The former Sith Lord sat on a rocky outcrop, wrapped in a cloak, and meditated.
HK-47 had been tasked with moving their temporary shelter, the droid "Dump" that he hated, which had once again gained the ability to travel in hyperspace, further into the desert. Revan himself never fully understood the reason for the assassin hunter's obvious dislike for the old freighter, and hoped that this mechanical sociopath wouldn't destroy the ship purely out of principle.
However, that wasn't what he was thinking about now. He was concerned about the arrival of two Jedi Order knights, which raised many questions about their awareness and goals, but also offered some opportunities. For example, a chance to understand what the Order had become, or even to get into the Temple.
Appearing openly before the Light adepts would be a foolish act, bordering on a death wish. Therefore, Revan had discussed this issue in advance with Anakin, to whom he had already revealed part of the truth about himself.
The boy, who had headed back to Watto's shop a few hours ago with the news of the contract's completion, was supposed to pretend he knew nothing about the Force, let alone about his new friend Vaneer's abilities. This was in case the knights' arrival was, as the former Sith suspected, aimed at Anakin himself.
Revan, in turn, intended to "accidentally" run into the Jedi on the street. Fortunately, he could clearly sense their presence while remaining unnoticed.
He even grinned at the thought that he could hide like this even under the Council's nose. For years! Unless they had a good "sensor" in the Order capable of detecting even the slightest Force fluctuations. But that was rare.
Still, why had two representatives of the Order shown up on a backwater planet on the far frontier? Searching for younglings? Quite possible. A banal ship malfunction? Also possible.
Could the Masters have "smelled" the revival of an ancient entity? They certainly could have, if they hadn't lost their skills.
The answers themselves wouldn't come to him, Revan knew this very well. Therefore, he had to work again, pretending to be someone he was not.
But first, a little disguise. A man in Mandalorian armor and a mask, plus a robe with a deep hood pulled up... Personally, Revan's image evoked a desire to slash him with a blade from shoulder to waist. Simply, to avoid trouble, without talking. He had met too many such dubious characters in his past life. And all of them, without exception, tried to kill him.
Therefore, the armor was left on board the departed ship. Only the mask was carefully hidden in a pouch. The lightsaber was still attached to his belt, so it wasn't easily noticeable. Well, and the robe... it's a desert! Everyone here wears robes when traveling outside the city, as it's convenient and protects from the sand. Ask the Tuskens or the Jawas.
Thus, with the good-natured smile of a young hunter, Revan appeared in Mos Espa, clearly tracking the Jedi's position.
They landed away from the spaceport, even outside the city limits, which was unusual. On Tatooine, it was unsafe to leave a ship in the desert. Sandstorms, Raiders, Jawa scavengers – these were just some of the threats on this planet. Apparently, the two knights needed to hide the fact of their arrival. However, Jabba's people had surely detected them, even if they couldn't pinpoint the landing site.
Closing his eyes for a couple of seconds, Revan checked the direction. And he didn't like it.
One of the Jedi was heading straight for Watto's shop.
As he walked towards the shrewd Toydarian's shop, the former Sith pondered how to act if the Order's envoys were after the boy.
It would be wise not to interfere. However, the boy's fate, for some reason, worried Revan, as if their lives were connected. And this bothered him. The former Jedi had never had students, and he sincerely hoped to avoid such a turn of events.
"And how often did the Force listen to your hopes?" the ancient Lord chuckled at his own naivety.
Suddenly, his keen hearing caught some commotion in Watto's shop, which made the experienced fighter gather himself and prepare for a possible fight.
However, upon looking inside, he saw only a strange, big-eared creature, in which, with some difficulty, Revan recognized a representative of the Naboo natives, who was confidently "losing an unequal battle" with a small repair droid. The model was not particularly intelligent and had only a severely limited information processing system... However, the Gungan, as the people of the strange alien were called, could not boast of even such intelligence.
"Hit him in the nose!" Anakin shouted across the entire trading hall.
The Gungan, ramming a couple more counters, tripping over spare parts for an aerocar, and not ceasing to squeal, still managed to follow the instruction. The droid "folded" and went into inactive mode.
Watching all this with a smile was a dark-haired girl in "carefully chosen simple clothes," which betrayed her awkward attempt to disguise herself as a space traveler. Only her clothes were spotless, and Naboo fabric, thanks to its expressive texture from a special weaving method, was famous even during Revan's Empire. So, it was not difficult to guess where the stranger came from, especially in the company of a Gungan.
"I see you're having fun here, Ani!" Revan stepped inside, putting on a friendly smile.
The boy, who had noticed his friend a minute ago, turned to the entrance and smiled back.
"Hi, Vaneer!" he waved in greeting. "Watto and I finally have some customers."
"Straight from Naboo, as I see?" Revan smirked, unable to resist pointing out the visitors' disguise mistake.
"How did you..." the girl wanted to ask, but the former Jedi preempted her question by simply pointing to the clumsy alien.
"Isn't that a Gungan?"
"My name is Jar Jar!" the Naboo native nodded joyfully.
Revan, for some reason, clearly realized that this creature was a walking disaster and a constant source of problems.
And, judging by another toppled shelf, not without reason.
"And you?" the girl squinted.
She looked no older than fifteen, but her gaze was very inquisitive.
"This is Vaneer, my friend," Anakin introduced the former Sith. "He's a hunter and, like you, is stuck on Tatooine. And this is Padmé."
"Very pleased to meet you, Padmé," Revan bowed slightly.
"Likewise, Vaneer," the interlocutor reflexively bowed in return.
"Hmm, manners are deeply ingrained. She responded to the bow without even thinking. She must have been raised in a noble family, or serves in one," the former Jedi noted.
"So, you two flew in from Naboo?" Revan asked unobtrusively. "And, if I understand correctly, you have ship problems?"
Upon mentioning the planet, the girl tensed slightly. The topic was, for some reason, disturbing to her. Perhaps she had to flee the planet? Or did the Jedi take her as a gifted one?
"No, too many years, and I don't feel the Force in her. Only the basic aura inherent in all living beings. Therefore, she is not gifted," the ancient lord quickly calculated. "So, an escape? A romance between a maid and a nobleman? Or vice versa, the escape of royalty?"
"I am a maid in the house of a noble family," Padmé finally decided to answer. "And yes, we need to repair the ship."
"Oh!" Revan feigned excitement. "And I, quite by chance, am an excellent mechanic! And I'd be happy to help with repairs if you give me a ride to any other planet. Even to Ryloth! I don't care, but this dusty ball is getting on my nerves!"
The girl was a little flustered by such an onslaught, but quickly regained her composure.
"I'm just a maid," she lowered her eyes slightly.
"Oh, how fake!" the former Jedi almost rolled his eyes.
"But you can introduce me to the one who makes decisions?" he demonstrated a master class in acting, putting so much pleading and hidden hope into his voice that even the Huts would have been moved to tears.
The switch to "you" was deliberate, to abruptly shorten the distance.
"I... um... yes, probably," Padmé said, embarrassed. "But... you're also, like Anakin... umm..."
"What?" Revan didn't understand.
"Well, not free?" she tried to hint again.
The former Sith's eyes widened, and he turned to Skywalker, feigning extreme surprise.
"I didn't know you already had a girlfriend!" he exclaimed in amazement, making the boy blush.
"No, she doesn't mean it like that!" Anakin blurted out immediately.
A moment later, realization dawned on Padmé too, making her turn crimson.
"I didn't mean that!" she waved her hands. "I meant that Anakin... he's... a slave."
Internally grinning at how easily he had broken through this girl's defenses and gained her trust, Revan praised himself for not losing his knowledge of psychology.
All it took was to shock, embarrass, distract, and voilà, she was already casually addressing him as "you" and thought she was the cause of the awkward situation. As Master Kreia once said, "Nothing brings people closer than a common problem, especially with a sexual undertone."
"Ah, so that's what you mean," the ancient manipulator feigned embarrassment again. "I am absolutely free. In every sense."
And he smiled with a wide, toothy smile, making the girl blush even more.
"Hey!" Skywalker protested. "In that sense, I'm also... free!"
Judging by her expression, Padmé was ready to sink through the ground, but she slowly recalled her upbringing and diligently returned her face to impassivity.
"Oh, I apologize!" Revan raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "I'm not claiming anything."
"I'm free too!" the Gungan suddenly interjected, whose adequacy the former Sith no longer doubted, but was sure of its absence.
To overcome the awkwardness and continue getting acquainted, Vaner began to ask Padmé various insignificant questions. About the flight, Nabooian fabric, the strange behavior of the Gungan, and other trifles. At least, that's how it seemed to the girl. In reality, a subtle process of information gathering was taking place. And the girl was providing it, without even realizing it.
From the slips of the tongue, omissions, and vague answers, Revan understood that some kind of conflict had occurred on Naboo, which had forced Padmé's family to leave it. The Gungan had attached himself to someone named Qui-Gon. The girl almost called him a master, but even the "swallowed" title, hastily replaced with "mister," was enough. So, one of the Jedi was named Qui-Gon. And he was, apparently, a master. However, for ordinary people, all Jedi were masters. Yet, Revan himself suspected something similar. The aura of this particular gifted individual possessed a very characteristic power.
And then, right from the passage leading to the courtyard, accompanied by a bucket-like astromech, a tall human male appeared in a worn farmer's poncho, under which the traditional Jedi robe was easily recognizable. The disguise was not bad, but careless. Overall, this Jedi looked quite young, no older than forty. But that was just an appearance. And, as Revan knew perfectly well, it could be very deceptive. Long dark hair with a slight hint of gray, which didn't match his young face, a neat beard, and incredibly wise dark blue eyes – that's what immediately impressed the ancient lord.
"Such a gaze cannot belong to a young knight. Which means he is already a master, and significantly older than his appearance," Revan thought.
The droid, noticing the stranger, warned the Jedi.
The latter, apparently lost in thought, only now looked up at the newcomer.
"This is my friend, Vaner!" Anakin introduced the former Sith.
"Pleasure to meet you," the ancient nodded slightly.
"Likewise," the adept of light replied with a nod. "My name is Qui-Gon Jinn."
Revan felt a faint wave of the Force pass through his body.
"He's checking," he thought. "Good."
"Well, let's get out of here. We'll look for a hyperdrive in another shop," the Jedi announced, turning towards the exit.
The Gungan reacted to this with a stream of complaints and lamentations. Padmé bid Anakin a friendly farewell and slipped after Qui-Gon. The astromech was the last to leave.
To himself, Revan noted that he didn't like the new series of droids resembling barrels, especially after similar mechanical fellows had thrown his carcass into a incinerator.
"Ah, it's a shame they stopped producing T3s," he thought sadly.
A Toydarian flew into the premises, who, without armor and mask, didn't recognize the formidable representative of the criminal clan of the Bloody Claws in the fifteen-year-old boy. Therefore, he immediately rushed to sell him some moisture vaporators. Apparently, the boy gave the impression of a farmer.
However, upon learning that he was just Anakin's friend, who was not particularly solvent, he escorted Revan out of the shop with an insistent request to visit only when he had money.
However, Anakin came out almost immediately afterward. As it turned out, the old merchant had decided to let the boy go early.
Judging by Skywalker's impatient twitching, he was eager to follow the Jedi. And it wasn't about the representative of the ancient Order himself, but about his entourage. A very attractive young entourage named Padmé. Revan clearly felt the affection that arose in the boy towards the girl... or still a girl? By age, definitely a girl.
"No older than me in my current body," the former Jedi calculated.
In the end, succumbing to Anakin's persuasion, they decided to follow the Nabooians and the Jedi who were stuck on Tatooine. From his own experience, Revan knew perfectly well that getting into trouble here was a matter of five minutes.
And so it happened. About half an hour later, after discreetly following the foreigners who were darting from shop to shop, the latter got into trouble.
More precisely, the Gungan got into trouble, trying to stealthily steal the carcass of some little animal, but instead, he launched it at a feasting Dug. This race, the Dugs, had never been known for their patience. So, a flash of righteous anger followed immediately.
And if Anakin and Revan hadn't intervened, it would have ended badly for Jar Jar. At least, his skull would have been significantly dented.
"Careful, Sebulba," Ani began in Huttese. "He's an important foreigner. See that you don't get yourself killed before the races."
Revan had already heard about the Boonta Eve Classic races from the armor merchant. And a plan was already forming in his mind on how to test the young gifted one's abilities in practice, and even earn some money if possible. Or perhaps, he could even manage to free the Skywalkers from slavery without involving the Claws, who might rebel. Especially if Watto ran to complain to the Hutts about the arbitrariness of their vassals.
The Dug did not heed the arguments, so the ancient lord had to intervene.
"Sebulba," he whispered quietly, approaching the long-snouted alien, whose race clearly confused hands and feet. "Do you owe anything to the Bloody Claws?"
Judging by his sharply closed mouth and wide-open eyes, he had hit the mark.
"There are rumors that that hairy one over there," Revan nodded at Qui-Gon, "recently teamed up with their leader. And this big-eared one is a future representative of the clan in the neighboring sector. Don't be fooled by his foolish appearance, he's a good disguise."
The alien was affected. Quickly blinking his eyes, he shifted his gaze from the Jedi to the Gungan and was clearly deciding what to do. Or perhaps, he was determining the depth of the trouble he had gotten into.
"You'd better leave, while they're still sober," the former Sith advised him.
The interlocutor swallowed heavily and nodded.
With a final sarcastic remark about Anakin's racing abilities, the Dug hurried away, forgetting even his unfinished lunch.
Having received thanks from Qui-Gon, Revan and Skywalker offered to accompany the foreigners so that they wouldn't get into trouble again.
According to an old woman selling some dried fruits, a sandstorm was approaching. This meant they needed to find shelter urgently. Anakin explained how terrible such whims of the local weather could be and offered to wait at his place, as it was very close.
Everyone agreed. Revan was doubly pleased by this fact, as it presented a good opportunity to talk with the Jedi.
At the Skywalkers' house, they were met by Shmi, Ani's mother. The dark-haired woman had not lost her former beauty, but the years had begun to take their toll. And life in slavery had done nothing to contribute to her well-being and fresh complexion. In some ways, she reminded Revan of one of the instructors in the Jedi enclave on Dantooine. Perhaps, by the stern but caring gaze of her brown eyes.
Strangely enough, Shmi calmly accepted the "raid" of strangers on her home and hospitably welcomed everyone. Anakin dragged Padmé away to show off the droid he had been assembling for several years. The astromech, named R2-D2, rolled along behind, apparently interested in the boy's technical talents.
Having somehow calmed the Gungan and assigned him a socially useful task of cleaning local vegetables for dinner, the Jedi and the former Sith began to help the mistress of the house set the table.
"Qui-Gon, so you are a Jedi?" Revan asked when the hilt of a lightsaber momentarily appeared from under his poncho.
Realizing his mistake, Jin decided to try to evade the question.
"What makes you think that, Vaner?"
"You have a... laser sword hanging from your belt," the ancient lord corrected himself in time, remembering that few knew the correct name for the weapon of the Force adepts. "Isn't that a Jedi weapon?"
"Maybe I killed a Jedi and took his sword?" Qui-Gon grinned.
"Ah, as if you just took it and killed him," Revan chuckled mentally.
"No one can kill a Jedi," Anakin said, appearing from a distant passage.
"Ah, if only that were true," the Jedi and the former Sith said in unison.
Jin glanced at Vaner and squinted. And the ancient mentally slapped himself, realizing he had been so foolishly exposed.
He needed to find a way out and somehow deflect suspicion.
"My mother told me that my real father was a Jedi who soon died," Revan changed his touching legend on the fly.
"And who was he?" asked the Jedi, again probing the guy with the Force. "Did your mother not tell you his name?"
"No," the former Sith replied, wrapping himself more tightly in a cocoon of the Force. "She didn't talk much about him."
"Have the Order's Seekers come to you?" Jin continued to question.
"No," Revan shook his head, trying to put on a sad face. "As my mother told me, I didn't inherit my father's talents."
"That happens," Qui-Gon nodded, clearly calming down.
Anakin took the initiative further, beginning to ask the Jedi about the Order, for which the ancient Sith was ready to kiss the boy! He absorbed the answers and analyzed the hidden information. How Jin spoke about the Force, about the gifted, and the structure of the Order. From everything said, Revan concluded that Qui-Gon was not entirely an orthodox Jedi Master and did not blindly follow dogmas. This reminded him of the "greatest renegade knight" who went to defend the Republic during the Mandalorian Wars.
The evening turned out to be informative. And although Revan could not openly ask questions, he prompted Anakin to do so with his comments and hints. Much remained to be clarified, but some things became clear. And they were far from pleasant.
However, there was also one clearly positive outcome of these impromptu gatherings. Anakin, with the assistance of the old Sith, proposed a way out of the situation to Qui-Gon. All that was needed was to provoke Watto into a bet in the upcoming races and put Skywalker forward as a participant.
Revan added that Ani had inhuman reactions and would definitely win, which interested the Jedi.
The ancient lord had no doubt that he would conduct a midichlorian count that very day and find out how strong a gifted individual the boy was.
It remained only to hint that the boy's freedom and that of his mother could be included in the bet, and voila. The plan was ready, and Revan quietly grinned, proud that he hadn't lost all his skills as a Sith intriguer. How could the ruler of his own empire do without them?
The next morning, HK-47, who had arrived on a speeder at his master's request, found him in an alley near Watto's shop, methodically banging his forehead against the wall.
Thump... thump... thump...
"Concerned: Master, have you decided to cease functioning prematurely?" the droid inquired.
"No, HK, I'm just trying to make my mind accept the fact that after 4000 years, only a pale shadow remains of a mighty Order, at the mention of which even the Mandalorians would break into a sweat."
Thump... thump...
"Sympathetically: I understand, Master. I also can't process the information that in 4000 years, not a single new way to get rid of annoying bags of meat has been invented," HK hinted at the lack of fundamentally new blasters in the local markets.
Revan gestured to the wall next to him.
"Join me," he said concisely.
Thump... clink... thump... clink...
"Once, there were hundreds of thousands of Jedi in the galaxy!" the fallen knight mumbled. "And now, two orders of magnitude fewer! Out of a dozen enclaves and temples, only one remains!"
Thump... clink...
"Dejectedly: Besides Mandalorian blasters, there's nothing worthwhile," the droid echoed. "No progress!"
Thump... clink...
"Is it helping?" the ancient Sith inquired.
"Negatively."
"Me too," Revan said disappointedly. "Did you bring everything?"
Clink...
"Affirmatively: Yes, Master. Your belongings are in the speeder's cargo hold," HK replied, hitting his head against the wall once more, chipping off a piece of limestone plaster.
"Hey! You there!" an irritated voice from a resident of the house, a Twi'lek, judging by the flickering lekku, came from above. "Stop banging on the wall, or I'll come down and feed you to the banthas!"
"HK," Revan asked, flashing his eyes towards the disturber of the peace who had interrupted his "peculiar meditation."
"Threateningly: Shut your trap, you gut-headed scum! Or I'll paint all the walls in this quarter with your insides!" the droid roared.
The resident, apparently wishing to remain just a "resident," fell silent instantly.
The former Jedi raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Proudly: I've updated my idiom database."
Revan just grunted approvingly and walked to the speeder.
Donning his armor and mask, the ancient lord entered Watto's shop to hint to him how he should behave with Qui-Gon. Specifically, not to be stubborn and to accept the bet, for which he would later be credited by the Claws. And, if the Toydarian wasn't greedy, he would even be told who to bet on in the upcoming race. The merchant quickly grasped the essence of the matter and assured him that he would do everything in the best possible way.
On his way out of the shop, Revan almost collided with Qui-Gon, so he quickly melted into the crowd, simultaneously putting on his Force mask. The inquisitors of the old Sith Empire loved to use this technique, and the former Jedi, at one time, did not disdain to learn it.
Taking off his armor again and transforming into Vaner Shan, the ancient lord joined Anakin and the company, who were busy restoring an old but quite fast racing car.
Revan enjoyed tinkering with the engines and electronic components of this high-speed craft. Memories of his swoop bike races across the surface of Tatooine, Manaan, and Taris surfaced.
Those were good times when he temporarily forgot about hunting Malak and searching for the Star Forge.
And if it weren't for the Gungan's foolish antics, constantly getting himself into trouble, whether under the exhaust jet, under an electrical arc, or under some other unknown hazard – the past day could have been called peaceful and relaxing.
By evening, through joint efforts, the car was brought to a satisfactory condition.
Everyone had already gone to sleep when Revan suddenly felt the approach of someone's dark aura towards the city.
The fact that he hadn't felt the dark presence earlier, upon approaching the planet, already indicated that the uninvited guest knew how to hide his presence.
Quickly descending into an alley where HK was guarding a trophy speeder, the ancient Sith donned his armor and tried to pinpoint the stranger's location.
Determining the direction, Revan jumped into the speeder and rushed off.
Their meeting took place at the very border of the city.
A black figure in a robe was examining a broken search droid, which someone had pierced with a precise blaster shot. His movements were very smooth and precise, betraying an experienced fighter. And judging by his aura, he was indeed a Sith. If there was any light flickering in his soul, it was somewhere very deep. However, even such a fallen gifted one could be used. It remained to clarify a couple of important points.
"Good evening," Revan's voice came from the darkness of the alley.
The figure in the robe instantly somersaulted backward and drew a lightsaber. A scarlet blade illuminated a small patch of ground around the dark side adept. Mechanically, the ancient lord noted that the hilt of the sword was too long for a simple single-handed model. This meant he was facing a lightsaber staff user.
"Show yourself!" the Sith demanded.
"Wow, he can't sense me at all?" Revan wondered, dropping his disguise.
"Who are you?" the scarlet blade immediately turned towards the opponent who had appeared from the darkness.
"Me?" the stranger grinned under his Mandalorian mask. "Call me Lord."
"Lord?" the enemy spat with contempt. "Too much honor for Jedi scum!"
The light of the blade fell on the face under the hood. It turned out to be a Zabrak with black and red markings on his skin and eyes with a shimmering yellow iris.
"What makes you think I'm a Jedi?" Revan asked, almost laughing.
"I feel the Force in you! And the Light!" the Sith flared up. "You're a Jedi!"
The ancient suppressed the urge to hit the mask's visor with his armored glove.
"Have the Sith also completely degenerated by this time?" he thought.
Judging by the opponent's bestial grin, he was not very inclined to negotiate and had not attacked yet because he was still assessing his potential victim.
Revan exhaled wearily and lowered his hand to his belt.
"I suppose a constructive dialogue won't be possible for now?" he clarified, just in case.
"I have nothing to talk about with Jedi."
"Well, yes, exactly. I've heard that already," the ancient interrupted his interlocutor with clear sarcasm in his voice.
At that very moment, the Zabrak leaped at him, delivering a sweeping blow from above.
Revan dodged to the side, simultaneously activating his lightsaber. The silver blade added light to the wide alley, simultaneously taking on a whole series of blows that followed the first.
An experienced fencer, the former Sith, habitually went into a tight defense, combining Makashi and Soresu techniques, studying the opponent and devising a battle plan. The aggressive rushes, cunning combinations, and unexpected lunges clearly indicated that the Zabrak was using the seventh form, Juyo, as the basis of his style. Combined with the young Zabrak's good athletic abilities, this forced Revan to move actively to block or avoid the blows in time.
Catching another lunge with a glancing block, the knight of the Old Republic made a wide sweep of his blade, grazing his opponent's right shoulder, and immediately rolled away from the counter-attack.
The opponents separated.
The Zabrak hissed in pain, clutching his scorched wound. Revan, on the other hand, didn't even lose his breath, rationally using his strength.
"So, where are you from, boy? Iridonia?" the ancient used the pause for conversation.
"None of your business!" the Sith retorted.
"I'm just curious, where does such a gifted fencer come from?" the experienced intriguer added a bit of flattery. "Don't you want your opponent to know the name of his executioner before he dies? So that the terror in his eyes has a name?"
The Zabrak's eyes flashed yellow. He clearly craved this. Dark side adepts, especially young ones, were so easily provoked.
"My name is Darth Maul!" the enemy proudly lifted his chin.
Meanwhile, Revan noted that at this very moment, he could easily have severed the horned head with a precise throw of his sword.
"Darth?" the former Sith repeated.
The opponent merely grinned in response.
Under his mask, Revan frowned. This was sheer audacity! To claim the title of Darth, being a snot-nosed acolyte in terms of strength and training! Even if he was quite capable, even gifted in fencing and able to hide his aura better than Qui-Gon, but still! By the standards of the old Sith Empire, he was an acolyte! He didn't even reach the level of a Lord.
The next moment, a Force wave flew at Revan, which was apparently supposed to knock him down. The ancient took the blow, simply absorbing it.
Maul's stunned face caused another sigh of disappointment, and the former dark lord couldn't help it, snapping his gloved forehead with a click.
"A simple, basic absorption technique, also known as Resistance," he commented calmly. "Second year of youngling training. It allows you to block or absorb directed shockwaves and relatively weak Force techniques."
The Sith roared and attacked, apparently deciding he was being mocked.
The new stream of blows was easily parried, as Revan could now read the opponent's movements without difficulty.
Suddenly, a second scarlet blade ignited, and with a triumphant laugh, Maul accelerated.
However, his staff was pinned to the ground in a hard block, and the armored mask was pressed directly into the painted face.
"A lightsaber staff is greatly overrated," Revan commented calmly, while his opponent got to his feet. "I've told Bastila this a thousand times. The fact that there are two blades doesn't mean you have an advantage. You can only grip the central part, which doesn't give an advantage in weapon length. And the fact that the blades are rigidly fixed in one line allows you to easily track the second blade by the position of the first."
"Shut up!" the Zabrak barked, lunging into battle again.
A lunge, a rebound, a wide sweep, and a series of quick strikes from different sides. Revan dodged most of them, blocking only a small part and responding with a few quick strikes and a sharp move behind the opponent. No matter how hard the enemy tried, he missed a blow to the leg. The silver blade pricked his thigh, piercing it through.
The ancient noted that his opponent barely used dark side techniques, except for amplification and a weak manifestation of dark fury.
"Maybe he doesn't know how?" he thought, dodging another blow.
Deciding to test his theory, Revan channeled a Force lightning through his sword and struck the opponent with an electric discharge in a wide sweep. The Sith, who had dodged to the side, did not expect that the purple lightning that broke off from the end of the plasma loop would reach him.
However, to the former Jedi's surprise, the Zabrak stoically endured the pain and even managed to quickly overcome the spasms. This suggested that his teacher often used lightning as punishment.
"How typical," he chuckled.
The assassin was gradually running out of steam, it could be felt. As a master of the seventh form, Revan knew perfectly well how quickly Juyo exhausted the body if it wasn't fueled by the Force. The Sith, apparently, had lost concentration and was increasingly succumbing to fear. After all, he clearly hadn't expected to meet such an opponent.
"Well, perhaps now we can talk?" Revan suggested. "As you understand, I'm not exactly a Jedi."
Lightning shot from the ancient's fingers and struck the sand under the Zabrak's feet, as if demonstrating that he too had the dark side on his side.
"Who are you?" the opponent asked, with a hint of interest breaking through the hatred in his voice.
"Someone who wouldn't mind talking to your master," Revan said, demonstratively deactivating his lightsaber.
"What?"
"Do you have hearing problems too?" the ancient asked, applying a little Force, which made the Zabrak gasp for breath. "I don't think I hit you in the ears."
"Are you... a Sith Lord?" Maul croaked.
"Your mother! Do they really not listen here at all?" the former Jedi roared mentally.
"I am something more," he replied, bringing his anger under control.
The Zabrak turned off his sword.
"I see you understand that you're no match for me yet," Revan said, tilting his head slightly.
"Yes," Maul nodded. "I'm not so foolish as to go against such a master. Especially without my teacher's order."
"Listen to me very carefully," the ancient one pressed again with the Force, "You will leave Tatooine and deliver a message from me to your... teacher. If the Sith haven't completely lost their minds, he's somewhere closer to the center of power. Which means he can meet you on Coruscant. I'm setting up a meeting there for him. We'll set the date and time through your communicator, the contact for which you will give me now."
"But..."
"Forget about the Jedi. They are under protection... for now."
"Alright," Maul rasped, unable to withstand such a Force push from such a powerful Force-sensitive.
Pressing a few buttons on his wrist, the Sith pulled out a plastic card with an identifier and tossed it to Revan. Revan caught it with the Force and pulled it into his open palm.
"Can I go?"
"Yes," the victor nodded. "And think, isn't it time to change teachers who can't properly prepare their students?"
The Zabrak froze for a moment, then gave a respectful bow and hobbled towards his speeder.
Watching the silhouette of the aircraft recede towards the horizon, Revan pondered whether he had done the right thing by letting this dark one go.
On the one hand, it was a mistake. Any enemy not killed today will return tomorrow stronger and try to get revenge. That is the way of the Sith.
But, on the other hand, the guy had potential, and he could still be forged into an ally. Strangely enough, it's almost always possible to make a balanced light one out of a dark one. He knows the dark side and can resist its temptations. But Jedi raised in a greenhouse... faced with darkness, they don't even understand what to expect. And, as a result, they simply lose their minds, becoming the very insane monsters they scare Padawans with.
Lost in thought, Revan almost missed the rapid approach of another Force-sensitive's aura. Realizing they were moving towards him, and already close, he reflexively activated his blade, turning to face the threat and assuming the basic stance of the seventh form.
The silver blade pointed directly at Qui-Gon's chest, who held the hilt of a green lightsaber in his hands. Surprise mixed with disbelief was reflected on his face. A second later, it turned to shock.
"That mask... that aura... it can't be..." the Jedi whispered.
Revan mentally cursed, realizing that not everyone in the Order had forgotten the ancient legends.