Like any other commander... however, like any reasonable person, Revan perfectly understood that a cruiser is better than a freighter. Especially a cruiser that he knew inside and out. Even though the deck layout had changed slightly after the crash and incomplete restoration, the former Jedi still felt quite comfortable.
To Revan's great joy, the old training room, equipped at his request on the third residential deck during the Mandalorian Wars, was perfectly preserved. For a week now, he and Anakin had been training here. The boy had learned to ignore the emanations of the Dark Side that permeated "Obsidian" and had taken a new confident step in his training. Revan's meditations and instructions helped him quickly recover after the incident on Mandalore, when the boy, consciously and looking into his opponent's eyes, took his opponent's life for the first time. Face to face and with a sword in hand. One swing, one blow... one dead man. But Skywalker took it harder not the fight itself and its logical outcome, but the sensation that swept through the Force and struck his unprepared gifted mind like a blacksmith's hammer. To feel the death of an opponent... was terrifying, disgusting, scary, and... painful. Anakin also felt an echo of the feelings experienced by the killed. It threw him off balance... It made him look at the Force and training from a completely new angle. Did Skywalker need it at all? Would he go mad if his first fight left such a mark on him?
Fortunately, the mentor calmed the young Padawan, explaining some of the subtleties of interacting with the Force in combat. And, in particular, teaching him to close his mind to external interference and filter the flow of information that the connection with the Force brings.
More than a week of exercises in controlling his own mind and meditating at every free moment helped Anakin calm down and return to his usual routine. The training continued.
And today, Revan intended to assess his student's progress in the art of swordsmanship... Or rather, he intended to, but upon leaving his cabin, he encountered a Mandalorian from the Nomad clan.
"Tyra? Did you want something?" Revan asked, slightly surprised by her early visit.
Since that day, almost a week ago, when Tyra told Revan about her experiences, they had barely seen each other. He wanted to talk to her the day after the Jedi left, but Nomad didn't open the door. He noticed her in the corridors a few times, but before he could speak, the girl disappeared from sight. And now she had come herself.
She came, froze at the threshold, and remained silent.
"Tyra?" Revan addressed her again, when after a minute the girl hadn't uttered a word, still standing motionless at the cabin threshold in full armor.
The former Jedi's voice made her flinch almost imperceptibly. Nomad slightly raised her head, looking into Revan's eyes. Even through the T-shaped visor of the Mandalorian helmet, Revan felt that gaze. An uncertain, anxious look with a hint of hidden hope.
Taking a deep breath, Tyra lowered her head and, clicking the latches, removed her helmet. Her scarlet hair, like flashes of crimson fire, shot upwards and settled in even strands, barely reaching her shoulders. From under her furrowed brows, eyes the color of blood with a golden iris, which seemed to even glow slightly, stared at Revan. The former Sith involuntarily stared. These small "solar eclipses" in the Mandalorian's eyes... were mesmerizing.
Revan shook his head, dispelling the enchantment. Suddenly, he realized that the feeling of warmth that washed over him and the desire to pull Nomad closer... was not his own. It was an echo of Tyra's own emotions that broke through to Revan, bypassing all his defenses. The former Sith was distracted for a moment, trying to understand how this had even happened? And it was at this moment that the girl took advantage, grabbed Revan by the collar, pulled him close, and kissed him.
Heartbeat... another... a third... Revan opened his eyes, which had been closed for the first second, and, grabbing Tyra by the shoulders, pushed her away to arm's length.
"What the hell was that?" Revan hissed, trying to regain his shaken composure.
Tyra surprised and... caught him off guard. After his resurrection, the former Sith had gotten used to his new young body, and therefore forgot about some nuances of youth. Mizar Marr, whose body Revan had taken over, was not spoiled by female attention. Forced to hide from his father's enemies... and from his allies too, the young man had been deprived of any normal communication. But the growing body of a half-human, half-Miraluka didn't care about the young man's circumstances. Miraluka developed faster than humans and entered puberty much earlier. The hurricane of hormones raging in his blood was inherited by Revan along with the body, and the former Jedi spent more than a week meditating in an attempt to curb his rebellious flesh and restore clarity to his thoughts.
But the body responded to Tyra's provocation, sweeping away self-control, which prevented Revan from reacting before Tyra's lips touched him.
But the moment of weakness passed. Control was re-established, and Tyra found herself alone with a furious Sith Lord, whose eyes now shone with gold even brighter than her own.
"I asked, what was that?" Revan said in an icy tone, and sparks ran through the fingers holding Nomad by the shoulders, shaking the woman who was staring at the terrifyingly beautiful dark lord.
Tyra flinched and dropped her hands from her shoulders. In the first moments, the girl's face looked confused, and the changing blue hue of her skin betrayed her excitement. However, after just a moment, Nomad returned to the image of a confident mercenary. Her shoulders straightened, her chin slightly raised, her face deliberately emotionless.
"Mandalorian women forge their own happiness, like the first masters of beskar and the blacksmiths of antiquity who learned to turn raw ore into beskar. We choose a companion only once, creating a union that only death can break. And I don't care that I'm not a born Mandalorian! I don't care about the upbringing of the Aristocra and the entire Dominion down to the last Chiss! I don't care what brought us together! Whether it's fate, money, chance, or your damned Force, I don't care. But I can't fight what has come over me... I don't want to fight it. I want to be with you. Always. And what happened now is just a sign of my intentions... I won't apologize. I hope you understand. I express my emotions better through actions than words," her voice sounded even and confident, but the dark blue spots on the Chiss girl's face betrayed her excitement.
"And my opinion in this matter is not taken into account?" Revan hissed in response.
The anger gradually subsided, allowing his thoughts to form a smooth stream again. The conversation with Canderous after their arrival on Rekkiad and meeting Vila Ordo even came to mind. Until that moment, Canderous had never mentioned that he was married. The Mandalorian then told Revan the story of his voluntary exile and renunciation of leadership in the clan. Vila took over as head in his place, although she considered herself betrayed by her husband. Divorce is not provided for in Mandalorian traditions, so even while wandering the galaxy and, frankly, not denying himself female affection, Canderous remained married to Vila. And after their reunion on Rekkiad... well, Vila then put the question bluntly, forcing her husband to make a choice - to join... or perhaps just return to her and start a new war with the Republic, or to side with Revan and perish with him. Hmm, divorce on Mandalore is still possible... albeit in a radical way.
The sight of the frowning, breath-holding blue-skinned girl waiting for an answer helped the former Sith calm down completely. Clan and family for Mandalorians always stood, if not first, then somewhere close to it. And Revan understood that the choice of a companion in such a society should be treated with all seriousness... but, Great Force, these traditions are thousands of years old! Yes, during the Old Republic, Mandalorian clans desperately tried to preserve their traditions and clung to them with all their might in an effort to save fragments of their own culture. And it is quite possible that Tyra was raised according to the templates that Canderous Ordo bequeathed to his descendants. But Revan himself is not a Mandalorian. He knows their customs, knows their culture, but does not consider himself one of them. He is a Jedi... he is a Sith... he is also used to forging his own destiny... although he understood that he was only deceiving himself with these thoughts.
There is no fate - there is the Force. Any coincidences are just manifestations of the Force. And any attempts to fight it and refuse what is destined for you by providence anyway are meaningless. The outcome is the same, no matter what you do.
Revan exhaled loudly. In such moments, he sincerely understood and immensely respected Kreia. Mentor... hated the Force. Hated the helplessness of the entire galaxy before this invisible power, which would still turn events in the direction it knew and only it knew, simply grinding all dissenters in the process. Jedi, Sith... all gifted are dependent on the Force...
However, Revan disagreed with Kreia on one point. Yes, he truly admitted that the gifted are dependent on the Force... but the Force also depends on the gifted. There are billions of gifted people in the galaxy, and only a small percentage are truly trained. But all are connected. The Force connects everything. This mystical energy permeates every bit of this world, even if not everywhere equally... saturated and dense, but the Force is everywhere. Even the "dead" Nathema retains its faint echoes.
All gifted people instinctively pass the Force through themselves. But they not only take something, but also give. And after death, they merge with the Force without a trace. So, doesn't this unity affect the Force as a whole at all? Not at all? And do worlds and artifacts become imbued with the Dark Side on their own, and not because of the actions of the gifted who have defiled them? The healing gardens in the Temple on Coruscant also heal on their own, and do not help healers who have saturated the artifacts with the life-giving Light of the Force for generations. Revan was sure that one affects the other. Always. The Force and life in the galaxy are inseparable. That's why he strived for balance. After all, light is not always pleasant either. Especially if it is filled with icy indifference.
Such a vicious circle, in which there are no masters, but there are slaves.
And Tyra Nomad was currently following the Force. After all, Revan also felt the emerging connection. A thin and immature thread, forming the basis for future Force Bonds. And an unprepared mind would find it very difficult to distinguish the attraction that Bonds awaken from the romantic infatuation described in books. Add sympathy, a bit of natural bodily reactions, and you get an intoxicating cocktail that can cloud the mind of even a Mandalorian mercenary, raised in two worlds - the aristocratic Dominion, divided into castes, and the warlike Mandalore, which values valor.
Revan felt a slight pang of shame. He shouldn't have gotten so worked up. Tyra was just confused. She needed guidance, training, and practice, not the anger of an enraged Sith, who was offended by the Mandalorian's willfulness, who had unceremoniously invaded his personal space... where only one person could enter without permission... and whose touch he had not felt for too long.
"I'm not asking for any reciprocal actions, promises, or an answer right now. I just decided to be honest with myself and inform you. As you know, secrecy in such matters does not lead to good," Tyra's voice trembled betrayingly, showing Revan how tense the girl was.
Although her emotions were already an open book to him.
"Never do that without explicit consent," Revan gritted out, his eyes returning to their usual color.
"Understood," Tyra nodded seriously.
Revan tiredly rubbed his eyes. This was not the morning he had expected.
"This is like a declaration of war..." Nomad said very quietly, looking away.
"What? War?" Revan asked.
"Yes. Because love is almost war, right? And starting a war without a declaration is unworthy."
Revan barely found the strength to suppress a burst of laughter. Tyra's face was too serious, her skin tone gradually changing to dark blue.
The mercenary needed to be saved. And as soon as possible, before she came up with new complications and... "combat operations," succumbing to the influence of the emerging connection. The former Jedi flatly refused to believe that the feelings that had engulfed Tyra were sincere. After all, the Mandalorian herself was in turmoil, not understanding what was happening to her.
"Tyra, now you need to exhale, try to calm down, and listen to me."
The mercenary nodded and put on an expression of extreme concentration.
The former Sith fought laughter again. It wasn't the right moment. He couldn't laugh now.
"What you are experiencing now is the result of increased contact with the Force," Revan began.
The girl frowned.
"Explain?" she asked.
The former Jedi briefly told Tyra about the Bonds and the effect of the Force itself on the gifted, especially the unprepared. About the influence of feelings and emotions on interaction with the Force and about the dangers for the mind of the gifted. And not only from the Dark Side. Along the way, he tried to suppress the connection that was trying to influence his own feelings. It wasn't easy to do, because the Mandalorian's emotions were very bright... like the first conscious feeling of something more than sympathy or youthful infatuation. Only she would not receive the desired response from Revan... until he himself wished it.
"So you're saying that all... this," the girl waved her hand, encompassing her flushed face, "is caused not by my suddenly awakened feelings for you, but by the result of a lack of preparation and corresponding training?"
Revan nodded.
"Hmm... Then this makes the scene that happened earlier the most awkward situation in my life... As is what is happening now..." Tyra buried her face in her hands, growling dully.
It seemed the enchantment had receded, returning the mercenary's sanity. It seemed Revan's manipulations with their still weak connection had yielded results. Or perhaps Nomad's self-control had kicked in belatedly.
"You... didn't do anything wrong," Revan tried to encourage the girl.
Tyra snorted sarcastically in response.
"Really."
"Yeah. Burst into a cabin and brazenly kiss, violating all norms of decency, and even talk some nonsense about war - that's, damn it, normal?! It's scary to imagine what's NOT normal and reprehensible for you then. If I had knocked you out and done something indecent while you were bound?" Nomad blurted out.
"You couldn't..."
"Want to check?" the girl snarled.
For a moment, Revan even thought her golden eye color had become a little brighter.
"I'll refrain," Revan said, raising his hands in an apologetic gesture.
The girl rubbed her face with her hands and nervously ruffled her hair, dispelling her embarrassment and returning her appearance to that of a Mandalorian warrior.
"What should I do?" Straightening up and squaring her shoulders, she asked calmly.
"Study. I'll teach you..."
Revan himself didn't understand why he said that. He already had two students. And taking an adult woman as a student was reckless. Even offering such a thing was the height of foolishness! Jedi didn't train adults... although there were exceptions. Maul was slightly older than Tyra, but he came to Revan already prepared, gifted with an understanding of the Force and methods of working with it. Tyra, however, was like a blank slate, with a definite talent for Battle Meditation. The former Jedi had never encountered anything like it. No, he had trained adults... but not from scratch. With Tyra, he would have to work like with Anakin. To quickly bring her up to the required level, without dwelling on the ideology of Force adepts, which a fully formed Mandalorian warrior woman would perceive with hostility. Oh, yes. The fact that Tyra was a Chiss, raised by Mandalorians, added a special piquancy to his decision. Yes, a decision indeed. He would definitely teach Tyra the ways of the Nomad and help her develop her talent. After all, he knew a recognized master of Battle Meditation very well... and remembered a lot...
"You'll teach me?" Nomad asked again.
Revan didn't miss the hidden hope in her voice.
"I will," he nodded in response and froze, replaying the whole situation in his thoughts.
A third student... a female student... He hadn't trained girls since the time of Meetra and Juhani. Bastila, during their brief family life on Coruscant, used to joke about his completely wrong approach to teaching, in which the Jedi made no distinction between students. And Revan still didn't understand what amused her so much... and what he was doing wrong? After all, all his students showed excellent results.
Mentally, Revan encouraged himself, remembering Meetra and Juhani. He would manage.
"When?" Tyra asked impatiently.
Revan didn't think for long. At that very moment, Anakin should have been waiting for him for the morning lightsaber training. The boy was still using a vibroblade, but he showed good progress. Shi-Cho came to Skywalker even too easily. Although the first form, when performed with a full metal weapon, looked somewhat strange, Revan was able to appreciate Anakin's talent. It was time to move on to training with more traditional weapons.
It would be useful for Tyra to observe Skywalker's growth. After all, the last time she saw him train was over a month ago, and the boy had progressed considerably since then.
"Now. Let's go," Revan called Tyra to follow him.
Without further ado, Nomad followed her new mentor.
They reached the training hall quickly. Tyra put her helmet back on, once again hiding her face. Revan just shook his head. She would have to part with her helmet anyway. The Force was poorly felt and directed if the body was covered in armor. Especially Mandalorian armor. Revan was long accustomed to armor, but even his set consisted of a limited number of items. A chest plate, bracers, and boots – that was all. No helmet, so as not to limit sensory perception. Tyra would have to switch to flexible armor if she wanted to achieve anything in her training.
In the training hall, Anakin was already warming up under the watchful guidance of HK-47. However, the young man had long been accustomed to the assassin droid and its methods of motivation.
"Teacher!" Skywalker got up from the floor and bowed to Revan, observing the basic rules of etiquette he had managed to hear during the few days he had to spend in the Temple on Coruscant.
"Good morning, Anakin. Ready for training?" Revan asked with a slight smile.
"Of course!" the boy exclaimed enthusiastically.
"Excellent. Tyra will help you," the mentor gestured to the Mandalorian.
Skywalker looked at the mercenary with surprise.
"Me?!" Nomad was taken aback.
"Are you trained in the use of melee weapons?" Revan clarified with Tyra, nodding towards the rack of vibroblades.
"Every Mandalorian is trained in the use of ANY weapon," Tyra spat out, and Revan was ready to swear that the girl was glaring at him with malice, hidden behind her helmet's visor.
The question was superfluous. Tyra had even trained Anakin herself several times. But Revan needed to bring the student into the right state. After all, this would be a lesson, not a brawl in a bar.
"Then take a weapon and stand opposite Anakin. Only swords, no tricks, active Force abilities, or Mandalorian 'surprises'. The vibro-cells have been removed from the blades, and the edges have been dulled..."
"I'm in armor," Nomad said casually.
"All the better for you," Revan grinned.
"I'll cripple the kid..."
Skywalker looked offended. The mercenary's comment had clearly insulted him. Well, he would have a chance to demonstrate the full depth of Nomad's misconceptions.
"Anakin, remember control," Revan gave his final instructions.
"Yes, teacher."
"Good. Begin!"
Tyra delivered a vertical strike. The simplest, most basic, without embellishments.
"What the..." the mercenary whispered, realizing that the target was not where she had struck, and something had pushed her ribs from the left side with palpable force.
Anakin had shifted half a step to the side when Tyra's blade had only begun to descend. A lunge forward and a horizontal, sliding strike under the ribs was executed cleanly, as if by instruction.
Tyra turned, immediately starting a new attack. Their blades even touched for a moment, producing a prolonged ringing, immediately interrupted by the collision of Anakin's blade with Nomad's gauntlet. The mercenary was hit on the arm, and the next moment, her ribs on the right side felt a muffled blow through the armor.
The girl didn't understand what was happening. By her estimation, she surpassed the child in speed and strength by at least an order of magnitude! But here was reality – the little scoundrel moved like the tentacles of a hungry Sarlacc! He bent and dodged blows like a snake, instantly closing the distance and striking. Where did such speed come from? And the strength? She felt the blows through the armor! What was Revan feeding this little monster? Round after round, the Mandalorian lost. She managed to catch the kid a few times through experience, but the brat adapted quickly. He seemed to sense her every move and knew the point of impact even before Tyra tensed her muscles and began her swing.
"Enough," Revan stopped the training fight, interrupting the Mandalorian warrior's disgrace.
Unwittingly, Tyra recalled her fight with Revan on Tatooine. Back then, she had used her entire arsenal and experience, but all she managed to do was escape. If a Jedi student was capable of moving like that, then what about his teacher? The girl suddenly realized that Revan had simply been having fun that day. Playing with her like a Cathar cat with a mouse. He wanted to take her alive...
As never before, the gap in capabilities between the gifted and those devoid of Force sensitivity became obvious to her. A ten-year-old had demonstrated it to her vividly.
Earlier, when she saw Revan or Maul in battle, or encountered gifted individuals herself as part of her mercenary work, it wasn't so noticeable. After all, they were already experienced warriors, who had gone through dozens of battles, years of training... But here was a boy who had learned about the Force only a few months ago!
"Did you like it?" Revan asked, ruffling Skywalker's hair.
"Very much!" Anakin exclaimed joyfully, although the question, judging by his gaze, was not intended for him.
"How... What was that? Some kind of Jedi tricks?" the Mandalorian's voice clearly showed irritation.
"The Force," Revan answered briefly.
"What?"
"It was the Force. More precisely, its effect on the human body when bones and tissues are strengthened by Force energy. A passive ability in the Jedi's arsenal. It's taught almost first, so that further training is easier for students."
"I also used foresight a little... not on purpose," Skywalker lowered his gaze, feigning false modesty, while his emotions were triumphant.
"Well done. Excellent execution of the first sword form," Revan praised his student.
Tyra gritted her teeth.
"Now we'll change the conditions a bit. Tyra, you can stop holding back and use your arsenal. Everything except the flamethrower – I need my student alive," Revan declared.
Nomad snorted but took a fighting stance.
She missed the first attack, as well as the second. But that was the plan. On the third swing, Skywalker's legs were entangled by a thin polymer cable, which Tyra immediately yanked with force, knocking Anakin to the floor. The boy quickly got back on his feet, but only to go into a defensive posture. The fall had clearly disrupted Skywalker's concentration. However, the former slave from Tatooine managed to take control of the fight and go on the offensive... or so it seemed to him, until the magnetic bolas thrown past him wrapped his arms to his body, hitting him from behind.
Tyra actually enjoyed this fight. Especially the moment when the boy, already confident in his superiority, met her gaze with a tiny ball in her open palm on an outstretched hand. The small flash-bang grenade, which was what the ball turned out to be, blinded the boy. The mercenary would probably keep his bewildered face and wide eyes as a well-deserved trophy. She herself was protected by her helmet, which automatically darkened the visor a few moments before the explosion, while Revan was saved by his experience. Now the latter was without his mask, so he had to quickly cover his eyes and ears. And when he looked again at the improvised arena of the training hall, Skywalker was lying on his back, covering his face with his hands and trying to rub his eyes while Tyra's vibroblade was pressed against his chest.
"Enough," Revan stopped the fight.
Anakin was clearly unable to continue. Enhanced perception had played a cruel trick on him. The flash and bang caused sensory shock, completely knocking the boy off balance.
"Excellent fight," the former Jedi praised both combatants.
A slight smile appeared on his face. For some reason, watching Tyra and Anakin's training bout, Revan remembered Dantooine... His own training. Or rather, his repeated training and daily duels with Bastila. Oh, how she used to beat him with a training blade at first! With feeling, with imagination! Back then, Revan hadn't yet learned... or rather, remembered, how to infuse his body with the Force, how to accelerate perception, and how, damn it, to parry Shim and Sun Jem when they were combined, so that the abrasions on his hands didn't have time to heal. However, a few weeks later, the situation became diametrically opposite, and it was Bastila who had to rub the bruises where Revan's sword had landed after each fight.
Why did he remember this now? Tyra again? A delusion because of their connection... he should spend more time meditating.
"So, I think you both managed to learn something useful from this duel. Right?" Revan asked with a smile.
Anakin nodded, while Tyra shrugged.
Well, good. He could start with an official Padawan.
"Anakin, what did you understand during the second duel?"
Skywalker thought, frowning his childish forehead amusingly.
"Probably that I still have a lot to learn and that a sword isn't always useful in combat... Especially when the opponent... cheats," the boy said, glancing at the mercenary.
"Shows tactical cunning and wit, kid," Tyra retorted with a smirk.
Revan liked the answer. Anakin was beginning to analyze his actions and curb his excessive ego, fueled by rapid progress and success. He even admitted that he needed to learn more.
"A correct thought, Anakin. Having just begun to master Shi-Cho, the very first and simplest form of sword fighting, you suddenly decided you had become a strong swordsman. Don't deny it. Your behavior in the first fight clearly demonstrated this. You studied the methods of enhancement and acceleration, which gave you an advantage even over a physically more developed opponent in the form of a trained mercenary. And you lost vigilance, for which you paid during the second duel. Mandalorians are not the only ones who use tricks and cunning in combat. If you can't keep a cool head, you'll lose it very soon. And I wouldn't want that," Revan chided the boy.
Skywalker bowed his head. Displeasure flickered in his emotions, but the boy humbly accepted his mentor's rightness and wisdom. Well done.
"Now, Tyra. You have a different problem. You are used to relying on armor and the skills you were taught by the Mandalorians. Including methods of fighting the gifted, in which your people have perhaps progressed further than any other race. But you don't yet understand the possibilities of the Force and act according to learned combinations and techniques. But believe me, they only work with inexperienced gifted individuals. Give Anakin three days, and he won't fall for old tricks anymore. Give him a week, and he will defeat you even without any restrictions."
"I doubt it..." Tyra snorted.
"If you wish, we can have a training duel with me," Revan offered.
Nomad shook her head almost without thinking and apologized for her lack of restraint. The scenes of battles on Mandalore, when her kin could do nothing against Revan in close combat, were still too vivid in her memory. Perhaps Fett would have accepted such a challenge, but Tyra admitted that she was still far from Mandalore.
"All right, then we'll work on your weak spots. We'll start with meditations to teach you to feel the Force. And from tomorrow, you will begin sword training. Believe me, it will be useful. You will not only be able to hone your skills but also get used to consciously operating the Force in combat," Revan explained.
"I..." Tyra wanted to object to something, but was interrupted by Revan.
"You asked me to teach you, didn't you? I am teaching."
The former Sith felt her displeasure. Indeed, a seasoned mercenary was being forced to learn the basics again, and in the company of a child. However, after the fight, Nomad's irritation subsided. After all, a demonstration is always useful.
"All right. I will learn," the Mandalorian nodded in agreement, "Only I don't understand any of your sorcerer meditations."
"Nothing, everything happens for the first time. You have a good foundation. Your movements are precise, and your style resembles something between Soresu and Djem So. You were clearly taught to fight multiple opponents, and not just with swords, right?" Revan said thoughtfully, walking around Tyra.
"Yes. My mentors said I should only grab a sword when the charges run out. And it's unlikely there would be only one opponent," Nomad explained in agreement.
"And you were taught to hold a weapon in both hands. It's visible. The left hand follows the right very smoothly and naturally. Only a dagger is missing."
"I trained with paired beskad."
Revan nodded.
"Then we'll add Jar Kai to the program. This technique will fit your skills very organically. But you'll have to train with metal weapons for now. A lightsaber without basic Force abilities is dangerous, primarily to its owner," Revan said instructively.
Tyra snorted, and Anakin smiled.
"You'll be like me," the boy almost stuck his tongue out at the Mandalorian.
It was so childish that Nomad laughed out loud briefly, but quickly regained her composure.
"And you, Anakin, it's time for you to move on to lightsaber training. You have already mastered the basics of melee weapons and fencing. But if you continue training with a vibroblade, it will take longer to get used to a lightsaber later."
Revan remembered how he himself was trained. The youngling assembled his own lightsaber only when he was close to the rank of Padawan, but he started training with training models much earlier. After all, there is a big difference in feel and application between a vibroblade and a lightsaber. If an inexperienced fencer touches a metal blade, they will cut themselves. If they touch the plasma arc of a lightsaber, the poor fellow might lose a limb. At one time, the HoloNet often featured news about unfortunate idiots who had somehow obtained lightsaber blueprints, or even the weapons of the gifted. Without a drop of Force ability, most of them quickly ended up in the hospital with burns and missing body parts. Losing one's head trying to repeat some Ataru form move was the simplest thing.
"I'll get a lightsaber?!" Skywalker exclaimed joyfully.
The boy was floating. His emotions overwhelmed him, leaving no trace of concentration. He wasn't showing any seriousness about this at all!
"Sooner or later," Revan added grimly.
Anakin caught the change in his mentor's mood and hurried to convince him of his own readiness and responsibility.
"Well, we'll see," Revan chuckled, "Come here."
The former Jedi called his student to him. With a practiced movement, he unbuckled one of his blades from his belt and handed it to Skywalker, hilt first. Among the Jedi, handing over one's own sword to anyone was considered a gesture of the greatest trust. An expression of loyalty. Most often, the mentor would temporarily hand over his blade to the student. Revan had long since left the Order, but something stirred in his soul as he handed the sword to Anakin, not even intending to give it for longer than a couple of minutes.
"Take it. But be careful. Activate it and try to swing it," Revan instructed his student.
Skywalker, with reverence in his eyes, took the weapon he had long dreamed of from his mentor's hands. Ever since he learned about the Jedi who fought injustice and freed slaves. He dreamed of becoming one of them... and then freeing all the slaves on Tatooine... Only a few months ago, he was so naive...
Now, the boy carefully but firmly gripped the hilt in his hands and pressed the activation button. The silver blade shone in Anakin's hands, as if illuminating the already quite bright hall even more.
With a smile on his face, the boy tried to deliver a vertical strike at an imaginary opponent, but almost fell forward when the sword almost twisted out of his hands, going somewhere to the side.
"Whoa!" he exclaimed when Revan grabbed his hands and deactivated the sword.
"This is the so-called gyroscopic effect caused by the circulation of the plasma loop. The faster you swing, the more acutely you feel it," Revan explained.
"Wow..."
"Try again, but this time channel a little Force through the blade. When you feel resistance, don't be afraid. The crystals in the hilt were processed by me personally, they are, so to speak, tuned to me and resonate in sync with my Force. Since each gifted person works with the Force a little differently, using someone else's weapon can be uncomfortable or even unpleasant. In some cases, the blade cannot even be activated in someone else's hands," Revan added.
The former Sith remembered what Kreia had told him about crystals. Revan himself had never encountered someone unable to activate a sword simply because the crystals didn't suit them, but his mentor claimed it was possible.
Meanwhile, Skywalker reignited the blade and moved it from side to side a little. Then he frowned and swung the blade diagonally. The sword precisely followed the movement set by Anakin, its tip lightly scraping the floor.
"Whoa! It's so light!" Skywalker exclaimed, staring at the still-activated sword.
Revan thoughtfully rubbed his chin. Then he glanced at HK-47, who stood silently in the corner. The droid occupied this "observation post" every training session, as soon as it finished warming up, and waited there until Revan's lesson ended... But only to drag the resisting boy to the shooting range for his own shooting lesson.
"Anakin, prepare yourself. Concentrate on your surroundings. HK is about to shoot you in the leg..." Revan said calmly.
"Uh... What?!" the boy yelled, becoming very nervous.
"Joyful anticipation: I am ready, Master!" HK was immediately beside Revan.
The droid already had a blaster gleaming steel in its hands.
"Calm down, Anakin, and concentrate. Try to feel where the shot will be directed. You've already been given a hint, protect your legs," Revan said.
Another small test of the student's abilities. The first steps of combat foresight. Younglings are taught this at the age of four. But there was another point here, the reaction to which the mentor wanted to see.
Can he cope with fear – good, if not... also not bad. There would be something to work on.
"But..."
"HK, shoot Anakin in the left leg. Just a straight shot, without using anti-Force user protocols. And no maiming. Understood?" Revan finished grimly, realizing that HK would find a loophole in the wording.
"Joyfully: Yes, Master!"
Three shots... HK fired three shots instead of one. Three lightning-fast shots, whose sounds merged into one prolonged hum. And, to Revan's surprise, Anakin deflected the first, then slightly shifted his blade and placed it in the path of the second shot. He parried the third with Revan's black blade. Otherwise, Skywalker would have lost his kneecap.
"HK..." Revan turned his grim gaze to the assassin droid.
"Hasty explanation: I didn't hit him, Master! No injuries inflicted. The little bag of meat is perfectly fine."
"Because I intervened," the former Jedi added.
"Surprised remark: Could it have been otherwise, Master?"
There was no arguing with that. Revan would indeed not have stood aside if there was a threat... which he demonstrated. The droid simply calculated this probability and acted within the order. Someday he would reprogram HK... probably.
"Impressive," Tyra chuckled, "Well done, kid."
Anakin beamed with a smile. A moment ago, he stood there, stunned, looking at the silver blade in his hands, but after Tyra's words, he suddenly realized what had happened. He had deflected the shots! With a sword! Himself!
"Indeed, not bad," Revan nodded and ruffled the student's hair.
"Thank you!" Skywalker almost jumped in place.
"However, it could have been better. You lacked the concentration to accelerate your body. You managed to predict all three impact points, but you didn't have time to turn the sword for the last one," the mentor added some criticism.
"Yes... I got flustered."
"Nothing. It will be corrected."
Revan extended his hand to his student. Anakin didn't immediately understand what was expected of him. However, he quickly oriented himself, following his mentor's gaze, and returned the silver blade to its owner.
"And will I have a sword...?" the boy asked timidly, suddenly becoming so quiet and submissive that even the mercenary looked at him with clear surprise, although Revan couldn't see her face.
"Yes. Only I don't have any training ones, so you'll have to build your own," Revan said with a smile.
It was possible to get a training saber. In the Order itself. As well as to assemble a new one, or, as a last resort, to replace the power cell in one of Revan's blades and limit the output power of the loop to protect the student from injury. However, sooner or later, Skywalker would have to acquire his own weapon. Why not now? True, he would still have to limit the power, otherwise he would be crippled, or cripple someone else.
"Assemble? My own!?" the student jumped up joyfully again.
He dreamed of it. A talented mechanic who had seemingly gone through all the mechanisms in Watto's shop on Tatooine, he dreamed of one day working with this magnificent and "fabulous" weapon.
"That's right. Tomorrow I will give you the training materials on constructing lightsabers, and we will discuss this issue in more detail. You will need to assemble the base within a week," Revan explained, already mentally compiling these materials into a coherent text.
He could have asked the Order to send the necessary datachron or at least a datapad with explanations, but he decided to write the assembly instructions himself. It was the right way to do it. Who knew what might have changed in four thousand years. The blades assembled by Revan still served faithfully. Wasn't that a testament to his skill?
"Why a week?" Skywalker asked, interrupting his mentor's thoughts.
"Because in a week we will arrive on Ilum and go in search of your crystal."
The training ended there. Skywalker, despite the joyful news and anticipation, went to his next lesson with a pained expression... to HK-47.
Tira walked with Revan to his cabin, asking about his plans for her training along the way. And the former Jedi tried to explain to the mercenary the importance of meditation and mind discipline in the early stages of training. However, these two things would always be important in the upcoming training, but they needed to be understood and accepted now, made into a daily routine.
Tira, remembering the morning's obsession, decided not to risk it and refused the offer to discuss the matter in more detail in Revan's cabin. No hints, no hidden subtext. He really intended to teach her meditation and mind control techniques... but Nomad preferred to play it safe. After all, she feared her own lack of restraint and impulses more.
The girl firmly decided for herself that she would achieve reciprocity from Revan, no matter what it took. She had already expressed her intentions to him, thereby forcing him to subconsciously replay this thought every time they met. Water, as they say, wears away stone. You just have to wait... not scare him away... not cause rejection. She could do that. After all, the Chiss had plenty of patience. The main thing was not to spoil everything at first.
Revan was only glad to be alone with his thoughts. Problems were multiplying, and the former Jedi could hardly keep up with reacting to everything, turning coincidences to his advantage. And were they really coincidences?
What were the chances of meeting a Force-sensitive Mandalorian? And two at once? And there were also disturbing news from Coruscant. The claws were suddenly being squeezed by local gangs, clearly under someone's careful guidance. The "Obsidian" company was fending off sanctions pushed through the Senate by the Trade Federation, and several Masters had left the Jedi Order.
But there would be time to think about all this later. For now, he should visit Tatooine and settle some disagreements with Jabba. Then fly to Ilum, and not just for the crystals. He had to fulfill a small request from the green-skinned Grand Master.
"Great Force, your turmoil is felt even on Dromund Kaas," a familiar voice sounded in the darkness of the cabin.
And in the next moment, a semi-transparent silhouette appeared in the semi-darkness of the one who, in former times, always knew how to support her friend and mentor.
"Hello, Mical," Revan greeted his old friend with a smile.
"You didn't call, but I came," the fair-haired woman, who had once been a Knight of the Order and had given her life for Revan, spread her hands.
The former Sith nodded gratefully.
"You always sensed when I needed advice," he said with a smile.
"Spill it, what has you so worried? And why are such hurricanes raging in the Force that even the members of that pale shadow of the Order on Coruscant have suddenly stirred?"
"It's a long story."
"I'm dead, and I don't have much to rush for," the fair-haired woman, whose silhouette no longer seemed so transparent, chuckled.
Obsidian was imbued with the Force, and it was not difficult for the ghost to step a little closer to the edge of life.
"Then listen."
The story turned out to be long indeed...