hurled a massive punch of force into Zeti's torso and flung her backwards like a ragdoll, clear of the debris as they thundered down into the battlefield they'd only moments before occupied. More and more of the support structure of the room cracked and rent and howled as it all came tumbling down, and as a pair of red-clad hands gripped Zeti's shoulders and dragged her back into the light she watched the Knight scoop up his companion as he raced towards the hangar entrance across the room.

Unable to bear the frustration and without an outlet for her rage, she screamed at nothing, clutching the stumps of her swords in either hand with bloodless knuckles.

“Next time, Soldier Zeti,” Oleg growled. “Keep it in. Save it. A soldier is careful, not reckless.”

Another set of gauntlet-clad hands joined Oleg's as the strength left her body. Between them, they carried her the rest of the way to the command deck turbolift as the grand plaza, jewel of the Aundus's upper decks, folded in on itself completely and tore through the ground below into the lower reaches of the ship.

A chain reaction that did not cease until the hull itself buckled from the stress, straining and groaning as it struggled to maintain atmosphere and began to lose the fight.

Warmth and a feeling of relief flowed through Moryr as Kasari placed her hands upon her shoulders, a comforting gesture that did much to relax the squirming feelings that had been gnawing within her as her fondness for Kasari increased. The fact she shared her questioning of the council’s decision removed the feelings of self-doubt and served to reinforce that it was not just herself who questioned the wisdom behind it, somehow that made her make peace with the decision in that moment. Such a small thing however it greatly helped her to shoulder the burden of her thoughts and reinvigorate her strength and realise that she was not as ostracised as she had feared.

“Where does the force guide you? I do not believe following its trail would make for a wrong choice.”

The question bounced around Moryr’s head for a brief moment before she realised that in her worry and doubt she had more or less blinded herself to the will of the force, unable to see through her emotions she had allowed herself to fail the code of the Jedi and in turn failed herself. Moryr smiled again warmly and placed a hand on Kasari’s as she spoke “Thank you for your words, they do much to help. I admit that as of late I have had trouble seeing the will of the force, however I already feel myself calmed and better suited to meditate on such things. Though it would not surprise me to find that my path within the Order is now clearer to me”.

It still felt a little strange to her, to be nestled within the heart of the Order as opposed to so working in the far reaches of known space. It did make her wonder now, perhaps why Mudarr chose to live and educate her in such a way – though again with their bond it seemed the most obvious answer would have been to ensure that he could continue to do so. But now it was easy for her to cast those doubts aside and focus herself upon the present.

“I believe I shall go and meditate upon this now, though if it suits you I will find you and discuss my findings. I too would be most interested in meeting your Padawan properly, for even I could sense her dismay and would be happy to do what I could to settle such feelings.” She however did not add that she had felt something else, something she could not quite place her finger on, as if there was a line of the force connecting Xeviiy to something else, something bigger than she could comprehend in her previous state of uncertainty. The Cathar wanted to centre herself, reinforce her connections and her own path before once more seeing what exactly it was she could sense through the force.

With another short bow Moryr left and made her way back towards her room through the temple, though now as she greeted the other Jedi she met with nods or bows she felt her actions more sincere now that her gloomy mood had abated. She wonder with a low chuckle to herself if not some of those more attuned to the delicacies of the force had not previously been able to detect the slight malevolence that had no doubt laced her feelings and wondered at the source or cause of it. In comparison she now felt more like herself, a feeling of calm and confidence returning to her. Again she smiled at herself, feeling somewhat foolish for still acting like a young kitten might when submitting to her feelings so easily.

Soon she had reached her room and she sat and folded her knees and took several deep breaths before taking a final glance around the room and closing her eyes as she once more attempting to clear her mind and focus on emptying her mind, one of the more basic techniques she had been taught. From there she would be able to concentrate on deepening and widening her connection to the force and increasing her awareness and explore the feelings that would present themselves to her and follow them wherever they may lead her.

The high grass of Dantooine burned with the touch of sunlight, long blades glowing with an orange blaze that seemed to extend eternally over the planet’s horizon. A silhouetted figure stood within the circle of light as though she were apart of the fiery star itself. Her outline dark, looking out off in the distance as her hand fell to touch the tips of grass and her fingers danced through the moving life. Footsteps shuffled, and she turned her head.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The man behind her said. Rodian, young, eyes full of a yearning – like they would always have childlike awe expressed for a new sight.

Aria envied him for that.

“This place is so unlike Coruscant. I’ve seen the Room of a Thousand Fountains, the silver light of the water in starlight is surreal… Like a dream. The city hums with life, and roars with machinery. This place is different. Dantooine seems more to me like home, even if I don’t know where I’m from. A home for anyone who is tired and weary, they can come here and look out at these fields with the wind singing in their ears. Coruscant is chaos compared to here.” Aria turned to face the Rodian, though her face was still darkened by the bright sky flame behind her.

To the Rodian, it looked as though she was the center of that burning sphere, detached from the life around her.

“What are you doing following me Tyrok?”

“I like Dantooine too, but once it’s dark it’s dangerous. Kath hounds can be unpredictable. But, even still, you’re more unpredictable than them.”

Aria laughed. “Worried I’m going to get myself in trouble?”

“You can’t worry about what you already know. Come on, let’s get back.”

Tyrok waited for Aria to follow him, but the subtle glint in her gaze made him uneasy. He used the force to dig past the surface of her thoughts. With her, nothing was as it seemed. “Don’t. Aria, don’t. Aria, no!”

In a roar of laughter, Aria took off running out into the open fields of Dantooine. The field ablaze with sunlight waved and swirled around her, revolving with her movements. Tyrok couldn’t help but grin as he charged after her. She was fast, but…

Aria paused at the precipice of a cliff and glanced down at the cool stream of deep water coursing below. Tyrok watched her carefully.

“Did you have your fun? Vrook’s going to whip us both if we don’t make it back for evening meditation.”

“Vrook’s an old grump, and he’s boring. You’re not boring, are you Tyrok?”

Damn her, Tyrok thought. His anger stirred, answering her challenge by lunging to grab her robes. Tyrok was too slow. Aria leapt off of the cliff and landed with a splash, submerged in the water below. With a gasp of air she resurfaced, giggling and smirking up at him.

“Always one step slower than me. Do get faster, would you please? It’s lonely down here.”

Tyrok grunted, reluctantly taking off his thick outer robe and tossing it to the ground.

Aria whistled. “Take it off!”

The Rodian blushed, but a human wouldn’t recognize it. “Aria, this isn’t proper!”

“Oh, I get it. Do you need to go back and get verbal permission from a master, is that it? I can wait here if you’re scared.”

Tyrok sighed, reluctantly lunging off into the stream much to Aria’s delight. When he came up, a splash smacked him in the face. He was swimming with pure evil, that was what it was. His head turned and the look on his face gave Aria pause.

“Tyrok, no. No, no no no!” She took off swimming as he came after her, but the moment she made it to dry land she was tackled to the ground. Aria squealed and laughed as the two of them rolled around in the fields until she was looking up at him. The sun had gone down, and there was nothing but the starry expanse above them both.

They both breathed, silent, looking at each other.

Tyrok leaned his head in. Aria closed her eyes. Nothing came, and she opened them to see Tyrok pulling away.

“This isn’t right, the Jedi Code says this is for-“

Aria grabbed him by his soaking, dripping under robe. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Right as Aria tugged him down, there was a sudden growl and something rammed right into Tyrok. His screams were bloodcurdling as Aria jumped up in shock to see a Kath hound atop of her friend. Her lightsaber instinctively ignited.

“Tyrok!” Aria cut her blade clean into the hound’s neck, sending it crumpling to the grass. Blood stained the long blades as the violet plasma ate away the darkness.

She looked at Tyrok. It was too late. Blood bubbled from his torn throat, and the last things she heard from him was a long gurgling before the sigh that lasted what seemed like years. Aria fell onto her knees, closing Tyrok’s eyes for the last time. Aria wept.

Hours went by until the tears were gone. Emptiness and quiet filled with a clattering of rage, an inner storm unrelenting. There is no emotion. There is no emotion. There is no—Aria screamed. For but a moment, there was peace in her as she glanced down at Tyrok. She gave him a parting kiss before standing amidst the night’s darkness.

She found the Kath hound pack that night. Shrieks of pain and misery flowed in discordant songs of a murderous symphony. Kath pups, tiny little pups with innocent and cute eyes looked up in terror at the violet sword that came for them. They could not run. So, as the final strokes came down to claim them; they screamed.

And they screamed.
And they screamed.
And they screamed.

----

This was the end of the duel. Zhar felt positively certain Ken was going to end things soon, despite Aria’s usage of Juyo. He remained quiet, pensive. The day’s training exercise was a success in pulling the best Aria had to offer, and with her age to force Ken into using Jar’Kai. It was a first step into forcing his padawan onto the path of becoming the Jedi he believed she could be. Perhaps, the leader of their order; she could become the voice for the light side of the force.

Aria was caught within the whirlwind of two sabers. Caught off guard and cornered. Surprised by the sudden change in tactic, it seemed the young padawan retreated back into her old strategy. Defense, and defense only without any true hope of winning despite what was an impressive wall.

She heard the roar of energy, the beat of her heart, and with the heat pouring down on her she couldn’t find the peace of the force. Aria closed her eyes.

Roaring turned into a growl.

Zhar felt something. Something different. There was a ripple in the force, a sudden swirling within and around Aria. It was overwhelming, like he was submerged within the blackness several miles under the ocean. No noise but the deafening current of water.

Aria had invited them into the endless abyss of her life stream, the reservoir of her force power. It was quiet. There were echoes, unintelligible noises invading Zhar’s mind. He could not make them out; he could not hear the screams. Death. And then the seemingly quiet peace turned into a violent storm.

Aria’s eyes opened. She shrieked with rage and returned Ken’s attack. Unlike the furious assault of Alek, hers was far more focused. The golden fire of her saber did not dance through the air, it seared through it. Suddenly, her hand shot out and another training saber found its way to her hand. Yellow and blue, dual wielded blades. The way she held them, the way she struck, it was like Aria was fighting amidst a war. Transported to a place far different than the dueling room.

Two sides of Aria, the tranquility of Dantooine farm fields… and something incomprehensible. The way she handled two sabers looked natural, the conflicting sides of herself worked in a beautifully chaotic harmony.

She spun, slashing down with one blade before twirling with the next. A half step, then a pirouette followed by an acrobatic flip. Blades thrummed, blades roared.

The kath pups screamed, and they kept screaming.

Tyrok’s lifeless face looked up at her.

She saw the burning planet.

Feline faces screaming.

People, dead.

Blood.

The dark figure again.

“Rise. This is who you are. There is but one path you must follow, and it is made by you. Cut the path with your blade, and others will follow.”

Aria stood amongst a thousand corpses, her violet saber ablaze. Jedi, Republic soldiers, Mandalorians, and bodies in gray metallic uniforms she didn’t recognize.

“The dead will pile eternal, unless you say different. Choose the many, over the few. You are war…. You are war…”

The kath pups screamed.

Aria hurled her sabers away.

“No!” She screamed out and put her hands to her face, crumping to her knees. “I won’t. I won’t do it!” Aria shook her head back and forth as tears streamed down her face.



With the growing peace within the core of the galaxy, and a birth of a golden age within the Jedi and the Republic together: there simply weren’t many battles. Despite Anna’s own dreams of heroism and serving true to Republic ideals, she hoped the Mandalorian threat proved to be nothing more than exactly that: a threat. She wanted, for the General’s own sake, for there to be no war. Heroism may have been plentiful in the short war with Exar Kun, but the battles were devastating to say the least.

A plop pulled her away from her thoughts as a cafeteria worker spooned out a blob of gray… whatever it was, onto her plate. She pulled along a glass of water, soup, and a piece of fruit over to the table.

“Don’t be too fooled by the food here Xeviiy, it’s not as bad as it looks.” She eyed Leon for a second with a smirk. “I know what Leon’s going to say, but I swear it’s not. It has everything necessary for the body. It’s why the soldiers around here stay fit, even though I’m pretty sure certain XOs sneak in forbidden sweets every now and then.”

Anna spooned up some of the gray blob and ate up. The grimace on her face betrayed her speech.

“I’m really looking forward to you dropping Leon on his ass. No offense of course, sir.” She teased. Having Xeviiy around was a nice change. “You better eat up, sir. No sweets otherwise the rookie here might show you a thing or two. I know I haven’t sparred with you personally yet, but that’s about to change since… you know, I won’t be doing your paperwork.”

Ken had hoped for something...better than that. He had abandoned his spare saber as soon as he possibly could. He forced himself to go onto the defensive. A creaky and shaky at best due to his inability to properly compete with an enemy with such a controlled forceful assault. Ken was not a defensive duelist. He wasn't even a duelist at all. His skills, his strengths, and his life revolved around the force. The beauty of it was more than anyone could convey with a saber. Still he had Org to thank for forcing his eyes open to the fact he couldn't let his saber skills go rusty when practicing the force. He...he simply had no choice but to take the blows in a shii-cho oriented defense. He blocked with simple but precise blows his green saber darting like a light in the dark. He felt her emotions, raw and uncontrolled, and he knew this was not the Aria he had expected to see. This girl was not a jedi. Ken felt disgusted that someone with such skill could falter in the face of her emotions like this. Ken was prepared to give one last desperate move in a bid to call upon his deep connection to the force to end this without blood shed.

However....Aria stopped suddenly which left Ken back pedaling still. He looked at the girl as she shouted out in defiance of something. However despite much the jedi code meant to him, the way in which Aria had conducted herself was not for him to pass judgement on. His job was too help others, fellow jedi included, but a failure of this magnitude was for the master to handle. Ken held his saber in his hand firmly still and looked down in barely held back disgust at the young woman. He didn't say anything but his eyes conveyed everything. The disappointment, the disgusted feelings of a padawan failing her most basic lesson, and his distaste for her giving into her more primal feelings. Ken held steady for a moment ready for anything. But after a moment he walked back over and put the training saber he got away. He looked at Zhar with a look that simply said 'I'm finished here' and without saying one more word he left the training center. Ken wanted nothing more to do with Master Zhar's game. Ken was no pawn for a master to throw at a learner unready for the lessons of a jedi knight. If Ken had his word in he would completely disown Aria as a jedi in any form for it. But that was not the way of the jedi. Peace, collection, serenity. Those were the jedi's prime emotions. Ken would not let his own petty feelings get in the way of his judgement. He needed to either find Master Org, or a quite place to think. The most likely chance was the latter. The force was an ever living entity and it could calm the deepest of strife.

Leon felt the same as Anna did, he hoped that the Mandalorians weren't about to bring war to their door step, sure there was quite a few years of peace, but in the grand scheme of things, it was relatively short, especially if another war was on the horizon. The younger 'pups' of the Republic however seemed to want a chance to prove themselves in battle, be remembered as great heroes like Leon sort of was, hell he even felt that way when he joined the military, though it hadn't been glorious like he had imagined, it left a lot of scars on him that even to this day, he still dreams about.

He was broken from his thoughts as they started to get their food from the cafeteria, seeing the gray blob slowly fall onto his tray, it may have provided all the nutrients and vitamins they needed, but they could have at least mad it taste better. He glanced over at Xeviiy who was picking her own food, mostly sticking to a few fruits that they had before going over to a table and taking a seat.

Xeviiy glanced at the gray blob that was supposed to be food, poking it as it's gelatinous form jiggled a bit, part of her face that was visible giving off a grimace, looking up to when Anna spoke to her, unable to help but giggle a little when she said the food wasn't that bad, only for her face to give her away, “Yeah, clearly it doesn't taste that bad.”

Leon smirked when he knew what Anna was referring too, “Hey, if some mysterious hero leaves a candy bar for me on my tray when I'm not looking, who am I to decline it.” Xeviiy smiled as the conversation going on, the two of them reminding her of her parents, perhaps that's why her curiosity towards them peaked when she first saw them in the Temple.

“Well if the great Major is everything he's described as, I don't know if I'll be able to best him so easily, it's actually fairly funny, earlier today when I was training, I didn't actually want to fight, but after meeting you, something in me is just burning to see how I stack up, strange I know.” Xeviiy responded, her remark addressing the both of them.

Leon let out a small chuckle to Anna's remark, then said to Xeviiy, “It's actually not all that strange, it might be because you're wondering how I'm like a Jedi, but I serve the Republic, using their methods and teachings and weaponry rather than the Order's.”

“Well to be honest, I do find it a little odd, I mean even though your outer force abilities are limited, surely you could have still stayed with the Order, right? To rarely use the force however, I don't know if I'd be able to do such a thing.”

“When I left, I felt I wasn't good enough for the Order, not good enough to be a Jedi with my limited abilities, the Republic showed me that I didn't need that stuff to be great and in doing so, it made me realize I could have stayed with the Jedi, it perhaps sounds strange, but when I was your age, I felt I had to be like the other Jedi and when I wasn't, I thought myself a failure and left them, do I wish to return to the Order? Sure, but not right now, not when I'm with the Republic, it would be a disservice to them for all they taught me.” Leon responded in a more serious tone, Xeviiy understanding a little more why the man left, at times she felt like she wasn't measuring up to what a Jedi was supposed to be, so she could relate to him on that account.

Xeviiy nodded her head, the three of them soon finishing their meal, “So, ready for that sparring match you wanted?” Leon asked with a cocked smile, Xeviiy nodding eagerly. He lead them to a training room where a few recruits and privates were at, some of them practicing their combat skills on training dummies. “So how are we going to do this? You with a vibroblade or...” She trailed off as Leon smirked, “Oh, I have a treat for you, didn't think I'd ever use this again.” He went over to his locker, putting in the code for it and it popping open to reveal his training equipment, inside on the floor of the locker was a small, toolbox sized container.

Leon opened the container, inside revealing various parts that looked like random tool pieces, that was until he started to reach out to them with his mind, Xeviiy's skin starting to get some goosebumps as she watched the pieces slowly float into place, small sparks going off as the pieces combined one by one, then fully coming together with a crystal at the heart of it. The final spark going off when the entire lightsaber hilt was completed, “Y-You still have your lightsaber?” Xeviiy asked, rather shocked as was Anna, “Yeah, I kept it as a reminder of the Order, plus a lightsaber is part of a Jedi and to lose it is like losing a piece of one's self, right?” He smirked to her, Xeviiy nodding, but with a determined cocked smile of her own.

He lead her over to an area outlined that was for practicing hand to hand combat or sword combat, depending on the participants, they both went to opposite ends as Anna stood outside the sparring area, Xeviiy pulling her hilt from her lower back with the force, the turquoise blade shooting out near her arm, “Ah, I see you use the handling of Shien with the Soresu form, huh? It's an interesting combat style.” Leon spoke up, he point his hilt down as a golden blade ejected out, the little commotion that the lightsabers made quickly got the attention of the others in the room and they quickly went over to watch.

“Yeah, the hilt style works best for me.” She merely responded as she got ready for Leon, glancing over when the 'pups' started to comment, 'Is that Major Athos?' One in the crowd asked, 'Yeah, but what's he doing with a lightsaber? He's not a Jedi, is he?' Another responded with a question of his own. “Hey, focus on me, not them.” Leon spoke to Xeviiy, she quickly returning her attention to him, “Right, sorry.” Leon soon got ready to begin the match, giving her one last word, “Also don't hold back, alright?” Xeviiy nodding, a little nervous but also excited.

He soon quickly bolted towards Xeviiy, his body infused with the force allowing for quicker sprinting, something that shocked Xeviiy as she began to block his attacks, this one she could easily tell, it was a variation of the first form, Shii-Cho. His attack was relentless, but she knew that she couldn't just sit around and block forever, not if earlier that day taught her anything; she quickly rolled away from his attack, using the force to push him as she did so just to get some breathing room before she went on the offensive as well.

Leon blocked her attacks as the crowd watched on in awe as the two's blades danced through the air, the familiar noise they made when they went through the air and then clashed with each other, crackling and minor sparks came off as they struggle with one another. Leon wasted no time in going into his Ataru form, quickly once more slamming his blade against hers, once more gaining the advantage as he forced her to slowly go back. It was no wonder he was somewhat of a legend amongst the other soldiers, if this is what he was capable of in just a sparring match, what was he actually like in a war?

He found an opening when his last attack smacked her blade away from her center for just a split second, more then enough time with his heightened abilities to charge into her, sending her off her feet and skidding a few feet away. She panted a little as she started to get up, he was really good, but from how he was standing, it seemed like he wasn't even trying, “Had a good break?” He taunted her when finally managed to get to her feet, a drive in her flaring up as she used the force to push her towards Leon, her lightsaber clashing with his once more as she tried using Djem So, a form she only studied through recordings but never actually practiced, so it was sloppy, but she showed great promise with it.

Leon was actually surprised to see her change in form, he studied all of them when he had been with the Order, so to see her, someone who clearly favor a defensive form and go into an offensive one was rather surprising to him, but he could see that it was sloppy, which told him she used it little or not at all.

Xeviiy feigned to the left, Leon trying to anticipate her movement, only to see at the last second her right hand coming in on him, a blast sending him off his feet and sliding away from Xeviiy; alright, that he had to give that one to her, it was pretty clever. Xeviiy smirking as shallow breaths escaped her, “Seems like you're the one who's taking a break.” She taunted back to him.

Leon cocked a grin as he quickly got to his feet, “I can see why you're with the Jedi, you're pretty clever.” He retorted back.

“Well recent training as given me a few pointers.” She smirked at him, going into her Soresu form once more.

He closed the short distance between them once more as the crowd looked on in awe, not believing that a Major of the Republic was having a sparring match with a Jedi, sure they learned how to fight with bladed weapons, but a lightsaber was a different matter and had a different weight to it than a standard vibroblade. His Ataru form once more was unleashed onto Xeviiy, something she knew she couldn't continuously block every time they clashed, she had to find a way to get out of what was starting to be a repeating cycle.

She noticed that with his offense, there wasn't much defense, mostly at his feet, if she could plan a maneuver that got him off his feet again, she could perhaps disarm him and with the match, no doubt it'd be impressive that she bested a high ranking officer such as him, even with being a Jedi. She went to swipe at his feet when she had an opening, expecting him to jump to avoid the attack, then she could use the force to send him through the air again and then obtain his lightsaber, effectively allowing her to win the match.

That plan however didn't go as she expected, rather than jumping to avoid the attack, he spun around it as well as her, slamming his elbow of his cybernetic prosthetic into her back, making her stumble a bit. She winced as she felt his arm slam into her back, though Leon did his best to make sure he didn't hit her too hard, that arm of his had an added bonus of more strength to it, something he had to adjust too when he first got it.

“You...weren't supposed to do that.” She panted a little as her arm went behind her back, rubbing the spot that had been hit.

“Perhaps you should have thought what other moves I would have made.” He responded with a smirk.

Xeviiy hastily went towards Leon once again, though her sight started to act weird, flashing a different image of what she was seeing for a split second, she ignoring it and then right as she was about to strike, saw the man that she had fought in the vision earlier in the day and then quickly halted her attack, jumping back from Leon, shaking her head to try and clear it, something that he found strange.

“Hey, you alright?” He asked with a tilted head, finding it odd she would cancel her attack and back away from him.

“Y-Yeah just...never mind, let's continue.” She answered back, deciding to go on the defensive with Soresu once again, but only because she didn't know what was going on.

Leon nodded, closing in on her, flashes switching between Leon and the man in the vision, something that was making Xeviiy unfocused from the fight as she blocked the attacks, a constant switch from Leon then back to the man and so on as she shook her head to try and clear it once more. A strong attack from Leon sent her weapon from the weak grip of her hands to the ground, something that Leon hadn't expected as he was in the middle of his combination attack, Xeviiy in an instant froze as her sight changed to the man again, staying there longer this time.

Leon expected her to quickly retrieve her weapon to block his attack, but her fear at her altered sight caused her to throw her arms up to block the attack; his eyes widened, she'd be cut in two if this hit and his forward motion couldn't be stopped now. He swiftly deactivated his lightsaber, just in the nick of time where it was his fist that made contact with her arms rather than the blade, it sent her sliding across the polished floor before hitting a wall that stopped her.

He made his way over to her as did Anna and the crowd, “Hey, are you alright?” He asked the shivering girl that was still curled up. She slowly looked up, her head finally clear, before taking Leon's hand when he offered it to her, helping her to her feet, “I..I don't know what happened, my head...I...” She spoke, still a little shaken and then Leon reach out with the force, retrieving her weapon and handed it to her, “Come on, I think it's time to take you back to the Temple.” She nodded as she took her weapon, placing back on her lower back and then started to walk with Leon and Anna out of the training room as the crowd parted to let them pass.

He wondered what that was all about, perhaps he'd have to speak to who her current master was, perhaps her training took more out of Xeviiy than even she thought, it wasn't clear, though he knew he had to find out, she couldn't be like this when they went on the mission they were assigned, not that he lost faith in her, he just didn't want to see this up and coming Jedi cut down so young in her life.

There was nothing but the silent tears on Aria’s face as she knelt on the floor, staring at the ground. Ken had left, and there she remained remembering the disappointed look on his face. It stabbed her deeper than any blade could, but she hadn’t done wrong had she? Aria stopped herself, she was able to say no to the darker instincts, pull herself away from the violent path. Yet, within the chaos of her thoughts she saw she had put Ken on his heels. And it wasn’t just the knight she had surprised.

Master Zhar realized within those brief moments that Aria was more than he had expected she was. Many, even masters could lose themselves within their emotions in the heat of a battle. Aria was but a padawan, yet in those small moments she danced the line of light and dark without crossing. Footwork clean and precise, until the surge of energy was too much. He went over to her.

Zhar reached down, his hand ready for hers. “It’s alright, Aria. It’s over now. Let’s get you up and moving.”

Aria looked up at his hand, and shook her head. “No.” She pushed his hand away.

“Aria?”

“I need to go for a walk, this is something I need to meditate on by myself. Thank you, Master. You have, you’ve made things clearer for me today – things that were hazy yesterday. Some rest and I’ll be fine. You’ve learned a lot about all three of us today, haven’t you… This wasn’t about our dueling skills, was it?”

Zhar smiled lightly. Aria wiped away her tears and laughed softly.

“I thought so.” She stood up. “We’ll talk later, master.” Aria bowed and went.



Standing by the training area, Anna prepared herself for a sparring match. Vibroblades, protective gear, and stretching. Anna waited for Leon and Xeviiy to be done with their match, but her gaze became captivated by the dancing of two lightsabers against one another. She had never actually seen Leon wield his saber, and the comparison of the two duelists was fascinating. Leon had the experience of a soldier, shown by Xeviiy’s surprise to one of his moves. He was strong, powerful, but also intelligent.

Xeviiy performed with what she considered to be the elegance of the Jedi, moving as one with the force. But, there was something wrong. And, no sooner than the thought came than the battle was ended suddenly by Xeviiy’s startled pause. That was unusual, and Leon seemed to share her same concern. Perhaps it was wrong of the masters to send Xeviiy along with them.

Rather than dwell on what she considered a selfish thought, Anna made her way over to Xeviiy and Leon. “I agree, come. We’ll take you back to the temple. Some rest should do you just fine, probably just tired from a long day. This is going to be my first true combat mission as well, you know.” Anna laid a comforting hand on the padawan’s shoulder as the three of them made their way out of the Republic HQ back on the way to the temple.

"As you wish Kale as you wish."

Markus flew forward like an arrow flying out of a bow. he knew Kale was the defensive type and usually waited for others to attack instead of him.

There came a stillness within the training room as the words no longer settled. Just two men, two friends separated not by their similar age; but rather the years Markus had disappeared. What Kale could not say, he would yell with the ferocity of his saber strokes. He used to settle disagreements with other padawans within the dueling ring when he was younger, and this was no different. Except, that it was. Kale did not feel like a Jedi when he was around Markus, instead he felt a bubbling anger rising to the surface.

He wanted answers. He wanted closure. Kale felt he deserved those simple things. When the quiet pause ended, Kale instantly lifted his saber in defense from Markus. Markus always struck first, and in that essence he hadn't changed.

Knowing that, Kale felt something of relief. He breathed in, then out, cleansing himself of his anger... Exhaling like he was unloading an unbearable weight.

With a defensive slash, he jumped back and grinned.

"Now this is more like it!"

Markus was happy by kale's quick reflexes. He really had increased his fighting skills. But so had Markus. He grinned at Kale as he again darted forward slashing him multiple times before jumping in the air away from him.

" It feels wonderfull doing this again," Markus said as he landed. He then said up in a defensive stance awaiting an attack from Kale. He had attacked too son which had been a mistake since it was usually better to wait for the opponent's to attack than you yourself.The best offense would always be a good defense.

Kale felt like he was back in the training room from his padawan days. Markus and him competing against one another, though Markus had the slight edge then. Perhaps today would be different.

With opportunity in front of him, he seized it; already launching into an attack the moment Markus had leapt in the air. Kale immediately clashed with Markus the moment he set up his defenses, beginning to grin. "It does, but I think you're a little slower old man." Kale teased. Kale swiftly changed his tactic and used a more acrobatic style. Spinning, pirouetting, and twirling in a windstorm of attacks.

Markus laughed to himself in his mind to the acrobatic attacks kale threw at him. He must have forgotten that it was combat like this in which he specialized. Markus joined him in the dance there blades hitting each other again and again. Both were equally skilled. Though one had learned some neat tricks over the years. Markus slashed forwards catching Kale's sword mid-swing bringing the two to a pushing match. both warriors put all the strength they had into it.Markus looked at Kale's eyes.

" You know what's so fun about sword fighting?"

Locked in a cross of swords, Kale dug his feet into the floor in an attempt for a better foothold. Eye to eye with his old friend as their swords pushed against one another, metal to metal, the slow grating of steel. His muscles tensed, sweat beaded down over his cheek. Slow, deep breaths, it was the rush of battle.

"What's that?" Kale asked.

" The dirty little tricks you teach yourself."

With this said Markus moved his left feet in a small kick bringing Kale off balance. He then raised his right feet and kicked Kale in the chest sending him flying back. Markus managed to save himself from falling manage to somewhat clumsily hold his two feet on the ground.
Markus had felt the stress he had been building up leave him. All the frustration he had build up over the years started to drain away from him. For some Jedi peace came through meditation. While through others fighting gave them peace. Markus definitely was one of the latter two.

Flying back as a padawan, Kale would have clumsily rolled around or smacked right into the wall. But his connection with the force was more well-honed and he managed to land a half-way graceful landing. He could feel what would end up as a bruise on his chest, and Kale glanced upwards with a bright smile.

"Nineteen years, and you haven't changed too much... My turn, now!" Kale used both of his hands and twirled his sword in a circle. Rapid, quick, until the weapon became a blur; a tornado whipping around like a shield in front of his body. A shield utilized as an attack with Kale rushing at Markus, quickly preparing to make his next strike. The window of opportunity to recognize where the seemingly invisible sword would strike was slim.

Markus gulped as he saw the tornado flying towards him. He could not defend against such an attack and dodging it would only postpone the inevitable. well if all his sides are covered and attacks from below aren't an option there is only one way of attack. Markus again jumped in the air stopping above Kale pointing his sword down in a stabbing manner. He then fell down aiming his sword toward Kale and prepared for the clash.

" I wish i hadn't changed!" Markus said with a laugh.

Just like Markus to dive right into the heat of the danger, but Kale knew it was the right move. Shock and awe, fire and flash, the spinning blade was lethal for those inexperienced; and for many padawans they feared it too much to think calmly and rationally. Clang! His blade stopped in motion once it smashed against Markus's sword. With Markus still in the air for that split second, Kale pivoted on his foot and performed a hard half spin slash towards the opening at his side he'd hoped would be made from the first impact.

Markus saw the saber coming towards him and cursed loudly. The blade would surely hit him of that he was certain. But with the attack, Kale had made meant his guard was down. So Markus ignoring the sabers stunning pain struck his blade forwards hitting Kale in his right knee. The stunning pain started to spread in his body but it had not been the first time he felt pain. Barely able to stand and with With a somewhat painful grin he looked at Kale and said.

" Had enough yet?"

The move had worked and he delivered a hard hit against Markus, but sacrificed positioning himself. Kale grunted from the hit to his knee, nearly buckling and ready to drop but he stood his ground. Grimacing from the pain until the grin on Markus's face, and his words, started to pull a chuckle from the Jedi. His chuckle turned into a booming laugh. They were both on their last legs it seemed.

"I think if we keep going, we'll both be in bed for a week." Kale dropped his sword. With what effort he could, he held out his hand for Markus to take.

"It's been too damn long."

" That it has been friend that it has been."

With that said Markus ignored the hand instead embracing Kale fiercely. Showing emotion was frowned upon and sometimes even forbidden. But Markus did not care at this point. The council could be dammed for all he cared. He then put his hands on both on Kale's shoulders and looked at him.

" So about that beer you promised me?" He said laughing loudly.

Kale was at first surprised by the intensity of the embrace, but he accepted it iwth a smile. What felt right seemed more important than the tenants of the order. "You know the council didn't build this place near a cantina for a reason, right?" Laughing, Kale began walking towards the exit of the training room. "But that doesn't mean I haven't stored a few things up in my room."

He waited by the door for Markus, and just as he was ready to lead; Aria walked on by, quietly. Kale knew her name, who she was, but like most others never seemed to grasp what 'it' was that seemed to flow off of her.

"Aria." He said, bowing his head. But, his words were not there for her. She passed by without a sound, a ghost lost in the jungle of her mind.

Markus laughed to the comment Kale made as he walked after him. In Markus's exile, he had started to drink and had come to enjoy the taste of tasty beverages. Never to the point of getting drunk though he did came close a few times. As he thought about how he had gotten into a bar fight in a pirate station he felt an amazing force of power slap him in the face. The power was so powerful enough that it felt like he walked against a wall. He wondered where this massive power came from. He then saw the source and his mouth fell open.

It was a girl, A simple noninteresting looking girl. But the power that flowed from here felt like a giant wave of power. He looked at Kale who wasn't noticing a thing simply saying hello which the girl apparently named Aria ignored.

" Did you not feel that?"

It was strange for Aria not to say hello, she was always polite although perhaps a bit more stubborn than other padawans. He supposed it was natural, considering her talent. Kale shrugged it off, if she was lost within her own thoughts; it was something all jedi had to deal with at one point or another.

His attention was dragged back to Markus. "Hm? Feel what?" Other than Aria's usual level of force, Kale did not sense anything out of place other than the feeling he couldn't put a name to.

"Aria? What did you feel? She's considered the top padawan on Dantooine, and some say the entire Jedi Order. I didn't feel anything different from her, except for the usual... I don't really have a word for it yet. Strange, I guess."

Markus shrugged, he would talk about it with one of the masters later.
" In all honesty Kale i just wanna drink and tell what i have been up too."
With that said he walked towards Kale's room.

That's what everyone wants, Kale thought; where the hell had Markus been all this time. It was time to find out.