Before - Legends Knight of the Republic, Book I: To Battle with Darkness (SWTOR, JK Story, SPOILER WARNING)

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR STAR WARS THE OLD REPUBLIC

Title: Knight of the Republic, Book I: To Battle with Darkness
Author: Volund Starfire (aka Jason Ellenburg)
Timeframe: 3956 BBY
Characters: Volund Starfire (OC), the characters of SWTOR
Genre: Action
Summary: It is a dark era for the Jedi Order. The Sith obliterated the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and slaughtered many of the Republic's brave defenders during the last war. The surviving Jedi have withdrawn to their ancient homeworld of Tython, where they take advantage of a fragile peace to train a new generation of guardians for the galaxy. Now a new hope emerges. A young padawan strong in the Force journeys to Tython's wilderness to complete the final trials and become a Knight of the Republic....
Notes: Special thanks to Bioware for the amazing storyline that I fell in love with over a decade ago. I should have done this much sooner!

 

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PROLOGUE​

Asteroids spun above the red planet of Korriban, the ancient birthplace of the Sith. Ruins were all that remined of their evil Empire. The scene was interrupted by a Rendaran-class assault shuttle flying toward the orbital security station standing sentinel over the world.

“I swear I had no idea what was in those crates,” the smuggler, Nico Okarr, protested as he was marched between a pair of Republic Troopers and a pair of Jedi. The man wore a duster and wide-brimmed hat. A dark goatee framed his mouth and a pair of recently-acquired binders adorned his wrists. “I’m innocent!”

“You were smuggling Sith artifacts,” the Jedi BattleMaster said. He was a light-skinned Zabrak with green eyes and the crown of horns typical of his race. He wore the green armor of a Jedi Guardian with a brown robe over it.

“Fine, keep the artifacts.” Nico tried to negotiate. “Just give me back my ship!”

An attractive Twi’lek woman passed, drawing the smuggler’s attention. He turned to stare, but the armored trooper gave him a shove with his rifle.

“Eyes front,” Corporal Jace Malcolm said. His voice sounded mechanical through the vocoder of his helmet. The white plasteel of his Republic armor was gleaming in the lights even if some of the red detail paint was scuffed with wear.

“Just inspecting the troops, Corporal.” The smuggler said with a sarcastic grin.

The Jedi Consular, Padawan to Master Kao Cen, stopped and reached for her head. The shorter human woman, more of an older teen, had fair skin and blue-gray eyes. She wore her brown-black hair cut short, sporting bangs on either side of her face. Her dark green dress had gold decorative edging and a pattern that matched the silver lightstaff on her hip.

“Satele, what’s wrong?” Kao Cen asked his Padawan, putting an arm around her for support.

“I sense,” she dropped her hand and looked into her Master’s eyes, “a great darkness.”

Kao Cen looked through the transparisteel window into space, taking a couple steps toward it and focusing out at the void. He could feel it now, past the ever-present asteroids around the station. A darkness congealing out there and drawing nearer.

Without warning, six Harrower-class dreadnaughts appeared just beyond the asteroids. Their arrowhead shapes disgorging dozens of Mark VI Supremacy-class starfighters the moment they exited hyperspace. Those fighters flew at the station, targeting its defensive systems with their lasers.

“The Sith Empire has returned,” the Jedi Master exclaimed as he took a step back from the weight of the darkness beyond.

A Sith fighter’s attack struck home on a turret near the viewport causing the hallway to buck. Deck plates jumped, panels fell, and both Satele and Jace were knocked off of their feet. The other trooper grabbed Nico for both support and to keep the smuggler from running.

“We must warn the Republic,” Kao Cen said as both Satele and Jace righted themselves.

“Our shuttles can’t outrun those fighters,” the Corporal replied.

Nico cleared his throat, took a step forward, and lifted his chin with a smirk. “Well, guess who’s got the fastest ship in the sector.”

​

“Station defenses breached. All hands evacuate.” The PA was telling the group something they already knew as they ran down the hallway to the hangar. They were being chased by Sith shocktroopers who were firing without effect. Both Republic special forces soldiers spun and returned fire from the back of the group. It lightened the enemy shots, but did not stop them.

Kao Cen was first into the hall that ran to the hangar and activated his green lightsaber. Satele, right behind her Master, likewise lit both blades of her blue saberstaff. Both Jedi deflected incoming shots from a squad of Sith troops already in the hangar as Nico followed, but he stopped when the older Jedi yelled, “Stay back.”

The smuggler turned as Jace and his partner entered the hallway, still firing behind them. “Look out,” he yelled as a Sith shocktroop threw something. Both soldiers turned and ran as the grenade exploded, throwing them down the hall to fall near Nico.

The smuggler stalked toward the oncoming Sith forces as Jace removed his helmet, checking on his partner. The man was unmoving, his body shielding the Corporal from most of the explosion. Nico pulled his pistol and fired two blasts, both dropping enemies in the hall. He spun and drew his other pistol, using both to take out the rest of the squad.

A pair of Sith war droids rounded the corner and began making their way for the smuggler. Seeing this, Jace grabbed his partner’s repeating blaster and joined the Nico in blasting the two droids apart. Behind them, the Master and Padawan were finishing off the boarding party in the hangar.

Jace was first through the door, hitting the control to close it while giving Nico covering fire. The smuggler made it through as the doors shut, their closure punctuated by a blast from Jace’s repeater to slag the control panel. There was no way the Sith would be opening that door any time soon.

“My ship,” Nico complained as he saw the hangar gantry had fallen on the engines of the XS stock freighter, Redshifter. He knew the damage was only cosmetic, though.

Kao Cen deactivated his lightsaber and looked up at the damage. “Will she fly?”

“She’s not pretty, but she’s tough,” Nico responded.

Both men’s attention was drawn by the Fury-class interceptor that entered the hangar. It was larger than the Sith starfighters, but shared their design asthetic. It turned and set down on the deck, the landing struts hissing menacingly. Kao Cen felt the darkness from the ship and knew what it carried. “Captain, prep your ship. This is our fight.”

Two figures walked down the ramp. Vindican, a Sith inquisitor carried a double-lightsaber and wore a black and crimson armor that had ornate gold details on the abdomen and helmet. Malgus, the Sith warrior and apprentice to Vindican, wore a grey armor with black plates and a dark cloak. Both Sith activated their crimson blades and ran toward the Jedi.

“T7, cut the ion cannons!” Nico ordered his droid as he ran for the cockpit. It beeped and immediately wheeled for the engine room.

Both Jedi activated their lightsabers as they engaged the Sith, Master to Master and Padawan to apprentice. Malgus leaped over Satele, each attacking and parrying the other. The Sith apprentice spun to attack Kao Cen as Vindican did the same to the Padawan, both attacks again parried before they returned their attention to their original targets.

Kao Cen did a jumping attack at Vindican before sliding under the slice the Sith lord attempted to bisect him with. He returned to his feet and both Masters stabbed and dodged the attack from the other.

While Malgus was stronger than Satele, she was more agile as they dueled. He got the upper hand when he grabbed the middle of her lightsaber, kneeing her in the gut, and tossing the weapon away. He raised his blade to strike a killing blow that was intercepted by Kao Cen’s thrown saber. The Padawan leaped from the ground and kicked the pale and bald Sith apprentice away.

She drew the saber to her hand and leaped at Vindican, who hit her with Force lightning to blast her back. Using his Padawan’s distraction, Kao Cen struck Vindican with the Force, to shove the Sith Master across the hangar next to his recovering apprentice.

The Jedi Master deactivated his lightsaber as his Padawan rose and recalled hers to her hand, a look of defeat on her pained face. He reached out to her as a source of strength in the battle.

The freighter lifted off the ground and Vindican released another bolt of Force lightning, this time at the ship. The energy coursed ineffectively across the hull, but his attack was cut short. Jace fired a charged shot at the Sith from where he stood on the ship’s ramp. The inquisitor raised his hand to form a solid wall of the Force to block the shot.

“Come on!” Jace yelled to the two Jedi.

“Go Satele,” Kao Cen told his Padawan. “You must walk a different path.”

The young woman nodded as her Master turned and ran to reengage the Sith. “Master,” she yelled as she threw her lightsaber to him. The Jedi leaped and reached out with the Force to pull the weapon into his hand. He activated both of its blades as well as his own before he hit the ground between the Sith lord and his apprentice, fighting both at the same time.

Satele ran, somersaulting over debris and leaping from a fallen piece of catwalk toward the starship’s ramp. Jace dropped his weapon and grabbed the woman by the forearm, pulling her aboard and sealing the ship for space.

Nico rammed the Redshifter into the side of the Fury, damaging it and preventing it from following as he flew out of the hangar. “On those guns. Now!” he yelled back through the hall from the cockpit. Satele and Jace, following orders, climbed and descended. The trooper taking the dorsal and the Jedi the ventral.

Kao Cen, still fighting both Master and apprentice, absorbed Vindican’s lightning into his own crossed sabers before deflecting it at Malgus. A spin on one saber brought it up and across the Sith lord’s helmet, cleaving it off his head and landing a slash across his eye. The pureblood Sith was now revealed with his red skin and yellow eyes, the tendrils of his face adding to his ferocious appearance.

In space, Nico flew the Redshifter through Korriban’s asteroid belt, with both Satele and Jace blowing up Sith fighters with the ship’s turrets. The asteroids were just as deadly to the Sith fighters as the freighter’s guns, even as the freighter headed toward the line dreadnaughts.

Kao Cen got a minor opening in the hangar and angled a Force push to the floor, the wave of energy blew Malgus away so the Jedi could focus on Vindican. He deactivated one of Satele’s blades and parried the Sith double lightsaber, reactivating it a moment later in line with Vindican’s midsection.

Thought not dead, the Sith lord still fell to the floor. Vindican’s weapon, still gripped in his mortally wounded hand, was pulled from his grip into that of his apprentice. The younger Sith activated it and gave the Jedi a cross-blade salute before he stalked toward Kao Cen.

The Jedi Master, sensing that the young Sith was more dangerous now than when he fought alongside his Master, used the Force to throw debris at Malgus. The apprentice simply cut it in two. A larger piece was likewise bisected. Finally, the Jedi Master threw an entire engine assembly at the warrior, who leaped and cut it in half, the fireball surrounding him as he attacked the Jedi with both lightsabers.

Malgus battered at Kao Cen’s defenses, knocking Satele’s lightsaber from the Jedi Master’s hands. He stabbeds the Jedi in the shoulder, further reducing his ability to protect himself. The Sith struck at the at the Jedi again and again, finally disarming him and slicing through his midsection with both lightsabers.

Satele felt her Master get cut down by Malgus, causing her to falter on the guns for only a moment before she reengaged the Sith fighters. Two more were destroyed in quick succession by her shots.

Nico flew the Redshifter dangerously close to a Sith dreadnaught to keep its guns from targeting him. “Keep them off me,” he said through the intercom as Jace continued firing in the dorsal turret. “The hyperdrive is almost ready.”

The XS freighter forward guns blasted one of the Sith ship turrets, opening a hole through the superstructure. He flew in, the Sith fighters that tried to follow crashed against the exposed pipes and conduits. The Redshifter barely made it through the ship. Once on the other side, though. Nico activated the hyperdrive and the ship accelerated into freedom.

Malgus approached Vindican, who pulled himself into a kneeling position to stare at his people’s homeworld through the hangar shield. “They’ve escaped, Master. You’ve failed.”

“No, Malgus. This is only the beginning,” Vindican said through panting breaths. He squeezed his hand into a fist to emphasize his point, but the movement made him double over in pain.

“Yes. After a thousand years, Korriban is ours again.” Malgus raised his lightsaber over his Master. “Welcome home.” He slashed down as dozens of Harrower-class dreadnaughts descended into orbit of the planet.

​

Beep, beep, beep.

The Padawan opened his eyes and leaped to a standing position. He smelled the smoke and burned metal, felt the heat from the flames. The crackling of fires and hiss of torn pipes assaulted his ears. In the distance, there was blaster fire.

The young man reached out his hand and drew his weapon to it through the Force. He thumbed the activation switch and the room lit with a brilliant yellow and the crackling hiss of discharge filled the silence. It was not a lightsaber of a Jedi Knight or Master, but the electroblade training sword of a Padawan.

The practice swords of the Jedi Order were a good substitute for a lightsaber, having the same weight and balance. Rather than an arcing laser, the training saber featured a tritanium blade with four electropads that ran the length. When charged, the pads could deflect blasters and lightsabers while imparting a painful shock to anything that was struck. While normally not lethal, the power could be increased to render anyone hit unconscious.

Beep, beep, beep.

The young man was dressed only in a pair of tan and gray boxer-briefs with a wide elastic band. His over-developed musculature, from years of physical training, glowed under the yellow light of his practice saber. The cool and fresh air cleared his mind as the light of his weapon revealed the empty room he had been assigned. He felt a slight chill as he realized that he was covered in sweat.

Beep, beep, beep.

He disengaged the practice saber and rested it back against the small desk that sat at the foot of his bunk. The dim glow of the ship’s safety lighting illuminated the room and showed him that there was no Sith, open hangar, or anything of what he had just experienced. He ran a hand through his damp hair and activated the waiting comm.

“Yes,” the Padawan asked.

The image resolved itself into a young woman. There was some movement behind her, on the bridge of the starship. She wore the blue tunic of the Republic military with gray quilted shoulders. Her hair came to her jaw and looked like it was either red or light brown in the display. She had a pleasant smile that dropped into quick astonishment before she schooled her features back neutral.

“Padawan Starfire,” her voice was crisp and precise. It was the voice of a trained soldier. She looked to be in her early twenties, close to the Jedi’s age, but none of the frivolity of youth remained. “We are about half an hour out from Tython. Please meet your dropship in the hangar for transport planet-side when we reach orbit.

“Thank you,” the young man responded. His smile was met with her own as she took a not-so-subtle second look at what was visible on her screen. It deactivated a moment later, leaving Padawan Starfire in the dark once more.

He heaved a heavy sigh and thought back to the dream as he dressed. No, it did not feel like a dream. Perhaps it was a vision. But why? The Sith attack was thirty-eight years ago. Why would the Force have shown the young man such a vision? There had to be a reason.

 

Part 1
Attack of the Flesh Raiders

Chapter 1​

The Rendarin-class assault shuttle flew over the planet’s surface. It was breathtaking. The sky was a clear blue, as if the planet had never before seen industry. The high mountains were stone and rose from the horizon to touch the skies. The trees were medium height with long, thin leaves. The small lake that the shuttle crossed featured ancient statures of unnamed Jedi jutting from its waters beside massive carved stones.

The destination of the shuttle was the Masters’ Retreat. It was one of the most modern buildings on the entire planet. It features a small landing pad, perfect for a shuttle or fighter, and all the amenities necessary for Jedi Masters to relax and get away from the daily goings on of the temple.

Jedi Knight Darrin Weller, the watchman of the nearby training grounds, was busying himself with giving instructions to a trio of Padawans. The three had done some minor misdeed and ended up assigned to work at the Masters’ Retreat as a punishment. He was stern-faced, but felt that the three had indeed learned their lessons. So, he would go easy on them.

The sound of the braking thrusters on the shuttle drew the small groups’ attention. A couple Jedi Masters who had been lounging against the railing of the shuttle pad, staring off at the landscape, vacated it for somewhere quieter to contemplate whatever was vexing them.

The Republic shuttle raised its wings and lowered it’s four land legs, like a great insect. It spun, to aim the ramp toward the retreat, and set down. The legs absorbed the weight of the landing.

Knight Weller motioned for the three Padawans to get to their assigned duties, knowing this shuttle carried the passenger that he was ultimately waiting for. He walked to the top of the ramp, leading up from the landing pad, and waited for the new arrival.

The Padawan walked down from the shuttle and looked around. He wore a green shirt with a flap across the chest and a pair of trousers in the same color. A tan sleeveless tunic covered the shirt with matching stole around the back of the neck and obi around the waist. The boots and gloves were brown, with a similarly colored pair of leather spats giving the boots a higher appearance. A brown belt with a single pouch and silver buckle, small dangling hooks on the left side, rounded out his apparel. Over his right shoulder, attached by a magnetic assembly under the tunic, was a practice saber.

The tall Padawan, standing at least 1.9 meters, was heavily muscled. Knight Weller guessed that his weight was somewhere around 100 kilograms. He had lightly tanned skin from working out-of-doors under a moderately-sized primary, and had hazel eyes. His browh hair was short, but well-styled. The young man, in his early twenties, smiled up at Knight Weller and approached.

“Welcome to Tython, Padawan Starfire. Everyone at the temple is looking forward to meeting you.” The Jedi Knight said with a slight bow to the newcomer. His voice was even and radiated peace. He wore the typical brown and tan robes of the Jedi, to include the short-sleeve hooded robe with a belt over it, that was popular among those who gained Knighthood. “Your former Masters praised your combat skills. They say you’re becoming an expert duelist.”

“It’s easy to excel when you’re trained by the best,” Volund Starfire responded.

Knight Weller began walking toward his office, not far from the landing pad. The retreat features Jedi of all ranks. There were Padawans working, others being instructed in meditation while gazing across the ancient landscape. Knights spoke quietly with each other while Masters read while seated on comfortable couches placed on the retreat’s veranda. Volund took it all in while he followed the watchman.

“The Jedi Council will assign you a new Master to oversee your final trials. You’ll be tested in ways you can’t imagine.” The pair walked through a door to the office, located between two weathered tapestries featuring the Republic seal. “But when you leave Tython, you’ll know what it means to be a Jedi Knight. More importantly, you’ll know yourself.”

The office was spartan in its decorations. There was a bed pad to one side, folded in half to be a meditation pad, and a computer terminal. A couple of storage crates and a single chair for the computer terminal were all that filled the office where the two Jedi now stood.

“I’m eager to face these trials,” Volund said. He had trained for over a decade to take part in the Trials and become a Jedi Knight. “Where do I start?”

“There’s a speeder here that will take you…” Knight Weller was interrupted by the urgent beeping from his communicator. It wasn’t the normal tones, but shrill and demanding attention. “…hang on. Getting an emergency signal.”

The watchman lifted the holocommunicator and activated it. The image that formed over it was a Bith wearing the training robes of the temple. He was agitated and ducking while he swung his practice saber to deflect incoming blaster fire. “…under attack, repeat, we are under attack! Flesh Raiders are invading the Padawan training grounds. They have blasters! Send help!”

A blaster bolt streaked by and the Bith looked over his shoulder just as the hologram shut down, disconnected at the source. The sound of near panic was evident in the young alien’s voice.

Knight Weller looked surprised at the revelation. “Flesh Raiders, armed with blasters? He must be mistaken.”

Volund felt the confusion and shock at the Bith’s words coming from the Jedi in front of him. “Mistaken of not, that Padawan was under attack.”

“They’ve never come this close before,” Darrin Weller said. “Flesh Raiders are a species of hostile natives. They’re smart enough to use tools and violent beyond reason.”

The Jedi turned to begin sending an emergency message to the Jedi Temple, as well as messages to as many communicators that were locally in range. He almost hesitated in sending the new arrival, but he had seen holos sent by his masters of his combat technique and knew he could defend himself against Flesh Raiders. “I’m sending every able-bodies Jedi down to the Padawan training grounds right away—especially you.”

“Just point the way,” Volund answered. His voice was confidence, not from youthful ignorance but from the knowledge that he was as good as he thought. “I’ll handle the rest.”

“Take the speeder outside to the training grounds. Push back the Flesh Raiders, and see if they’re really using advanced weapons.” Derrin hoped that the Padawan was mistaken during the transmission, but already felt that he was not.

He turned from the console to look Padawan Starfire in the eyes. “Go. I’ll catch up after I alert the Jedi Council. May the Force be with you.”

 

Chapter 2

Volund ran out of Knight Weller’s officer and onto the veranda that surrounded the front of Masters’ Retreat. There were two Masters outside of the door who noted his passing with little more than a raised eyebrow. A Padawan sweeping the floor with an actual broom paid a little more attention, but only a little before she continued with her punishment.

“I am afraid the Gnarls are no longer an ideal place for Padawans,” a Zabrak Jedi was saying. He had fair skin, green eyes, and black hair behind his horns.

"We live in dangerous times. Where would you send them? Training rooms inside the Temple?" his companion said, a male human with brown hair and a goatee.

"There is darkness everywhere on Tython. But the dangers of the Gnarls…”

"Our initiates must learn to recognize darkness,” the older man cut him off. “…and danger."

"As you say, Master. But we can only afford to lose so many."

Volund paid little heed to the conversation as he ran past the two. He was vaguely aware of the irony of their conversation given the news he had just heard. Two other Jedi were talking not far from the first conversation, but they both went quiet as their holocomms beeped at them in the same emergency tone.

The young man was already down at the speeder dock, opposite the shuttle that had brought him to the planet. He made his way for the airspeeder in the middle of the platform. It was a standard design seen though the Republic with a large three-person seat, four if they’re small people, behind a dedicated astromech pilot.

“Take me to the Padawan training grounds,” Volund told the droid. It lifted off the platform and began a southern trip across the large lake the Masters’ Retreat overlooked. If it weren’t for the urgency of the trip, the view would have been quite peaceful.

“How long will it take us to get there,” the Padawan asked with a bit more urgency than he wanted in his voice.

[ETA @ cruising speed = 60 standard minutes] the droid beeped out in Binary.

“We need to get there faster,” Volund told the droid. “As fast as possible.”

[Safety protocols = cruising speed // Deviation = authorization only]

“The Padawan training ground is under attack by Flesh Raiders,” Volund explained to the pilot droid. “Is that enough authorization for you?”

The droid’s head spun around so fast that Volund thought it might pop off. It whistled out something too quickly for the Padawan to understand. A moment later, the young man was thrown against the back of his seat from the acceleration. [Authorization = accepted // ETA @ flank speed = 15 standard minutes]

Volund closed his eyes and focused while the wind whipped past the airspeeder. He allowed his mind to drift as he entered into a meditative trance, remembering back to his training.

​

The student was standing upright with his left foot in front of his body, toes forward. His right foot was slightly behind, toes pointed to the side. This made his body sit diagonally with his head facing forward. He held his practice saber on the right side of his body, in a straight line up from the ground. His left hand was holding the base of the grip and his right the top of the grip. He was breathing, which is the only motion that proved he was not a statue.

“One.” The student slid his right foot up to his left, heels together, and turning his feet at a forty-five-degree angle. At the same time, he brought the sword laterally in front of his body, left hand even with the beltline of his trousers. The yellow blade buzzed centimeters from his nose.

“Two.” The young man stepped forward with his left leg, only the toe of his boot touching the ground, still at the same angle. He pulled the sword back to his side, left hand straight across his body as the blade dropped parallel to the ground, pointed perfectly in the direction he was facing.

The Naboo Jedi Training House was built not long after the planet was colonized. It lay a hundred kilometers from the capitol of Theed and along a small river that flowed through the plains. It was always seen as mysterious to the residents of the metropolis. Even the Gungans avoided it, claiming that the land it was built on had “bad juju” in their Pidgeon Basic.

“Three.” The young man put his weight on his left foot, leaning into it as he shot the blade out in front of his body in a thrust. His arms were extended and the pommel was even with the middle of his chest.

“Four.” He stepped forward with his right foot, swinging the blade to his left before drawing it in an arc over his head and around his front for a low strike. The movement ended with the blade held down at a forty-five-degree angle from his center.

The youth was dressed in a green long-sleeve shirt with the front panel open for ventilation, his armpits wet from sweat. His green trousers and brown boots were also warm, but it was his core that he was mostly concerned with keeping cool. Off to the side of the stone platform he practiced on were his tan tunic, stole, obi, belt, and gloves. His master allowed him to remove the items for practice.

“Five.” The Padawan stepped forward with his left foot, swinging the practice saber to his right before spinning it over his head and into a low strike to the right. The blade ended in a mirror of its previous placement.

“Six.” The student stepped forward with his right foot. He lifted the blade up to head height before bringing it parallel to the ground and sliding it to the left.

“Master,” the young man asked. He was twelve, but his youthful expression was one of pure concentration as he did every move perfectly. He had been doing the same kata repeatedly since sunrise.

“Yes, Padawan,” the older man said. He stood taller than the youth and had long white hair that was pulled back in a ponytail. His beard, likewise white, was trimmed to just hide the base of his neck. His blue eyes watched his pupil as he stood comfortable in his long, white robes. “Seven.”

The young man stepped forward with his left foot as he lifted his blade and swung to parry toward the right. He ended the move mirrored to his previous position. “I already know Shii Cho by heart. When can I move on to another style?”

“Eight.” The youth stepped back with his left foot, swinging the blade around to the mid-guard position at the left, the right side of his body now pointed toward the front. Again, the blade was perfectly positioned, straight up and down when compared to the ground. “What is Shii Cho, Padawan? Nine.”

The young man swung the blade down and around, stepping back with his right foot, and bringing the electroblade up into a guard position to the right. His body spun with his legs and he ended in the mirror of his previous position. “Shii Cho is the first style that a Jedi learns. All other lightsaber forms are based off of it.”

“Ten.” The Padawan released the hilt with his left hand and extended his arm out at a forty-five-degree angle from his shoulder. His left foot cocked forward and his free hand opened palm-up at his waist. “Correct. It is the basis of every other style of lightsaber fighting, and many conventional blade styles, as well. Eleven.”

The youth spun his left foot to the side and began to step forward with his right, pausing with his heel off the ground. He spun the blade down and up behind his back, ending it directly even with his spine as his left hand moved out for balance.

“Twelve.” He swung the blade down and back to the side of his body. While his arm was now in a forty-five from the shoulder, the blade was pointed straight down. He stepped forward with his right foot, heel on the ground and toes up. His left hand came up.

“I don’t understand, Master,” he said.

“Thirteen.” The youth swung the blade straight up over his head, gripping the pommel with his left hand again. His right leg was firmly planted on the ground.

“Fourteen.” He swung down in an overhead strike, ending the swing at a forty-five in front of himself.

“You’re not just learning Shii Cho, Volund. You are mastering it. Do you know why? Fifteen.”

From the low position, the Padawan brought the blade parallel to the ground and thrust forward with his right hand, releasing his left. He leaned forward over his right leg to complete the thrust.

“Salute,” his Master said, ending the practice session after just the first sequence of Shii Cho. It was a respite given heat of the day. In response, the youth brought the blade up in front of his face with his right hand, the left neutrally at his side, before swinging it down and out to the right in the forty-five. He deactivated the blade and walked over to where his Master was standing.

“If I master Shii Cho, then I master the basis of all other forms.”

“Good,” the older man said, placing a hand on Volund’s shoulder. “If you master the basics of all other forms, what does that mean?”

“It means,” the Padawan hesitated for a moment, piecing together the answer in his head. “That I will be able to counter all other forms?”

“Yes, my Padawan. That is precisely what it means.”