Andrelious was strolling casually through the courtyard. It was a little earlier than he usually liked to get up, but a difficult night with his twin daughters was enough to ensure he was already wide awake.
As he continued to wander in the general direction of the fountain, the Warlord swore he heard movement nearby. He turned around to check, hand on his lightsaber hilt, but saw no sign of anything out of place. Craning his neck upwards, Andrelious glanced at one of the nearby sharpshooters who acted as the area’s security. The man merely shrugged back, suggesting he’d seen nothing, either.
Walking across the grass area, with a small pebble in hand, the ex-Rollmaster tossed the stone in the direction of the fountain, hearing a soft splash moments later.
As he was about to sit down and begin a session of meditation, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Someone was nearby. Turning around again, this time Andrelious came face to face with his new apprentice, Arcean Furnece.
“You’re very fortunate that I didn’t turn around with my saber in hand, my boy,” the Warlord hissed.
“As you can see, Master, I’ve been practicing. Just like you told me,” the Neti replied.
Andrelious did not look impressed.
“Unless you’re hoping that you can scare people to death, you’ll need more in your repetoire than just the ability to sneak around. Did you practice those moves I showed you?” he asked.
“Of course, Master. I smashed over a dozen training remotes. Not that I like fighting those things. I can’t go to work on a droid,” the Guardian responded ruefully.
“You really need to stop the Doctor Death act. Syringes and vials will never be enough when your opponent is carrying a lightsaber. You need to learn that, boy,” Andrelious sighed.
“I thought you didn’t want me to be narrow minded. You’ve taught me that adaptability is key.” Arcean shot back.
“Very well. Let’s see what you’ve learned, then,” the Human answered, activating his lightsaber.
Arcean mimicked his mentor carefully, adopting a similar stance as he armed himself.
“Come at me, boy. Use that anger. That hate. Try and strike me down!” Andrelious commanded.
With a roar, the young Neti charged at his opponent, hacking and slashing almost randomly as he let his emotions take control. The ex-Imperial smirked as he parried the attacks away, choosing not to offer any kind of counter attack.
“Feel that power surging through you!” the Warlord encouraged, still easily blocking the Journeyman’s efforts.
Frustrated with his lack of progress against his Master’s seemingly unbeatable defence, Arcean stepped back, calling on the dark side. As he summoned its power, he felt himself growing more and more confident as he focused his anger on Andrelious.
The Warlord’s moves began to slow, as if he were struggling to keep hold of a heavy sword rather than his virtually weightless lightsaber. As he began to consider what was happening, he found it difficult to keep focused, as if something else were on his mind.
Arcean made the most of the moments of confusion to finally beat his opponent’s blade, but decided that he wouldn’t hurt Andrelious. Not yet.
“Very good, boy. I’ll have to watch out for that one,” the elder Arconan stated with a smirk. He was certainly finding this young Neti, a mere Guardian, far more of a handful than he had expected. Holding back was no longer an option.
Charging in again, confidence at a high, Arcean swung his azure blade in, expecting for it to be blocked again, but instead found thin air as he was hurled backwards, his Master having scooped him with the Force. Slamming hard into the ground, the Krath climbed to his feet, winded but unhurt.
“Had enough yet?” Andrelious taunted, his eyes flickering red as his own command of the dark side was brought to bear.
