The First Step

[Ysmir]

---

"No, Captain," Viren began with a short and curt tone, eyes set forward through the visor of his helm, "not a single disturbance today. I've made myself clear."

They stood atop a stone balcony overlooking one of the Academy's many valleys, where inbound and outbound ships of various purposes ferried things ranging from cargo to passengers; their destinations and what lay within them were unimportant considering the weight of the responsibility Viren had assumed. The Imperial Captain looked upon the Dark Lord's back in a moment of hesitation, causing Viren to turn his hooded head to peer at him over the shoulder. "Haven't I"

"Yes -- yes, Lord Viren. Of course, My Lord. Perfectly clear. Shall I redirect all queries to the Praetors for the time being, then?" the Captain managed, resetting his footing as he stood at attention.

Viren stared. He turned back to look over the balcony once more. The morning sunlight, a balmy orange glow, reflected off of the plate of his armor. The Captain took this as a sign to take his leave, and wisely did so, rotating around on his heel to fall back to the interior of the Academy.

For his part, Viren could scarcely imagine Karn's dissatisfaction with his post on Korriban; it was the homeworld of the Ancient Sith, the progenitor of all that they had become and the groundwork laid for what they would become. Perhaps it was merely a stroke of old-fasioned preference for historical allegory that made his opinion biased, but many in the Order knew the importance of history to the Praetor Magnus. A secondary goal of the Darth in Karn's training was to stomp out that stubborn superiority and replace it with a healthy respect for the roots of what he sought to become; a Sith, full-fledged and indisputable. What use was claiming a title if one failed to understand the significance behind it? Of course, Viren himself had a long road to travel before he truly understood what it meant to call oneself Sith. He would be patient with the Acolyte... as patient as he could manage.

By the time their appointed meeting had come to pass, the landing pad's activity had deadened to a significant degree; the constant roulette of incoming and departing ships had slowed to a crawl, and the atmosphere within the Academy had once again fell to a silence as instruction began throughout. Amidst all of this passivity, all of this... nothing, Viren closed his eyes behind the visor of his helmet. He let his crossed arms fall by his sides as his audio receptors fed the sound of the desert winds kicking across the sands to his ears. He could feel it, even through the layers of armoring that shielded his body from the outside world -- it was the Force, speaking dissonant whispers to him in the most subtle of ways. He felt more power coursing through his veins in these tranquil moments than any other. It was more than serving, than existing -- it was living.

And then, his eyes opened.

As Karn stepped through the threshold of the dual doors leading to the interior of the academy, he could see the circular sigil on the floor of the balcony that denoted their training space. This was, in fact, an area meant to be utilized for meditation and reflection upon one's emotions, where power may be drawn through the Dark Side of the Force. But that was not what its use would be today. Viren felt it a natural progression of his philosophies for their first true interaction as Student and Master to be in full view of the Dark Lords of old; the towering stone reliefs of such iconic Sith as Naga Sadow and Marka Ragnos could be seen staring down at them from across the Valley.

And, similarly soon after he took his first step outside, a flash of red streaked across the way from Viren's form; his double-bladed lightsaber had activated, and was being guided through the Force to Karn in a most threatening way.

Viren was not one for formalities, it seemed.

[Rugs]

Today’s the day.

Karn sat on the edge of the hard bed in his cramped room in the acolytes quarters within the Sith Temple. He stared, as he often did when thinking, at his blurred reflection in the small mirror across from him. His gaze was distant, at once seeing himself and looking beyond to some undefined point as his mind wandered.

The few months since the Battle of Nar Shaddaa had been less than pleasant. The last three days, beginning with his trouncing in the sparring yards, had been humbling. Humility was not a thing that Karn wore often, or readily, but he’d had no choice. A Dark Lord. A Sith Lord. A fellow acolyte.

All had bested him, on the same day, and while the first two were understandable, the defeat at the hands of a peer still rankled. His saber burns were healed now. The damaged pride, though--that would linger.

It doesn’t matter, he told himself, focusing on his reflection for a moment. Everything begins anew today.

Today, he would meet his new master, Darth Viren, and his training would begin in earnest. Karn smiled to himself. For all that Lady Colubus had done for him, Viren would take him further than she ever could. Still, he could not help but feel emotion welling in his heart as he stood, straightening his shirt.

I’ll make you proud.

Whether he meant himself or his slain master, he did not know.

—-

Karn leaned against the lift’s back wall with his eyes closed. Today he’d dressed with a degree of formality. He’d forgone his usual greys and whites for black, with a light coat cut in a neat, militaristic style and the bronze emblem of Strife under his collar. Still his attire was light; Viren said they’d be training.

He drew deeply on the Force, steadying himself as the lift rose toward the balcony floor. It was hard not to feel some nerves, knowing he was going to stand before the Praetor Magnus. But from what little he knew of Viren, the man would not at all be impressed if Karn arrived to nervous to keep his wits about him.

He could feel his master’s presence; it was impossible not to, with his strength, before he stepped off the lift.

As the doors pinged open, Karn existed, giving a passing glance to some officer who was heading down, and walked down the short hallway to the balcony.

The great double doors parted and Karn emerged, squinting briefly against the morning light as his sensitive eyes adjusted from stepping out of the Temple.

In this moment of vulnerability, it was the sound of the lightsaber blades and the swirling of the Force that alerted him. He quickly took his own blade in hand and lit it as he saw Viren’s double-bladed saber slicing through the air at him.

Karn barely fought off enough surprise to throw up a block as he ducked out of the way. Viren’s lightsaber bounced away, looping back toward Viren’s waiting hand, and the Acolyte stared, for two heartbeats, at the Dark Lord, surprise written plain on his face.

No hesitation. His face hardened to a grim determination as he pulled on the Force, willing it to quicken him as he briefly took Juyo’s opening stance. Now we train.

With a wordless shout, he darted forward. He moved quickly, with the Force aiding him, and lashed out. He struck fas, his blade whirling in his hands to attack from above, then darting around to the side and below. The attacks came with timing that was just off, in Juyo's aggressive, off-kilter way.

Karn was not blind; he knew he could not beat his mountain of a master in a contest of brute strength. Nor did he truly expect to hold out in an extended battle. And so he attacked with ferocity, hoping to slip through a crack in his guard.

That was, of course, easier said than done...

[Ysmir]

"Good. No fear," Viren said with his subtle but domineering baritone as the lightsaber flew back into his hand.

SnapHISS

Then, the second half of his blade ignited. Viren began to stride forth across the de facto battle circle toward his new apprentice in slow, measured steps.

"We shall see how long that lasts."

When Karn dashed forward at the towering Darth, he perhaps took note of the utter lack of any sort of style Viren betrayed in his opening "stance", if one could call it that; whether it was simply to show off or born out of pragmatism was hard to tell, but many knew that Viren was not one for flashy or unnecessary tricks in battle. No, Viren was hiding his preferred Form for strategic reasons, to throw Karn off his game.

The second they locked sabers, however, all guise of mystery was thrown out of the window.

Grasping his saberstaff with two hands, Viren set his weak foot back in a stance that almost mirrored Karn's own; Viren practiced Juyo as well, and utilized this unlikely and jarring coincidence to try and throw Karn off through the subtlest of mind games. As Karn's flurry of blows came from all angles and at varying pace, Viren used his superior knowledge of the craft and pure instinct to almost casually deflect each one, his measured and patient defense in direct opposition to Juyo's more kinetic approach, indicating his practice in other Forms as well -- his motions seemed indicative of Djem So or Soresu.

But like a switch, as he paced back two or three steps from Karn's opening assault, Viren suddenly turned on the offensive in a momentous way.

After parrying Karn's final attack, the other end of his saberstaff came crashing down on Karn's own blade in a swift and brutal counterattack that was augmented by the Force flowing through Viren's body effortlessly in a manner which nearly threw Karn off balance. What followed was a truly ferocious series of attacks, the Dark Lord fuelling his body with the Force in such a manner that he moved in a way reminiscent Karn's own, down to the method of attack. He displayed dizzying and shocking feats of acrobatics during their terse exchange of blows, flipping and spinning in place as he advanced on Karn with an unending spree of vicious attacks, the only difference between their style being the monstrous natural strength behind each swing of his saber.

It all came to a head once Viren leapt upward; he soared into the air, breaking off from his string of attacks in an unexpected and unorthodox way the moment he noticed Karn backed near the wall next to the balcony doors. As his saber came crashing down onto Karn's, it cut into the wall just over his head, and it was clear Viren had held back his strength by a significant margin rather than break straight through his apprentice's guard.

And good thing, too; it became readily apparent from the ease with which it cleaved through the stone that Viren's saber was not on training settings. One costly slip-up on Karn's part, or even whenever Viren decided to, and the apprenticeship would be over -- permanently.

After this exchange, Viren jumped backward with the assistance of the Force, landing in the center of the circle with a hefty thud before standing. He spun his saber about as he began to pace back and forth, helm held straight at Karn's figure across the way.

"Good. You have your basics covered. That is something," Viren stated, now holding the saber lateral to the ground, "Do you know why I break your guard? You watch my face, when there are no eyes to follow. I do not wear this helmet for no reason, boy. You must watch my feet and let the Force be your guide, or you'll never predict my movements."

With a flourish, Viren spun his saber about, before crouching down into another aggressive Juyo stance once more. "Again."

[Rugs]

From the instant Karn crossed blades with Viren, he realized that he was in over his head. For all the vigor and fury behind his attacks, his master batted them away with a casual ease, and he soon found himself forced on the defensive as Viren turned his assault against him.

As — he instantly, recognized, eyes going wide with shock — Viren turned his own form against him.

Juyo’s use was not unheard of in the Sith Order, but it was a difficult, demanding form; rare enough that it was most commonly seen among the Order’s blademasters. That Karn, an acolyte, used it was an exception, but its aggression fit him like a glove.

His experience defending against Juyo was limited, mostly to spars against Lady Colubus. And he’d never exchanged blows with a saberstaff-wielding practitioner of the form.

Nor had he ever faced a duelist as horrifyingly strong as Viren.

These shocks compounded so suddenly that Karn found himself giving ground quickly. He dropped Juyo and reverted to Shii-cho as he fell back; a common habit when he felt panicked or pressured in a duel. He knew a little of Niman, and traces of Djem So, but Juyo was his first love. Shii-Cho, he knew by demand; all other saber forms flowed from its principles.

That he knew well the form Viren used was likely all that kept the Dark Lord’s blade from meeting his body; he struggled backward, crimson lightsaber dancing desperately to meet the onslaught from his master’s staff.

As he found himself backed against the wall, Viren took to the air. Karn yelped in surprise as the blade came crashing down with such force that his own was nearly driven into his shoulder. Their spar ground to a halt. For a moment, the silence was punctuated only by the sound of Karn’s heavy breathing as his eyes drifted upward.

Angry, glowing stone was split in two where his master’s blade had cut through it. That’s... he thought, eyes widening, If that hit me, I’d...

He swallowed hard.

Yet he had no time to consider the ramifications, as Viren spoke, offering instruction. Karn nodded. “Yes, Master.” The concepts were not unfamiliar; he’d heard the same time and again from Colubus, but he’d not expected such ferocity from Viren right out of the gate.

What else could I expect? he thought as Viren reset in the middle of their makeshift sparring circle. A Dark Lord won’t waste time coddling me. Was this not what he had asked for, from Viren himself?

With a hesitant glance at the split rock behind him, Karn took a steadying breath and drew on the Force. Come on, he thought, drawing his own fear as much as a desire to leave a good first impression on his master, you can do this. He took a few steps toward Viren, giving himself some breathing room away from the wall, and settled into Juyo’s stance.

“What fortune,” he said, allowing a crooked smile, “to learn under a master of the Seventh Form.”

And then he was in motion again. Foregoing any hope of matching Viren in brute strength, Karn put all he could into speeding his motions through the Force as he came in like a whirlwind. He struck from above, below, from both sides. It was, for an acolyte, a withering assault as he made use of his lightsaber’s long hilt like a lever, whirling the blade around his body to add force and speed to his blows — and, in one instance, as a last-ditch defense as he used the songsteel casing to block a venomous rebuke that might otherwise have taken his head off.

Yet for all his effort, for all that he pressed and tried to keep Viren on the defense, he could find no way to slip past his master’s double blade. For all his talent, Karn knew that he would not best his master in a contest of blade skill alone.

And so he devised a plan. As their blades met again and again, Karn struck hard, trying to force a saber lock. His goal, in doing so, was not to push past Viren’s guard; that was a fool’s venture.

Instead, if they locked, he’d activate the length control of his dual-phase lightsaber, sending the blade hissing out to its maximum length of near twice that of a normal lightsaber. His hope was that he’d score a hit on his master’s armor, but even if it failed, an advantage of reach might open up further options...

[Ysmir]

What fortune...

If Viren had any sembelance of humour in his shell, he'd have smirked at the comment. Karn had potential; this much was clear from their first interaction. Though, perhaps even more notably, he had a sarcastic wit and confidence even in the face of clear and present danger. Viren suspected this to be a form of self-defense, a fallback in the case that he finds himself slipping mentally. Viren used to develop such things, and they were potentially useful in combat to deter your enemy from believing themselves in an advantageous position -- if the ruse worked, of course.

As Karn came advancing, Viren stood.

He deactivated the rear side of his saber, leaving it as a single blade once more while hoisting it upward over his head and downward across his back at a perfect fourty-five degree angle. The charging Karn might recognize this stance as that of Form V, specifically Djem So. Just before Karn reached Viren's position in the center of the circle, he heard a faint whisper of a voice in his head.

"And many more."

The second Karn came to blows with Viren, the second half of the saber roared to life once more, a continuation of Viren's constant mindgames to keep the Acolyte on his toes. Remaining on the defensive, whether out of necessity or mere courtesy, Viren's eyes tracked Karn's movements from beneath the visor of his helm with perfect clarity, assisted in no small measure by the Force. Although green and youthful, Karn embodied perfectly the virtues that made Juyo such a deadly and aggressive Form; it forgot structure and unity in favour of an almost unconscious unpredictability, the duelist surrendering themselves to their basic combat instincts to allow their body to move in ways that almost they themselves were uncertain of. This, in turn, made it all the more difficult for the object of their aggression to counter their assault. It was poetry in motion, the perfect expression, in Viren's eyes, of the dark side of the Force.

But it wasn't perfect. Viren knew this all too well. Many times during his own training, superior Masters of the Sith would bat aside the very same offense that allowed Viren to stampede over the other Acolytes like a charging dewback. With the Force as one's weapon, combined with combat accument accrued over decades of experience, a pattern could begin to emerge in even the most random of strung-together attacks. This is the very pattern Viren saw in Karn as he began to pile on the strikes with ever-increasing ferocity and vigor. Viren patiently backed himself across the battle circle, deflecting each blow with expert precision until...

SKSSS

Songsteel. A powerful and rare compound, one of the few in the Galaxy capable of resisting the raw power of a lightsaber. And the only thing that saved Karn's own hilt from being cleaved in two by Viren's counterattack. As they resumed their exchange, Viren saw as Karn built power within his arms and core for a particularly devastating strike.

Now.

As the blow came crashing toward Viren at shoulder-height, he blocked the descending crimson blade of Karn's lightsaber with a simple motion. His offhand darted upward in front of his face.

As Karn's dual-saber extended, it crashed into Viren's waiting palm -- and ceased all motion. Sparks and brilliant white light exploded outward as the Force stopped the blade dead in its tracks.

"Impressive," Viren mused plainly as he pressed his palm forward. The momentum shifted entirely -- literally and figuratively -- as Karn found himself blasted across the ground by a telekinetic force that caused him to skid across the surface of the stone floor on his feet. Interestingly, he wasn't blown off of said feet entirely, a modicum of leniency shown by the Darth as a token of reward for Karn's ingenuity. In practice, it would have worked on virtually anybody else, but the Praetor Magnus was inevitably wise to such tactics.

Viren paced back and forth, once more in the center of the circle, staring across at his apprentice.

"You think too much, Apprentice," Viren stated, vocally acknowledging him as his own student for the first time since the training began, "and in doing so you telegraph your actions. As unpredictable as the parts of your attack are, the sum of those parts is plain to see. I walk blindly into a trap -- but I know a trap awaits. Do you understand?"

It was almost a measure of exposition on the nature of the gut -- one thing that was nearly impossible to train was that of a Warrior's Instinct. It was an intangible and difficult to describe characteristic, but one knew when an opponent had it. Viren continued.

"The teachings of the Jedi are flimsy at best -- but there is wisdom to be found in all things, seemingly useless though they may be. When in combat, you must let your mind flow uninterrupted by stray thoughts." Viren spun his saber once more as he paced, and the two ends of the blade retracted into the hilt once deactivated. He clipped the hilt onto his belt once more, reaching up to his back.

From just over the pauldron of his shoulder, one could see an onyx hilt of a weapon with a Krayt dragon pearl inlaid in the pommel. Viren wrapped his hand around the hilt and slowly withdrew a magnificently crafted and glossy vibrosword -- the polished blade reflected the dull orange sunlight from the hazy skies of Korriban. Viren held it aloft in his dominant right hand as he ceased his pacing, standing once more at the center of the circle. He took a one handed neutral stance with the blade, one that was not recognizeable as any sort of lightsaber form. Viren had transitioned back to his roots.

"Strike me, if you can," Viren boomed across to Karn, "and remember -- do not think. Act."

[Rugs]

Karn felt the opportunity a half-instant before his lightsaber locked with his master’s. His vicious overhead blow came crashing down against Viren’s blade. For all the force, for every ounce of strength and Force-enhanced power he put into the strike, his master’s blade barely budged. Viren, humongous as he was, was distressingly strong.

Doesn’t matter. Karn’s finger clicked the phase-control switch. I’ve got him. The crimson blade erupted forward, doubling in length in the span of a heartbeat. Karn felt a rush of giddiness.

Or... he would have if a wave of shock didn’t come crashing down atop it.

The Praetor Magnus lifted a hand and there, his blade stopped in a storm of hissing light and sparks. Suprise worked visibly across his face. “How...?” He rarely used the dual-phase controls on his lightsaber in spars against his peers; he preferred having a trump card in hand, should he come to deadly blows against a fellow Sith.

Yet he had an absurdly high success rate, for the few times he'd deployed, in spars and in real, life-or-death combat. Sometimes it missed, sometimes he fumbled his own plan and paid for it.

But he’d never seen such power from a foe to simply stop the blade.

Is that what it means to stand on the summit? he wondered, still visibly distraught.

“Impressive.”

The Force pushed at him suddenly; it felt like he was caught in surging water, carried backward against his will. He staggered back some steps until he regained his footing. His lightsaber, the blade itself now free of Viren’s hand and longer than either of them was tall, left a glowing scar across the stone floor.

“You think too much, apprentice.”

Karn felt dual elation and sting as Viren finally, in words, recognized him as his student. The admonition clipped the Arkanian’s pride, not because he felt it unfair or unearned, but because he knew Viren was right. It was not the first time he’d heard it, but it was the most blunt it’d ever been put to him.

—-

Karn hunched on the rocky desert sands, hands clutching at his ribs. He gasped for breath, but each new one brought a stabbing pain so sharp his vision blurred. He coughed and tasted blood on his lips, saw dark red specks on the ground.

That can’t be good,he managed to tell himself.

“Too easy, Albrecht.” Thraken, the Sephi acolyte who loved to torment him so, towered over Karn. He’d ambushed Karn as the Arkanian was returning to the Temple from the Valley of the Dark Lords. It was their first fight since Karn had stunned him with a blast of lightning and nearly beat him to death in the Temple’s sparring sands.

They'd fought, and viciously. Karn got his licks in -- a dark bruise marred the side of the Sephi's face, and a lightsaber burn crossed his side -- but as with so many of their previous fights, he couldn't keep up. He finally faltered when Thraken saw through a trap he'd laid, and from then on, the Sephi worked out his frustrations.

“You always thought you were the smartest person in the room.” A boot dug into Karn’s side, near the broken rib. He screamed at the kick that rolled him onto his back. He turned over again, vision blurring the night-cloaked Valley as he tried to reach for his lightsaber. “But you know what that big brain of yours means in a fight? You scheme and plan, and after a while, it’s not so hard to read you like a book.”

Karn crawled with awkward, halting motions toward his lightsaber. It was just a bit out of reach, laying against a rock...

Thraken grabbed him by the hair and dragged him backward, eliciting a weary, pained groan. “Who said you could have that, Albrecht? I’m not fucking done with you yet.”

—-

“Let my mind flow,” Karn said, the distant memory come and gone as soon as his master finished speaking. He lifted his lightsaber, resetting its blade to standard length, as his Viren put away his lightsaber and unsheathed a vibroblade.

Karn eyed the weapon warily. It was beautiful, in the way a venomous serpent might be. And though Karn was quite tired of lightsaber burns, he had no inclination to get sliced apart.

He pressed the thought away from his mind, heeding his master’s advice. What came would come, regardless of his fretting. No stray thoughts, he told himself. Act.

In a rare moment of calm, Karn took a deep steady breath and closed his eyes as he assumed his opening stance. The Force swirling wildly within him urged him on to motion, to frenzied, barely restrained attacking, but he held his ground. Instead, he felt all that he could around him, to the extent that his fledgling senses allowed.

The Temple, ancient and the pulsating with the heart of the Order within, the stone beneath his feet and the clear, crisp air around him. His master, implacable as a mountain and just as powerful.

His eyes opened the instant Viren spoke again, and just like that, he was in motion again. Now he zipped forward again and met Viren’s vibroblade with his own. He flowed from stroke to stroke, and if his motions were a touch less frenetic, they were more self-assured.

Yet the task ahead of him was a tall one, and focus was not a guarantor for success. For all his probing, for all his searching, he still battered against Viren’s defenses with as little success as before. For all that he let his mind flow, as his master instructed, the hunger was evident on Karn’s face as he fought on, in his ever more staccato motions as he began to press, battling back frustration as he searched for any way in past that vibroblade.

It wasn’t until an Assured Strike — one of Juyo’s calling cards — failed that his frustration bubbled over and, before he realized what he was doing, blue-white forks of lightning arced from his fingertips at Darth Viren.

[Ysmir]

From the open air between them, Viren sensed a renewed, quiet resolve in the Acolyte. He spent much time within his own head, but at the very least, the boy was easy to reach through words. Viren recalled a time where he was much like Karn; younger, eager to prove himself, hungry for more skill and more power to fall into his grasp. Viren had the luxury of advanced training from a young age, and this was an advantage he made no effort to write off as meaningless. But all the same, hardships were encountered. Barriers and blockades were overcome through sheer will, and sheer will alone. He expected the same out of his new apprentice -- perhaps even more.

Time would tell if this would come to pass. For now, it was battle.

Viren had prepped himself mentally and physically for Karn's reinvigorated assault. He could feel the Force flowing through his apprentice with a new purpose. Had his words truly hit home so quickly?

---

"Again." Vash's voice boomed across the forest floor to Haven. The boy was tired; despite all his physical skill, the trials that the Dark Jedi had put him through were gruelling at best, and physically destructive at worst. In the time since their training had begun, Haven had counted approximately fourteen new scars that he could not recall seeing beforehand. Yet even still, the Panathan pushed himself to his feet, swallowed his pride and pain, and stood with his blade held aloft.

Snap-HISS.

His eyes widened. Vash held in his left hand a hilt of crimson, one of the legendary weapons of the Jedi Order -- a lightsaber. On Panatha, few Force-sensitive individuals lived amongst them that weren't taken away at a young age, and even fewer who wielded these most elegant of weapons made themselves known. This was the first time Haven had ever seen one in person. He knew cortosis could resist the power of a lightsaber's blade, but to what extent?

Vash smirked.

"I sense your uncertainty, Haven. Uncertainty will lead to your doom," the Jedi stated as he began advancing across the forest floor. "If you fear me, I will kill you. Channel those emotions into rage, and channel that rage into your own personal power. Never back down. Do you understand me?"

As sweat dripped off of his brow, Haven caught his breath; deeply, he inhaled through his nose. The Force stirred within him as a light breeze danced through the forest air. It pricked his damp skin and sent a chill through his body that awakened his senses to his surroundings.

When he blinked and opened his eyes once more, the faintest hint of burning yellow tinged his iris.

"Yes... Master."

He would never back down.

---

They met in the center of the makeshift ring once more, Viren stepping forth only slightly so that they may clash. The feel of a lightsaber striking a blade was far different from that of another saber; instead of harmless sparks of light, superheated sparks of metallic shavings flew off in every direction. They splashed harmlessly against Viren's glossy armor and the visor of his helm, but Karn could feel the slight burn of the embers as they dug into his flesh before losing their temperature. Viren moved far differently wielding this ancient weapon; unlike his double-bladed saber, the motions of his vibroblade were more traditional and for more efficient than ever before. Each riposte was performed with a practiced expertise that reflected his familiarity with the artform, and despite his size, his footwork was flawless and graceful.

Each step Karn took forward, Viren mirrored it. Each blow came to be intercepted and swatted away as though with a fan, lightly but with commanding presence. Viren made no effort to counterattack any of Karn's attempted strikes, and it seemed in this exchange, Viren was toying with him; that, or inviting him to try something against the grain of what the style of Juyo often called for.

When the Assured Strike was prepped, Viren's eye caught Karn's movements well ahead of time. Despite the increasing pace of his blows, Viren maneuvered his body into a most advantageous position subtly.

The slightest twist of his wrist caused the hilt of his vibroblade to nudge Karn's own hilt to the left; thus, his almost-certain strike grazed past Viren's shoulder, missing its mark.

Viren stepped back after this exchange to reset his footing. Close, he remarked in his mind before his senses called him back to reality and the arcs of lightning shooting toward him. The Darth barely had time to react to this sudden and egregious outburst, but react he did; sending his free hand forth, Viren grunted as the lightning jumped into his own hand. The blue-white sparks travelled up the glossy black plating of his armor as his fingers closed around the Force made manifest. After a brief second of silence, the Darth added his own power into the absorbed energy and stretched his hand outward with a forceful step, the stone cracking beneath his foot as a veritable cannon of Force Lightning barreled from his fingertips.

The jet brushed by Karn's head, missing by inches, though the charged air left the hairs of his neck standing on end, his cheek warmed by the pure heat radiating from the beam.

A plume of dust shot into the air from behind Karn, the stonework of the wall blasted apart from the force of the display. Viren stood in silence, back to his full height, his unflinching helmeted gaze levelled at Karn. Despite his covered face, his mere presence radiated an aura of one thing, and one thing only; anger.

"Breach the rules of our engagement one more time, and it will be your last, Apprentice." Despite the coldness of his tone, one could sense a composure behind his words that was at once chilling and also relieving. Flexing the fingers of his hand, singed slightly from the last-second exposure to the lightning, he hummed as he observed Karn.

"Your eagerness, your will; they are both your greatest ally and your most terrible enemy. A desire to prove oneself will take you to new heights, but allowing that desire to consume your being will bring about a rapid and unavoidable downfall. The true markings of a Sith -- of a warrior -- are traits of temperance and keenness of mind. To know your enemy, you must first know yourself. For example," Viren said as he sheathed the blade behind his back once more, concealed beneath his flowing onyx cloak, "my desires and thoughts are likely foreign to you. But even without probing your mind, I see into your heart. Tell me, in your own words, what you want, Karn Albrecht."

Viren crossed his arms, once again in the center of the circle, a few feet from his apprentice. He let the eerie silence hang in the air for a few moments as Karn prepared his answer.

[Rugs]

A part of Karn realized that he’d made a mistake as soon as the lightning arced from his fingers. But emotion whirred to feverishly in his mind, frustration and anger erupted to the fore with such force that drowned out all reason as he channeled the Dark Side.

Karn knew his own talents and deficiencies well, even if he didn’t like to admit the latter. His strong emotions, constantly driving him to action, had lent him a strength in the ways of the Dark Side from the beginning that easily outpaced that of many of his fellow acolytes. The side effect of this was that he often found himself somewhat handicapped in spars; he couldn’t call on the full strength of one of his greatest strengths. Not when it might kill an acolyte.

Yet here, control slipped in a moment of weakness. The blast of lightning erupted with such vigor that his hair blew back as it warmed the air and stirred it to motion. Against a lesser foe than Viren, it could have easily proved fatal.

Karn realized this with horror as the lightning abruptly stopped arcing from his outstretched, four-fingered hand.

Then came the reprisal. Karn physically flinched, lifting an arm over his face in reflexive defense, as Viren’s lightning shot past him. As the dust hurtled skyward, raining down bits of loose stonework onto him, Karn lowered his arm and looked at his master’s masked face.

Fear and regret were evident on his face. His grip on the Force slipped--one of his greatest weaknesses that Colubus had worked tirelessly to correct--as panic gripped him. He didn’t need to see Viren’s face to sense his anger. It choked the air so intensely that Karn wondered if his panicking or his master was the reason it seemed suddenly hard to breathe.

“Master, I’m sorry,” he stammered at Viren’s warning. “I-I lost control. I didn’t mean to. I just...”

The words trailed off as Karn looked at the ground, shamed and feeling foolish. I wanted to impress you, he finished silently.

His lightsaber retreated into the hilt with a hiss, and he clipped the weapon to his belt as Viren spoke on.

“Tell me, in your own words, what you want, Karn Albrecht."

“What I want?” Karn’s gaze went distant as he repeated the line, more lost in thought than seeking clarity.

—-

“You are to join the Sith Order. They will prove better teachers for you than those passive Jedi ever could.”

Karn sat in the foyer of his family’s expansive home on Arakania. It was well furnished, warmly lit and comfortable, despite the snowstorm raging outside. A hooded Sith stood some ways apart, giving Karn’s mother and father room to speak to their son without interruption.

“They will guide you as you continue to hone your abilities in pursuit of perfection,” his father, Volo, said. Karn took after his father, and even bore his name.

Karn simply nodded. “Of course, father.”

“Do us proud,” his mother said. “You are our perfect son.”

Karn smiled. He knew, vaguely, that his parents had borne two children before him. They’d been discarded. What happened to them after that, he did not know. Nor did he care.

Why should he care for his lessers?

—-

“Please... let me go...” Karn’s voice was somewhere between a groan and a whine as Thraken pulled him back by the hair

“Does it hurt, Arlbrecht?” The Sephi showed no sign of relenting. Another blow fell to Karn’s battered ribs. He coughed blood as his vision blurred serverely. “You sure as shit didn’t seem to care when you were the one in charge.”

That was true. He would have killed Thraken in the dueling sands, if the instructor hadn’t pulled them apart. Now he wished he had done it anyway.

“Don’t worry, though, I’m not gonna kill ya.” The Sephi was crouching, his voice close as he spoke to Karn’s ear. “That’s too easy.” He drove Karn’s head downward and his face met the rocky ground in a flash of blinding pain.

The last thing Karn remembered through the agonizing haze was clinging desperately to consciousness as the beating continued.

—-

“What do I want?” Karn’s brows drew down in thought. It seemed a simple question. So too did the answer, driven by years of desire. His time with the Sith had fostered many interests, from dueling and application of the Force to studies of the ancient Sith and their ways and language. Yet one desired lingered over the others...

—-

“You have mastered, and at such a young age, an ability few Sith ever even grasp, Karn.” Colubus crouched next to him on the floor of Dromund Kaas’ jungles. A small mammal lay dying in the underbrush before Karn, its fur pale and sickly. Its skin greyed severely as some terrible, sudden sickness ravaged its body.

Just a few minutes ago it had been perfectly healthy. That was before Karn forced a plague on it through the Force.

“Your potential, Karn, is astounding,” his master said as she stood. “If only you understood it fully.”

—-

Janse’s lightsaber darted for Karn’s chest. He moved to block the stroke, body aching from the near-dozen training lightsaber burns Janse’s lightfoil left in its wake.

Contact. A flash of light, a hiss.

A sickening moment of horror as Janse’s twisting blade wrenched Karn’s lightsaber from his grip and sent it spinning into the sands. Defeat, total and absolute.

Karn collapsed as his injured leg gave out. Murmurs rippled through the crowd of acolytes circling the sparring arena. He glared defiance at Janse, refusing to voice his surrender.

The blonde acolyte, instead of taking umbrage, put his weapon away and extended a hand in aid.

Karn’s blood boiled.

—-

“Ever since I was a child, my parents told me to seek greatness — to seek perfection — in all that I do.” He started slowly, as if not quite sure of himself. His voice grew more firm as he spoke on. “Yet every step I take, for every new triumph or achievement, I’m forced to bear witness to my own failures, to my own weaknesses and shortcomings.

“I want to have even a fraction of the strength that you do, not only of ability but of mind, of judgment, of will.” Heat rose in his voice but fell slightly as he sighed, feeling frustrated with himself. “I’m tired of enduring failures. I’m tired of enduring beatings from my peers and wondering when I might stand above them all. I’m tired of reliving the guilt from Nar Shadda and knowing it’s my fault that Colubus died.”

Karn paused for a long moment, throat tightening as sorrow from the pain of his former master’s death — still a raw, burning wound — swept over him. Yet he pressed on. The Force stirred in him as he looked Viren in the eye--or where his master’s eyes were beneath the onyx mask.

“When I asked you to take me as your student, I asked you to help me break my chains. That is what I want, Master.”

[Ysmir]

To break one's chains...

Viren reflected on the words of his acolyte in a moment of silence. He had finally laid bare the toils that weighed upon his mind, and the Darth could sense that further poisonous thoughts dwelled within his mind. Turning on his heel, Viren's feet thudded along the stone floor as he approached the bannister of the balcony. He stood inches away from a nearly one hundred foot dropp, separated from the desert floor below by only a railing. Wind and dust whipped across the vast valley that stretched out beyond the academy grounds. It was beautiful in its desolate simplicity.

"A simple request, but not one so easily fulfilled," Viren began.

"Failure is a fact of life. On the path to strength, to valour, one will be faced with obstacles, one after another, each one grander in scope than the last. Failure is to be expected, to be welcomed..." Viren said as he tapped his fingers along the bracers of his armor, "and on this path, failure is a Warrior's greatest ally."

Viren turned from the bannister, letting his arms uncross so that he could reach up to his helm. With a click and a hiss as compressed air shot out from the helmet's hard points, Viren lifted the visor free from his head. His peppered gray hair was disturbingly well-kept, his brows set in what one might assume was a permanent scowl. His eyes burned deeply with the Dark Side, and it seemed as though his gaze would pierce directly through whatever he set it on. He held his helmet beneath the crook of his arm as he continued.

"One learns nothing in victory, Acolyte. Only from defeat are you able to identify weakness -- and snuff it out," Viren continued, taking a few steps toward Karn, through the center of the balcony's circle, "I was born with natural talent, this is true. For that, I am ever grateful for my genetics and my upbringing. But just the same, adversity called my name soon enough."

Viren lifted his free hand, pointing to the branded script that ran down the right side of his face. "I wear the marks of my servitude and gaze on them every day. They serve as a reminder of how far one can rise above whatever pitiful excuse for a life they may have once had. No one being is above another in essence, only in state of mind. I serve the Empress because she is what I see when I envision a perfect galaxy -- not because I believe her to be my superior. Only my salvation. I serve her not for myself, but for the good of all beings. I do not aim to impress, I aim to deliver. Do you understand?"

Eventually, his thudding footsteps came to a halt. Viren stood a few feet away from Karn. Free from the wild motions of combat, his sheer size was made more evident as the setting sun gleamed just barely over his broad shoulders. After a moment of silence, he continued.

"When you live to impress, you will only ever succeed in stamping down upon your own expectations for yourself. Do not be a puppet, Karn Albrecht. My job is not to mould you into a servant -- my job is to ensure the Empire's continued prosperous existence through strengthening its people. I chose you because I saw within you in the will to be better than what you are. If you wish to overcome your failings, then work for it. If you desire power, earn it. Wallowing in your self pity is a waste of your time and my own."

Viren ceased his monologue and lifted his helm, placing it back upon his head. It set into place and resealed as he turned away from his apprentice, returning toward the center of the ring. His back to Karn, Viren reached upward and grasped the hilt of his vibroblade, pulling it free from its sheath. He turned to look at Karn over his shoulder.

"Break free from your emotions. Master them. Leave Colubus and the guilt you carry for her in the past where they belong." He spun his blade about and turned, standing ready to endure another assault.

"Hit me."

[Rugs]

Failure.

Karn hated the word — hated the thought of failure. His free hand closed to a fist at his side, fingers digging into his palm as he recounted failure after cursed failure he’d endured since deploying to Nar Shaddaa.

He knew the truth in Viren’s words. The road to greatness was long, winding, and dense with pitfalls. Just as his parents suffered and fought through setbacks in their research, so to would he, to reach his full potential.

But so many failures in so short a time. So much pain that kept his emotions at a constant simmer, ready to boil over to open rage at the slightest provocation.

“Yes, Master,” he said, slowly lifting his eyes to Viren. It was surprising, to see the brands on his master’s face. It was hard to imagine anyone branding Viren, but Karn knew the man only as he was now. What he’d been in his past life, before becoming Viren, Karn knew nothing of.

“At risk of... wallowing more, as you called it, I know you are right, but it is hard, sometimes. I try to advance, from one setback only to find another in my face.” The day they’d met had been an example; sulking away from humiliation at the hands of his fellow, only to stumble into conflict with Nostos and Darth Viren, himself.

“But I haven’t come from these lessons emptyhanded,” he said, more for himself than for Viren. “If I never encountered those hardships, I wouldn’t stand before you now.”

As Viren returned to their makeshift arena’s center, sliding his helmet back into place, Karn inhaled deeply. He resolved to follow his master’s instruction, to labor on toward the mountaintop he so desperately hungered after, rather than despairing over his stumbles in the valleys.

"Break free from your emotions. Master them. Leave Colubus and the guilt you carry for her in the past where they belong."

At the last, his throat tightened. His vision watered as unwelcome tears welled at the memory of his fallen master, at the shame he felt for the role he played in her death. “I...” he started, voice cracking. The words, whatever they would have been, died unspoken.

“I’ve never been good at leaving things in the past,” he said wearily as his Viren drew his vibroblade. “But I must, mustn’t I?” Karn closed his eyes, lightsaber yet unlit despite Viren’s order to attack.

“To linger on what’s done is to hold myself back,” he said, drifting into the Sith language. “To dwell on the past would not be Sith.”

Forgive me for my failings Lady Colubus, he thought. Again, he saw her death, heard her cry, heard his own wailing as he watched her die. What’s done is done. I will make you proud.

Clinging to her memory had offered a comfort of sorts, a trace of familiarity among the sudden upheaval in Karn’s life. And now he had Viren to look to, to lead him to the future. Dwelling on his past, agonizing in his failures would only end with Viren leaving him behind.

Or killing me.

His crimson saber snapped to life the instant his eyes opened. A resolve settled over Karn, in his body language as he slowly, confidently closed some of the gap between himself and his master. It settled in his presence as he called on the Force and pressed it into himself, prepared for the exchange to come.

As he raised his lightsaber, he looked Viren in the eye and, for the first time since he’d stepped foot outside with his master, flashed a cocksure grin.

“As you wish.”

Karn rocketed forward, pressing himself as hard as his body and command of the Force would allow. As he met Viren, he attacked viciously, unleashing blow after unceasing blow. Still he schemed, tried to come up with some plan to crack his master’s heretofore impenetrable defenses, but he did not let it dictate his actions so completely as he had earlier.

He let his instincts and Force guide him as they danced around the arena. Karn attacked with such focus that he didn’t notice the bits of glowing metal coming from Viren’s vibroblade and grazing his arms, his hands — didn’t react when one found his cheek with a singeing bite.

On and on their exchange went, with Karn sometimes forced to desperately defend himself, until he found an opportunity. As he was pressed back, nearly to the wall, he ducked a vertical slash that might have split his skull had it landed. A horizontal follow-up sent him rolling on the rocks and to the side to avoid Virens’ blade, and as he came up he barely fended off a another slash that would have taken him in the chest.

He rose on his feet, ignoring the sand and dust that clung to his clothes, his hair as he used the new space to give ground parallel to the wall. A few more strikes he fended of until he attacked again, high, then low. As he came in high again, using the same overhanded strike he’d employed throughout their fight, he pulled back on his blade at the last moment, cutting the stroke short. His eyes went wide as he saw the slenderest of openings and let loose a bitting thrust at his master’s shoulder.

Whether true or a trap, it was the first opening he’d seen. He’d not throw away the chance.

[Ysmir]

This was it. The resolve he wished to see. Somewhere, deep beneath his outward visage of detestment and solitude, beneath the mask he wore to hide his features, Viren was smiling. Not visibly, but he knew that he had reached Karn in some manner.

This was it.

The moment they locked blades once more was the moment they began to truly communicate. Viren felt Karn's desires, his wants and hopes, his true intent bent on becoming the best he possibly could. Karn, in turn, felt Viren's convictions, the unrelentingly hot flame that burned within him with a yearning to serve a higher purpose other than himself. These two ideals, held by two separate entites, clashed at the same time their weapons did. Each crimson spark as the cortosis-weaved blade crashed against Karn's lightsaber was a representation of their minds warring with one another in an unseen tangle.

This exchange went on longer than others -- both men were driven by something else entirely now. As they traded blows and parries, neither one gaining significant ground on the other, a chant was heard in their heads. It was the chant of the Dark Lords of the valley watching the contract between Master and Apprentice being sealed, the Dark Side luring them both to push one another to even greater heights. Their audience was at once invisible and all around them, and even Viren felt a bead of sweat form at his brow as he pushed himself physically and felt the eyes of the old Lords on them, faint though they may be. A vertical blow just barely missed Karn's head as he was pushed back toward the wall, the vibroblade cleaving straight through the concrete and showering the ground beneath with a fine dust. Viren pressed the offense, chasing the retreating Acolyte with another horizontal slash that, too, barely missed its mark. The tides were turning -- Viren felt his apprentice's former resolve slipping as he pressed his offense.

Viren mercilessly battered Karn's defense as he advanced on him, hearing that faint chanting growing ever more distinct and crisp in his ears.

The flow of combat was as clear to Viren as day, but something had thrown him off -- a glimpse in the visor of his helmet, the smallest distraction to throw off his timing by mere micrometers.

And he felt his shoulder jerk backward.

The lightsaber pierced the armor from the direct blow, causing a sharp singing sound to emit outward as smoke rose from the fresh hole. The deeper components of the duraplast did their job, preventing Viren from taking any true harm, but a hit had been achieved, and Viren was rendered silent for a moment as they stood there.

But it wasn't over yet. Viren lifted his blade and smacked the lightsaber away, leaving a glowing orange circle in the shoulder of his armor plating as he resumed his offense. Something had changed in the Dark Lord, and Karn could feel it; where before there was mere stoicism and silence, his very aura sang with a controlled and focused rage as he channeled the Dark Side in a more direct way than ever before. Karn could have sworn he saw a rippling red cloak of steam surrounding Viren's body as he seemed to tap into a secondary reservoir of strength and speed, his physical capacities seeing a sharp and staggering increase as he quickened the pace of his assault.

FWAP

The flat-end of his vibroblade struck Karn directly in the side of his neck as a feint threw the Acolyte off-balance.

CRACK

Next, it struck the inside of his leg, causing his knee to buckle involuntary from the sheer force of the blow as an electric pain shot through his entire lower body.

It all happened in mere seconds, and at the end of this very savage and brief exchange, Viren stood above the kneeling Karn, blade pointed at his chin. Karn could sense this venomous aura subside as Viren ceased drawing upon his inner darkness, displaying a subtle and terrifying control over the rage that drove most Sith Warriors. Viren nodded.

"You have taken the first step toward greatness, apprentice," he stated plainly as he removed the tip of his vibroblade from Karn's chin, sheathing the blackened steel on his back, "rise."

Viren allowed Karn to stand up once more, crossing his arms over his chest as he levelled his helmeted gaze toward the Arkanian. "Colubus did not die because of you. She died because she was weak. Whether you choose to believe that or not is entirely up to you, but the sooner you understand the truth of it, the sooner you will be free of the past that tethers you to your own weakness."

He turned on his heel to move his massive frame from Karn's view, allowing him unobstructed sight of the orange sun setting below the cusp of the valley. Darkness would soon move in as the sands blew endlessly across the grand vista.

"We stand and fight among history -- lessons of yesteryear. One day, I wish for the vision of the Sith to be fulfilled once and for all -- and I believe Her Radiance will lead us to that goal," he ruminated as he stood side by side with the Acolyte, almost as an equal. He turned his helmeted gaze downward and toward Karn briefly. "But we must look to the future to ensure that it happens as such. Let it die, Karn Albrecht, and you will become stronger than you could ever imagine."

Walking toward the balcony once more, he dropped his arms from his chest to rest both hands onto the stone wall. He spoke without looking from the view. "The question is, are you ready to test yourself on the field of battle once more?"

[Rugs]

Success.

Karn was so shocked when he lightsaber blade pierced Viren’s guard and dug into his armor that he froze, ivory eyes starting widen as his brain struggled to catch up to what just happened. He’d seen the opening, clear as day, but a part of him had expected it to be a trap, to be opening himself up to a caustic rebuke that’d put him on the ground and solidify his master’s displeasure.

The effect of all this was that for a moment, he stood there, unmoving. For a moment, rather than trying to press his advantage to a “finishing” move, he stared at Viren, in near slack-jawed wonder that he’d managed to even graze his armor.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have made a difference either way. But his stillness did nothing to help with the coming assault.

A shift in the Force, then his master moved again, with a fury that surprised Karn. Still trapped near the wall, he had no real room to retreat, no way to dodge or slip out of the way of Viren’s blows. He had no space; only his bladework to keep Viren’s sword at bay.

For a few precious seconds he resisted, though he knew Viren pushed him beyond the breaking point. The feint came, and Karn bit.

He groaned as the flat of the blade struck his neck. The blow’s force staggered him, nearly knocked him over, but he gripped his lightsaber and looked at Viren with stubborn determination.

The following blow ended it. He yelped involuntarily, clutching at his knee as he crumpled. His lightsaber blade died as the weapon fell from his hand, clattering uselessly to the stones. For a moment, Karn’s kept his tongue down, biting his tongue to keep from whimpering at the pain that ate at his leg.

When he lifted his eyes, he was greeted by Viren’s sword, point hovering near his chin.

He was beaten.

It came as no surprise, given the gulf in strength and experience between Viren and himself, but every loss stung. He held back, he thought. That too was no surprise. It shouldn’t have hurt his pride, but it did.

The endeavor wasn’t entirely fruitless. Karn stood at his master’s instruction, gritting his teeth against his knee’s protest, and eyed the scarred metal where his lightsaber made contact. Landing a strike had taken just about all he had, but he did it.

“Master, I...” he started as Viren spoke of Colubus’ death. Karn still struggled to come to terms with what’d happened on Nar Shaddaa. As much as he wanted to leave what happened, to leave her in the past, his heart still ached at the memory, and the thought that he might have saved her if he’d not hesitated.

If he’d been just a step faster.

“I know,” he said, finally, leaning over to scoop his lightsaber from the ground. He clipped it to his belt — he rather doubted there was any more sparring to be done. Karn took in the Valley, stretching for miles around below, as he stepped out of the wall’s shadow.

“I am ready for whatever task you would give me, Master,” he said. But the answer seemed too dry, too formulaic. Too expected.

“If you are asking about my strength of will after what happened on Nar Shadda, Master,” Karn said, thoughtfully. “I long for the chance to take to the battlefield again. To prove what happened there will not again.” His hand tightened to a fist at his side. “It’s only on another battlefield that I can make amends for my failures at Nar Shaddaa. So yes, Master, send me and I will be the first into the fray. Give me the opportunity, and I will be your vanguard.”

Briefly, Karn’s mind drifted to his encounter with Prophet Nostos a day prior, in the Valley of the Dark Lords. A loyal creature, the Prophet had called him. A flash of anger rippled through his presence. He hated the Prophet fiercely and hated even more that Nostos seemed able to so easily read him.

Karn walked slowly forward, until he was standing beside his master at the balcony. While Viren stood with his hands spread on the balcony, Karn put his own behind his back as he gazed out at the view below.

“There is one thing I wanted to ask,” he said. “Earlier, after I used my lightning, you said I broke the terms of our fight” He tilted his head slightly, sweat-damp hair blowing gently in the evening breeze. “Why? Other than trying not to kill my fellows, I have never thought to limit what advantages or tools I might have available in a fight.”

[Ysmir]

Karn was beginning to understand, it seemed, but slowly. Viren was not surprised. To take one's own closely held beliefs, one's own system of management and decision-making, and to do away with it was no small feat. But to progress in life required adaptation, a chameleon-like ability to change your mindset to one that is more appropriate for the road before you.

Viren had learned this the hard way on more than one occasion.

Still, the acolyte had managed a commendable feat in only his first lesson under Viren's tutelage, and that could not be ignored. His curious proficiency in advanced Force techniques aside, Viren could see that the high-and-mighty Arkanian had a fire within him that refused to be quelled. As often turned out to be the case for most prodigies, Karn was his own worst enemy, and Viren would go to great lengths to grind such petty worries into a fine dust before his mentorship was considered complete. That meant memories of Colubus and everything that came with them, self-loathing after defeat, and the idea that he was a servant. When Karn referred to himself as Viren's "Vanguard", the Dark Lord shook his head.

"No," he stated plainly. "Not a vanguard. A warrior, and your cause will be the Empire's. The Order's. Not my own."

Viren cast his eyes upon to Karn as he stood by him on the balcony, before sweeping them back across the valley once more. "I am your Master in title, but not in spirit. Your life and will are yours and yours alone. My only objective is to sharpen your mind and body so that you may be a more efficient combatant for our Empire. But do not misunderstand my meaning behind this; we are servants of Her Radiance's will, this much is true, but we serve because we choose to, because we understand and believe her vision to be for the good of the Galaxy. If the strongest version of yourself can only be drawn out by breaking you, then I will break you. If you succeed, you will be praised. If you fail, you will be punished. These are my simple terms," Viren stated, before turning his head toward Karn slightly once more. "But do not fight for me. Fight for yourself."

His philosophy was unique, but one carved from the stone of his own experiences. Self-empowerment and individual might were a sentient's greatest assets; without them, one may as well be dead. In willingly serving a power greater than himself, an ideal rather than a single entity, Viren found peace of mind. All he had done that day was present Karn Albrecht a choice, not unlike the choice he had been offered over a decade ago. His to make.

At his question, Viren regarded Karn slightly, eye barely-visible through the visor of his helm. Then he turned his gaze back across the windswept valley. He retrieved his hands from the balcony and folded them behind his waist, under his flowing black cloak.

"Because without honor, we are but animals," Viren began.

His mind flashed back to the pits; he rarely ruminated on that portion of his life, but it seemed appropriate. Kelso Morrin, his comrade, sometimes a partner when the opportunity presented itself for a two-person event. Morrin had forgotten his honor. In exchange for a more lavish life, he threw fights, pretended to lose even when he vastly overshadowed his menial challenger. Viren could recall in great detail the day he discovered this treachery; the very same day he drove his vibrosword through Kelso Morrin's stomach, severing the spine between the 6th and 7th vertebrae and ensuring a slow and agonizing death. Viren nodded to no one in particular as he reflected on that moment.

"Sith are taught to befriend passion and chaos, to revel in their unhinged madness. But that is not a true warrior's way. Rage is to be focused, used as a weapon, not a crutch. If you allow yourself to become a slave to your own impulses, then you are already losing the greatest battle you will ever fight," Viren stated, glancing to Karn again, "the one against yourself."

He turned back to the valley once more. He lifted his right hand and pressed an index finger to the temple of his helmet. "The victorious warrior fights with the mind first," he began, lowering the finger to press against his armor's chestplate, where his heart would be, "and emotion second. Wield it like a personal blade so that it may never be used against you. That is my lesson on honor -- and, more importantly, control."

[Rugs]

A warrior.

Karn had never thought of himself as a warrior. Not directly. He was plenty capable in a fight, sure, though he knew he had a long way to go before he could even rightly stand beside his masters — either of them. Yet the word carried a connotation, a weight that suggested something beyond a simple fighter for a cause. It evoked, in the Arkanian’s mind, images of the honor-bound fighters of ancient legend, who strove for dominance not for its own sake, but for a cause.

His cause, to hear Viren tell it, would be the Empire’s. Renata’s. Her will was the Empire’s will, executed through her faithful servants, including Darth Viren and himself.

Karn was, technically, a citizen of the Republic, though he wagered that technicality wouldn’t hold water in practice. Arkania, his home was well in Republic space, just beyond the border between the Empire and Sith.

Yet he’d never been raised to feel any loyalty toward the Republic. To his parents, and thus to him, the Republic was a beacon of stagnancy and decay. They’d rebuffed the Jedi when they came knocking to whisk Karn away to Coruscant, only to send him to the Sith with their blessing just before his thirteenth birthday.

“If we are to continue to grow, to progress, we must press on ceaselessly,” his father had said the night before Karn departed to join the order. “The Sith, they understand that. This bloated Republic, the Jedi — they scoff at the cost of progress and societal advancement and hide behind their morals while the Galaxy rots away beneath them. You cannot run from the cost of perfection, son. The Sith will teach you that. The Sith will make you great.”

Viren was still speaking, in answer to Karn’s question of honor. Karn frowned — subtly, but visibly — at his master’s initial response, but listened. The strong and the cunning survived; the weak and the stupid died. That was an immutable truth of nature.

Was it dishonorable to turn to tricks to best a foe? To employ lies and deceit as a means to an end? Karn did not know Viren’s past nor his considerable experience, but he knew the types who prattled on about honor. Self-righteous sorts like Janse. He shuddered. He’d sooner quit the Sith than turn into something like the rich nobleman’s son.

He remembered the outstretched hand. The subtle smile as Janse stood over him after besting him. Karn growled under his breath.

Viren, at least, was nothing like that.

“Master, I understand what you are saying, I do.” Karn’s tone said he was willing to listen, even if he didn’t quite agree. “But is honor worth more than surviving? I admit I fail more than I should with control. The lightning — I didn’t mean to do it, but I got so frustrated it just...” He shrugged, annoyance at himself evident as he blew air through his lips. “I lost control, yes. That was my failing. It has always been my failing. But does it extend merely to moments of lost control? What if I act intentionally, effectively, even if it’s not ‘honorable?’”

“I know that it is only a matter of time until I face a Jedi in combat, Master. I do not know when the war will come, but I can see its approach as well as anyone else.” Karn leaned forward, settling his weight on the forearms against the railing as he looked out over the Valley. “What right do they have to honor from me, when that time comes? They would tear down everything we have achieved, everything we’ve built and strive for, if given the chance.

“I do not mean to be stubborn or flippant, Master, but what harm is there in stabbing one in the back, if the opportunity comes?”

[Ysmir]

Viren peered downward at Karn.

The Acolyte was a curious one. Viren had divined as much ever since his first meeting with him and Nostos. Eager for power and recognition, but at first unwilling to pay the cost. This tide was changing, but it would be a long process. The Dark Lord could sense the conflict brewing within his mind as he absorbed Viren's words, meditated upon them, questioned his own thoughts and beliefs and reconciled them with this new information. Reinforcement and a change of mindset would be the only way to bridge this gap between them brought about by a difference in upbringing, though Viren hoped that leading by example could help further it along as well.

But when Karn asked his question, the Darth turned his eyes back toward the sun setting over the Valley. Like the last candlelight, it extinguished the glow that dimly lit the sandy dunes and tall tombs that dotted the landscape. The sky untouched by the dying light washed over in an exquisitely sinister purple and black, beckoning dusk. Viren pondered what Karn had said.

The Jedi were weak, brought down by their flawed teachings and perceptions of "peace". They lacked independence, and they lacked the astute sense of self that made each individual Sith -- true Sith -- strong.

But they were not weak of body.

"Make no mistake, my apprentice; the Jedi are formiddable," Viren said with resignation to the truth of his words. "In the wars, far before your time with the Order, I fought many Jedi. I have killed many Jedi. I will tell you this; their shortcomings do not come from lapses of skill. They come from lapses of conviction."

Viren let the words hang in the air between them for a moment before turning to his apprentice once more. "You should not get used to those moments where shorthanded tactics are available. Because against a Master Jedi, against a Mandalorian warrior who has faced down a wielder of the Force and lived to tell the tale, those opportunities will never present themselves. In a battle against an opponent who has seen betrayal and misdirection countless times, you must rely on your wits and your skills, and those alone."

"Every single Jedi I have ever faced most likely believes that, given the chance, they would strike me down where I stood; but this is a falsehood. Their teachings advise against the extreme prejudice of taking an opponent's life. That is the weakness you must exploit." Viren turned his torso to face Karn fully, resting a hand on the balcony. "I do not expect you to take to this manner over night. All I ask is that you consider my words carefully and understand that without the beliefs I hold now, I would not be standing before you as Praetor Magnus."

Viren shifted away from the bannister. He walked back toward the doorway leading into the Academy but stopped, standing in the center of the circle once more. He turned to look at Karn.

"When the time comes, apprentice, are you ready to strike down those who would threaten the Order? Once and for all? Are you ready to snuff out a life for a cause greater than yourself?"

[Rugs]

A lack of conviction.

Karn’s brows knit, but this time in thought as he considered Viren’s words. He’d never had any real experience with a Jedi. He’d come to the Sith Order while the war yet raged, but at 13 and only partially-trained in the ways of the Force--and not at all with a lightsaber--he’d be more a liability than an asset on the battlefield.

By the time Colubus took him under her wing and trained him to the point she’d thought he’d be able to hold his own, the war was over.

Yet it had been a Jedi that saved him from the Archeri, after Colubus fell in battle. After Karn’s attempt to pick up her mantle and carry on with their mission ended in unmitigated disaster. Karn remembered the emerald blade flaring to life.

He’d never forget that, for as long as he lived.

“I see. Their devotion to life, their need to defend others, even at their own peril — that is what makes them vulnerable.” He was sure that the Jedi themselves, saw it as a strength. But depriving another of struggle — of strife — only made them weaker in turn. But if that Jedi hadn't saved me...

That was different. They were allies then, under the agreement the Empire struck with the Republic to throw back the Arhceri. When the war came again, there would be no such obligations for mutual cooperation.

Viren began to leave. Karn lingered behind, staring out over the Valley with his thoughts as a cool evening wind blew in from deeper int the desert. Karn felt his master’s pause and looked over his shoulder, just as Viren addressed him one more time.

“Of course, Master,” he said without hesitation. The answer seemed so obvious, so straightforward that Karn wondered why Viren asked it. There were Sith he’d kill, if he could get away with it. Like Nostos.

“I’d cut them down without a second thought. What greater service could I offer my Empire, and my Empress, than to kill those who rise up against her and will not join her cause?”

[Ysmir]

Viren stood and faced Karn as the gentle wind blew over the bannister. He saw the acolyte's hair flutter slightly, his coak and tasset following suit as he levelled a helmeted gaze across the short distance.

Of course, Master.

Viren's closed fist tightened slightly.

The answer was rapid, sincere. Albrecht believed it, that much was clear -- but Viren did not. Not yet.

The Darth could see why it seemed a pointless question, but there was a stark difference between the beliefs of an arrogant man in safety and an arrogant man who's thoughts and emotions got the better of him. Viren stared at Karn for a few fleeting moments that seemed to drag on indefinitely as the silence between them was broken by another wistful wind. This wind carried with it a fine dust of sand from the Valley of the Dark Lords, sprinkling on Karn's shoulder and flitting off of Viren's armor. Viren nodded slowly.

"We shall see."

The Praetor Magnus turned from his spot and advanced toward the academy doors, which parted at his presence and allowed him entry into the dark hallway. Karn was left alone on the balcony, twilight on the cusp of the horizon as the sun began to fully dip below it. The doors closed shortly after Viren turned to walk further into the academy, and the only noise outside was that of the howling wind that preceded nightfall. An eerie glow was cast by the purple sky.

---

"Captain," Viren announced as he entered the surveillance room.

"Ah! Darth Viren, my Lord!" the man said as he stumbled to his feet, standing in an Imperial salute. "I trust your first lesson went well?"

The Dark Lord did not answer immediately, instead walking to the multiple screens that showed various views of the academy's interior and exterior. He folded his arms behind his waist as he examined each one, before nodding his head. "It did."

There was a brief moment of silence before the Captain swallowed, nodding his head and speaking up once more. "Excellent, sir, excellent. I -- I have news from the Empress, if it please," the man said. Viren turned his head.

"The assignment on Dantooine -- the assault? Preparations have begun. You're to rendezvous at the hyperlane and make contact with Grand Moff Torrik... if it please." The man avoided direct eye contact with the Dark Lord, who turned back to the screens. Viren focused on one that displayed Karn on the balcony, watching as he vacated the premises and returned back to the bowels of the Academy. Viren nodded.

"At last, a true test."

[Rugs]

Karn managed to maintain a respectfully neutral position at Viren’s answer, though he wondered at it. Was that a trace of doubt he heard after that silence that stretched on and on? No, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t waste his time with me if he doubted me, Karn told himself. But I must prove myself.

I will prove myself.

He bowed slightly as Viren took his leave but remained on the balcony. Heavy quiet clung to the Valley, broken only by the wind as it whistled through across the rough, unforgiving landscape. Soon the last traces of light would fade from the sky. Soon the desert would give up the day’s warmth in exchange for cold. Karn had always found Korriban’s twilight to hold a quiet, ghostly sort of beauty, ever since first arriving on the barren world seven years prior.

With Viren gone, Karn leaned onto the balcony, letting his weight rest on his slender forearms as he blew out a long breath. Not for the first time, he recounted the past days’ events. It all seemed a whirlwind now, going back to that first encounter with Janse. A fateful one, Karn admitted, frowning, though it didn’t seem it at the time. He’d lost badly, in that fight he picked, and emerged with battered pride that stung more than the near-dozen saber burns Janse had gifted him.

Karn’s clawed fingers tightened on the balcony railing. That loss still rankled. One way or another, he’d pay it back, with interest.

But if he’d not lost that fight, he wouldn’t have stalked off to sulk in the Temple, wouldn’t have nearly come to blows with Viren in his foul mood, wouldn’t have lost his temper at Nostos.

In all likelihood, he’d still be broken and rudderless, without a master to guide him.

Now here I stand, he thought as the cool wind stirred his sweat-dampened hair, standing atop it all.

Despite everything — despite the horrible loss and struggles of the past month, let alone the last few days, Karn smiled. He lifted his eyes to the sky for a long moment of silent though as the day’s light continued dying.

“I’ll make you proud,” he muttered again, and this time he knew exactly he meant it for.

He closed his ivory eyes and reached out to the Force, letting its currents carry his mind where they would. As they did, he turned spryly on his heel from the balcony’s edge and returned to the center of his and Viren’s makeshift sparring circle.

A circle of red flashed to being, threw back the darkness around Karn as he ignited his lightsaber. He began to work thorugh the forms — Shii-Cho, Juyo, what little he knew of Djem So — flowing smoothly as the day gave up its last breath and night assumed its reign.

He stayed on that balcony atop the Temple long into the night, working diligently, hungrily as a stars twinkled overhead.