The Once and Future King (Uilleam)

[Caleb]

The ship, a modified freighter used for transport by the Order, hurtled through space. Around it, the twisting, chromatic vortex of hyperspace swirled. Her engines beat a dull rhythm, filling the ship with a low thrum. The rush of compressed air through filters, the hiss of coolant boiling off, even the muffled chatter of the crew coming from the command cabin—all counted, the ambiance of a ship in motion could be quite disruptive. But, Rowan reminded himself as he knelt on the cold deck of the cargo bay, A Jedi heeds not distraction.

It was not the sounds of the ship that troubled Rowan—indeed, because of his years of travel in the Outer Rim, the absence of this ambiance was disconcerting—but rather his own thoughts. The Jedi Code stressed peace and serenity, but Rowan found himself with neither presently. Rowan had agreed to train the mysterious new warrior, Uilleam of the na'Siad, who had arrived so spectacularly the day before. He had also decided to begin the training at the Ossus temple, rather than the Jedi headquarters. Rowan felt that a planet such as Coruscant, so filled with technology, would prove distracting to Uilleam; Ossus was more peaceful, rural. Distractions aside, Rowan had trained on Ossus and still felt a deep affinity for the temple there.

Now, however, the burden of his decision was resting heavily on his shoulders. Rowan had never taken a Padawan before. It had been nearly twenty years since he'd finished his own training. Much of his own knowledge had come through experience, could this be imparted through training? He sighed deeply, shrugging out of his navy blue over-robe, letting it pool at his feet. Reading Master Mainaad's reports had only complicated things. Uilleam had been a king, a hero to his people, and apparently some knowledge of the Force—which Mainaad had attempted to build on. But would this residual knowledge be helpful or harmful? Would old lessons have to be unlearned? And then, Mainaad also spoke of a “creeping darkness”, how was he to contend with that?

This is fear. Fear profits nothing, it only leads to darkness.

Rowan sighed again and closed his eyes. Drawing a long breath, he began to clear his mind. He felt the Force as it crept over him and through him. The chaos of his thoughts and worries gave way to harmony. He dwelt on the stirrings in the Force that he had felt when first seeing Uilleam, how he knew that their experiences, their trials and failings would be mirrored. Now he was at rest and the creeping of the Force gave way to a rushing, comforting flood. The door behind him slid open and Rowan knew without opening his eyes that it was his Padawan. He could feel the same zeal and fierce joy that he had radiated before.

“Uilleam,” Rowan spoke slowly and carefully, continuing his meditation, “come. Join me.”

 

[QuietReckoning]

Uilleam's hazel eyes opened as he meditated in the common area of the cramped vessel. The calm wonder that filled him as he felt the energies of the ship, and hyperspace, was replaced by the whimsical, twisting wildness that emanated from the man like light from a sun.

As he walked to where his teacher called him, he reflected on the lessons of the past few days.

Cities he could comprehend. They were not unlike villages, but they were larger, and surrounded by farms. But an entire planet that was itself a city!

He understood farming. He understood that the machines he saw doing much work also did the farming for these people of the Republic. He also understood that a planet that was itself a city could not feed itself. And yet it was the center of power?

What arrogance! He thought, awed that with all their technology, these people could be so astoundingly stupid! Such a place as Coruscant would be pathetically easy for an enemy to conquer! One needn't even land troops! What they didn't see was that Coruscant could not feed itself. It must rely on food shipments from across the galaxy!

All an enemy would have to do to take it from the republic was starve the planet, keep themselves out of reach of the planet's guns, and wait for the starving people, angry at their leaders' inability to keep them safe, to drag the "noble" senators' screaming bodies into the streets and surrender. How long would that take? How long before food riots began? How long until the dead numbered too many to count?

And this is the Republic's center of power? This is the basket into which they place all of their most important eggs?! Don't they see that they endanger the whole of Coruscants population, and themselves, by making this their seat of power? What catastrophically stupid arrogance! What sheer hubris!

Uilleam shuddered at the thought, and was glad to be away from Coruscant. The doom, the death, the struggle to survive that screamed through the very pith of the overpopulated planet, the ostentatious arrogance, all of it nearly overwhelmed him when his thoughts considered it.

He pitied Coruscant. A place determined, he thought, to be its own demise. Uilleam stood and glided towards the cockpit, clearing the troubles Coruscant would bring upon itself from his mind. There was much wisdom in leaving that place, and he was glad it was behind him.

A mind that was still completely open. Mainaad had told him that Jedi had techniques to sense the minds of those around them, and had explained to Uilleam that his would be an open book to them. She also attempted to teach him a few, small defenses against the affect mind she taught to the clerics, and while he would know if someone was interfering with his thoughts, he could not yet guard them from others. Combined with his skill with the force, his thoughts were like a transmission broadcasted openly to any one Jedi with the skill to listen.

“I am here, teacher. What shall we learn?” He said, and smiled at the thought of more relaxing meditation. He hoped Rowan could make sense of Coruscant.

 

[Caleb]

Not until Uilleam finally entered and knelt across from him did Rowan open his eyes. He offered a smile and a nod of greeting towards the younger man and folded his arms into the sleeves of his robes. There was an eagerness surrounding the crimson-haired warrior, but also a lingering anxiety. Rowan stretched out with the Force, briefly brushing Uilleam's thoughts; normally, Rowan was cautious about touching the minds of others, many sentients saw their thoughts as secret for a reason, but in this case he would be remiss not to—how could he instruct or reprove if he did not know his apprentice's feelings?

“First, a Jedi must find peace and balance. Your thoughts are distressed. I sense that our departure from Coruscant gives you comfort, that the city-planet troubles you. Why is that?”

 

[QuietReckoning]

The warrior smiled grimly at the question. He was correcting his accent, which had been so thick that he was uninteligable to several who witnessed his appearance, though the force made his meaning clear to many of them. The expression of his worries caused relief to come like a rainstorm on a scorching summer's day.

"As I think on the places I have been, I have always needed to think defensively. From where will the enemy attack? What new defenses shall we use? Thicker walls? Pitfalls? Forlorn hope archer towers?"

"In space, with ships which I already know have weapons (having been fired upon by Coruscant's vigilant guards) I've realized that the problem of defenses moves from two dimensions into three. The enemy can come from any direction. So the defenses for your capital cannot be any great distance away. They will have to be around your capital. And coruscant because of its... attributes, is a startlingly poor choice for a capital."

He pursed his lips for a moment, and made his case.

"I do not mean to be insulting when I say this. I imagine that many would expect me to be awed by the technology, but what awes me is what I percieve to be a catastrophically - I know no gentler word than stupid - mistake. Coruscant obviously cannot feed itself. I know this from the discussion I had with another Padawan at the temple on Coruscant. He was telling me of the restauraunts, and of the delecacies from worlds across the galaxy. I asked about delicacies from coruscant himself, and the question confused him. Coruscant cannot feed itself... and yet it remains the capital."

"Having sacked more than a few cities in my time, I know that a city can only hold out for so long without food from outside its walls. No matter how tall its towers, no matter how fierce its soldiers, no matter how deep its stores, eventually it will run out of food. And then the people who the walls exist to protect become the greatest enemy of its rulers, and for all your technology, you cannot be so different from us that watching your children starve because of the mistakes of your rulers will fail to boil your blood. There will be riots, and the noble senators who make coruscant their home will find themselves forcibly deposed to end the siege. All of the republic's most important eggs are in a basket that is... far too easy to take. Perhaps there is something I do not know? Perhaps you have technology that can create food by some new magic I do not understand? But if that is not the case, then simply by housing the senate on coruscant, the senators foolishly endanger themselves, their empire, and everyone who lives in it. It seems... arrogant and foolish. They should pick a world that can feed itself from behind a shield."

He laughed. "I hope I am hopelessly misinformed, and there is some truth I do not know. I also hope I am not being... un-gracious. An Ingrate - if that is the word - for your hospitality as a people. It is not a friendly or wise thing to criticize a culture I have only known for scarcely a day! But coruscant feels doomed to me. It's people struggle to survive enough as it is... I can feel the pain of that struggle just by walking through the city's streets. They do not deserve greater hardship brought upon them by their leaders... please, inform me of these things? I am sure there is something I do not understand..."

 

[Caleb]

Rowan listened respectfully to the younger man, even nodding his head on occasion. Some, as Uilleam might expect, would take offense at his criticism, they would consider him uncultured for not gaping at the opulence of Coruscant. Instead, Uilleam had looked deeper, beneath the skin of the planet and to its fragile core. Rowan saw wisdom in it, but ignorance as well. He tugged at the corners of his goatee thoughtfully. “You see much, Uilleam, that others are blind to. It is true, in many ways, Coruscant exists not for convenience but as a testament to the power and prestige. It is conspicuous—for in it, the Republic has a capital which demands the tribute of other worlds. Potent imagery indeed.” As an alumnus of the Anaxsi Naval Academy, Rowan knew all too well of the vulnerabilities of the world...and yet, it would not do well for his Padawan to consider the planet only for its military value—war was not the chief aim of the Jedi.

“Yet, remember, ignorance, yet knowledge. There is still much you do not understand of our ways.” Rowan gestured sweepingly towards the observation canopy above them, towards the swirling mass of stars, “The difficulties of navigating space are vast indeed, many of the safest and best routes end near Coruscant, which is how she rose to such prominence to begin with. Coruscant also lies near many other powerful member-worlds. My home-planet, Anaxes, is a fortress world; many see it as the shield of the Republic.”

“Also, the chains of tradition bind tightly indeed. For more than ten-thousand years, Coruscant has been synonymous with the Republic.” Rowan could not keep from showing a grin, “many Senators would call you subversive for such thoughts...” The knight paused in thought for a moment. The words had caused a sudden realization. “There is a lesson to be learned here. There is much attachment to Coruscant. A Jedi must be wary of attachment...clearly, it may lead to distraction and pride. These may lead to even greater darkness.”

“Instead, let go of your feelings—recall that in the scheme of the Force they are but passing distractions.” Again, Rowan let silence fall between them. It was not perhaps the answer that Uilleam would have liked, but it was the only answer he had. “Sit with me Padawan, and tell me...before, when you first came to us, you spoke of the light and of the Code. What do you know of the power that rests within you?”

 

[QuietReckoning]

Uilleam listened to the man, and as he heard his words, he thought of Anaxes, and imagined a fortress world in his mind. Surely, such a world would have enough farms to feed itself, and would have a smaller population than Coruscant. He drew comfort from the thought that battle here was similar to that on planets. That there were hyperspace routes that - like roads - were the only means from moving from planet to planet, and he considered this as the brilliantly twisting energy of hyperspace flooded around them.

And he thought, too, of his teacher - for the word Teacher was the only word he could currently apply to what would otherwise be called his Master. Mainadd had warned him of his feelings on this subject, but to his people, a Master was a man who stepped beyond his station to rule others. They were enemies to be opposed. "No master but fate!" had been a battle cry among his people.

And this was an attatchment he realised he should shed, the moment that his teacher's wisdom on the subject of attatchments touched his mind. Ignorance yet knowlege indeed!

His trust in Rowan grew as the man reacted well to his questioning of the universe's status quo. Rowan of the Fortress World, Anaxes became Rowan the Watchtower in Uilleam's mind, and he trusted the experienced man to watch for the hidden dangers that Uilleam feared lay down the road.

"Before I talk of all that I ken - that I understand," the man began, correcting his accent for the sake of intelligibility, I do not understand your work "subversive." What is it that the noble senators would think of my statements?"
He asked, curious of the thoughts of these new and strange people, and greatful that he had not offended.

"As for what I understand, I know that when I lift large objects with my spirit, I do not need to use my hands, and yet I have not been able to do such things without it. I understand how to run and move at great speeds without tiring, I understand how to increase the strength of my limbs. I know that my greatest weakness is the openness of my mind. If you have touched my thoughts - and it would not bother me if you do, the more you know, the better you can teach - then you know my mental defenses are lacking.

"As for combat, I am skilled with the greatsword of my people, but curious about how my skills can be applied to your lightsabers. Much of our techniques are compatible. The stance of the rower" he placed his hands to the side and gripped an invisible sword like a sailor would grip an oar, blade towards the ground, and then brought the sword forward and in slow motion demonstrated the wildly twisting movements of such a style. "as well as the stance of the dragon" and at this point he raised the invisible sword above his head, and brought it down, demonstrating that while he appeared open to attack with the sword raised, a skilled swordsman could defend himself by quickly dropping the sword in a block, and then raising it to strike. The rise and fall motion of this style was quite similar to what was thought of as the "Strong" style, and would mesh well with it. "But there are many tactics that would not work at all with a lightsaber. For example, when grappling with an enemy, skilled swordsmen will pivot the flat of the blade down, striking an enemy's head to stun him. A lightsaber has no flat, it is all blade, and so such a pivot tactic would kill an enemy. Much of the ability to stun or disable an enemy with the blade itself is lost. Also, many tactics involve grabbing or pushing the flat of one's own blade to throw off an opponent. While these could be done using the force, I cannot touch my blade with my hand anymore. Additionally, much of our swordplay involves using the hilt... the blade-guard- for combat. And unless I could create a saber that is not just a blade of light, but which has a guard of light at the hilt..." he said, describing a forked-saber (OOC: which may or may not yet exist) "then such techniques cannot be used."

A joy pulsed through him at the thought of learning how to use a lightsaber. "I eagerly look forward to this training, as the sword styles of our peoples have evolved in vacuum, such an education would be interesting.

He smiled, and the joyful emotion faded to calm.

"Allthough you are correct. I must mind my feelings. And while I hope I will never be forced to use a lightsaber, growing in skill with such a tool interests me greatly."

 

[Caleb]

Rowan was impressed by Uilleam's knowledge of swordsmanship and of his simple explanations of the powers of the Force. Although young, it was clear that Uilleam had the experience of a man many times his age. In many ways, Rowan was reminded of his old master: the young warrior was direct, physical, he felt no qualms about attacking the status quo. Valkaan had been the same.

He smiled at the younger man's curiosity about the Senate. “Forgive me, my tongue often runs over. Many of those who rule do so by the weight of tradition...to suggest changing the capital of the Republic would be too radical a move in their minds. They would see your words as dangerous, upsetting the balance.”

But while the memories of his master were a pleasant reminder of days long past, it also meant that training the man would be difficult. Rowan's journeys had led him down a different path; he did not neglect combat, but the philosophy, the spirituality of the Force became more real to him as he aged. It would not be well for Uilleam to fall into the same trap that he had as a Padawan—to see the Jedi only as powerful warriors.

“The power that gives you strength, we call it the Force. It is a field of energy that wraps around us, like the blanket of stars, it cuts through to the very heart of us. Between us, beneath us and the ship, between the ship and the stars, we can feel its echoes. Some say that it is created by life, but I like to think of it as the essence of life. You have used the Force innately for many years, I will teach you to channel it, to mold it. But this can only happen when you are at peace, calm...

“The lightsaber is important, as a tool of the Jedi—as you say—and we will learn how to use it wisely and well. But it is peripheral compared to the Force...it helps us to serve the will of the Force. This is why I meditate, and why you must learn to do so as well. Unless we are at peace with ourselves, unless we guard our emotions carefully, then we will be like an ill-forged sword: brittle and out of balance.”

 

[QuietReckoning]

At the description of the fear of all large government, Uilleam let out a booming laugh. "If my statements are so radical to be dangerous, than the republic is truly in danger! The one thing government and military might cannot kill is the invincible idea!"

As his teacher described the force, Ulleam closed his eyes, and let his senses stretch out to encompass the energy field that was the force. He relaxed, the twisting wildness calming once again to the rushing torrent of a mountain stream. Clear, Cool, Calm, and yet posessed of a deep and rushing power. The essence of the force that filled the area flowed into Uilleam, calming him, focusing his wild nature.

His very voice seemed to change as he calmed, becoming deeper and calmer.

"As a sword cannot have a heated core without cracking and bending, so must a Jedi be as calm and as cool as hardened steel. This, I ken."

He let the emotions flood out of him, and let the fingers of his mind caress the force that streamed around the hyperspacing ship like a child dipping his hand into a rushing river for the first time. He let the peace and calmness of the force flow into him like the cold of mountain water.

His wildness focused, and for the first time in his life, calmed.

For the first time, he felt a will other than his own.

 

[Caleb]

Rowan let himself slip into the flow of the Force alongside his Padawan. There was a quiet limitless to it here in the blackness of space—like a vast underground cavern lit by a single burning torch. And yet, as he fell deeper into meditation, the light from that torch flared brightly.

“The will of the Force is mysterious Uilleam,” Rowan spoke in a whisper, but his voice was filled with an otherworldly power, “it does not often come to us in sudden visions, but with subtle premonition. It burns bright under emotion...that is why your mind is open. I can feel your exhilaration. Be wary, some would turn this against you. Let the Force flow into your mind, let it build a tower where you may guard your emotions.” As he spoke, the fierce joy that so characterized Uilleam quieted; his happiness did not diminish, but his zeal tempered. “Yes...good. Tranquility of thought is a powerful weapon. If you guard your thoughts this way, few will be able to break the citadel of your mind.”

“As the Force is used to guard, so can it be used to sense. Stretch out towards the others aboard, the captain and the navigator.” It was, perhaps, taking a liberty, but Rowan did not see how else the lesson could be taught...his own emotional defense would be too strong for Uilleam to penetrate. “The navigator...he is devoted to his task. Let your mind rest on his...but gently, do not barge, simply observe. Tell me, what do you feel?”

 

[QuietReckoning]

Uilleam became even calmer, guided into that calm by the image of serenety as an impenetrable mountain citadel, his thoughts and emotions stored safely behind it.

And at his master's beckoning - for he no longer could feel revulsion at the word or concept, viewing his old emotions with almost academic detatchment - he stretched out from that citadel to think on the navigator's thoughts. The man was checking and rechecking the figures, and there was an anxiousness in him.

"Boredom, mostly, but an attentiveness to his task... colored by..." he pressed deeper, searching for what distracted the man. The image of a woman came into his mind, and he backed away... "colored by preoccupation. He thinks of another." Allthough Uilleam shied away from gleaning exactly what the man in question thought about the woman, feeling that to delve that deep would be an invasion.

He tempered his discomfort at invasive thoughts, with his exhileration, and cancelled each out with a return to the calm of the mountian citadel. He turned his attention back to what the navigator was trying to focus on.

"Charts, pathways, roads..." and through the thoughts of this other man, he wondered at the complexities of hyperspace, gleaning new understanding both of his own skill at reading, but of the thoughts of others...

He then focused on his own actions and thoughts, and thought on ways to seal the cracks in his citadel's defenses.

He thought of how the distraction temporarily derailed him from reading the other man's thoughts, and he remembered the twisting wildness that he normally felt.

He smiled, and at his core, where his emotions lay, he remained within that rock-walled citadel, but around that mind-rock, he set a storm moving, his old self on the surface, the rushing torrents of mountain streams, the quick-moving winds of mountaintop storms, but at its core, the calm, emotionless detatchment that touched the will of the force.

 

[Caleb]

It was surprising how quickly Uilleam grasped the concepts that Rowan laid before him. With such a martial nature, Rowan had expected a reluctance to deal with high matters of the soul. Ignorance made you think such, the knight chided himself, you looked outward and saw a simple man, but he has more depth than you at that age. Indeed, he was pleased with Uilleam's sudden progress, but he hid that pleasure away—it was a distraction—the seed of pride could be found in it, if he saw his teaching as leading the younger man to such heights.

Instead, he followed Uilleam's movements through the Force, observing with care and caution. Happily, the man had a natural respect of others' thoughts. Rowan had been ready to pull him back, away from the navigator's intimate secrets, but Uilleam had the good sense to shut such a window. "Yes...his mind dwells elsewhere. I do not condemn it, but be aware, this attachment distracts him from his task.”

“He has much knowledge for one so young...and he dreams of distant worlds, undiscovered, a chance at wealth and power. Be mindful of this, the future constantly shifts—our plans are never certain.” It was the tendency of many Jedi to seek visions of the future, often at cost to the present; this, Rowan felt, was a mistake. “When the Force gives us vision, we are thankful, but often it speaks to us in the moment; heed its voice.”

“What of the captain? I sense regret there, why should that be?”

 

[QuietReckoning]

Uilleam knew such dreams as the navigator's. Dreams of power, dreams of greatness, and Uilleam had tasted what his people considered greatness, the thrill of battle, the cheer of warriors listening to his words. As he thought on the Navigator's desires, he also thought on his own. Is there then, a greater light to be served? There must be... these dreams are distractions... for the navigator and for myself.

He wondered why thoughts of the most natural sort would be condemned in the first place, but he did agree that they were distracting. His mind thought through several uses for distraction, tactically, before he pushed the thoughts of war tactics aside for the more important task at hand. Attatchment even to a way of thinking could prove to be both a tool and a distraction. Attatchment to another could prove distracting. Though a part of him revolted at this, he quickly calmed it with the proof that it was true.

"So always, we must seek to be mindful of the future, but alive in the present?"

He then turned his mind to the thoughts of the captain, touching his thoughts of regret.

It was a regret Uilleam could well understand. This captain was older, he had been a captain of vessels for many years, and was a former military commander. Now, he watched as a new menace - the Hutts - threatened the republic, and as an old war-dog, he ached to be part of the action. But he was too old, and instead, he was ferrying Jedi.

Jedi that themselves didn't seem to be heading into conflict, so he would see none.

Uilleam sensed the sadness of a warrior denied a war, and sympathized, almost too much. The emotion of that regret, as he experienced the captain's built within him. Built into frustration, and into anger. Built into his own desire for war. His desire to return to his own planet, and to crush the last remnant of the Dark Raiders that now waged an insurgent campaign.

A desire to protect the weak that still built him into what he realized was one of his own enemies.

Counterproduction.

He felt with, and felt for, the man, but realizing how touching such an emotion had dragged him out of his citadel, he quickly retreated both from the man's mind, and diminished into his own serenety.

But the twisting darkness had been there, lurking in the background. A desire for conflict, for war. A bloodthirstyness that had been educated into Uilleam from the first time he held a cudgel as a child on the battlefields of his homeland.

He diminished, and pressed the darkness out of him.

"He wants war. He wants to be part of the conflict. He wants to protect the civilians that he fears are endangered." Said Uilleam with Calmness "He regrets that he is no longer a soldier. This I can understand... but it is dangerous. Very dangerous. I must be vigilant."

 

[Caleb]

The peace that he sensed in Uilleam vanished suddenly, giving way to confusion and then a quietly growing anger. Like the captain, Uilleam chaffed at inaction and longed for honor. Rowan could not call these sentiments wrong, for they were of the greatest value, but they could become a ravening hunger. It was difficult to watch patiently as Uilleam struggled against the sudden flare of emotion, but Rowan knew that some battles should be fought alone, with only the Force as your ally. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it came to an end. The younger man regained control and let his contact with the captain slip slowly away.

“You are wise to be cautious,” Rowan intoned carefully; he had no wish to patronize, but he felt that this lesson above any other must stick, “each of us has demons to confront, and in doing so you have become stronger, more resilient.”

“This will not be last time you face such danger, but when it happens again think on this: the man seeks a war, not for glory, but to save those he feels bound to protect. He believes this task beneath him, that his actions are damning the Republic, but this comes from ignorance. His view of the galaxy is limited by his experience in the war; he knows of no resolution save battle.”

“Yet, he has ferried Padawans to this place for years. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of knights have begun their journey with him. The good that they have done and will go on to do will outweigh his own actions by an infinite factor...you see, even in a task as simple as this, the will of the Force prevails. A Jedi may not always be asked to do tasks which he enjoys, but he must be content in his lot; for even the very wisest does not know what may happen because of it.”

 

[QuietReckoning]

Uilleam meditated on this, and built up walls agains dark desires, and the inaction that most definitely chafed him. He focused his emotions, controlling them, cooling them, calming them, and rebuilt the wall of twisting wildness around the calm core that he hoped would help mask his thoughts.

He smiled. "Passion, yet serenity."

"I will remember that as the force wills, service of that will is service of a greater good, the wisdom of which I might not see. That will be difficult, but... as is the case with the captain, a greater good will be served."

 

[Caleb]

Rowan nodded in agreement, pleased that Uilleam had found the heart of the matter. Then, after a moment of quiet, he rose, drawing his hands from his sleeves and shaking the folds from his robes. “Well padawan, you have done well...your defenses grow and you learn quickly. And now,” he pointed towards the observation canopy, “I sense our journey comes to an end...or reaches its beginning.” As he spoke, the swirling starlines reverted back to single points of light, canvassed across the sky.

“Come,” Rowan motioned towards the impact chairs, smiling askance, “we'll land soon, and I have no wish to add to the captain's already considerable troubles.” They strapped themselves in and soon Ossus loomed in the window, huge and vibrantly blue with splashes of green forming the continents.

Rowan turned to Uilleam in the seat next to him, “after we land, we should rest,” he glanced towards one of the southern continents, the nightline approaching it rapidly. “It will be dark by the time we reach the academy, and our journey has been long.”

The flight was smooth and the landing uneventful, the captain having taken this route so many times before. As they were making their way down the landing ramp, Rowan laid a hand on the captain's shoulder. “You do well Captain Thon, without you and your kind, we Jedi would be a strange bunch indeed—stranded on one planet, huddled in our cloister.”

The older man was taken aback for a moment and then smiled in return and muttered thanks under his breath. Rowan smiled and gave the man's arm a firm grasp before moving away. The landing ramp closed quickly and, as soon as they cleared the pad, the freighter took to the skies once more. Rowan watched the ship until it broke the bonds of atmosphere and rushed off into the freedom of open space. He nodded in nodded in contemplation, as if pleased with the outcome.

Finally, he turned to Uilleam and gestured widely towards the academy. “Welcome, with all the hospitality of the Jedi.” The structure was of ancient stone and grown thick with creeping plants. It was shaped in a ziggurat, like the Coruscant temple but on a much smaller scale. “The quarters are just through here. You'll find refreshment inside and empty rooms. I'll be in the knights' quarters. In the morning, before the sun rises, meet me here and we will continue our training.”

 

[QuietReckoning]

Once in the privacy of his own quarters, he removed an old friend from the wooden chest that contained his belongings: his Claidhamlhabh, his Greatsword. He knew it was not a weapon in this new world, more of a curiosity, and he knew that the swords-of-light that these Knights wielded would cut through the simple metal as easy as they would flesh.

But he wielded his old friend, practicing with it, feeling the comfort of his own people, of home, in the familiar weight and the movements which he had practiced so well. He did what he had done every day of his life since he could remember: he trained his body, practiced to protect his people. He knew that soon he would go through the same ritual, but with a sword of light of his own. As he practiced the familiar movements, he began to think of how they would apply to a sword-of-light.

He let the great sword, almost as tall as he was, lean against the ground, and he rested against it, thoughtful.

The traditional swords-of light had no guard like the V-angled guard of his blade. He could not catch an opponent’s blade with his own. He had read in the ship’s computer of various materials that could stop a saber blade. Perhaps his sword of light would have a guard of Phrik?

No. For the guards on his blade were part of the damaging surface of his weapon. Could he build his weapon that it might have two smaller forking blades, and thus become a sword of light similar to his greatsword? The catch and twist combat method – where the blade of an enemy’s sword was caught by the hilt-guard, and then twisted out of the enemy’s grip through pressure between the guard and the sword blade - would be usable then. And it would make him far more comfortable.

There were mirrors to consider, and more crystals… but hadn’t he brought many crystals from the caves of his homeworld with him? The ones that allowed devices power within the electromagnetic field that coated the place?

He was getting too far ahead of himself. But he was still too worked up by his practice to sleep. So he leaned the great-sword against the side of his bed, knelt on it, and meditated.

Uilleam closed his eyes, and basked in the energy of Ossus like a cactus transplanted from the desert to some tropical world. The force flowed into him, and he drank deep, his parched soul glutting itself on the white energy that surrounded the planet.

Morning found him still meditating, but completely refreshed, and as he strode out to meet his master, he was pulsing with energy. The creases of worry and responsibility that had made him look an older man than 23 had vanished. In that single night of meditation, he seemed to have become years younger.

He felt as though he’d had the most restful night’s sleep in his life.

He stood, and walked to the place where his master would arrive. He still had an hour before sunlight.

He brought the great sword with him, and began his ritual morning practice. But this time, he made the practice a moving meditation. Reaching out, sensing with the force, and drinking its cool energy – the energy that bathed Ossus. It seemed like only minutes passed before his Master arrived. But when he opened his eyes, the east was brightening. He stopped, leaning against the great blade, and smiled serenely at his master, positively bursting with the white energy of Ossus.

"Greetings teacher. What shall we learn today?" He asked.

 

[Caleb]

It had been years since Rowan had seen Ossus, but the timelessness of this place that he remembered still remained. He rested well that night, refreshed by the rushing ubiquity of the Force. He made his way outside of the temple, dressed in his customary blue robes and gray tunic—based partly on his old Anaxsi naval uniform. Uilleam was already waiting; Rowan sensed the calming gleam of the Force around him, saw the lack of worry of fear in his face. It was clear that Ossus had had a similar impact on his padawan...not surprisingly, this place had always been strong in the Force, even more so with the echoes of so many Jedi having walked here.

He raised a hand, returning his student's greeting. “Come,” Rowan turned and gestured out towards the densely grown thickets that lay just outside of the temple grounds, “I'll show you.”

They moved along the ancient path in silence. The forest was awash with the sounds of the early morning: frogs croaked out their low choruses; rat-like gokobs shrieked noisily; now and again, the deep, keening wail of a dalan-bird, would echo through the canopy. In time, they reached a grassy clearing. It was dotted with shrubs and boulders, some with obscure runes carved into them. Here and there, in places where the grass had been trampled or the dust disturbed, there were signs of human activity.

“This place is often used for meditation,” Rowan offered, in explanation. “For our purposes, we will use the water.” He pointed towards a quickly flowing stream that cut through the edge of the clearing. It was only a few inches deep, rushing over a bed of smooth stones. Rowan approached the bank and knelt next to the stream. “You already know how to move objects with the Force, this much you have told me. But we must see how much focus you possess.”

He paused for a moment, scrutinizing the water, and dipped a finger into the stream. It was clear and ice-cold, flowing no doubt from some mountain source. Then, he stretched a hand out over the stream and let the Force fill him. The water began to ripple and swirl boisterously. Finally, it parted, forming a small circle, perfectly round, which the stream rushed around. Rowan closed his eyes and stepped into the circle, into the now dry riverbed.

“Join me Uilleam. Let the Force fill you, let it rush from your fingertips and toes. Remember, it exists everywhere, even between your feet and the stones. Will the water aside.”