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Marick Tyris Arconae walked through the Citadel’s central courtyard, the same courtyard he’d first stepped foot on his first day on Selen as a member of Clan Arcona. He had been a boy, then. Scrawny, wearing hand-me-down free clothing provided by the Shadow Academy.
The place where he had been born, really, anew. He knew the shape of the slopes and dips of the rolling grass field. He noted the tall ancient stone pillars, and the moss overgrowing them. The bushes, brambles, and babbling of the flowing water streams were all familiar, even so many years passed.
He saw the small crater left in the center of the courtyard. He would always remember it, even others had forgotten, or it had become another of the Citadels tall-tales. Wuntila Entra Arconae, then Shadow Lord of Clan Arcona, squaring off in a “honor duel” with a budding young Proconsul who was set to inherit the Serpentine Throne.
Marick had lost, of course. Slammed down into that very crater, his gambit had worked, but Wuntila had weathered the ploy and ended the match then and there.
Memories flashed. He saw the faces of fellow Clannmates, once alive, now dead. He remembered them all. He remembered the guardsman, the scouts, the maintaence crews and droids that roamed about.
The Citadel was, of all the places in the galaxy, the one true home Marick had ever had. Port Ol'val was where he lived, but Estle City was his city. More so than the Hapes cluster ever would be.
He exhaled slowly, his too-blue eyes enjoying the sun peaking through the clouds overhead. He adjusted his cloak, and looked around.
He was to meet a promising member of the Arcona Armed Forces for a training session. A pilot, according to her dossier, but one who showed remarkable resilience in the face of adversity and a penchant for bladework.
This was, afterall, part of Marick’s penance. Not that he minded. Training and helping the new generation gave him a unique sense of pride and joy.
He had arrived ten minutes early.
Evelyn was not surprised that Marick was early. From what she understood from his dossier, the two of them had a lot in common in some ways. It made sense to arrive early. With her military life, you were late if you arrived on team.
“Exarch Tyris,” she called out to him to announce her presence.
“I do want to thank you for taking your time out on your schedule to train me. It had been a bit difficult to find someone considering many prefer blasters or their knuckles.”
Marick turned his shoulders and took note of the white-haired woman as she approached. His eyes scanned her up and down, but there was nothing leering or gross in the action like the way most men (and women) studied her. It was more cursory, mechanical, like a sensor taking in data. He noted her hair, how she wore it braided and over one shoulder. Practical, as it could also be pulled back or tucked away under a helmet fairly efficiently.
He could see that she carried herself like a soldier- straight posture, but not stiff. Confident in how she placed her feet down one after the other. Some might have been intimidated approaching him, but if she was, it did not show on the career pilot who had weathered many trials and challenges face.
“Ms. Wyvren,” Marick greeted politely, his voice faintly lilting yet flat and even in tone. “It’s no problem at all.”
He offered a slight bow of his head. “Anyone can teach you blasters. Or blades, really,” he started. “What I train, what I fight, is with the mind. Knowledge is power, but awareness is its guide.”
He idly held out the hilt of his Radiant lightsaber. It was a simple hilt, molded leather around the hilt, with a silver clasp bearing the Clan Arcona logo embossed on it. “We will fight with both today,” he waved the hilt slightly and then tapped it against the side of his head by way of demonstration.
He returned to a neutral position, his eyes finding hers, locking on and studying them, and her face, for her response.
“You are not wrong. Anyone can teach anyone anything but it takes skill and knowledge, as you said, to practice the arts.” Evelyn watched him get the hilt of his lightsaber and she was glad she brought her sith sword. Lightsabers were no joke. Her hand reached over to the hilt of her Sith sword and pulled it out. Her dark green hues remained firm on his icy blue ones. She almost flinched at the eerily resemblance of his eyes and of another. Her left leg shifted back and she held her hilt firmly but loosely. She learned to always keep her eyes on the enemy’s eyes and face. They tell you more what they might do.
Marick idly thumbed the unique switch on his lightsaber hilt. The black-cored blade sprung to life with it’s typical ghostly white glow. But he had triggered the dual-phase modification that turned the lethal blade to its “stun” setting.
He didn’t adapt any kind of stance.
“Do not hold back. Show me, don’t tell me, who you are.”
His eyes remained on hers, never leaving them, even as he started forward.
His body became a blur as he closed the distance between the two, and made a pair of quick, exploratory strikes with his saber. The first strike went high and down towards Evelyn’s ear, with the second strike circling and angling for the opposite shoulder.
Evelyn used both grip to block the first strike and released the grip on her left hand to use the hilt and keep the second slash from hitting her shoulder. Her left hand slipped behind to grab her sith dagger and attempted to do a surprise jab at Marick’s side.
Perhaps he was getting soft. The killer instinct never truly left someone who had been shaped by it for so long. But Marick had changed, and wether it was Evelyn’s white hair and focused expression that reminded him of his early duels when training Atyiru.
He had been hurt by women so often, and then Atyiru had just…strolled in, turned his world view upside down, and now was the main reason he faught still.
Life before death the words rang radiantly in his mind.
Or perhaps he’d just been stabbed with enough daggers that he was daring this one to try where so many others had failed before.
While the Force might have neglected to give the Elder Arcanist a warning of the stealthy dagger attempt, his reflexes were still honed daily through his stretching, exercise, and disciplined regimen of practicing his Sliding Hands forms.
The dagger should have struck him in the side, but the Hapan twisted adroitly and danced backward a half step before closing back in once again.
Stun-saber and sith sword struck a scintillating pattern of parries in the exchange that followed.
“Great technique,” the Hapan commented casually.
Marick danced backwards and readjusted his stance.
Evelyn exhaled softly as the parried pause with their blades at the cross.
“Thank you.”
Would her past teachers think the same? Or find a small kink in her guard? Then he fluidly move backwards, No. She pursued. She was trained not to let up, unless the enemy surrendered. Slashes followed but her dagger was close to her, prepared to block any incoming or sneak attacks if needed.
Marick actually seemed to be more at ease as he was driven back and pursued. The molded hilt of his lightsaber made it seem like an extension of his wrist as he turned and twisted it in tight coils, deftly batting aside any blade-strikes from the white-haired fencers attacks. It became clear to her, quickly, how he had stayed alive as long as he had, and she could have sworn she noticed the familiar footwork and posture of the Jedi Knights fabled for their use of Soresu. But Marick hardly seemed like a Jedi…
“Hmm.” Evelyn mused to herself as she quickly notice of his defense against her offense. This was familiar. Her parents liked to had different bladed or lightsaber wielders to spar with her. Credits were no issue. They spared no expense on Evelyn.
And what a massive disappointment she was to them. It was time to switch. Her aggressive attacks had fluidity switched over to defensive while she danced back to have a gap between them.
Marick flowed gracefully from the switch of pacing. While Soresu was known as the defensive form, Marick had been training to fight and kill and survive for his entire adult life. And he was hardly a one-trick fathier.
He could tell Evelyn was fighting through a memory while focusing on muscle memory and technique to keep the exchange going. Good. Focus was what separated a great duelist from a dead one.
As she backed away, Marick casually reached a hand to his belt and tossed aside a few training lightsabers, as if he were discarding them. But before the two cylinders could hit the ground, they were suddenly suspended in mid-air by a Telekenetic grip.
Both training sabers ignited in pale blue-white light, far less dangerous than the real kyber-powered blades.
Marick kept his grip on the molded hilt of his own lightsaber, and without needing so much as a hand gesture, directed the two training blades to engage with Evelyn while he kept a safe distance from the white-hair fencer.
Evelyn was not surprised to watch him using telekinesis. She would had done the same. She kept her defense up but they were much quicker than the Force users she had fought in the past. Her jaw clenched at being stunned as there was a small grunt. That was a good reminder that Marick wasn’t like those she had fought. He was much more powerful.
Both her bladed weapon and dagger were close to her body, ready to move when they move. Evelyn shook off the discomfort she had with the stun. With a sharp inhale followed by a deep exhale through her lips.
“Again.”
Marick nodded. If there was any hint of emotion on his face, it would be hard to ascertain. There was a business-ness like calm to how he fought. And there was nothing in his posture that said he would take it easy on her based on her gender or background.
The twin stun sabers spun and swirled around Evelyn, probing for an opening before lashing out with Telekinetic direction.
Evelyn brought up her swords to block and had to step back to avoid being stunned again. Her expression remains unchanged but a spark lighted in her eyes.
They trained her for this.
With enough strength, she managed to completely slash one of the stun sabers downwards. The impact could be heard when her sword and saber collided. The stun saber went straight to the grassy ground, the grass gave way for the saber as it rested on the meadow.
Marick frowned, but it wasn’t one of anger or disgust. Just a simple unexepected calculation. WIthout so much as a movement of his brow or fingers, the defeated stun sabers shot back towards him, and hovered at each side of his head like sentries. Their blade tips were down, though, almost as if they were sad to have disappointed him.
He did not smile, but did offer a slight bow of his head in respect to her prowess.
With an effort of will, Marick took control of some rubble nearby, lifted it up into the air, and sent it shooting towards Evelyn like improvised missiles.
.
.