There is no emotion; there is peace.
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.
There is no passion; there is serenity.
There is no chaos; there is harmony.
There is no death; there is the Force.

When Markus heard the name Lonna he was hit with a wave of flashbacks. He remembered the first time they met. Fighting over something he had forgotten and then challenging each other for a duel. The two where only ten at the time and there master had said that there would be an exam when they where older. And so the two trained and trained. Creating some sort of friendly competition between the two. Even though the friendly part never really came to light. They would always try to better each other. Though it was done rather painfully. And then after 7 years it was time for the dueling exam. The two fought each other for hours. Both of them knowing how they fought and moved. The stand still went one for hours until Markus saw his opportunity and won. The two where exhausted. And yet both of them had started to laugh. All that tensity that had build up between the two had simply vanished. The two became good friends after, and when Markus left on his mission he promised here they would have a rematch when he returned. Yet he never did.

Markus gulped as he imagined the burning anger of Lonna. If she found out that he had returned. He would rather not think about it. He looked at Kale and said with a hint of Nervousness in his words. "I should go check if my ship is ready for lift off." Kale laughed a hearty laugh." Well it hurry up if i where you. Though i would like to see that rematch you promised here."" I don't think that would be fair considering the fact she had enough knowledge to train." Markus said as he swum out of the hot spring. As he started to dry himself of he looked at Kale and said with a smile." I Will see you at a later time, hopefully with that drink you promised me." Markus then left walking towards his ship. Needing to be sure it was fueled up and ready for lift off. Luckily it was and with his fear gone he went back to his room, closed the door behind him and started to meditate in silence. Listening to the sound of light sabers hitting each other.

“You mustn’t be afraid of your anger.” Arren spoke through the vision, feeling the sudden influx of emotions flowing through the young padawan standing on the crossroads of a heavy decision. “Do not let yourself be dragged down within the pull of different feelings tugging you on all sides. If you hadn’t struck, they’d be dead. Now face your fears. Hiding in fear of the idea of anger and killing will only make you falter in the face of the darkness.”

Back within the vision, the mercenary groaned from the hard hit of the force push against the wall. He wasn’t wearing heavy armor, so the padding didn’t quite pillow the crackling smack against the firm surface. Guiding himself to his knees, he could only grimace in the pain burning against his ribs. His eyes glanced up with a flurry of rage. He tossed his blaster rifle far away. “I see… I’ll just have to kill all of you then.” The mercenary spat venomously onto the ground.

With a loud scream he pulled out his vibroblade and charged towards Xeviiy. The man was quick, and his intention was pure. Unlike the padawan, he meant to kill. He made that choice long ago, and as the gap closed between them he lifted his blade high into the air and began the down-swinging arc towards her body to give himself either a killing blow or enough protection the moment her lightsaber was drawn.

The mother and daughter went to their dead loved ones, the husband and the young woman. Though, the intensity of battle did not allow them to grieve just yet. They could only watch in horror as the murderous mercenary closed in on the Jedi. This single fight held a significant amount of lives in the balance.

Kasari watched her apprentice with concern. She had heard much about Arren’s tactics, but thrusting the feelings of anger and other dark side leaning emotions upon one so young… It made her worried. Could Xeviiy handle it? Was it the right thing to do? The master breathed in and remained calm, deciding it better to wait for the final results than interrupt.

Instead, she whispered to the Cathar woman next to her. “Is this your first time seeing Arren Kae in action as well? She’s certainly… interesting, isn’t she?”



Anna wanted to smack herself in the face. She felt like she sounded like a jerk attacking him when he didn’t expect it. The man was a soldier, a war hero, and here she was lecturing him on something that seemed to have lost any form of meaning it might have once before. A battlefield could be a terrible place, or that’s how it has been told to her many times. Leon had seen dozens of battles in a ferocious war. He had probably seen both Jedi and Sith in action with their incredible powers. The holovids made it seem romantic and artistic in its own way, but seeing the way he clenched his prosthetic hand; Anna doubted that there was anything beautiful about it. Whatever brotherhood bond of soldiers he spoke about, it was an element Anna couldn’t know until she had been into combat herself.

The lieutenant found herself sighing. “I didn’t mean to bark at you, sir. All I wanted to say is that it would be nice to have you around more often, and not in whatever space land you zone off into. Just say the word back at the offices and you and me can head out somewhere for a walk.” Anna looked around the park, watching different droids and various races go about. An Ithorian couple played with their children on the playground, a Selkath played a game of pazaak with a Twi’lek. The sight of so many unique races interacting peacefully made her feel as though all of Leon’s work within the war was worth it. A peace of this kind anywhere was worth the fight. It had to be, right?

“Should we head back? I could buy you a drink at Fer-El’s Cantina if you’d like.” Anna placed her hand on his shoulder. “It’s the least I could do on my salary.”



Aria never intended to take either Ken or Alek lightly, and she had understood enough about Org to know that that particular Jedi Master stressed lightsaber combat at least near or equal to which Zhar Lestin did. She gave Ken a simple nod, not wanting to delay the dueling set-up her master had intended. Besides, she wanted to take this time and study both Ken and Alek’s combat techniques in full. It was one aspect about her which Zhar never quite understood. She had a keen eye for technique, style, form, footwork, how to position herself and how to move, yet… Aria simply refused to acknowledge her own talents in favor of a different approach. One of the more stubborn, yet hard-working students within the entire order.

Zhar watched Aria for a moment before looking back to the two taking center stage. Alek’s blue training saber glowed as he listened to Ken. The battle was ready to begin. “I don’t believe any of us will be using our original saber for this duel. My power cell is one of a rather high output of energy. It lends me more power than the typical saber. This training blade may not give me what I usually put into a strike, but it shall suffice…”

Quiet. A moment of calm between the two duelists as Alek studied his opponent’s stance. Alek waited mere seconds, for if his opponent didn’t know his style and he didn’t know his: the best course of action to him was to begin with a ferocious initial strike so to counter-balance the peaceful nature that Ken exuded. Alek’s foot planted into the training mat and he leapt forward, with pure power he came a quick stop before changing direction with a sweeping turn. His saber swinging to Ken’s left with impressive force.

The Twi’lek master took note. “Amazing, isn’t it Aria?”

“What is, master?”

“I’m sure you saw it. The power to be able to stop like that and come sweeping back with a swing that strong. Alek appears to be exactly what was promised.”

“But, too many moves like that and he could tire quickly.”

“Excellent deduction, you are correct. Alek must be in considerable shape, and his duels have always ended with speed. It’s not a bad strategy. Most Jedi don’t come under such ferocious assault, and if they don’t find the ability to remain calm quickly…”

“Then their defenses are broken.”

“Exactly.”



“Most disturbing, most disturbing indeed.” The smallest Jedi Master amongst the council spoke, his ears twitching atop his olive green head. His wrinkles flexed as he stood in deep thought after the entire video of the Mandalorian assault had ended. “The Republic has no idea that this is happening?” He cocked his head toward a holo-feed of the Coruscant council including Lonna Vash, Atris, Zez-Kai Ell and Kavar.

“No, Master Vandar. Nothing from our sources within the Republic fleet suggest any knowledge of the raids.”

“One wonders if they do know, and simply do not see it as a threat.” Vrook suggested, folding his arms. “The Mandalorians have been raiding planets for years. They won’t change.”

Lonna shook her head. “We haven’t seen the Mandalorians move in this number since Exar Kun’s days. The Republic worlds will be in immediate danger on the outer rim. We should dispatch a few knights, and a few masters to investigate what’s happening.”

“Or we shouldn’t get involved. Do I need to remind everyone else on this council what happens when the Jedi go to war? Jedi fall, and not only to death. They fall to the disease of the dark side. Ulic Qel Droma and Exar Kun were the single greatest threats this galaxy has ever seen. The Republic has an army, and if war comes then they will be able to handle it. I sense there might be more to this attack than we see.”

“While I agree with you, Lonna, I also sense what Vrook does. Something isn’t right about this. The Mandalorians have never been this organized and efficient.” Kavar spoke. “We should not send a mass party of Jedi out, but we do need someone to go investigate.”

“The Council is most needed with the students. I think it unwise for any of us to go.” Atris added, wiping a strand of snow-white hair out of her face.

Zez-Kai Ell took his turn. “Sending padawans also seems to be an ill-advised decision. They wouldn’t be ready to face an army of warriors who live and breathe nothing but war.” Every council member nodded in silence.

Vrook spoke once more. “I have two candidates who may be able to take this task on. Jedi Knight Markus Bionte has returned.”

“What? When?” Lonna Vash bursted out. “He’s been dead for—“

“Nineteen years it would seem, but not dead. Rather alive. My only fear is that I sense disorder with him. He is not at peace with the force. This is why Ken Grant could work well as a team member. His training and balance could counteract anything from Markus.”

“Before any decision to be made, we must call Markus forward to the council.” Vandar suggested. To that, everyone agreed.

-----

Within Markus’s quarters, the holo-feed machine on the wall flickered to life. Vrook appeared in an image within the room. “Markus. This is Master Vrook. I am currently in session with a few members of the council. We request your appearance.”

Ataru. Ken knew of the style but he had never even considered practicing it. It was a lot of flash with overwhelming power and acrobatics mixed in. However he immediately had put himself into a disadvantage against Ken by picking that particular style. Ken paid attention to the arm movements and swiftly moved to the side calmly and with grace dodging the blow as he kept a fair distance from his opponent if he coutinued to push however he would have to swap over to Makashi. Still Ken watched carefully for the feet and leg movements too tell where the blows would come from. Observing while defending against any more blows watching for openings. It would be presumptuous and foolish to aim for a blow off the bat against a power duelist. He kept his feet steady and apart planted solidly on the mat as he moved. Steady footwork was the key to a great fighting and control. If Alek failed to come at him however Ken use a light force push with his free hand in an attempt to spur on the man.

“But...the masters have said that it leads to the darkside.” She answered back, feeling the turmoil in her more as the event progressed further. She didn't know that emotions could be fine for the moment, but to have them consume you is what truly lead to the darkside and turn someone into a dark Jedi; she took a small step back when at first her attack seemed to have no affect on him, only then to notice him grimace when he slowly got to his feet.

However when he tossed his blaster away and then spoke to them, she could tell he was more serious now than before, time seemed to slow down to her as she tried to think of what to do next, she could use the force again, but he was still able to get up from the last one. She could perhaps try leading the man away from the family, but he'd most likely just use them as collateral anyway to get to her and even then probably still kill them. Xeviiy was broken out of her planning thoughts when the mercenary was now in front of her, a slash coming down at her, if the rest of her face could be seen, her eyes would look shot open.

Without thinking she drew her hilt to her hand, igniting the blade and bracing it over her head, the vibroblade clashing against her lightsaber, the small sound of her blade crackling as it blocked his attack, her face showing grimace both in the vision as well as outside of it. She knew how dangerous those types of weapons were, in some ways, they were more dangerous than a lightsaber, depending on the user; with a good push she shoved him and his blade away, just to get some breathing room, then glancing over her shoulder at the family she said, “You best run and find a safe place to hide, I won't let him hurt you.”

Returning her attention to the man, she saw that she was going to have to fight, there was no way around it, and if it meant doing something she disdained, she would do so in order to protect those that couldn't protect themselves. “You're not going to harm anyone else, I won't let it happen.” She spoke to the man, more confident now than before and soon went into her Soresu form, readying herself for the man. She was willing to fight now, that was good, but the more important question not even she asked herself yet, was she ready to kill if need be?

---

Leon gave a small smile when Anna started to apologize to him, “Don't worry about it Lieutenant, I didn't take it personally, to be honest you're the only one working with me I actually like, not just because of how diligent you are in your work, but because you're not afraid to speak your mind, even at your commanding officer, whilst this isn't always a thing others should follow, at least to the higher ups, I believe it's something the Republic needs.” He responded back to her, seeing how they both had made some pretty biased assumptions about how the other worked and who's line of work was more important.

“As for that drink, perhaps next time, got some business to handle at the Jedi Temple, just a few documents that the Republic wants signed, you know how they are with this blasted paperwork, you can head back to the office building if you want, no need to feel like you have to babysit me, I should be back hopefully before dusk and get the rest of that paper work done that's no doubt surely doubled since we left.” He smiled to her, continuing towards the Jedi Temple, he wouldn't force her to go with him, but he wasn't opposed to it either.

One thing that was surely on his mind however would how he would be greeted at his arrival, sure he didn't leave in a malicious manner, but it had been nearly two decades since he had trained there, probably hardly any of his old friends were still there, no doubt they were on other planets, being what he unfortunately felt he couldn't, but he wouldn't let that be on his thoughts all day, the Republic gave him a home and until circumstances otherwise changed, that's what he would keep his attention on, nothing worse than a distracted soldier.

"Laugh it up, fuzzball."

The Aundus-Valay, Above Zetrea
Outer Rim

As they ventured downward through the decks of the Aundus-Valay and descended past the opulent veneer of civility and wealth, Kujata was struck by just how much disparity there was between the ones who worked above and those who lived below. Where the highest tiers of the vessel were draped in finery and full of offices and quarters befitting kings and emperors, the lower levels were quickly growing cramped and pungent, thick with the scent of a thousand sweating sentients who between them had only half an air-scrubber.

Most of the corridors that Leej led him down were wide enough for maybe three or four to stand abreast, dimly lit and lined with plates of metal showing signs of rust or various molds at the lower lip of each main air vent. Here and there were small kiosks hawking food and news, or selling secondhand goods too poor to offer up to those who lived above. Unfamiliar with most of the brands, Kujata could only guess that these goods were knockoffs or the product of competitors unfit for the market they competed in.

Signs in a dozen languages pointed off to housing units and community spaces provided by the Zetrean government in the vain hope of keeping these employees – indentured servants, perhaps? – from losing their sanity down here in the mire. Every now and then the Jedi Knight detected the faint whiff of caff, or the more pungent tang of potent alcohol. Reaching out with his senses, reaching out beyond the immediacy of his mind and his being – he sensed a lot of life down here that showed no vibrancy, only exhaustion.

Exhaustion which the little guide before him seemed utterly immune to. Despite the distance they'd traveled the Jawa moved at the same pace, the same relentless press forward. Kujata took care not to outpace his companion but had to do little to slow himself down – despite Leej's small stature he was surprisingly quick. If he was half as good a guide as he seemed then it shouldn't have been a surprise. Little fellow must get a lot of exercise running back and forth across the expansive Aundus.

A small gloved hand emerged from the patterned robes that Leej wore, waving Kujata onwards.

“Is not far now. Many apologies for length of journey, kindly one. Is worth it. Leej promise!”

Kujata swept his senses through the surface of the Jawa's thoughts, and was rewarded by something he wasn't expecting – the little tour guide really did feel sorry for how long the trip was taking. Honesty was a rare commodity. The Jedi Knight fought the urge to dig deeper and instead focused on trying to keep his own thoughts in order. Do not play in the houses of others without opening the door of your own, Terzeh once told him.

It was bad manners to steal into the thoughts of those who couldn't see into your own, after all, though it seemed that few Jedi really observed that belief. Funny how reflexive it became to rely on the ability to read others. To sense the effect that your words and actions were having on another without trying to rely on your ability to read the language of their body. To poke and prod their mind to see how truthful they were being, how they really felt, what they really thought.

Seemed to Kujata that it made those like him lazy. It dulled them, removed them from the moment, from the immediacy of a situation. It was easy to make of the Force a crutch instead of a companion. Oh, there had been times when it was necessary, when one could not afford to trust. But that was a whole other crate of banthas entirely.

“So! Make small time talk. Why Kujata is on Aundus?” Leej continued, trying to fill the silence. “Is big time business man, yes? Much wealth, great influence?”

Big time business man? Kujata suppressed a grin. He supposed one could see it that way, sure. At his very moment he was technically representing a 'big time' business, and he was a man. But that was just about as far as the term could be stretched. He definitely wasn't here for himself; if he'd had his way he'd probably be off relaxing on some even more distant Rim world, maybe some place with a view of the ocean, as far from galactic civilization as he could get.

But he owed a favor to someone who had no compunctions about cashing in what she's owed. Camana Xair had few compunctions about anything at all, come to think of it. He still remembered a great deal about the first time he'd been asked to return a favor … and just the memory of the memory was enough to make his cheeks warm. But that was neither here nor there, though it should certainly have been a lesson about asking favors of the Lady of the Onyx Star.

Yet he'd gone back. Perhaps, in his heart of hearts, he was hoping he'd be forced to repay his favor the same way. But this time she'd had other plans for him – putting that lightsaber to more practical use – and so here he was in a place he had no business being, working off a debt he shouldn't have taken on, for a woman who played him like centuries-old nalargon with a dozen missing keys.

The Xair Consortium needed what the Britu Clan could offer, and the Britu Clan needed the Consortium's Republic ties. It was in many ways a winning combination and would end up doing the Republic a great deal of good, if indirectly. Yet he'd asked himself over and over again – is this something a Knight should be doing? Is this something he could justify if found out by the Council?

And of course, why me at all? At which Camana's dour face brightened just a little. '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? Besides, I'm sure a Jedi Knight could find a dozen ways of simplifying this arrangement that a trained merchant couldn't even dream of.'

Accursed woman! At least she was honest. She always seemed to put him in a state most unbecoming of a sworn servant of the Jedi Order.

There is no emotion, the mantra declared. There is peace.

But the founders of the Jedi Order had never met Camana Xair.

Kujata vil Turazi breathed deeply and attempted to clear his mind, striving once more for that crystalline moment of peace he'd found in the garden above. Thoughts built up and swarmed, they clouded and gnawed and tore at his focus, at inner peace. Truthfully the war against the pressures and pulls of a life lived in the galaxy at large was one which constantly challenged everything it meant to be a Jedi, to have sworn one's self to the Force and to the Light Side on which tranquility and contentment were built.

A war which cannot be won, yet must never be surrendered – Terzeh's words, still etched into his mind. Words he'd never be rid of despite all that had happened. Thinking of her brought back the sound of bells, the ones she wore and those she'd taken him to hear in the skyways of Thanas, bells which droned out their aching melodies to an empty sky filled with the blood of a dying sun, crimson and the blotting of bruises all along the horizon...

He put that aside, feeling calmer now. Once more in control of himself. “Big time business man, Leej,” he said. “Definitely big time business man.”

Did the Masters struggle with this same inner turmoil? Somehow he doubted that Vrook Lamar had the same trouble or the same depth of emotion. Or Vandar. Zez-Kai, Lonna, and Atris, well … maybe.

At least it was easier now. At least the hunt was over, and those … darker things, those primal things … stayed far below the surface on all but the worst of days. Far away and long ago, he told himself. So long ago that it was a story now, not even a memory.

Only stories.

“Impressive!” the Jawa exclaimed, waving his arms. “Most impressive! Leej like big business, like credits. Is always interesting to Leej how business work, how rich sentient makes a way in world above. Will get there someday.”

A thought struck Kujata, unbidden – the little Jawa seated at a desk of solid Alderaanian wood, hands behind his head and clad in a robe of gold, boots up and chair tilted backwards. He laughed. He couldn't help himself.

“Leej, my not-yet-friend, I have absolutely no doubt about that.”

The Jawa chortled. “Yes, yes! Many credits to Leej.” The robed figure rubbed his hands together. “Already have much, soon to have more. Leej is small business, but will expand!”

Their pace began to slow as they turned a corner, exiting the cramped hallways into a much larger thoroughfare. Not as wide as the ones up above, but a serious step up regardless. For roughly a quarter of a kilometer Kujata could see storefronts and cafes and cantinas, with actual merchant stalls set up beneath and between the power cables which ran like spiderwebs through the area. It practically hummed with life, though the sentients here were sparser.

“Oh? Hiring help?”

Another chortle. “Could say so!”

As they passed a few of the hawkers tried to get their attention, but the Jawa guide waved them off, snapping something in a language Kujata did not know. Each time the hawkers or their errand-runners would look away or flinch back, and cease their attempts to ensnare the travelers. The little being had a bite!

Towards the opposite end of the … well, street, for lack of a better term … Leej came to a halt. The area wasn't well-lit and it definitely smelled less clean that by all rights it should have, but it certainly had that hole-in-the-wall appeal that spoke of either immense hidden quality or a sharp vibroknife to the kidney. Not a place he could have found on his own, to say the least.

Up above the small doorway was a sign in a clipped, angular script, and beside it either some sort of dancing Togruta or a gundark in extreme pain.

“We are here! Trag'tek Cantina!” Leej exclaimed, sweeping his arms out as if to reveal some grandiose secret or mystery. “Is special home of Leej's friends. Is best cantina on Aundus! House specialty-” he gestured to an ancient sign affixed to the door “- is martinii!”

“Lead the way, fearless leader,” he replied. Been a while since his last martini.

If Terzeh could see him now, she'd definitely be clucking her tongue in disapproval. A Jedi must be above the vices of others. Attachment to such things can be destructive, and so lead us down a path we do not wish to follow for want of the will to resist.

Of course she'd say the same about much that her former apprentice now did with his life. Such was the way of things.

Leej led him into the cantina and he was greeted at once by the impression that this was definitely a knife-in-the-kidney sort of establishment.

A few round tables littered the floor and a holo jukebox that'd seen better days was pushed up against the far wall. Stepping towards the counter and the haggard Rodian 'tender that tended the bar, he caught the eye of two Gammoreans seated by the door. They watched him with barely concealed fixation, appearing to tense the massive muscles beneath all that porcine fat.

He didn't even have to be steeped in the mysteries of the Force to sense this was going to a bad place very quickly.

“Leej, I'm going to be honest,” Kujata said as he sat at the bar. “I was really starting to like you.”

The Jawa took a seat beside him, scrambling up onto the stool. “You no longer like Leej?” He sounded offended. “Are nearly friends!”

“Right. See, here's the problem.” Kujata gestured towards the Gamorreans. “Those guys … er, gals? They're already reaching for their blasters.” He nodded towards the 'tender. “This gentleman has some manner of really heavy-duty rifle beneath the counter, likely something that packs a serious punch. And he's looking at me like I killed his favorite pet. Do you want to know the truth?”

Leej swiveled to face him, those topaz eyes seeming to grow brighter. “Oh? What is truth, big time business man?”

“I'm pretty sure this is some sort of shakedown.”

The Jawa chortled once more as the blasters came out and one of the Gamorreans thundered over to block the door. Somewhere in the darkness of the little being's hood the Jedi could swear he felt a smirk.

Really should have dug deeper, Kujata thought, sighing.

****

Nothing in the world compared to the sound of a blaster rifle coming together in the hands of a master.

More impressive if the master was wearing a blindfold, of course, but Oleg Trankan was not the sort of man who'd allow himself to be voluntarily blinded. Too many close calls in ports of safety had left him paranoid … and rightly so. His massive frame was a testament to a life lived in conflict and a hundred close calls, a story of war writ in scars and scorches all across his flesh.

His warriors watched him finish the assembly and listened for the final clack, and then watched him begin to break it all down again into its fundamental elements to begin again. An old soldier's trick, they knew, for calming nerves before a battle. But to each man and woman within the squad arrayed around Oleg not one of them could picture a bead of sweat on their commander, nor a single anxious breath from his lungs.

The Mandalorian Rally Master was as cold as ice and as focused as a Verpine shattergun. The only quirk any of them could ever possibly link to nerves was his habit of touching his fingertips to the massive scar that warped his face, but most old enough to remember how he got it would tell the rest that it wasn't nerves. It was a memory, a dear one at that. A gesture of comfort rather than trepidation.

There were nearly two dozen of them in the open space of the breach-craft's hangar, each watching their leader as he worked. Those who'd fought with him before were familiar with his rituals and what they represented, while the newer soldiers could only guess. Most of them had their own, and some of those warriors were already working on going through the motions, the mantras, or whatever else it was they needed to do.

Only a couple of them lacked this inclination entirely. All of them bore the blue armor and green slashes of the unblooded.

As their Rally Master continued his work the unbloodied engaged one another in parring matches. They fought one another as they had for years, familiar with the ebb and flow of combat against those they'd grown up with. The dance didn't change much, and they learned little from the exercise that they didn't already know, but it served its purpose in ramping them up for the battle to come.

Even now the breach-craft – and a hundred like it – hurtled through hyperspace, a bolt fired with deadly accuracy across the galaxy towards an enemy who would soon be forced into a fight unlike it had ever known. Around the sparring initiates were arrayed the company's contingent of bes'uliik, the Basilisk droids that served them more loyally than any living creature could be capable of doing. They slumbered now, but would soon be called into action. Would soon taste the blood of Mandalore's foes.

Silence ruled the hangar for a time – just the sound of weapons clacking and the Rally Master's ceaseless task – until gradually the sound grew into something fiercer. Murmurs at first, then firmer voices. Conversations to break the anxiousness. Words of what deeds would be won, what honors they hoped to find. The glory of the Crusade that dominated their thoughts and guided their hands. A glorious war, a war that would bring joy to those who had come before, to those who had yet to come at all.

From silence, sound. From calm, chaos. From nothing, life.

They were a company of warriors. They were Mando'ade.

Across the hangar a door slid open, hissing and creaking as the old hydraulics kicked into motion. First to enter was a human Mandalorian warrior of thick build with a head of shock-red hair and an eye shut permanently by an ancient scar. Behind him was the wispy form of a Mirialan woman, young but cut from durasteel, her every step confident and sure. She was swift but held herself in check, keeping just behind the man who led her – she bore the green slashes, after all, and it would not be seemly for her to overstep her bounds.

The Rally Master finished assembling his rifle once more, then set it down, apparently satisfied. He glanced up at the newcomers and gestured for both of them to approach. The man in the lead swept a hand through his red mane and grinned as he reached his commander. “Nailed it, Oleg. Girl was swinging those swords of hers around like she was possessed. Was half afraid she wouldn't even hear me knocking.”

Oleg grunted, then switched his gaze over to the young woman as she joined them. She clipped her first to her armor, a warrior's salute. “Apologies, father. I'd lost track of time.”

He took a few moments to study the young woman before him. “Punctuality is crucial in war,” he said, finally. “Timing can be the difference between victory and defeat.”

She knew this. She'd heard it a thousand times, maybe more. But she nodded as if it were the first time those words had ever been spoken. “Yes, father.”

The Rally Master looked back at the other warrior. “Ducar, how long have we been in transit?”

“Sixteen hours, twenty seven minutes since departure.”

“And how much longer before we reach Zetrea?”

“Twelve minutes.”

Oleg met his daughter's eyes. “A soldier must never let the details slip. A soldier must be ready. To remember less, to pay attention to less, is to be less.”

To which Zeti Trankan saluted a second time. “I understand, father.”

“I am not your father, not now. Soon the war with be joined, and you will address me by the role I play in service to Mandalore. Speak it.”

Zeti blushed a darker shade of green against the emerald hue of her skin. “Your will, Rally Master.”

Oleg thought he could detect a faint air of amusement from Ducar, out of place for an otherwise professional soldier.

But then, the relationship between Zeti and Oleg never seemed to have made much sense to Ducar in the first place; a human father and a Mirialan daughter spoke of strange times to most of the Mandalorians who served the Rally Master, but none save Ducar ever questioned it aloud (if never in Oleg's presence). He'd likely be enjoying this coldness between them. It made more sense to him.

In a sweep of motion the Rally Master stood. He already wore the black pressure suit of their company, but he lacked the red armor of his station. It lay at his feet, neatly organized, prepared for this moment. It took only a moment for both Zeti and Ducar to set themselves in motion, and as one they began attaching their commander's armor to him. A position of honor, this, and something Zeti probably didn't deserve. Not yet.

When the task was complete he hefted the huge blaster rifle he'd been toying with and clipped it to himself, ensuring it would reach his hands in a moment's notice should it need to. A brace of vibroknives found his belt – forged of cortosis, a rare metal of infinite usefulness, taken from a man he'd slain on the battlefield decades ago – and then followed the rest of his weaponry.

This done, he directed the weight of his attention back onto his daughter. For a moment he nearly broke the stoic mask he wore, but it held firm in the end.

“Recruit Zeti, are your weapons in order?”

She assented, placing her hands upon the hilts of the swords at her waist.

“Soldier Ducar, are your weapons in order?”

The red-maned warrior nodded, grinning.

The Rally Master stepped past them and they saluted as he did so. The rest of the warriors in the hangar ceased all activity and turned to face their commander, each assuming a salute as well.

“Warriors of the Mando'ade!”

Hie voice thundered through the hangar, cleanly cutting through the hum of the hyperspace engines and the dull drone of the air scrubbers. It could have stopped a rampaging bantha in its tracks.

“Today we ride into battle. Today, we join ourselves fully to the Crusade and take our place as true soldiers of Mandalore! We are not the first to do so. Others have joined before us, and others shall join after. But this is not their moment. This is not their day. It is ours!”

The whole of the ship breathed deeply …

“Take no prisoners, waste no shots, and show honor to those who show honor themselves! For glory! For Mandalore!”

… and exhaled as they cheered, their thunder matching that of their commander. As one, they saluted and raised fists in the air, their battle lust rising, building …

… and in the starry expanse above the world of Zetrea, into the safety of the treaties which protected all those who sought the goods and services of the Aundus-Valay and beyond, a hundred Mandalorian vessels fell out of hyperspace …

… and opened fire.

Markus's peaceful and relaxing meditation was disturbed by the appearance of Master Vrook. “Markus. This is Master Vrook. I am currently in session with a few members of the council. We request your appearance.” Markus was surprised he was called so soon. He had thought it would at least have a taken a few days. Markus stood up walked towards Master Vrook and told him that he would arrive shortly. He wondered if Lonna would be there. He really hoped she wasn't there. But he had a feeling she would be there. As he walked towards the council meeting he prepared himself to be chewed out and angerly screamed at. It wasn't something he was looking forward too but it had to be done. He walked through the main hall through a few corridors and then arrived at the entrance of the council. He took a deep and rather long breath before opening the door. As he opened it he saw the entire council look at him. Some with a reassuring glance other's with mistrust. And one with a very very angry look. Markus remained his calm self walking towards the middle of the council like he had done all those years back and said with an almost emotionless voice. " You asked for me masters?"

Master Kasari lifted a finger to her lips, a gesture that Moryr understood before they both turned their attention to the pair in the centre of the room. Initially she saw nothing else aside from what was obvious, though it took her only a few moments to realise that Arren Kae was manipulating the force in such a way that she was projecting a vision into the padawan, the complexity and details of which left a feeling of somewhat awe in the young knight. As she opened herself to the force and began to observe the situation she felt a tingle creep through her body at the sheer affinity that Arren Kae had. To say that the force flowed freely through her would have been an understatement, it was more like a torrent that burst forth from every seam and pore.

It appeared to Moryr as she watched in eager interest that the exercise here was intended to help the young woman better understand the necessity of using violence when there was no alternative – a lesson that Mudarr had little trouble instilling in herself. A prang of sadness surfaced once more as her thoughts turned to her previous master, before she again trust them away and focused on Xeviiy and the mercenaries. As the situation continued to unfold as the tall woman beside her leant close and whispered “Is this your first time seeing Arren Kae in action as well? She’s certainly… interesting, isn’t she?”

Keeping her eyes on the pair Moryr matched her tone and volume as she nodded and whispered “Her connection to the force… It is humbling to observe”. She would have continued but at that point the remaining mercenary charged with his vibroblade drawn and there was a clash and crackle as it met with Xeviiy’s lightsaber.

Moryr could not help but think that if it was her in her place that she already would have struck, ensuring that the mercenaries had fallen before they could have harmed another of the farmers, but she knew that to observe and to participate were two very different things and she did not think any less of the Padawan for trying to resolve the situation without the need for violence, but indeed she realised that it must have been a lesson she needed to be taught.

As she continued to watch, now invested in the success of Xeviiy she unconsciously urged the woman to cut the man down swiftly, for it was clear to her that if he were real the galaxy would be a far better place without his stain, a fact she had come to believe about those who would readily do harm onto others for nothing but their own selfish benefits. It was a fine line for a Jedi to walk, but walk it none-the-less they must. Moryr found herself unconsciously flexing her claws, a habit she often did when excited or overly interested in the outcome of a situation.

The intensity of the vision raged on, and Master Kasari began to wander through the ebb and flow of Arren Kae’s energy. There was more to this vision than simply a vision. Quietly, Kasari began to wonder whether this was a vision at all or if it was actually a memory, altered for the purposes of Xeviiy’s training. But, whose memory? Was this Arren Kae’s? Kasari’s student was struggling within the confines of a life or death battle, and she could feel the conflict within Xeviiy.

“Your own connection to the force is impressive as well, Moryr. I don’t doubt one day we may see you sitting in her seat, following the path as a master to teach and uphold our values. If there are any questions you have in need of answers, perhaps you can come to me. Or, maybe Arren can provide answers. Her methods may be unorthodox, but she has a way with un-clouding the mind by forcing us to navigate through the hard questions of life and the force.”

Her attention went back to the vision before them all when one focused enough and joined into the well of force energy Arren Kae emitted. The mother and daughter took Xeviiy’s thoughts as wise words. They ran away from the farm in order to find a place to hide, grabbing the dead mercenary’s blaster as a means to defend themselves.

With a grunt, the merc eventually re-found his balance after the force push. He recognized her growing confidence and couldn’t do anything about his hostages getting away. There was nothing else to do now other than kill the Jedi and then kill the remaining witnesses. “They won’t get far. Once I’m finished with you, their blood is next. Stupid Jedi, all you had to do was wait and nothing would have happened.” He gripped his vibrosword tightly, setting his feet into a battling position. “You might have a lightsaber and Jedi training behind you, but I can tell you’ve never actually fought. There isn’t any blood on your hands. You reek of innocence.” The mercenary charged, but first he kicked up a cloud of sand towards her face. His form sliced through the cloud of sand and his sword came crashing down at her once more.



Anna smiled. That compliment meant more to her than Leon could possibly know, to hear her commanding officer suggest her own qualities were needed more frequently within the Republic. “Thank you.” She managed to reply back and continue along with him. There was no way she was going back to the office at this point, especially at the mention of the Jedi.

“The Jedi Temple?” Her voice raised in excitement. “There’s no way I’m going back now. Not that I would in the first place. Someone has to make sure you don’t get into trouble, and as a secret; I hate paperwork too.” She paused. “The Jedi, I’ve never actually been to the temple before. I’ve heard so much about the powers of the force and the absolute importance they had during the Exar Kun War. The Republic database says so much about Nomi Sunrider and her history during that fight. She’s kind of a personal hero. Did you ever meet her or any other Jedi during the war? What were they like? Are they just as amazing as the stories say?”

The lieutenant blitzed him with questions, one after another without tiring. She had so many questions and a zest for learning. Paperwork was not the work she wanted nor was suited for. Her heart was set on the field just as much as his, or so Anna felt. After a moment, her excitement settled but the beaming curiosity remained glimmering in her eyes. “You know what this means, you know? You’re going to have to give me a tour. Of what you know, anyway.”



Vrook, Vandar, and Dorak all sat within the council chamber at their seats looking over Markus as he entered the circle. The holograms of the Coruscant masters present looked on as well. Atris, Zez-Kai Ell, Kavar, and Lonna Vash. Lonna’s face turned into a brief moment of surprise to learn that Markus truly was alive. She knew the masters had told her this news already, but seeing was the final step to making her believe.

“Greetings, Markus. It’s good to see you again, and good to see that you are alive after all this time.” Vandar spoke.

“It’s safe to say we were all surprised by the news. Good news is always welcome.” Kavar joined in.

“Any message to let us know you weren’t dead would have been nice, however.” Lonna stated coldly. “Perhaps after a month, or two years even, five would have been nice too. Nineteen will have to do.” A certain amount of bite in her words.

“Control your emotions, Lonna. I’m sure he has his reasons.” Zez tempered her.

Lonna sighed. “… Forgive my frustration.”

Vrook raised his hand. “Now, we know why you are here Markus. Here on account of the disturbing video of a Mandalorian invasion. We have decided that it is indeed a war invasion, and the Republic outer worlds will be next. But, there is more to this than we know. Everyone on the council senses something behind this, something dark. Because of the unkown nature of this threat, the Jedi will not be fighting this war. However, the Republic must be made aware of this news.”

Lonna spoke again. “This is why we’ve selected you to deliver the evidence to Republic headquarters on Coruscant. We have not decided yet whether you are to remain a Jedi or if it would be best that you go into a sort of exile to meditate upon the things that trouble you.” She tried to remain as professional as possible.

“That is not all.” Kavar entered in. “Upon delivering the evidence, we suggest you bring a team of Jedi with you to the outer rim. You must find knights of high caliber, not padawans. This is a stealth mission of extreme precaution. Investigate. Find out what you can, and then come to us. We will make further decisions at that point.”



“See how Ken moves?” Zhar asked.

“Precise, and patient.” Aria noted, watching him closely. The way he held his saber, his footwork. She watched his eyes analyzing Alek’s stance and footwork, it seemed remarkable to her that he’d have the mental fortitude to defend against powerful strikes and not lose focus. His immense calm had to be linked to his connection with the force, and Aria found herself understanding why Ken Grant was so well spoken of. She even found herself in awe, of both of them. Alek’s resolve was strong, and there was no backing off of his assault. He pressed onward, and his saber strokes came down in a flurry. A string of slashes and slices that didn’t seem to have an end.

“He’s waiting. For an opening in Alek’s attacks.”

“Yes. If his defenses aren’t broken down first.”

“I don’t think that will happen. His form is excellent, to me it looks like Alek’s energy will wear thin before he gets through that defense.”

“Perhaps you are right. How would you go about it, Aria? I know you’re a defensive fighter, but think like a duelist.”

“I’d try to mirror him. Right now, I don’t feel like I’m as skilled. But, I can read and predict. I’d try and force it to come down to which one of us can read the other quicker and make the right move. Alek relies on the blitz, but I don’t think he sees the full game.”

“If that didn’t work out?”

“I’d use Juyo. Ken seems to rely on predicting the opponent’s moves. But I wonder if he’d be able to stand against a form based around unpredictability and powerful aggression.”

“You do have a gift for combat, and understanding it my padawan. Your words are sound, and wiser than your age. But, Juyo contradicts you as you are now. Could you use it well enough?”

Aria paused. “I, I don’t know. We never really know what we can do until we must.”

“Indeed.” Master and apprentice returned to watching the match in silence as the continued spins and acrobatic power Alek exhibited was incredible. He had firm control of his body, and the power behind his attacks did not waver. At least not yet.

Xeviiy could hear the faintness of the conversation going on, though it quickly fell silent in the background once more when the mercenary started to speak to her once more, not believing his words for a second however, there was already someone dead when she had been put into the vision and she doubted that her doing nothing would've made things go in a different direction, well perhaps one, the rest of the family that she managed to save would have probably been dead as well.

“Yeah right, I'm sure you would've just let this family go instead of killing them and me as well.” She started to respond back, though when he caught on she hadn't been in any real combat, it made her a little nervous, she didn't think she was that easy to read, “A Jedi doesn't seek out a fight, we try to resolve things peacefully.”

She was taken aback by him starting to charge her once more; beginning to cough as she inhaled some of the sand he kicked towards her. She just managed to block the man's attack, it sliding against hers, leaving a small cut on her face as she deflected the attack away. Xeviiy began to go on the offensive now, knowing that if she just continued to block, the fight would go no where and they be at this for hours until someone made a mistake, plus the rest of that family was still nearby, she couldn't lose, other wise they would be killed as well.

She continued to deflect his attacks and then respond with ones of her own, remembering in the middle of their fight that his ribs had been injured, if they weren't broken, surely they were at least bruised, perhaps she could get him there and then get him to surrender, hell it was worth a shot. When his next attack came for her, she moved her body to the right and then went to slam the butt of her hilt into his ribs and then follow it up with a force push that would take him off his feet, she wanted to finish this fight as quickly as possible without anyone else losing their life.

---

“Don't worry about it, Lieutenant.” Leon responded as they continued to walk towards the Jedi Temple, would probably take only a few more minutes and then it be back to headquarters, no doubt to do piled up paperwork, oh well, that couldn't be help and the blame was all his for not just staying there and doing it.

Leon did take notice however when she started to get excited at the mention of the Jedi, something he couldn't help but smirk a little at, he hadn't expected the steely Lieutenant to be awe stricken at the mention of the order that worked with the Republic. “Well I guess today's your lucky day then Lieutenant, you'll get to see what it's like inside, just make sure to not gush over them too much, some of them can be a tad...stern with people who they feel are being a distraction.” He partially teased, whilst they weren't really strict, from his time there, they did want their padawans to remain focused and people who fawned over the Jedi really didn't help with that.

He couldn't help but feel like it was twenty questions with her, not that he minded of course, he was actually pleasantly surprised she was so interested in the Jedi, whilst the Republic did value the Jedi, he knew it also sometimes thought of them as magicians or something. “The Jedi were important in the fight with Exar Kun and the Sith, without them, the Republic wouldn't have won some of the battles we did, they literally made some impossible battle plans possible, well excluding my brilliance of course.” He chuckled lightly.

When she mentioned Nomi, he couldn't help but think back to during the war, thinking about how he fought with her on occasion and how they had each others' backs when things had started to get rough. “I knew her a little, not personally however, same goes with some of the Jedi, though I did know a few of them, I was a padawan when I had trained with them, though that unfortunately didn't work out. And yes, they are prettying amazing, the way they work with the force, their combat skills all of it, it's just something that you want to experience for yourself.”

He chuckled at her comment requesting a tour, “Alright Lieutenant, after I deliver some of these documents that need to be signed, we'll see if I can get us a tour.” It would definitely be strange visiting his old stomping ground again, perhaps he could see his old master, or the others and perhaps that would allow him to show Anna around a bit, she earned it, she worked just as hard as he did, perhaps harder, so he didn't see anything wrong with them having a bit longer on their break.

Ken knew the calm of the force and he kept it with him at all times. He did not feel pressure and he did not know worry but he knew caution. There was no emotion there was peace. Ken did not full block the blows he dodges where he could be simply moving his body out of the way using his skilled footwork. And for when the blade could not be evaded he used his blade not as a shield but as a weapon. He blocked the strikes but twirled his body at the same time it was like a kid's toy in motion simple and too the point. By blocking but not putting his full effort into defending he could preposition himself. He would never attempt this in an actual fight but Alek was putting to much focus on his power blows and not enough focus on where Ken himself was. That raw power and strength was attempting to run him over but it was too wild and too savage. It didn't have a calculated thought behind it and thus Ken, while not in his comfort zone, was still able to avoid being hit squarely. In return however Ken brought his blade up to tag Alek's body with the tip of the saber before treating back into defensive Niman. He was attempting to get a few good hits in too slowly wear down Alek with burns until he commuted too much and let Ken get in with a decisive blow. However he was having issues seeing any good chance to get in a blow. He was focused too much on the defensive and not enough on offense. Ken knew this usually he would work in tandum with the force using force pulls and pushs and objects around him to off balance and enemy but this was a straight up saber fight and Zhar would not like him to use his powers in duel meant for the blades. "Come now Alek surely you can fight better than that can't you? Did your master train you so poorly?" Ken taunted as he kept on his defensive strategy of moving and blocking only when he needed too. It was almost as if he was dancing as he moved across the mat.

“Your own connection to the force is impressive as well, Moryr. I don’t doubt one day we may see you sitting in her seat, following the path as a master to teach and uphold our values. If there are any questions you have in need of answers, perhaps you can come to me. Or, maybe Arren can provide answers. Her methods may be unorthodox, but she has a way with un-clouding the mind by forcing us to navigate through the hard questions of life and the force.”

The words reverberated inside Moryr’s head, serving as a balm against the irritated prangs of her emotions, a gentle smile spreading across her features. It always shocked her a little how in tune some of the masters were with the feelings and thoughts that reverberated through her and how they could set her at ease with a few words. Her smile faltered slightly as she considered the alternative ‘Or am I simply that transparent?’

She quickly dismissed the thought and instead focused on the positives of the statement and with a nod she responded “It means a great deal to me to know that you would do so for me, I admit I have been troubled as of late”. She paused, slightly reluctant to go into further detail, though it occurred to her that news of her situation may have spread through the order –some of the Jedi’s could be as bad old women huddled around in a dusty market square exchanging gossip and with it of course a healthy dose of judgment. The thought made her straighten slightly as she imagined what some of them might be saying about them, after all the order made it more than clear that such relationships were forbidden as they only lead to the darkside. Moryr knew that it wasn’t true, or at least she believed she knew that, it had not always been so in the order and just because of a few Jedi that had let their emotions lead them away from the light didn’t mean that it was the case for all of them. Even Nomi Sunrider had used her feelings of love to further her ambitions and become a Jedi, and even the youngest of padawans were familiar with her tale and how she ended the Great Sith war.

Moryr realised that once again she was justifying her actions, however the will to chide herself and tear her feelings away seemed to erode and she allowed herself a few moments to again think of Mudarr. She hoped that the master was again focusing upon the training before them as opposed to watching her own feelings. Moryr considered briefly leaving the room, however she knew to do so would not only be folly but could also be considered quite rude. As well as that she had to admit she was keen to see how the padawan would resolve the situation, and what lessons Arren would pass along. Again as she watched Moryr decided that it would be best to speak of her troubles and turmoils with the more experienced women, especially as it had been freely offered.

As the fight before her escalated and the padawan somewhat reluctantly defended herself Moryr allowed her thoughts to wander back to some of her own more aggressive confrontations. During their postings along the the Outer-rim territories they had dealt with a small but reckless band of spice smugglers who had been exacerbating the tenuous relationship between the republic and the local worlds by hiding amongst groups of refugees. One particularly nasty confrontation had caused several of the smugglers to take hostages as soon as they had discovered they were being hunted by Jedi,Moryr being spotted as she followed them. They had confronted her as she tried to follow them through a crowd, evidently her disguise not as concealing as she’d hoped. She had hesitated to act, afraid of the possibility of harming the surrounding refugees and also knowing that the smugglers situations were born out of desperation. If it were not for the swift movements of Mudarr then countless lives could have been lost. The elder Cathar had leapt from his over-watching position and with a flurry of saber swings and force pulls he had dispatched four smugglers before they could even fire off a single blaster shot or harm a single person.

Later he had told her that the lives of the guilty were forfeit if they endangered the lives of the innocent, that there was always a choice that people made towards the dark or the light, no matter how slight the move was. It was a very polarising view of things, but she had quickly come to agree that in such situations her priorities should be as clear as the noon-day air on their homeworld. He had assured her the force would always help to guide her hand and not to hesitate to kill if it was truly required. The scenario playing out before her was similar in it teachings and so she watched with eager interest to see if Xeviiy too would embrace the lesson as she had – the lives of the innocent being simply too precious to risk by sparing the lives of those who were not.

“Boring conversation anyway."

The Aundus-Valay, Above Zetrea
Outer Rim

There is beauty in the ending of things. In the death of what is and the decay of what remains. This was never more evident than in the wake of a battle on the scale of worlds, where the fate of a civilization hung in the balance.

In the darkness of the void that encircles the forge-world of Zetrea come the heralds of a war without end. They come in numbers unimaginable to those who dwell within the safety net of Zetrea's outposts, in numbers that would overwhelm lesser worlds without even a moment of resistance. It is in many ways like something out of a waking dream for most; a spear thrown by the uncaring gods into the heart of a world which has grown past suffering, past the struggle that defines lesser cultures.

A world that has grown fat and soft. Secure behind the walls of credits and the shield of their own creations, warships piloted by those unfit for command but whose mere presence served to deter would-be assailants and suppress would-be rivals. In the days to come it would be said of Zetrea that this is why the Mandalorians had chosen their planet. This was why the gods had seen fit to punish them – their indolence, their weakness, festered within an armor they believed to be impenetrable, and it was this weakness which had drawn those to whom the very idea of weakness was abhorrent.

Even now the quiet darkness that surrounds the forge-world and embraces the glorious jewel of the Aundus-Valay is webbed with blazing lines of light that explode against shields and slice through those vessels whose defenses cannot hold. Shrapnel fills the galaxy around them, a geyser of escaping air and corpses into the void following soon after where the shattered ships cannot keep them in.

At the head of the Mandalorian fleet rides their flagship, a grand vessel that dwarfs its fellows and bears the mark of the Field Marshal who rides it all across the hull. It is the sigil of Aliit Ransiir, the clan whose might has unified the forces arrayed before Zetrea now; a half dozen aliits who apart had been weak, but together had been made strong. Forged into a sword for the hand of Mandalore, a warrior band that sang his praises as they fell into the vanguard to prove themselves worthy of his regard.

All around this flagship flows the ion-wake of the Kandosii dreadnoughts which serve as its honor guard, even now swarming with the fighters they've unleashed upon the battlefield. From their bows and the bristling weapon mounts all along their flanks comes a storm of turbolaser fire, a silent rain of searing heat to rip apart those who stand before them.

In and amongst this tide of crimson light soar the smaller vessels, the Retan breach-craft and the Jehavey'ir assault cruisers that comprise the bulk of the fleet. The former lead a charge that most would consider that of a sentient possessed – a suicide charge into the front lines of the defenders with nearly no weaponry to defend themselves, save the wicked laser battery that lines the front maw of each.

But they are not a weapon meant for the clash; they are a precision instrument, a craft alike to the Basilisks that the mad Mandalorians will soon ride down to the surface of the world. Now, as they draw near the shining star that is the Aundus-Valay, they whip forth with greater speed and unveil the cables and grappling clamps they'll use to burrow deep, the cutters of their prows already charging for the first and final bite to break through the hull that awaits them.

Astride their course ride the Jehavey'ir, their dull bronze-hued plating a shield for the brave warriors who would soon flood into the sanctity of Zetrea's jewel and tear it asunder. They unleash dazzling displays of covering fire and take each hit from the defenders' scattered emerald blasts with ease, shrugging off all but the hardest of the Aundus' turbolaser barrage. As fighters scramble from Zetrea itself the Mandalorian assault ships turn their attention towards them, ravaging the swarms before they can reach the breach-craft.

Across the distance between the Ransiir flagship and the Palace of White Fire far below flies a short, curt exchange of communications. Their contents are unimportant; the only matter of importance is the erosion of confidence and the mounting fear from those who had felt themselves secure. Who had turned away offers of alliance in their arrogance, and who had now come face to face with the price of hubris.

More ships – heavy Zetrean cruisers now – rise from the surface of the world, but to those who watch the conflict unfold behind the viewports of the ships within it, and from the HoloNet broadcasting it live to those on the ground, the outcome seems certain.

Barring any sort of miracle, it is only a matter of time. And few are those who still believe in miracles...



The flick of a blaster rifle's muzzle forced Kujata to sit up straight in his seat. He spread his hands wide and far from the folds of his coat – there was really no sense in antagonizing those who held the power here. Well, one sort of power anyway. The immediate kind. The important kind.

If there was one lesson any Jedi who'd ever left the Temple had to learn – and learn fast – it was that no amount of attunement to the living Force or deep understanding of the philosophies of ancient Tython could undo a blaster bolt to the brain, and though a Jedi's reflexes are usually far superior to those of any opponent they faced, there was always a chance that things could go horribly wrong.

He'd seen it too many times to recount. Danger thrummed in this moment and he'd be a complete idiot to ignore the overwhelming risks. And sure, Kujata could be dumb sometimes, but he wasn't a complete idiot. Usually.

“Let's not be hasty here, Leej, my … amiable acquaintance?”

A few curt gestures told Kujata exactly how close to amiable they were. Despite the situation, the Jedi Knight had to fight down a grin. Somehow he'd never really pictured his life being threatened by a being that barely came up to his waist. That was probably very speciest of him. Something he'd have to correct.

Instead of speaking to his new captive, Leej waved to the Gamorreans. “Stand outside cantina, make sure no uninvited guests. Will make more credits off unwilling guest than random customer!”

The grunts did as they were bade, stepping out through the doorway and leaving only Leej and his heavily-armed Rodian companion to cut a deal with their new captive.

“Listen, you've made a pretty thoroughly incorrect assumption or two about my wealth,” the Knight said, meeting the even stare of the Jawa beside him. “I'm not sure why you think I'm burdened with credits, but I can assure you-”

“No lies,” Leej warned. He pointed to his muscle, who in turn aimed the heavy blaster rifle in his hands directly at the Jedi Knight's forehead. “Leej saw kindly one leaving Britu headquarters. Does business with giants of industry! Admitted to Leej is big time business man!”

I did, didn't I? Well that wasn't smart.

Around this point in the conversation Terzeh would have reprimanded him for not thinking things through, not trying to get a better read of the situation before he walked blindly into it. But … why should he? This wasn't war. This wasn't the hunt. There shouldn't have been a need for that sort of careful planning or paranoia. The galaxy was at peace – give or take – and he was a sworn servant of the Light Side of the Force.

Which … hang on. He set his sights on the 'tender as Leej continued to explain all the reasons that Kujata could afford the outrageous ransom he was about to propose. Maybe there's an easy way out of this.

Kujata focused himself, allowing the tenuous threads of the Force to gather around him, to tighten, to churn with power. He pictured the breath as it flowed into and away from him, siphoning away the heat, stealing away all but the calm within. Leaving him quiet. Centered. For some this came easily, this grasping for the power that all Jedi commanded. But for him – well, few things in life were easy.

He raised a hand towards the Rodian who bore the heavy blaster rifle. A slow gesture, careful and calm. Don't antagonize. Sympathize. Reach out, seek out the mind, touch the mind …

“Isn't that blaster heavy?” he asked, filling his voice with kindness, with compassion. With a kiss of the Force. “We're all friends here. You can set it down.”

Leej trailed off as the Rodian blinked, then looked down to the weapon in his hands. “I … can set it down. We are all friends here.”

The weapon's barrel lowered. A micrometer at a time, agonizing in its slowness …

A chittering cry erupted from the Jawa, his gloved hand waving frantically at his partner in crime as he turned his attention from Kujata. “What? Leej did not command! Weapon up, or friend Vachlek does not make big credit pile!”

“Yes …” the 'tender replied, shaking his head. “Yeah, gotta keep that weapon trained. I don't know why I'd …”

Kujata threw more into his voice, concentrating. Pushing himself, drawing in ever more of the living energy around him. “No, no need for the blaster. Money can't be all there is to life, and it certainly can't be worth the danger you're putting your friends in by waving that weapon about.”

“I … do not … want to endanger my friends,” the Rodian – Vachlek – conceded, and again the weapon slipped downward. “Credits … are not worth … the risk?”

Only a handful of words in the native tongue of Jawa culture found any sort of translation in Kujata's head, but a few choice phrases from the string of utter vileness that Leej unleashed upon his ally stuck out and made the Jedi Knight suddenly glad he didn't understand the rest. There was a surprising depth to the young Jawa's creative linguistic arts, and an he could sense an immense imagination at play.

Surely the Rodian understood at least as much as Kujata, for the weapon wavered and stopped. “Yes … point … blaster …up.”

“It's getting heavy, isn't it? Might as well set it down.”

“Yes … down … for … friend …”

“Up! Leej demand up! Do you not speak Basic good? Are you damaged? Up, or you will not be paid!”

“ … get paid … good … raise weapon … ”

“Why would you raise that weapon? You don't want to do that, do you? To risk the lives of all your friends?”

And again it fell.

The furious Jawa reached into the folds of his emblazoned cloak and retrieved a heavy metal object from the belt within. A gloved finger depressed a switch on the device and a length of shimmering metal emerged. From such a close range Kujata could almost taste the electric charge on it.

“Leej will maim if no comply!” he roared. “Maim!”

Beads of sweat erupted across the Jedi Knight's forehead as he tried to summon another wave of compulsion. Vachlek's bulbous eyes flickered back and forth between the two, nearly crossing from the strain, but the weapon crept up once more, wavering like mad.

In the deepness of his eyes he seemed to be begging Kujata to stay silent. To allow him a measure of mercy.

“Down.”

Heavy silence fell. Kujata put the full energy of the Force into his single imperative as Leej leaned forward, the tip of his stun baton creeping closer. Somewhere above and behind them the cantina's air filtration system kicked on and filled the room with a low grumble – a sound accompanied by the nearly audible tension in the Rodian's arms as he fought between the gentle thunder of the Force unleashed … and the palpable rage of his employer.

A centimeter. Another. Leej hissed and the weapon held still for just a moment – a moment that hung and splayed out across what felt like forever – and then, with a deep melancholic sigh of one embracing their doom, the blaster rifle clanked against the bar as he dropped it.

“Do you have death wish!?”

The stun baton slammed into Vachlek's chest and threw him back into the glass bottles and sloshing jugs behind him.

Ragged breaths echoed out from the hood of the Jawa's cloak, the charge slowly creeping back into the silvery metal of the weapon in his hands. Piercing topaz eyes rolled back to Kujata and the stool swiveled to follow.

“Kindly one has chanlon tongue! Must teach to Leej, after pays own ransom. And recovers from savage beating!”

Grunting from the effort of once again trying to draw the full font of the Force into himself, Kujata reached out and raised a few fingers towards his Jawa aggressor.

“You don't want to hurt me. You'd rather let me go, and wish me a safe-”

The partially charged stun baton cut him off as it whipped against the side of his face. Electricity crackled through his skin and arced for a moment through the coarse hairs of his scraggly beard, sending a couple of surges of immense pain coursing through his jaw.

“No make clever words!” he roared. “Leej makes big time mess of kindly one's face if kindly one tries again! Do not test patience of Leej!”

Well. So much for that.



Zeti Trankan thought:

Ba’jur bal beskar’gam,
ara’nov, alit,
Mando’a bal
Mand’alor—
an vencuyan mhi...

She could not see the conflict as it raged beyond the shuddering hull, but she could feel it. A dizzying array of light lancing through the pitch black of the space that sought to devour it, slamming into deflector shields and erupting into novas of heat, bleeding out into the cold of the void. Flowers of hate, of carnage, blossoming for but a brief moment, lost forever after. A fleeting thing, a beautiful thing …

Another quake rocked the ship. The cargo webbing she clung to kept her steady, kept her on her feet, even as the pilot twisted and bent his path through the battery fire that lit up the Mandalorian fleet. Her hands burned from the strain of holding so tightly but to let go would have meant injury, or death – they were too close to the monstrous silver-white luxury cruiser now, and had begun to feel its gravity as they barreled down towards it.

No, it wasn't just that.

If she let go now the others would see the way her hands shook. Would see the betrayal of her body against her mind, the waves of anxiousness, of fear, and of excitement – that heady brew of mad chemicals which flooded the whole of her being. They were close now, very close. She could practically feel the weight of those green strikes on her armor, could feel the burden of bearing them, and the hope that soon they'd be burnt away.

She would stand with the others. She would wield her blades, would wield her blasters, side by side with those who had taken her in. Who had raised her. With those she sought to emulate and who she loved, and who loved her in return. There would be no more doubts, no more fear, no more worry in the dead of night that they would never accept her, never laugh alongside her nor share in her triumphs.

Don't get overwhelmed, she chanted, shutting her eyes to picture the war raging beyond the ship. Don't get overwhelmed. Focus on a single point, let everything else rush past. Let everything else go.

And the chant continued. Around her the others did not blink, did not flinch when the whole of the world was turned and shifted around them. Each thunderous crack against the deflectors rolled off of them as oil across water. Only the unbloodied were as she was – only the unbloodied were trying hard to achieve what the others did without effort. Did they feel as she did, the other recruits?

Did they, too, need this war as she did?

Would the blood of an honorable foe mean more to them than anything else in the whole of the galaxy?

Ba’jur bal beskar’gam…

… an ear-splitting shriek sounded through the ship, echoing and drawing all eyes towards the front of the hangar. An explosion followed by the hiss of the hangar doors unsealing, and the white-heat of slagged metal, and the acrid bite of molten plasteel …

… ara’nov, alit …

… the thunk of clamps and the unbearable whirring of servos and they rolled in the cables which now bound the Mandalorians to their prey. Humming shields as they extended out to ensnare the searing red and glowing orange of the wounded hull before them …

… Mando’a bal …

… tension erupting in chaos as blasterfire rained into the hangar, a swarm of white-clad warriors of Zetrea rushing forward to try to unlatch the enemy, to cast their hellish assault back into the darkness from which it came, and already the veterans were unhooked from the webbing and on their feet, pressing towards the breach and unleashing their fury, and all of them roaring as one …

… an vencuyan mhi.

She would take her kill.

She would do it with honor, with pride.

She would show her father that he was right to take her, that he was right to train her.

That everything he did – everything he put her through – made her stronger. Had made her into a Mandalorian that would make him proud. She would fight this day for the glory of Mandalore. She would press down her weaknesses, her fears, her doubts. She would be one with the aliit that adopted her, one with the father who had taken her as his own, one with the horde of warriors who even now sung praises of Mandalore with the sound of their blaster fire and the distant pounding sound of detonators as they tore apart those who would stand against them.

Zeti leapt from the webbing and flew into the mass of warriors who fought their way down towards the Aundus, taking her place amongst the blue-clad warriors and beside those who wore the green slashes of the rankless recruit. They followed in the wake of the giant who led them, their Rally Master clad in resplendent crimson armor, his blaster ceaseless in their storm of shots raining hell down against the fools who thought themselves the equals of the Mandalorian Crusaders.

One step at a time, one moment at a time, one breath at a time. They advanced.

She stepped past and over the fallen, and advanced beyond the sizzling edge of the world she knew and into the unknown, the world of war, the battlefield. Around her were screams of laser fire and of the dead and dying, but still she advanced, and began to see through the soldiers around her. At last the wall of bodies parted and she was free of them, exposed to the battle, to the enemy.

In one swift movement she swept up the blaster rifle which hung from its clip on her armor and tucked it into firing position, and sought the white-clad Zetreans against whom the beast within her could be unleashed. One shot was all it would take, one shot to end the child's lot in life and advance to her place amongst the servants of Mandalore.

She found one of their soldiers, a man clad in shining white armor that would not save him. He fumbled with the energy cell of his own rifle at the far end of the corridor they'd stormed into, trying to fix what was broken, trying to put his weapon back together to save his life. She waited. She waited a heartbeat, then another, until at last he had socketed the cell and was once again part of the fight.

He, too, pulled the rifle in close, and he too searched the field for an enemy to blood himself upon.

Their eyes met for just a moment. Electricity surged between them.

Her finger tightened, as she'd been taught. As she'd done a million times before.

But … the shot never came. She could not pull it for its full measure. Something inside her squirmed. Some distant voice, some dull device buried deep within her, some far-away whisper that slithered into her heart in that moment … and he was gone, cut down by one of Zeti's fellow recruits, and then another wave was upon them. The Mandalorians roared out their song of battle, the chant of their clans, the voice of war with many tones and only one word.

Mandalore.

White-clad Zetreans fell upon them from seemingly nowhere, blasters cast aside and blades out, stabbing and cutting in a suicide rush, a desperate attempt to take the Mandalorians down before they'd advanced too far. To buy time for the rest of the defenders to get into position, for the ship to react to the blitz that had sunk its teeth deep into them. One of them slammed into Zeti and threw her aside, and as she fell she drew one of her blades, the other catching – the angle was all wrong, and it did not clear before she hit the ground.

She kicked to right herself and used her empty hand to push free of the ground, but even as she did so a Zetrean soldier, too, was thrown down, slipping in a pool of blood to fall onto Zeti's half-raised sword.

Ice filled her veins and a horrible sinkhole opened wide within her. Not like this, she begged. Please … not like this...

And a screaming opened wide in the back of her mind and it rose and billowed and it swept out to consume her.

She watched as the dying child of Zetrea stared into the whole of her being and the light left his eyes, and the strength left his body, and the weight of him dragged her to the ground.



If Terzeh were here she'd have found a way to diffuse this situation already. Kujata could try using whatever diplomacy was left to him to salvage what was left of the conversation, but that would risk Leej's electric ire again. No, it was time to do something he never really felt comfortable doing – it was time to show off like some sort of grand stinking hero. He hated that stuff.

“Very well, Leej. You've backed me into a corner.” He stared fully into the eyes of the Jawa before him, drawing once more on the power of the Force as he tried to clear his emotions and center himself. “I think it's time you knew who you're dealing with.”

“You think idle threats strike fear into Leej? Have seen much! Have lived life of danger! Have – do not move! Will not warn again!”

In one immense burst of energy the Jedi Knight swept himself from the bar stool and flipped backwards, landing into a crouch, throwing back the sides of his long cloak to reveal the lightsabers that dangled from his belt. The gleam of the cantina's muted light caught the pair on his right, and the hilt on his left seemed to drink it in and leave none behind. A wry grin spread across his lips as he drew forth the latter and ignited the crimson fire within.

But Leej was already in motion the second that his captive fled the bar, slipping down and rolling towards Kujata, brandishing his stun baton, the charge light flickering from red to green as he brought it to bear against the lightsaber-wielding foe he faced. There was not an ounce of fear in the diminutive being; not a hint of doubt. Only steely resolve and … irritation.

Agile little schutta, Kujata thought, eying his enemy and once again having to fight down his mirth.

“Kindly one is Jedi?” Leej snapped. “You think Jedi scare Leej? Jedi is fool! All Leej needs to do to win is touch Jedi! One touch, and Leej will have ransom kidnapping of lifetime! Jedi Temple will pay millions of credits to Leej for safe return of their own!”

Kujata rose from his crouch and slipped into a dueling stance, nearly touching the point of his humming blade to Leej's crackling weapon. “I think you overestimate how badly they'd want me back, my friend. Though perhaps they'd pay you to keep me as far away from Coruscant as you can.”

“Take or not take, Leej gets paid. Win win.”

And so they stood, framed by the cantina's doorway: A Jedi Knight and a Jawa scoundrel, weapons at the ready and a sense of impending conflict brewing between them like a storm. The shadows and the light swirled around them as they fed on the blood-red light and dazzling blue arcs of the readied weapons, each testing the other, each opponent stepping with small motions, neither giving ground, hearts beating faster, eyes narrowed, nerves alight …

The Trag'tek's door slid open with a hiss and in through the threshold peered a pair of wide-eyed Camaasi women dressed so richly in so many layers of pearl shimmersilk that they could only be hopelessly lost tourists.

Everything held still. An instant frozen in time as the women took in the scene. An instant broken as the one in the lead turned to her friend. “Maybe we should go somewhere else?”

“Graaahhhh! Where are Gamorreans?” the Jawa roared, throwing his stun baton at the women in the doorway. They fled in the face of his rage, the door closing behind them. “Leej cannot buy good help on Aundus!”

Kujata let the blade of his lightsaber die out, its volcanic fire receding into the midnight hilt in his palm. He cleared his throat to draw the enraged Jawa's attention back to the matter at hand, gesturing towards the stun baton that had discharged itself into the wall beside the doorway, a deep char marking off the point of impact.

“So … this is a little awkward now,” the Jedi Knight began. “If you want I can wait for you to rearm … ?”

Exasperation flooded every last vibration of the Force around them as the Jawa exhaled. “This not Leej's day.”

“Well, it could always get better, right? Go and pick up the baton. We can pick up from where we left off if you want, and who knows? You might be able to get that one good hit in before I can disable your weapon.”

The Jawa looked from Kujata to the stun baton, and back, and again. Finally he strode to his weapon and stood above it, hesitant to reach down. A glance back towards the bar, then to the door. It felt as if he'd say something then, but whatever it was he bit it back. One final questioning flash of those brilliant yellow eyes on Kujata … and he reached down for the baton.

Every light in the cantina flickered, shut down, and lit back up with a bright red hue. The entire ship seemed to flood with the sound of warning klaxons that nearly deafened both of the conscious sentients in the cantina. They churned on for almost a full minute before dying down to a low screech, allowing the sound of the Aundus' internal com system to snap to life and a voice to fill the gap:

“This is the Aundus-Valay Security Force,” it said, radiating the sort of calm it took Jedi Masters the whole of their lives to achieve.

“The Aundus is now on lockdown. Hostile forces have begun an attack on our vessel. Be advised that all inbound and outbound travel is temporarily suspended. At this time we advise all passengers to make their way to designated safe zones for their own protection. ASF troopers will guide you to safe zone nearest you. Please proceed in a calm and orderly fashion and we will update you with further news as the situation develops.”

The klaxons resumed their howl, but the Jawa's voice was clear enough and shrill enough to cut through the noise with near-perfect clarity.

“So,” Leej said, sighing. “How does kindly Jedi feel on subject of bodyguarding innocent Jawas for handsome fees?”

Xeviiy was right to distrust the man’s words, indeed he had murdered a young girl before the Jedi had even shown up to the scene. The man was ready to kill, a cold-blooded fighter who favored credits over lives. It’s just a job, there’s nothing personal to it. Arren Kae wondered if Xeviiy had actually been analyzing, observing, and thinking about the situation. So, the padawan wasn’t a complete fool. That was good, it was a start. She never said it, but Arren could see the flow of the force on every single student and master she came to meet. The screams of the future were laid upon them, imprinted, she could hear the cries of the dead. Many Jedi were destined for a fall, or perhaps death, or even something more. Xeviiy was among them that had a critical part to play; she could sense it. She could also sense the swirls within Master Kasari, and Moryr the Cathar who had entered the room. Interlocked paths, but where do they lead?

Time will tell.

Still, none had sent her into such a shock as the first time she met her own padawan Aria. The energy was overwhelming, and destiny was split. One way, or another. Remarkable how Xeviiy and Aria were quite similar, both had to learn what it meant to do what needs to be done. Emotion was crucial, the desire for peace virtuous, but some things are not white or black. Decisions must be made.

Kasari had made one just now, listening to Moryr it seemed the knight was in need of an ear. “If you don’t wish to talk about it right here with others listening, we can speak alone. Whatever troubles you, I am open to helping you in any way I can. It will remain private, as well.” Kasari sometimes left out things with regards to Xeviiy in her training. Not all conversations were meant to be heard or shared, how else was trust to be maintained between a master and apprentice? Some might disagree, but not every single practitioner of the force taught the same way. Arren Kae being the prime example.

When Xeviiy moved in to smash his damaged ribs with the hilt of her saber, the moment had come. The mercenary was no ordinary opponent, no simple soldier. There had truly been many death matches scribbled onto his sword with the blood of his foes. He took his opponents seriously, and a Jedi was one who read an opponent. He had left an opening on purpose. His hand suddenly swept out, now one-handedly holding the heavy blade with impressive skill. The man’s hand came smashing down towards Xeviiy’s lightsaber hilt to force her blade away and send her off balance. If successful, he had his opening. He could turn his sword and strike with a potentially lethal blow.

The one drawback was he had to open himself up for a killing blow as well, and only a killing blow.

“Strike.” Kasari quietly muttered to herself. “Strike now, Xeviiy.” Almost imploring her to do so.



A shocked expression came over Anna’s face, and she opened her mouth speaking more freely than she ever had. “You? You were a Jedi padawan? I-I don’t believe it!” She said, mouth wide open, as a smile began to creep onto her face; her brilliant grin coming on as she was ready to laugh. “Well somehow I’m not surprised it didn’t work out. Jedi are practitioners of patience and being able to sit still, no wonder you failed.” Anna laughed before slamming a palm to close her mouth.

“… Sir! I would be honored to be shown around the temple.” She corrected herself, trying to show restraint and proper respect for a commanding officer. “So, can you do anything with the force? Is there anything left over from the teachings you had acquired?” Anna asked. Continuing on as they got to the Jedi Temple stairway. Her eyes watched in open wonder of the beautifully structured temple. It was simply incredible, the biggest wonder on all of Coruscant. Nothing was as beautiful as the sun beaming off the silver steel. She had no idea what the House of Thousand Fountains looked like, otherwise she’d be corrected.

As the two came up the steps near the gate, two Jedi Knights came out and intercepted them. One was human with auburn hair that burned bright in the sun, and her gaze seemed equally fierce. The other was a blue-skinned Zabrak with a few chipped horns on his head. “Leon Athos? We’ve been expecting you. I’m afraid you may have to be delayed for a few moments.” She turned to the Zabrak.

“Pardon Serra’s rudeness,” He said referring to Serra Jade. “I am Jedi Knight Zao Kel-Urn. This is Serra Jade.”

Serra rolled her eyes. “Ignore my stuffy companion. Anyway, we’re here on council business—“

“We’ve been instructed to take you to the Jedi Council. There are urgent matters that must be taken care of. Information has reached the Jedi that is of major importance to the Republic.”

“Major importance? What is it?” Anna asked.

“That is what we said.” Serra dripped sarcasm. “And that’s also why we’ve been asked to lead you to the council. So you can, well, find out.”

An elbow smashed into Serra’s side. “Ah! What?” She glared over at Zao.

“Please, follow us.” Zao turned and grabbed Serra by the hand to pull her along. Serra slapped his hand away and went striding along, walking ahead of them all with purpose.

Anna glanced over to Leon. She whispered to him. “Any idea what this is about?”



The taunts had the precise effect Ken had intended. Alek had a volatile temperament, easy to anger. That was the reason his master had sent him to Zhar and Datooine. A place of quiet and farmland where the padawan would be forced to learn the values of patience, and that skill with power alone did not win every battle. Alek let out a loud cry of anger, exerting himself to a higher degree. His swings were more dangerous, and more powerful. They could scare and overpower a frightened and inexperienced fighter but his footwork deteriorated in sacrifice.

“Impressive, isn’t he?” Zhar asked.

“I don’t know if there’s a more powerful Jedi in terms of striking ability in all the Order.” Aria admitted, though there was more to this.

“But that’s not all, is it?”

“This fight is over. He’s sacrificed his footwork, and in moments Ken will find the opening he needs to end the duel.”

“Hmm…” Zhar said no more, but simply nodded.

All while Alek’s strikes grew ever so relentless, until the inevitable began to occur. He began to tire, and his footwork suffered an even greater price. More openings began to expose themselves.

“There.” Aria remarked quietly to Zhar.

An opening revealed itself. The opening, the moment in a duel where victor and defeated showed itself.

Ken had always had trouble with pure power duelists but at the same time he knew the places to look for in a duel. He had fought against students on Coruscant, his old friend in the slums, and many others here on Dantooine. Ken back off immediately keeping his footwork proper and steady but he called on the force to speed up his steps increasing his speed in order to dodge the hacking blows. Ken focused his eyes keeping focused not on the saber but on Alek's body. He felt some of his clothes being singed off by the saber. This was not the way of the jedi too give into anger. Alek had much to learn. Ken waited for the moment to strike but he was quickly being shoved on his back foot. However Alek went for one blow too hard against him Ken leveled his blade with both handed grabbing onto his saber. He swung his lightsaber to match Alek. But Ken's saber bent to the blow. However to attack Alek head on was not his intention. As Alek thought he had beaten Ken the jedi knight twisted his body around augmented with the force. His breathing was calm and smooth. He was at peace even now. Precision. He only had one chance to get this attack right. Ken twisted his body around and brought his training saber around in a circle with him. In on fluid simple motion of the body he adapted his style. What was desperate Niman defense a moment ago was now Makashi. Ken's saber arced around slashed in a quick motion in an attempt too slash out Alek's legs from behind in an attempt to get him make him fall to his knees.

If Ken failed to meet the maneuver he had already thought ahead. He would immediately pressure Alek by delivering a pressing and fast attack of saber slashes in a offensive Makashi barrage stabbing and probing Alek into the defense. However if he did succeed Ken would not hestiate for a moment the moment Alek fell too his knees he would bring his saber down and rest it just above the base of the neck.

The torrent of anger-driven strikes came down like a hurricane, but this was a dying storm. Each moment the power began to fade and with it the foundation upon which the forceful waves were founded. Step by step, strike by strike, the stone of the foundation crumbled into dust. Alek’s balance was breaking yet he could not see it, blinded by his drive to be victorious. All he could see was the appearance of Ken’s defenses breaking. A defensive specialist spending too much time within that particular branch without spreading out. He would have him, just like every other padawan he had faced.

But, Ken was not a padawan. Aria breathed calmly, and she focused on the dancing energy of the force between the two. She was amazed at the difference of mentality and emotion between the two. Peace and serenity did not always mean victory, otherwise Alek would not have the recognition he’s earned. But, the ebb and flow of calm against the tumultuous seas of Alek’s saber barrage was almost beautiful. Fighting, beautiful? Aria mentally scolded her self. But, her mind wandered to the brief pieces of Echani culture she had read about. To them, their ritual combat was seen as a way to know one another more truly. Several duels were considered a sort of courtship, a deeper bond beyond the touch of words.

At last, Ken had made his move. Alek was taken by surprise and he attempted to use his strength to execute a dodge not many would be able to achieve. He could, but only if he hadn’t wasted so much of his own energy. Alek could not get out of the way and he groaned at the hit to his leg, falling to his knees.

Ken breathed out deeply as his saber hovered inches from the neck of Alek. He looked at Master Zhar his face neutral but his feelings were all too clear. Disappointment. Alek had the making of a Form V specialist who could do so much more. If only he could channel that anger and control it. Use the force with a clear mind not try to dominate it with pure will power. Ken kept his saber still listening to the blade's buzzing noise as he let loose one hand from his saber and called on the force to pull the lightsaber from Alek's hand. The giant had been felled and Ken had only wished this had taught Alek something valuable. Not to let his anger control him and not to underestimate a opponent just because he had fought defensively. Ken held his saber tightly in his hand as he pulled the blade away the green blade humming it's tune. He let the blade vanish back into the hilt as he relaxed his body.

Ken was...victorious but he felt like he hadn't done anything but provoke Alek down a road of frustration. He had beaten him so easily. With so very blows delivered a jedi guardian dismantled by a consular was not meant to be. Ken put his own blade on his belt before reaching over to Alek with an open hand. He wasn't smiling, nor was he frowning. He remained placid as he offered his assistance to Alek. "There is no need to be angry Alek. There is no emotion there is peace. You didn't lose this because I was superior too you lost this because you let your anger get the best of you. I urge you to find a way to harness your anger in a way more attuned to the light. Anger isn't always the enemy and it can help you but you can't let it dictate your actions. I don't mean to lecture you I merely wish to help you understand. Too improve. I hope this duel has helped you understand if you don't wish too take my hand however...that is fine." Ken said with a friendly tone as he kept his hand steady waiting to help the large padawan up. He could only hope that Blair wasn't the same or he would wonder why Zhar had elected to keep these two in the running as knights of the order. Alek wasn't ready but he sensed a more calm presence from Blair. She was probably going to need a different approach and Ken knew she knew how he operated. He would have to change how he fought.

"Master Zhar I apologize for ending the battle quickly. However I didn't see much else I could achieve by dragging a battle on any longer than needed. And too do so otherwise would be an insult to Alek. He deserved the best I had to offer."

Xeviiy felt like she was going to get her attack off, it seemed like she would, a perfect opening, one that could what she felt for sure now get him to back off and she could make her final move. Underneath the cloth though, if the rest of her face could have been seen, was the look of shock as the man took one hand off his heavy blade and then used his hand to smash down onto her hilt, knocking it out of her hands and putting her off her balance, stumbling until she managed to recover a little, only to see the man's blade coming towards her, no, that can't be she had had him, she knew she did.

She felt the man's blade slash across her chest and part of her arm, sending an insurmountable amount of pain over her as an eruption of blood came out of the fresh wound agape on her body as well as making her left arm unusable. She let out a painful scream as she gripped at her chest with her right hand, dark crimson liquid running down her hand as it tried to stop the bleeding; for a moment, she forgot that this was just a vision and wasn't real, it felt so real to her that in that brief moment she thought it was and at the same time slowed down once more.

Glancing back at the family who looked shocked that she was hurt, before looking to the man who had just finished his attack and was getting ready to strike again. There it was, an actual opening this time, one that would be fatal, at that moment, she couldn't think about anyone but the family, if she fell, there would be no one to stop the man, Xeviiy would be dead and so would the family, she couldn't let that happen, if she were to fall, it would be on her own terms, even if it meant going against what she believed in, but there was no time to think in such idealism.

In that slow instance of time for her, she reached out with the force, reaching out to her unlit hilt and then in an instant, the weapon hastily flew back to it's owner's hand, the turquoise blade ejecting out of it and then she lunged towards the center of the man's chest, “If I'm going to die, then at least you're coming with me, I won't let you kill this family!” She shouted to the man, rage and determination showing in her body and her mouth, she was determined to kill him, even with her dead, the family would be safe, that's all that mattered.

---

Leon smirked at her amusement at him being a former Jedi, well padawan, but those were semantics really, he was logged as having been part of the order, so that technically made him a Jedi. Still though, he does sometimes wish that he had finished his training, perhaps he'd be a full knight by now, maybe even a master, but that didn't really matter now, he was a military dog of the Republic, right now that was his main focus.

“Yeah, that's right Lieutenant, I was a padawan here, learned the ways of the force, learned how to use a lightsaber, the whole kit and caboodle.” He smiled to her a little, remember his days when he was younger, learning under the Jedi, it seemed like those times were both close and far away at the same time. Leon then caught Anna's remark, but rather than get upset with her like most superiors would've at such disrespect, he let out a small sigh, “No Lieutenant, I didn't fail, I chose to leave the order on my own merits.” Looking down to the ground where they were walking before looking back at the Temple they were heading too.

He glanced over with a small smile when she asked for a tour, knowing that she didn't mean her comment how it sounded and once more it was back to the questions, “Well I do know how to command it...well not in the ways most Jedi do, you ever wondered how I got through all my ranks so fast in my early career? It's because I could use the force, it's how I became somewhat legendary amongst the lower ranks. During battles in the war against Exar Kun and the Sith, I could enhance my physical abilities, run faster and longer, jump higher, see farther, endure more, all that stuff, plus with such a tactile mind, the higher ups knew they had to give me more commanding roles, I was an asset on the battlefield.” He responded back to her, hoping he gave enough details into how he could use the force and why he was where he was now.

It surprised him however when two Jedi approached him, he wasn't expecting this, it was just simple paperwork that a grunt could have run down to do, it didn't seem like two Jedi were needed for something so simplistic and unworthy of their time.

“Yes, I'm Leon...wait, you've been expecting me?” He asked with a puzzled look on his face then, he hadn't even told them that he was going to be arriving, so how could they have been expecting him?

He listened to the two banter with one another before they returned their attention to him, explaining little about the situation at hand, what information did they have that was so important to the Republic. He was about to ask them what it was before Anna beat him to the punch, though when Serra responded with sarcasm, it seemed that based on her vagueness it seemed like they didn't know either, however the thing that was strange to him was if this information was so important to the Republic, surely they could have contacted his superiors via HoloNet and tell them that way, so what did this have to do with him?

He didn't question them as they began to lead them to the Jedi Council, returning his glance when Anna whispered to him and then responded back with a whisper of his own, “I have no clue what's going on, guess we'll just have to find out when we get there.”

Markus was annoyed by the councils response. This would only cost more time. And it was time they could not loose. The mandalorian wave would only grow larger and stronger. It would crush every bit of resistance until there was no resistance left. That and Markus didn't trust the republic one bit. For all he knew they would only see it as a minor annoyance. And that the threat would be taken in " consideration". Basically meaning that they didn't really care much at this time and would only do something about it if there personal wealth belongings or beloved one's where in harms way. Then again the military of the republic might take action sooner if more provoked. All these thoughts rolled through markus's head but the one that annoyed him most was the fact that he had to take someone with him. He was more of a lone wolf and now seeming to be shipped up with someone didn't please him in the slightest. But Markus really couldn't talk back to the council about all of this. Mostly because of him just having returned from exile after 19 years. SO he simply nodded towards the council before speaking.

" If i am able to do this mission i will need a copy of the recorded attack. Considering i need some proof to convince the republic. Further more, i will need my ship to be prepped before i leave."

Before The council could say even a single thing to his demands Markus had already left the council walking towards his sleeping quarters. He needed some time to meditate and to calm down. As he walked he could still feel Lonna looking angerly at him. She had indeed risen to a powerful Jedi with a lot of responsibilities. He walked on wondering if she would stay mad at him forever. He pondered which Jedi he should take with him as well. He though for a moment realizing His old friend Kale might be interested on joining. Beside that no one really came to mind. May bey a consular would be a wise choice since he would need a talker as well to get him out of dangerous situations via talking. And not via a light saber. As he entered his room he walked towards his communicator on his wall and contacted the council stating that he would need at least a consular. And that he already had another companion in mind. He then contacted Kale.

"Kale my friend. I have just been given a mission from the council. I will tell you all about it shortly but i will need some Other Jedi to join me. If you are interested please send me back a message as soon as possible."
With the messages send he closed his eyes and started to meditate.

Nearly as swift as Alek’s storm of saber blows came, so to did his defeat in the duel against Ken Grant. Knocked to his knees, and a saber pointed at his neck. He lost. In a real battle against a Sith or anyone else, he’d be dead. His heavy breaths came, angrily staring at the ground before looking up towards Ken’s blade. Taunted, and worse now; he was beaten. If he had used his custom cell-infused saber he might have stunned Ken into a loss. But what if the same result would have come down? Ken had his curved saber. Was Alek not good enough? Ken did not have the frame or strength or determined viciousness in battle yet he still won nonetheless. The questions plagued him in an endless stream, but the answers were either unsatisfactory or elusive.

Ken’s hand held out for Alek to take. Alek stared at his open palm. Aria hoped he would take it, as a sign of good will. She was disappointed. The frustrated padawan slapped the older knight’s hand away and got up himself. “I don’t need anyone’s help to stand up. I won’t lose again.” He stalked away from the training ground, and Aria got up to run after him.

“No, let him go.” Zhar spoke. “This is what I intended for him. I’ve been warned about Alek’s temperament. There are many padawans who have lingering attachments to anger, and a lack of control. Some things need to be learned alone.”

Aria meditated on his words and believed them to be true. They reminded her of Arren Kae, though perhaps put more kindly with a more gentle push. After watching Ken fight Alek, Aria started to wonder if her old master was correct all along. What if peace didn’t last forever? And, even if it did, could Aria always find herself the route of no violence? Life is one of many doors, and the infinite doors open to infinite possibilities. As a Jedi, there might always be an enemy lurking for her and the enemy could even be stronger. Some battles can’t be won with words.

“You did well Ken, I am impressed with your ability. Perhaps more practice on offensive form, for you might find yourself against an opponent with superior skill to that of a padawan. Now, do you need rest or are you ready?”

Aria took her place on the dueling floor. After listening to Ken, she felt what she believed an unusual amount of self-assuredness from the knight. Was he perhaps, overconfident? Impatient?

“Are you ready, Aria?”

“Yes.” There is no emotion, there is peace; she repeated the code in her mind, standing at the ready facing her opponent.



“Markus? Markus?!” Atris barked out from her hologram back on Coruscant, but she received no answer as the stubborn Jedi exile walked out of the council chambers. Vandar pondered in silence as all the masters remained quiet. Lonna’s gaze resembled daggers and Kavar pitied Markus if she ever managed to meet him up close again.

“Let him go. Leave him be, he’s been far too touched by the darkness.” Vrook spoke up. “I told you all this would be a poor decision. We cannot entertain the dark side of the force with him, he may not have finished his training but he’s seen and fought battles. I can sense death on him. We need to choose someone else.”

“No.” Kavar stated firmly. “He has been able to operate in the midst of Mandalorian raids, and he’s seen how they fight. His skill is necessary, and he has a Mandalorian ship.”

“This is also a chance for us to see him prove he still belongs to the order.” Vandar added. To that, Zez-Kai Ell nodded. Lonna remained in silence, as did Atris. “There are a few here that I will make sure join him on his mission to prevent any unexpected consequences.”

Vrook stood up and walked out of the council circle. “We could use his ship and have someone else do this. Do what you will, but I won’t be apart of this decision.” The old man stormed from the chambers. Vandar shook his head and sighed, the matters at hand were proving to be difficult. There was a lingering darkness from this conflict, Vandar was sure of it and its presence was already creating tension.

“I think that will be all for today, masters.” Dorak stated. “I do believe you have matters to be attending to with the Republic.”

The meeting was ended, but things certainly had changed. No single master was sure of the events to come, but the threat of war remained. It would come, the battle was inevitable and the Jedi would decide whether to fight or not. For now, the safe choice seemed best.



Nineteen years, nineteen long years since he had seen his friend. Best friend even. Making trouble with him, Lonna, and others. The thoughts of why his friend did not return for so long bothered him, and ate away at the fabric of his mind. He could not find the peace he was looking for in silence meditating on the floor of his room. Not the laughter of padawans, not even the Dantooine wind brushing the golden orange farmland of the gorgeous planet. Not the streams of far off lakes or the solitary silence of his room. There were only the million questions unanswered, and the odd sense of apathy from Markus. He knew his friend better than that, he had to be hiding something. Or, at least he hoped. Kale considered dipping a hand of the force into his friend’s mind but such an action felt like a betrayal. The force be damned! It acts in strange and mysterious ways, but why did it have to act like a puzzle with five pieces not matching the whole set?

His eyes popped open to the sound of a message being received. He went over to the console and played the message. It was Markus. Mission? The council? What exactly was going on? None of this made any sense, but here he now had a chance to spend time with his friend and find out the answers he sought for alone.

Kale had to laugh. “The force be damned…”

He responded right away. “Markus! I was just thinking about you, and I’m certainly interested. Why don’t we talk about it over a sparring session, for old time’s sake?” Kale felt that presented too much of an option, “I’ll meet you there in the training room.”



The mercenary had delivered a critical strike. Fatal even. Spurts of blood shot from the Jedi’s body and he could smell victory as the iron scent of her wounds wafted up into his nose. Like a predator hunting his prey, the skilled warrior prepared for death could sense his ultimate prize. He’d never had a lightsaber before, he knew certain bounty hunters claimed contracts on Jedi’s and collected the hilts as a trophy. What a wonderful sport, he might take on such a task if he left the battle alive. First the Jedi bitch, and then the family. After that? Credits, lots of credits. He’d bathe in the credits and laugh, drinking himself into numbness in some damn forsaken cantina. Not a bad life, he thought.

But, it seemed that life wasn’t meant for him. He was taken for a shock when Xeviiy held firm with the hilt of her lightsaber and still managed to be on her feet. After his last slash, he was certain she’d crumple to the dirt and fade from existence. Unfortunately for him, the stories of the Jedi turned out to be true. They were indeed, hard to kill. The mercenary tried to bring his blade back to stop the incoming strike. There simply was not enough time, and the last words he heard were her impassioned anger. The rage burned through his chest as the plasma chewed away at both armor and skin.

Death. Death smelt like burning meat, but he felt no fire or scalding burns. Instead, the feeling over his skin was that of ice. A cold shiver consuming him whole. Numb. The dull hiss of her saber thrummed with energy, while the life force of his heart beat like a slow drum. A last musical beat to a monstrous life, it only seemed right he’d die without name on some barren planet where the elements would discard him. There was no light, and there was no tunnel, only darkness. Nothing, and the dark took him where he’d never return.

The mercenary crumpled into the sand. Mother, daughter, the vision of a home destroyed and painted with death; it all faded.

Kasari watched as the vision disappeared and Xeviiy was brought back into the room of the Jedi library. Incredible what the powers of the force could do, manipulate the mind into a world so real as the room they stood in.

“A father died, and so did you.” Arren Kae stated, her words cold. “You were foolish not to strike immediately when you had the chance. Quickly assess the minds of the two men to see which is more of the killer. You should have known to strike when you saw a dead girl lying on the ground.” The silver-haired master stood up from her seat. “There are different paths and ways, and not one is right for all situations. This will not be the only time where you will have to choose to kill. One day you may have to choose between the lives of a hundred innocent people to the lives of thousands. The lightsaber is a tool for killing, and it is also a tool for defense. Nevertheless, the blade thrums with your own energy. It is apart of you, it is the symbol of the order, and how you use it defines you. Understand that to use your anger is not wrong, you must face your emotions; not shun them.” Arren Kae walked out of the room, striding past Moryr in the process.



Leon’s Jedi training went much further than Anna could have imagined, and she mentally scolded herself for her comments. He had taken her joke more serious than she would have liked. Stupid lieutenant, that was stupid. Anna wondered what it was like for the soldiers to see Leon in action using his enhanced skills with the force. It must have been something, and he even fought alongside Nomi Sunrider. Despite his downplaying, Anna sensed there was more to his time with the Jedi. Perhaps he wished he’d finished, and also there was more to the Jedi’s involvement in the war with Exar Kun. Anna gathered that the force was crucial to winning, and the Republic may have fallen without them.

Before she could ask more questions, the Zabrak and Human knights interrupted their conversation. Anna and Leon were both taken aback by the suddenness of it all. There was little to no choice but follow the two knights and figure out what this was all about. She wondered why the Jedi had no idea about why they were fetching Leon and her. Anna went over her Republic training courses in her mind and lingered over intelligence. Ah, operational security.

Her eyes widened. Then, that meant… This was truly important. Zao Kel-Urn and Serra led them through the grand hallway of the Coruscant temple. For moments, Anna was taken out of her wandering thoughts to take it all in. Like a child lost in the midst of an unknown world, her mouth was agape in awe. Those columns were as large as many buildings she had seen. Far on the other side, that had to be the Jedi Archives, the largest archive of knowledge in the galaxy! And not far from there had to be the entrance of the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Seeing it would have to wait, and suddenly Anna noticed where they were being led.

Through the door, the silver circle of the Courscant High Council greeted her. Zao and Serra stepped aside. “The council will see you now.” Zao bowed to them and then to the council. He wandered to the entrance and waited. Serra watched Anna and Leon. Anna looked at the council room, and the Jedi masters. Here she was, within the most prestigious and well-known room of all the Jedi. The High Council, where the greatest Jedi sat.

Serra pushed Anna and Leon forward forcefully. “Go on!” The irritated and impatient knight then turned away and joined Zao.

Mastar Kavar was the first master to speak.

“Commander Athos. It’s been some time, hasn’t it? Who might that be with you?”

Xeviiy watched as her attack made contact with the man, the plasma of the blade easily piercing his armor and then his flesh until it came out the other side, seeing the look on his face that was both one of anger and shock until the light in his eyes glazed over and his body crumpled to the ground, along with her beside him. Well looked like that was it, she knew she was going to die soon, but at least the rest of the family she saved would be alright, at least some good came out of this nightmarish situation.

When the vision receded, Xeviiy couldn't help but pant, looking around for a moment before remembering that what she had experienced wasn't real and that it had all be just an illusion of the force, though during all her times of training, she never experienced something quite like that. When the silver-haired master spoke to her, she couldn't help but look down at the table, a slight frown on her face, ready to speak up at what she felt like was a lecture before the Jedi master left the room. Xeviiy herself slowly stood up from the table and then began to walk towards the door, looking over to her master, “Please excuse me master, I need to...reflect over what's happened.” She spoke before exiting the room.

She continued on down the multiple flights of stairs, thinking over in her head of what went wrong, what she could have done, surely fighting could be resolved peacefully, right? She looked to her hand, it shaking a little still from the previous events, though the man she killed was just part of a vision and not real, she didn't know how to feel about it, on the one hand, she felt good knowing that she saved a family and that felt good, it's what Jedi were supposed to do, but on the other had, she did take the man's life, even if she didn't particularly have any sort of favor to him or anyone else like him, he had still been a living being.

She knew this would take at least a few hours to sort it out for herself, but at least she knew that she could take a life if need be. Her contemplation on the visionary events were cut short when reached the bottom floor and exited out of the library where she saw two Republic officials being escorted by two Jedi Knights. That was rather peculiar, they both seemed like rather high ranking officials in the Republic's army, so it couldn't be just standard documents that usually Privates were usually sent to deliver, if so it seemed like a waste sending two people at their ranks just to deliver some standard documents.

Even though she knew this wasn't a good idea if she got caught, she decided to follow them, staying a few short meters behind, pretending that she just happened to be going in the same direction and then broke off from them when they got near the entrance to the Jedi Council. “The Council's Chambers? What could the Council want with them?” She whispered to herself, her curiosity getting the better of her as she then started to head up to the chamber after the Jedi and Republic officers entered, the doors closing behind them.

Since Xeviiy was Miraluka, it didn't bother her that the door was closed, she could easily see through the wall with her species natural ability to see with the force, and since the walls were fairly thin, it wouldn't be hard to listen in on the conversation going on in the room, however she'd have to make sure she didn't get caught spying on important council matters, she knew some of the masters on it could be a bit strict and harsh, but this was just too good to pass up and if the Jedi were speaking with the Republic, then it had to be something serious that considered the both of them.



It had been a long time since Leon had been inside the Jedi Temple, he didn't think that he'd be back here after so long, it felt like ages since he had been training at this place, learning the ways of the force and how to use it to aid others. He didn't realize it, but he was already reaching out with the force, feeling it's energy around him, it ebbing and flowing because of so many force users in the temple, not that it wasn't expected, even exiles would have a hard time not interacting with the force, even subconsciously, well unless however they were physically cut off from it.

He happened to glance back over his shoulder noticing Xeviiy trailing behind them, trying to be inconspicuous, he didn't know if the other Jedi knew she was following them or not, either way he knew she'd be in trouble if she was discovered, but he wouldn't be the one to sell her out. He knew it was just her curiosity spiking and he had been like that himself when he was younger, so if she could do this, well then more power to her as he saw it.

He couldn't help but smirk a little at her tenacity and said under his breath that would be very difficult for anyone to hear, “Well good luck to you kid, though the other Jedi won't be too pleased should you be discovered.” A small, quiet chuckle escaping him before he returned his focus onto the destination, finally entering the council chambers. It had been even longer since he had been here, this is where he had officially told them that he would no longer continuing on as a Jedi, though they had tried to convince him to stay, even some of the more sterner masters, which had surprised him at the time.

He shook his head, clearing it of the old memories he was feeling from the temple when Anna and himself had been pushed by Serra, well it was still good to know that there were some Jedi that had a short fuse.

His instincts kicked in from when he was here and he bowed slightly to Master Kavar before he really realized what he was doing, well somethings just never changed, that was for sure, “Yes Master Kavar, it has, it's nice to see you and the council again, oh and this is my Lietuenant, Anna Sparvic.” He spoke in an attentive tone, something that his superiors had to struggle with sometimes to get him to act like how he currently was with the Jedi Masters, but they were just that, Masters and he had a deep respect for them.