The day started standardly — with Drallig's groans. As it turned out, even that you could get used to. Usually it began in the last part of sleep, closer to morning, when he dreamed the best part: that beautiful princesses and queens loved him, that the whole Galaxy listened to his wise advice, that he had led the High Council of the Order... In short, standard dreams for any boy his age. I had the same ones when my mind was at his age. The irony of these dreams, though, is that, Force willing, only a percentage of all the boys who have such dreams ever manage to realize them in any form. As for me, dreams and visions hardly interested me.
So what if I dream of a battle with some young Palpatine in a tropical paradise? That's just the product of my sick imagination. I can't even think about fighting someone like Sidious, let alone using Ataru, which in my opinion is almost hopeless. I need Soresu. First and foremost; later, maybe I'll study Makashi, for more effective opposition to lightsaber-wielding fighters. But Ataru? No, definitely not. Though I don't rule out that I'll study some elements of that form later, if I live that long. Speaking of swordsmanship... We'd been waiting for this day. We returned with our lightsabers like triumphant generals. With a victory that most of the Temple's population couldn't care less about.
We have lightsabers, we've comprehended the Force, for the most part. We've also mastered many other disciplines. The time had come — that languishing period of younglinghood when you wait for a Teacher. And the simplest student in our Clan for many would be Feemor. Yes, him. Why? It's simple: Feemor is a theorist-dogmatist. He's interested in studying the very philosophy of comprehending the Force, but not swordsmanship or the Force. During the canon, as I understood it, this helped him attract Qui-Gon's attention. I, on the other hand, would become a very difficult student, if only because it's easier to list what I don't know than what I do. And I'm not even a hardcore Mary Sue yet.
Despite the abundance of abilities, I didn't always win, occasionally getting thrashed even by Cin. Much of what I know needs to be moved into the "applicable at any moment" category, not just when I'm focused on training. That, by the way, was what Yoda was doing, forcing me to apply Force Techniques at any time. Therefore, my Master would have to possess either broad capabilities surpassing my entire arsenal in the sheer number of possibilities, or possess far fewer supposed abilities but a much better understanding of them. Ideally, it would be Yoda himself. His skills are great, the depth of his understanding is beyond doubt. If my master were Yoda, I would achieve incredible flourishing. But alas, the Grand Master deigns to be busy with Council affairs. And it's true — Yoda missed many lessons, simply sending me manuals on Force Techniques that we were supposed to practice. Whether the Senate was tormenting him again, or he sometimes flew off somewhere... In short, the best possible candidate didn't have time for me.
And padawan training isn't just "I'll teach you a bunch of Techniques," as Yoda does with me, adding skills and deepening my understanding of existing ones. A Master must pay attention to the student, ideally travel with him. And Yoda mostly sits in the Temple. Many narrow-minded smart-alecks would say: "But Yoda was Dooku's Master!!! Why did he have time for Dooku?!" And I would answer: "Shut up, idiots." The format Yoda used for Dooku is similar to mine. Yoda only honed Dooku's lightsaber skills; the primary training was done by Teym Cerulian. Now Yoda is honing my Force abilities. And my Master will bring me direct practice. I just have to wait for him.
So... Today. It was special only because today Knight Roan would do what Drallig had wanted from the very first minutes of his time in the Temple. More precisely, from the first minutes he learned about the Forms of Swordsmanship. To learn something besides Shii-Cho, which had already gotten old for everyone... It had gotten old for me because it didn't solve the problems I'd set for myself... Shii-Cho, in my opinion, is an ineffective style. Only a master of this style can achieve anything with it, but how much time do you have to spend to reach such an undefined title? Master of the Style isn't an official title, because the requirements for it are absolutely vague. Essentially, you have to prove that in this Style, only the eggs are cooler than you.
"AAAAAH!" Drallig jumped up, waking both Gol and Feemor... And even the faintly sensed aura of Yoda, it seemed to me, was distracted from its morning meditation.
"What happened?" Feemor sprang up.
"Warr uaw war (Damn savage! Woke up half the galaxy!)," Gol grumbled discontentedly.
"Ehh... My dream went too far... I was saving a princess, but she turned out to be a Hutt princess! Hutts... Horrible... And the reward..."
"Shut up," I interrupted his rambling, angry that he'd distracted me from meditation. "And anyway, you saved the princess. Surely you don't object to the reward? Princesses certainly know how to be grateful. What's wrong with being rewarded?"
"Are you an idiot?!" Drallig protested, even too loudly. "I saved... a Hutt's Huttess, and she... she..."
"Was the dream really that realistic?" I asked. "Then it was clearly a Force Vision. You're destined to have sex with a Huttess. You should be glad for such exoticism — everyone prefers Twi'leks, Togrutas, Zeltrons. But Hutts — that's something new, unexplored. Your experience should be recorded in the annals of the Jedi Order Temple."
By the end of my answer, Gol and Feemor were both holding their stomachs.
"Light! This can't be a vision! It can't, right?!" Cin asked me, looking at me with such pleading eyes while I threw on my clothes. "Well, say something! You navigate the Force better than anyone!"
"Hmm, who knows," I said, thoughtfully scratching my chin. "Much in the Force is still unknown, young Cin. Many secrets are shrouded in darkness."
"No jokes! Don't imitate Master Yoda!"
"Well, honestly... Most likely, it was."
"It was?" he repeated.
"A Force Vision!" I lifted my head. "The great and mighty Force has sent you, its pitiful and worthless — like almost any insectoid slave — a Vision in which you save a princess of a Hutt clan, and she thanks you for it."
"No... No, no, no!" Cin grabbed his head, and oh, how I understood him. Apparently, the princess decided to thank Cin "against his resistance" and clearly not with bearer chips and credits. "This can't be! Light, how do I avoid this?!"
"How?" I asked, puzzled. "Well... The future is constantly in motion, so visions don't give a definitive answer. That's the first thing. And second, be careful, Cin. Because by trying to avoid the future, it's quite possible you'll achieve it, and it might even get worse..."
"Worse?" Feemor asked. "After what Cin described, I don't know what could be worse."
"For instance, Cin inadvertently saves twin princesses..."
"Warr uaw (Not so bad)," Gol chipped in his two cents.
"Of a Hutt clan," I finished.
"NOOOOO!" Cin screamed. "I won't survive this... Light! You'll tell me everything!"
"Hardly. Today we start learning new forms of swordsmanship, and I'll be busy mastering Soresu."
"So you want to study Soresu too?" Feemor asked. "I thought you'd choose Ataru."
"It has little defense," I told my friend. "And you remember that I don't like pain. The less defense, the greater the chance I'll leave myself open."
"Warrru uaw waer (Personally, I think the Fifth Form will suit me)," Gol informed us.
"I completely agree with you. That form is ideal for your species; I'm sure you'll even be able to push Cin aside in it. In the future..."
"Speaking of Cin. Are we waiting for him?" Feemor asked. "We have breakfast now, and then an introductory lesson with Knight Roan."
Judging by the sniffles, Cin had gone to the shower, so...
"He'll catch up on his own," I shook my head. "He needs to calm down."
Maybe I should tell Cin that Force Visions mostly happen to those who are more aligned with the concept of the Unifying Force? Cin himself is more about the Light Side. Visions are rare for such people... But even so — you need to prepare your mind, go through many meditations, and tune in to the fact that it will all be quite spontaneous. In other words, Cin had a simple nightmare. Contrary to the opinion of the less intelligent part of the Star Wars fan community, Jedi don't have visions all the time. Not even close — they're mostly rare. The truth is also that you need incredible potential in the Force for that, or substitute it with your own skill. Cin's potential is above average, but his skill in this field is zero point zero... So he was incredibly flattering himself when he talked about a Vision. His chance of seeing a Force Vision with his current skills is roughly equal to my chance of winning a confrontation with Vitiate at this moment. That is, theoretically I'm capable of hitting his body with a lightsaber, but practically — Vitiate would kill me while I'm still on approach, with a single motion.
"Let's go," I nodded toward the door.
The girls were already standing in the corridor, waiting for us. Despite the jokes, rivalry, and other delights of youth, our clan was generally friendly. At least, our age group. We could joke around with each other, but if someone from other groups or clans suddenly decided to mock us a bit, we'd immediately unite and fight back. By the way, the girls were... Beautiful. Daily physical training, the Force... Multiply all that by the fact that girls mature earlier than boys. As a result, at ten, eleven years old, Versaria, Maru, and Rela looked a good thirteen or fourteen — right when the awkward girl finally transforms into a young woman. Slender bodies dressed in Temple robes, but even that didn't stop them from being admired. Versaria Echz was originally a crude gossip, loving to crush her interlocutors with insults. Rela was the daughter of a slave freed by a Jedi. A Twi'lek... Beautiful, flexible, and slender; they made excellent Jedi and harem pairings. And Maru, a Togruta, who had managed to get a bit of clan upbringing, the "survival in the wild" type. A sort of miniature copy of Shaak Ti.
"Actually, Master Leyla promised to send us to Knight Roan after we passed the test on Shii-Cho knowledge," Versaria snorted. "And where's Cin?"
"Self-organizing," I replied impassively. "Under a cold shower."
"I wonder why?" Vers inquired.
"Vers, calm down," Feemor stopped her. "Cin has things to think about, and it's none of your business."
"Yes, yes," her friends nodded in agreement. If before they represented a trio of gossips, now they had become more or less calm and cooled down a bit. Unlike Versaria...
"I promised," Master Leyla's voice reached us, "that you would begin mastering other forms of swordsmanship immediately after passing your tests on Shii-Cho and lightsaber assembly."
As always, the striking blonde with golden hair and blue eyes. Feemor even froze a little... Could it be... A bit early, of course, though we Jedi have been doing physical training since childhood. Most likely, it had triggered an early hormone surge in Feemor. And I'd been eyeing the girls lately too. And it affects them... The hardest part will be if my Master turns out to be a woman and comes from a race that generally attracts me. And what attracts me... Twi'leks, Zeltrons, Miraluka, Togrutas, classic Sith, Sephi, humans... In short — it'll be hard. Not to fall in love with a beautiful, surely young and healthy woman? Though if they give me Yaddle, or someone else from that song, then it's not so bad.
"But it so happened that after passing the tests on Shii-Cho and training saber assembly, it was decided to send you to Ilum, in view of your decent results..."
"Decent?!" Cin's voice rang out. "I tore my last pair of pants off myself, Teacher..."
"Glad to hear about your feat," Leyla smiled. "Should I tell the quartermaster to issue you a few spare pairs?"
"No," Cin deflated. "It's just..."
"Just?" Leyla asked, tilting her head slightly. "You wanted applause? Applause is for artists and singers; you're a future Jedi Knight. Our training is wonderful, kids, but you must understand one simple truth that I've told you about. What did I tell you?"
"There is no limit to perfection," we said in chorus.
"Correct. A Jedi must always learn something new. A Jedi who stops is a dead Jedi. Especially you... So alike, yet so different. You have your own traits that you yourselves must develop and improve."
"All clear, Master," I told Leyla.
"You understand, but you don't accept," Leyla shook her head. "The big world will teach you. Or you won't live to see my age."
"And how old are y—"
Receiving a painful jab in the ribs from both me and Feemor at once, Cin shut up, looking at us indignantly. Asking a woman her age? Even someone as inexperienced as I am knows perfectly well that asking any woman about her age is, at the very least, impolite.
"What was that, sorry?" Leyla smiled, turning her attention to him.
"Nothing," Cin muttered. "Nothing."
We had just saved him from certain death. Maybe I should let Cin finish his sentence once, so the girls could teach him a bit about life. Then he'd understand, instead of looking at me with such reproach...
* * *
"Oh, fresh meat!" Roan exclaimed cheerfully when our Clan joined the swordsmanship class in full force.
In the enormous hall, which was clearly capable of holding no fewer than a thousand sentients, there was a huge number of younglings and... only five knights.
"I'll explain only once! For swordsmanship practice, there are five instructors here. Each of them specializes in one specific form," he nodded toward the four Jedi. "I myself can assist those who have decided to learn Shien/Djem So! Weigh your decision carefully, newcomers, because everything depends on your style! Changing styles during the learning process is not easy. It's simpler to master one style, and then try to master a second!"
Joining the class wasn't such a frequent occurrence. All the clans more or less fly to Ilum at the same time — after passing the tests on training lightsabers. Occasionally, those who didn't fly to Ilum but passed the tests join in. In any case, according to our informants among the older younglings — Roan, for as many years as he's been a Battlemaster, repeats the same phrase when "newbies" enter the hall. Which does him credit, because he only gives that speech when there are newcomers in the hall. He himself knows who's come for the first time and who hasn't.
"I am Shisk Ari," introduced the Nautolan, a tall Jedi with green skin. "Anyone who wants to continue perfecting Shii-Cho, come to me."
Next, a tall Sephi introduced himself, his chestnut hair braided into the signature hairstyle of my people. Personally, I never liked it; my hair wasn't particularly long because I cut it.
"Shori Umar," the man bowed slightly. "I will guide you on the path of elegance and precision — Makashi."
"I am Zest," introduced... a Zeltron? And why was he a man? I'd rather he were a woman. "My form is Soresu."
"I am Loli Ricarda," introduced the frail-looking woman standing nearby. "Anyone who wants to learn Ataru — come to me."
Well, Niman, as I understood it, was learned from holocrons. And mostly by adult Knights. Not to mention Juyo...
"Enough with the greetings!" Roan proclaimed. "Let's get down to business! Each of you choose a Master and go learn. And be attentive. Lazy weaklings will die in the first conflict. The first part of the training is focused on practicing the basics, movements, warm-up. The second part of the training is sparring, including between adepts of different styles! Dismissed!"
Yeah, he was used to giving orders. At Zest's, the Soresu master, a lot of younglings had gathered. All because Soresu is popular now. The Sith are "destroyed," a huge number of sentients use blasters. For Soresu adepts, it's paradise right now, because even a prepared group taking down a knight who uses Soresu in battle is incredibly difficult. Because the foundation of Soresu is "mobile meditation," which expands perception to incredible heights.
"Now I'll show you the basic movements and tell you about the philosophy," Zest smiled.
It seemed Rela, who had the misfortune of coming with me, like many of the girls, was swooning. Zeltrons are wonderful empaths and... hedonists, who put physical pleasure — that is, sexual pleasure — almost on an absolute pedestal. Jedi are rare among them, because Jedi do kill, now and then, and Zeltrons are pacifists. But the girls probably didn't care about that; they were examining Zest's pink skin and melting, while he expounded and demonstrated stances and transitions.
"You also need," he looked at us instructively, "to master mobile meditation. It's with this that all those stances I've shown you begin to play with new colors."
Well then...
"For now, use training sabers," Zest noted. "That applies to newcomers. I'll assess your progress and then decide what to do with you and whether you can be allowed into training..."
* * *
So much time had passed... Cin Drallig was looking at me, holding his saber in the classic Djem So stance. My clanmate's eyes burned with determination. What were we doing now? The youngling Tournament was approaching. And if before I hadn't paid much attention to it, now both I and everyone else were training to exhaustion. Because the successes of your peers are the best motivator... And the successes of the seemingly unremarkable Feemor had motivated even me. What were his successes? Qui-Gon, who, as soon as Feemor turned eleven, took him as a Padawan. And now he had every chance of becoming a knight before anyone else. Which Drallig could no longer forgive and began literally tearing his veins out. Almost forcing me to train with him, pressuring all the knights to take him as a Padawan... And I wonder, who will cool Drallig's ardor? Because with his current character, he's more likely to fall to the darkness than to live to see the events known to all, becoming a Battlemaster.
I stood in the classic Soresu stance, concentrating as much as possible on Drallig. Training sabers meant we could strike without hesitation. Additionally, we could only fight without instructors using these sabers. Combat sabers should only be used under supervision... Zest had taught me a lot, though... I wouldn't have managed without Master Yoda. It was he who taught me Mobile Meditation.
Cin couldn't hold out first, even though his style dictated he should attack. Catching his attack on my saber, I deflected it to the side, following up with a thrusting strike. Cin dodged, moving to the side, swinging at my torso. I blocked again. He launched a whole combination of attacks, showering me with a hail of strikes that I deflected. And he...
One of Cin's strikes, even though I blocked it, hit my shoulder. I gritted my teeth from the pain, instantly, as much as possible, applying Crucitorn. Out of anger, I started counterattacking more often and made a series of other mistakes. This wasn't the elegant Makashi style; Cin was pushing through my defense, and counterattacking? The foundation of Soresu is exhausting the opponent. The counterattack is delivered at the very end and is often fatal. But Cin wasn't even out of breath while fighting me. Eventually we locked in a hard block, and Cin started pressing down on me, forcing me down to one knee.
"I'm going to beat you now," Drallig practically spat in my face.
I focused on one thing. Only one thing would help me. Even my precognition was being countered by Cin Drallig's increased speed and aggression, and also by the fact that he too was beginning to master precognition fairly well.
Now! Instantly deactivating my lightsaber, I lunged to the right. Inertia took hold of Cin, and a fraction of a second was enough for me to reignite my lightsaber and execute Cho Mok, landing a serious blow to Cin's legs.
"Ay, damn it!" Cin exclaimed as the training saber immediately burned through both his legs. "Hutt!"
Yes, it was hard. The last couple of months I'd literally been dying in Soresu training... What was surprising was something else: everyone noted my diligence in mastering this form, but Zest had said from the very beginning that with my physique and build, I should learn Ataru. Why did I need a strong attack if I had perfect defense? In any case, I regarded Form Four with a degree of skepticism, despite the fact that even Yoda told me I had all the prerequisites to become an excellent master of this form.
"Ugh," Drallig was holding his legs. Even through the layer of clothing, he'd felt the training saber.
How many sparring sessions had we had? I even thought it was harmful. Because I'd gotten used to him, an adept of the Fifth Form, and had sparred little with adepts of other forms. Would this come back to bite me? Quite possibly, so I needed to work on it. But first — the youngling Tournament, in which we would definitely participate.