Located in the harbor of Caelestis City on Seraph, and rising from the tides without a rock in sight, the 250 meter tall lighthouse is a beacon of safety for seafaring vessels. For anyone else, it is a frequent and infamous place to carry out feuds under Meraxis' Code Duello.

The most popular choice for duels is the top-level platform, fifty meters wide and open to the elements, save for the tall transparisteel cylinder protecting the torch. There is no barrier around the edge of the platform to prevent a 250 meter fall into the waters below. However, robust Meraxian engineering has hardened the critical components of the lighthouse in such a fashion that the whole building is open for battle, provided the duelists sign off on funding repairs.

It has become quite an attraction for the local populace to watch the duels unfold from the harbor or from nearby tall buildings.

Wynter eyed his surroundings with a faint hint of apprehension and foreboding. The platform atop the lighthouse was sparse, open to the elements and without any natural vantage points. Staring across the platform was his Shistavanean adversary, Mune, who locked his gaze on Mauro with a hint of a smile. Wynter knew he was outmatched from the onset of this duel, and his foe knew it as well.

“Come now Mauro, this is a training exercise. I know you are out of your element not being behind the controls of a fighter but enjoy yourself.”Mune said with a flourish. The Shistavanean truly seemed to thrive in cool night air preparing to fight.

Wynter drew his twin sapphire blades from their hiding spot embedded in the hilt of his boots. Moonlight danced across the blades as the human took up a defensive stance, slowly edging towards the middle of the platform, giving him more room to maneuver. The Shistavanean drew his katana from its scabbard and slowly angled himself forward, not yet using his superior agility and fluid body motion to gain an advantage.

“So be it friend, it has been a long time since I have been in a sparring match. Don’t go easy on me.” Wynter said with a sigh. He had deep dread about this fight but hoped it would be a good exercise. He twirled the blades in his hands and held them overhead, preparing for a defensive strike as Mune came forward, the superior length of the katana likewise held overhead. Both men waited for the next move. The battle was on.

Mune circled slowly, his eyes studying the man before him. From what he knew of Mauro, his strength did not necessarily lay in his martial prowess, though Mune was never one to underestimate any opponent. To minimize his opponent was to lessen the match’s significance and, thus, its purpose. He wished to take the measure of the new proconsul. He could nearly taste the flavour of the human’s fear like something palpable that danced along the buds of his tongue like sweet candy. It was a scent that teased at the back of the nose.

“I can sense your dread, Mauro,” the Shistavanen noted softly.

The wind whipped their cloaks around them, tousled Mune’s exposed fur and Mauro’s hair. Their eyes narrowed. Mune moved first. Mauro caught the first slash upon the flat of one of his blades, the vibration travelling up their arms. The ringing of steel on sapphire chimed in their ears, not entirely lost in its entirety to the howl of the wind. The vulpine figure shifted his footing. Just like that, the katana left the gleaming sapphire of Mauro’s blade, and the human had only a second’s breadth of time before he was being forced to defend with his offhand weapon. Mauro was able to push back against his opponent’s weapon and felt the shift of weight as if the Shiatavanen had to adjust for his opponent’s strength.

Mune did not give Mauro time to think through the observation he had made. Mune had pressed close enough to hook a foot behind the human’s heel. The next thing the human knew, the world was tilting sideways, and the ground came up to greet him. The human grunted and lay momentarily disoriented. Mune stood above him, grinning sheepishly with mirth glittering in his ruby eyes.

“You need to work on your fighting skills,” Mune noted.

“You’d sing a different tune, were we in fighters,” Mauro rebuked. The annoyance was clear in the tension of his body and facial features.

“Perhaps so, but we are here, with swords drawn.” He tapped his katana against his hip to make the alloy ring softly, as if for emphasis. “What if I were an enemy?”

Mauro frowned deeply, and only with some effort managed to get back to his feet. He drew his sapphire blades up into a readied stance. Mune eyed him for a moment before sheathing the katana and drawing instead, his sapphire blade and his Sith dagger. The human appreciated the gesture and the squared-off once more.

Mune moved in, his blade rending the air in a vicious cross-slash that the human easily deflected. He followed it up with the dagger in a shallow thrust. He felt the point turned aside and twisted abruptly to dodge Mauro’s counter-attack. The Shistavanen felt it pass within a hair’s breadth of his right shoulder. Mune was forced to hop back to avoid what could have been a devastating stab intended to wound his left thigh. He gauged that his opponent was only marginally less skilled with blades than himself.

Mauro did not hesitate to follow his opponent when the vulpine figure hopped backwards. He pressed the attack with a series of quick and shallow jabs. Each thrust of the sapphire blades was aptly turned aside.

“Stop. Holding. Back!” Mauro growled.

Mune’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, the Force swelled through him. The momentary surge manifested as a boost of agility. It was as though the Shistavanen changed gears to bring his full quickness to the fore, then stoked the flames further. He thrust his opponent’s right-hand blade aside then flicked his dagger in a quick motion that jerked the weapon free. Mauro found his dominant hand suddenly devoid of its sapphire blade. The realization only had a chance to dawn before the air exploded from his lungs when an elbow slammed into his solar plexus. His lungs ached with the sudden expulsion of oxygen, and the force of the blow sent him reeling back.

Mune rose slowly from his crouch, letting the Force fall away and with it his enhanced agility. He did not press his advantage right then; had Mauro been an enemy, he had no doubt he would be all over him. Now, Mune just watched as the human dragged in massive swallows of air.

Mauro, switching his off-hand weapon to his dominant hand, managed to bring his eyes back up to meet his opponent’s. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but… ow.”

“It was supposed to hurt. If I were truly your enemy, you could well be dead,” Mune’s eyes were narrowed in a glare. “You should expect a whole lot worse from a Force-user if they are looking to slay you.”

“Stop with the lectures,” Mauro spat.

Mune sighed and gave his head a shake. He brought his blade and dagger back up into a comfortable stance that spoke to his training. Every movement spoke of someone well used to swordplay, and still further to someone used to a weapon in each hand. He eyed the older man, his new proconsul, and wondered at just how far he could press him before he finally pulled the disruptor pistol.

Mauro eyed his opponent. The gravity of the battle had finally dawned on him. This was a training match after all, and the lesson of humility and the need to gain battle skills in a melee was a keen urgency ringing through his mind. He was a veteran of countless battles over the years, he was a fighter that had killed his fair share of worthy adversaries. The time to act was upon him. Wynter knew his opponent had better agility, speed, and raw strength. However, he also had the hubris of a skilled combatant who was a highly skilled and accomplished duelist. Wynter was indeed a master of tactics and leadership, and knew his only chance was with cunning and strategy. Mune pressed the attack with his twin blades. The shorter length of the weapons required Mune to come in closer for the finishing blows. Wynter instinctually tossed his remaining blade to his dominant hand and squared up in a defensive posture. His eyes narrowed and Wynter prepared for the final assault. The Shistavanean came in fast, ready to strike. Wynter shifted his weight to the side and narrowly missed the blow, and used the enemy’s momentum against him thrusting his blade with all his might into the ribs of Mune. The thrust was well met, taking the prey off-guard. “Well done friend, that is the first sign of life out of you yet. Fight like your life depends on it because it surely will.” Said Mune wit a hiss.

Mauro was not about to make the first move, and so the Shistavanen lunged, and his sapphire blade cut a wicked horizontal line through the air. The sword was a cutting slash of blue that would have rent a vicious wound across the human’s torso had Mauro not brought his blade up in time. The blow reverberated up his arm. Eyed narrowed, the human brought his off-hand weapon up into a stabbing motion. Clumsy as it was, being untrained in wielding two weapons, Mune caught it on his off-hand dagger.

Mune, however, was trained to dual wield. As Mauro’s physical strength began to force Mune’s weapons back, the Shistavanen grinned. He began to pant with the effort of holding back the sharp edges of the weapons.

Mauro saw his advantage and pressed it.

Muscles burning, Mune’s eyes narrowed in concentration. The Force hummed through him, a thrum of energy boiled through his every cell and infused his muscles. Confusion sparked in the human’s eyes. The tremble that had begun in Mune’s arms had subsided, and Mauro found his advantage somehow lost. Mune knew how long he could maintain the boosted strength, he’d not need it that long, he estimated. He adjusted his footing to get better leverage.

“Brute strength won’t win you the fight,” Mune warned.

The wind whipped past; their cloaks snapped wildly in the blast. Mune twisted, sword sliding harshly along the other man’s. Mune ducked low, his dagger suddenly no longer there, holding back Mauro’s weapons. The suddenness found the human overcompensating. He lost his footing, stumbling forward. He saw the potentially fatal error in time to twist just as Mune, still low to the ground, slashed with the intent of shredding the back of his knee with the dagger. As it was, the cut was shallow. Mauro felt the blood well then run in thin rivulets down his calf. With the feel of the blood came the shock of pain. He only just managed to maintain his feet.

Mune rose, readjusting the dagger into a reverse grip. His ears were perked, and an eyebrow raised ion a questioning look. “Not quite quick enough? How long will it hold your weight?”

“You did not expect me to dodge it at all, did you?” Mauro snapped.

“Did you want me to hold back?”

“This is nothing, come on, come at me,” Mauro demanded.

“Are you punishing yourself for something?” Mune asked, his weapons slowly lowering.

“What?” the question caught Mauro off guard.

“You heard me.”

“Analyzing me, are you?” Mauro laughed, though there was no humour in it. The sound was bitter and even harsh. “Do not assume to know the inner workings of my mind, Mune.”

“We are done,” Mune said abruptly.

“No.”

Mune grinned flashing his long canines, “Why?”

“You challenged me for a reason.”

“And?” Mirth danced in Mune’s ruby eyes.

Mauro found himself frustrated; how could the Shistavanen’s be so flippant? The human opened his mouth to speak then caught himself. His brow knit in concentration. He reflected on what he heard about the Shistavanen, about the ex-proconsul of Scholae. He thought the mercurial nature afforded his opponent were just stories on the part of his new clanmates. He watched the vulpine muzzle split into a well-natured grin. The human dropped his sapphire blade, and just as quickly, his disruptor was coming up for a shot.

The Force was manifest through Mune as quickly as he could blink. The first disruptor shot was sent skyward, deflected by the dagger in Mune’s offhand. The Shistavanen closed the distance, the Force a raging thing let loose through his muscles’ fibres. It fueled his already impressive agility, like fuel to a flame. He was inside the human’s guard, the point of the weapon pressed against the consul’s throat, threatening to draw blood with even the tiniest bit more pressure. Ruby eyes blazed with something that gave the human pause, a certainty that it would take only a breath, and the dagger’s metal would taste blood. Sweet and coppery it would flow over the fur of Mune’s hands and assail his nostrils.

“We. Are. Done.” Mune said firmly.

Where had the mirth gone, the smile? Mauro swallowed carefully, feeling the Sith Dagger’s nick like something aching to release his life’s blood upon the ground. He felt the Shistavanen relax, and only then acknowledged in what he hoped passed for a confident, commanding tone, “We are done.”

“You are not a fighter. Not like this, anyway. Maybe, I’ll get to see you fight in your element some time.”

“My art is with words and ships,” Mauro admitted.

“Stick to one sword. Your sword skills are decent, but you do not dual wield. Use that strength of yours to your advantage. That means one sword. You’d have beat me down, I think.” Mune smirked.

“Thanks.”

“We’ll work on it!”