Private A Commander's Duty

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Rosalyn Dubois

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Lorn leaned against the cool durasteel railing of his balcony, the morning sun warming his scarred face. Shiraya's Rest stretched out before him, the training pit a dusty amphitheater of sweat and struggle. It felt like only yesterday he'd been slogging through those same trials. Now, he was the one watching. Commander Lorn, a title that still felt…new.

The recent skirmishes on Hapes and Naboo had been brutal. The constant barrage of blaster fire and desperate defenses had taken its toll. His muscles screamed for rest, the old aches in his bones a constant reminder of close calls and fallen comrades. He yearned for a moment of peace, a chance to simply breathe, but duty called. The Vanguard was depleted, their ranks thinned by war. They needed fresh blood, new warriors to stand beside them.

Below, the hopefuls were going through hell. Blaster fire zipped past their ears in a hailstorm of laser bolts. The clash of vibroblades echoed with each parry and strike. Force obstacles twisted and turned, testing their control and agility. He knew the process was harsh, unforgiving, but it was necessary. The Vanguard wasn't a daycare, it was a shield against the darkness.

Lorn scanned the faces in the pit, searching for a spark, something that set them apart. A hidden strength, a stubborn refusal to quit, a flicker of raw potential amidst the exhaustion. Today, he wasn't just a Commander, he was a prospector, sifting through the grit and grime for a diamond in the rough. He needed warriors, true, but he also craved the hope that a new generation could reignite, that they would stand against the tide of darkness with unyielding resolve. The fate of the Republic, in some small way, might rest on the decisions he made this very day.

 

[Rosalyn Dubois]

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Even when she stepped onto the shuttle, Rosalyn was still confused as to why she had been invited to the Vanguard. As far as she knew, they drew their numbers from the Order of Shiraya, meaning Masters, Knights and even a handful of Padawans they wanted to personally nurture as Initiates.

Rosalyn was none of them, and she never would be. But it didn’t stop her getting looks from the other trainees that had boarded the shuttle. Whether they were because they recognize her, the orphan. Or believed that she didn’t belong there in the slightest.

Either way, it didn’t matter to her. She’d gotten the former kind of looks a lot over the past few years. She learned to ignore them, and would easily learn to do the same with the latter. Even if it meant shoving a few faces into the dirt, should anyone try to mess with her.

Once they had landed at Shiraya’s Rest, and everyone had got initially situated, the group as a whole were directed out into the Training Pit. Everything had already been set up, and the trainees were left to decide for themselves what they wanted to test themselves against.

None of it appealed to Rosalyn, someone who much preferred having a sniper rifle in her hands.

Ultimately however, she wasn’t about to make herself look like a fool. Rosalyn picked up a vibroblade and squared up against a fellow trainee. The goal was to practice and demonstrate one’s ability with a sword, to try and land ‘blows’ against the opponent, while also avoiding getting hit.

Suffice to say, it wasn’t going in Rosalyn’s favour. Wielding a sword wasn’t her style, so she was constantly on the backfoot, defending against her opponents attempts to land a blow. Determination and stubbornness were clashing, stewing together into a pot of frustration as she tried to try and gain an advantage.

Lorn Reingard
​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Rosalyn Dubois

​

Lorn descended the stairs from the balcony, the weight of his title still pressing on him. As he reached the lower level, he joined Alfie, whose sturdy build seemed to absorb the warm sunbeams filtering through the training grounds.

"They look… rough." Lorn remarked, peering out across the pit where chaos reigned. The sight of energetic trainees hustling to prove their worth churned an uneasy mix of nostalgia and trepidation in him. It had been a battleground, once, even for him, each trial a test of more than just skill, it was a test of resolve.

Alfie grunted, his broad shoulders shifting as he glanced away from his datapad. "We lost a lot, Commander. We had to pull from… anywhere we could." The burly Knight's voice sank under the weight of unspoken grief. It felt as if the scars of war were etched upon his heart just as profoundly as they were on Lorn's.

"Did we even have time to vet these candidates?" Lorn's brow furrowed as he scanned the faces below. A handful of them were familiar, members from the Order of Shiraya. But the rest? They felt foreign.

His gaze wandered to the far edge, locking on a woman struggling in the sparring area. She wielded her vibroblade with an awkwardness that momentarily took him aback. The conventional grace and familiarity that marked seasoned combatants seemed absent; instead, she danced between clumsiness and desperation. And yet, despite her obvious inexperience, there was a fierceness in her eyes, a stubborn defiance that tugged at something deep within him.

"Who is that one?" Lorn asked, passing a skeptical glance back to Alfie, his heart echoing with an unexpected curiosity.

"Dubois," Alfie started, intent on the screen of his datapad. "Rosalyn Dubois. Last of her house, trained with the Royal Security Corps for a while."

Lorn's brow furrowed as he considered her file. The realization of being the last remnant of a family, of a shared history, bore a familiar anguish that resonated with him. He knew the weight of solitude, the dread of always being the last one standing. He studied her, rough around the edges, yes, but her grit was undeniable.

"Put them through their paces within the Force," Lorn said, determination sharpening his voice. "I want to see where they all stand." His instinct urged him to kick the blaze of potential in front of him before it extinguished, a flicker of hope that perhaps these trainees could be molded into something greater.

Alfie nodded and stepped forward, his presence commanding attention as he raised his hand. A hush fell over the group, warrior minds turning toward their next challenge as Alfie began to explain.

"Alright, hopefuls!" he bellowed, his voice resonating like the clang of a bell. "We're switching things up! We're heading to the center of the pit for your next test!"

As the stones were rolled into place, Lorn stood at a distance, a figure of watchful authority. The hefty stone balls were a true measure of each candidate: could they command the Force enough to lift the burden? Alfie instructs each hopeful to lift the stone ball in force, hold it over the mountains edge for a couple of beats, then bring it back and down onto the sand of the pit.

The first few stepped up, their faces tensing with concentration as they reached out, fingers curling unseen. Lorn felt the tension in the air, palpable and weighty, a reminder of the stakes. Some struggled to lift the stones, the weight of expectation crashing down upon them almost harder than the stones themselves.

 

[Rosalyn Dubois]

​

Rosalyn let out a frustrated huff as everything seemed to suddenly grind to a halt. She turned around to see Alfie standing on the balcony, hand raised. He was the one who had greeted her group upon arriving at the base. Something about him reminded Rosalyn of her trainers in the Royal Security Corps.

When he made mention of switching things up, Rosalyn couldn’t help but feel a sinking feeling in her stomach. Something told her that whatever was next, was not something she was going to be able to do.

Like pretty much this whole damn thing.

Her fears were confirmed when the hopefuls gathered around a pile of hefty stone balls. One by one, each hopefully stepped up and tried to use the Force as instructed. As it grew closer to Rosalyn’s turn, she felt her stubbornness flair up to the surface.

She stepped towards the pile, but rather than even attempting to lift one with the Force, she turned to face the balcony. Rosalyn looked up, staring at Alfie as she crossed her arms. “I’m not doing it.”

Tension filled the air at her refusal, eliciting murmurings amongst the other hopefuls around her.

“And why is that?”

“Because I know I can’t do it, so why waste the effort and energy.” She replied, not backing down from staring straight up at Alfie.

To his credit, the man’s expression didn’t budge, aside from sparing a brief glance towards Lorn. “Next!” He bellowed, before stepping back a little. Enough to keep eye on the progress below, but also taking a moment to speak with Lorn.

“Dubois is an…interesting case. Her Force sensitivity came to light due to being affected by the New Day’s virus they unleashed. When her parents were questioned about it, they revealed that they had only survived the Cataclysm because their daughter had accidentally used the Force to keep a roof from crushing them.”

Lorn Reingard
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[Lorn Reingard]

Rosalyn Dubois

​

Lorn watched this Dubois, a knot of frustration tightening in his chest. Her refusal to even attempt the exercise stung, a blatant display against the very reason they were all here. He'd seen potential, a raw, unrefined flicker of power during her sparring session, something that had sparked an unexpected surge of interest. Now, that flicker seemed all but extinguished.

He shot Alfie a sidelong glance, a silent question hanging in the air. Why was this girl even here? Alfie, ever perceptive, met his gaze briefly before offering a lowdown on the girl's history. The revelation of Rosalyn's past, the accidental act of Force that saved her family from the Cataclysm, shifted Lorn's frustration into something more akin to curiosity, laced with understanding.

He knew what it was like to carry a burden, to be the last of a line, to wrestle with the echoes of a shattered past. Was Rosalyn's defiance a shield, a way to protect herself from further disappointment? Or was it, as she claimed, a simple acknowledgement of her limitations?

He dismissed the thought. Limits were self imposed, boundaries needed to be pushed. He couldn't let her give up before she even began. Lorn strode onto the sand, his boots sinking slightly into the fine grains, and cut a path directly to where Rosalyn stood, arms crossed, an island of stubbornness amidst the activity.

The air crackled with unspoken tension as he approached. He forced himself to keep his voice low, mindful of the other candidates, but his words carried a weight that demanded attention. "You're not even going to try?" he asked, his gaze flicking across to the other candidates straining, their faces etched with effort, as they fought to lift the hefty stones. "You might surprise yourself, Rosalyn."

He risked a glance at her. Her posture was defiant, but he saw something else in her eyes, a flicker of uncertainty, a hesitation that betrayed her words. He had to reach the core of that doubt. He kept his tone gentle, almost coaxing. "You saved your parents, kept a roof from crushing them. That wasn't luck, Dubois. That was you." He let the words hang in the air, a challenge, a subtle nudge towards the potential she seemed so determined to ignore. "Maybe...just maybe...you're stronger than you think."

 

[Rosalyn Dubois]

​

She didn’t let the chit chat around her get to her, Rosalyn kept her head held high even when she noticed Lorn was approaching her. The sniper turned to face him, not backing down as she looked him right in the eyes.

“What’s the point of trying if I know I can’t do it? It would be better to just focus on what I am good at.” She replied, almost immediately opening her lips to speak again but suddenly found herself at a loss for words as Lorn mentioned her parents.

Rosalyn’s head almost snapped up towards where Alfie was standing, watching from the balcony. There was a momentary glare from the blue-haired woman, but rationality quickly kicked in.

Of course they’d know you idiot, they would have researched extensively.

She returned her focus to Lorn, crossing her arms. “Yeah? Fat lot of good the Force did for my parents, they still died. As did the rest of my family.” Rosalyn let out a huff, shaking her head. “Just set up some targets, and give me a rifle; any damn rifle, and I’ll show you what I can do.”

Lorn Reingard
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[Lorn Reingard]

Rosalyn Dubois

​

Lorn's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly at Rosalyn's words. The raw, bitter cynicism in her voice was a shield, sharp and unforgiving. He knew that tone well, it was the language of survival in a galaxy that chewed up the hopeful and spat them out.

He refused to be deterred. "The Force isn't some magic shield, Dubois." he said, his voice even, devoid of judgment. "It's a tool. Like a rifle. Only, it's not about pulling a trigger. It's about tapping into something…more." He wanted to add, "Something you already accessed when you were protecting your parents." but he held back. Pushing too hard felt like a mistake.

He paused, letting his words sink in. He knew he was walking a tightrope here, trying to reach her without pushing her further into defensiveness. He risked another glance at her eyes, searching for a flicker of something beyond the anger and grief. He saw a tightness around her mouth, a subtle clenching of her jaw that mirrored his own earlier frustration. She was fighting. Good. At least she was fighting something.

"Alright." he said, a slight shift in his tone, a hint of concession. He knew he wasn't going to magically convince her to embrace the blasted rock today. But maybe, just maybe, he could peel back one layer of that armor she wore.

He turned and gestured towards one of the younger trainees, a nervous kid with a mop of brown hair who seemed perpetually on the verge of tripping over his own feet. "Jax." Lorn called out, his voice carrying across the training ground. "Fetch a standard issue blaster rifle and set up a target at… mark five."

Jax, startled by the sudden attention, scrambled to obey. He stumbled slightly, righted himself, and practically sprinted towards the armory tent. Lorn watched him go, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. The kid had potential, too, even if it was mostly potential to be profoundly clumsy.

Turning back to Rosalyn, Lorn gave a slight shrug. He tried for a reassuring smile, but he suspected it came across as more of a grimace. "Let's see what you can do with that rifle, Dubois." He kept his gaze steady, letting her see the sincerity in his eyes. He genuinely wanted to help her, even if she seemed determined to resist.

 

[Rosalyn Dubois]

​

Rosalyn said nothing in response to Lorn’s words, just kept her arms crossed and stared at him down. It wasn’t particular new behaviour for her, as would’ve been reflected in the report Alfie had on her. During her time training with the Royal Security Corps, she was known to follow orders either silently or with curt responses. But if there was one given that she found dumb or idiotic, she’d put her foot down and wouldn’t mince her words.

And that wasn’t going into the few times someone was dumb enough to poke at her about her family. Each time the person received an immediate black eye as a consequence.

It was only when Lorn seemed to relent, that Rosalyn’s posture finally shifted, dropping her arms back to her side. She watched as Jax clumsily made his way towards the armoury tent. Her expression remained neutral, focused as she waited for him to pop back out, rifle in one hand while the target was tucked under his other arm.

Rosalyn took the rifle as he sprinted over to place the target down where Lorn had instructed. Meanwhile, the blue haired sniper examined the weapon she had been given. Checking its frame, the barrel, the scope, and the charge pack to roughly estimate how many shots she could fire.

Once everything was set up, Rosalyn crouched down to one knee and raised her arm against her chest, over her heart. She focused on her breathing, levelling it out, and lessening her heart rate. At the same time however, she was unconsciously reducing her presence within the Force too.

Rosalyn raised the rifle up and aimed towards the target. She waited for several moments, until her finger pressed the trigger and a bolt of plasma shot out.

Followed by two more, seconds after at seemingly random intervals.

The first bolt hit the metal with an audible sound, sending the target swinging backwards. But just as it began to fall back into place, the second bolt struck, followed by the third seconds later.

Each one hitting it dead centre.

Lorn Reingard
​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Rosalyn Dubois

​

Lorn watched as the plasma bolts struck the target with precision, each shot a testament to Rosalyn's skill. The crack of energy discharging and the sight of the target swinging back reinforced his belief that there was more to her than the cynical armor she wore. He couldn't help but let a genuine smile flicker across his face, even as he knew that this was only a small piece of what she needed to master.

"Impressive," he said, his voice steady as he stepped closer, admiring her stance and focus. "You've got a steady hand, Dubois. That's a shot anyone would envy."

He paused for a moment, letting the compliment hang in the air before continuing. "But there's more to this than just hitting a target. In the Vanguard, it's about working as a cohesive unit. You can't afford to just be a lone wolf out there. When the bullets start flying, it's not just about you; it's about your teammates, too. We need to trust each other completely."

Lorn kept his tone even, devoid of judgment, wanting to impart the importance of collaboration without pushing her further into defensiveness. "If you're out on a mission with us, we can't be worried about whether you've got our backs. We all need to be in sync, reading each other's moves, knowing when to cover and when to advance. It's not just about firing a rifle, it's about communicating, adapting, and supporting one another."

He took a step back, assessing her reaction, his gaze unwavering. "I believe you can do this. But it'll take more than sharp shooting to earn your place in the Vanguard. Are you willing to learn that? To trust not just the Force, but also the people fighting beside you?"

The challenge hung in the air between them, an unspoken invitation for her to lower her guard just a little more. Lorn felt a flicker of hope that beneath the armor of cynicism, she might find the strength to embrace not just her abilities but also the camaraderie that could make them all stronger.

 

[Rosalyn Dubois]

​

Why don’t I feel…happy about this?

The question lingered in Rosalyn’s mind as she remained in her crouched position. She had approached this challenge with confidence and pride. An admittedly cocky attitude, knowing she’d ace every shot without breaking a sweat.

And yet as each plasma bolt struck true, the young noble could only feel…hollow.

Why am I like this?

It wasn’t the first time she had asked herself that very question, haunting her for so long now. Her attitude hadn’t exactly endeared her to many during her training with the Royal Security Corps. But it was how she had preferred it, being the lone wolf.

After all, if she was cursed with the Force, damned to be alone, why not just go all in?

Never let it be said that Rosalyn Dubois wasn’t stubborn as hell.

Lorn’s words broke the young noble free of her spiralling thoughts. She didn’t look at him initially, but did slowly stand up as he continued to speak. Rosalyn found herself glancing around, looking at her fellow recruits that had been standing around watching.

Do you want to squander away an opportunity like this?

That was the question that began to fester, as she listened to Lorn’s words.

No, no she wasn’t.

Rosalyn turned to face the Commander, her mouth opening to speak but no words escaped. Instead, she just nodded in response. Her eyes a mix of emotions, but that spark of determination was still burned, buried beneath the rest.

Lorn Reingard
​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Rosalyn Dubois

​

Lorn observed Rosalyn closely, his gaze softening as he noticed the subtle shift in her stance. The cocky exterior she had initially presented was cracking, revealing a glimmer of something more genuine. As she stood before him, nodding in silent acquiescence, he saw a mixture of emotions flicker across her face, uncertainty, determination, and perhaps a hint of vulnerability.

Her nod was a small gesture, but it held a significant weight. It was as if the defensive walls she had built were beginning to lower, if only just a little, allowing the possibility of trust to seep in. That spark of determination, buried beneath layers of cynicism, reassured Lorn. It was the fire he'd seen in many recruits who, once they embraced the unity of the Vanguard, became its most formidable members.

Lorn's own battles had taught him that strength wasn't just about physical prowess or sharp shooting, it was about the connections forged in the crucible of training and combat. He hoped Rosalyn could see that too. Quiet and kind by nature, yet firmly resolute, Lorn offered her a nod in return, a silent acknowledgment of her decision to try.

"Alright, let's keep moving." he finally said, his voice steady and encouraging. He signaled to Alfie, the next recruit in line, to step forward. Yet his attention lingered on Rosalyn for a moment longer, as if to assure her she wasn't alone in this journey. He had seen talents like hers before, untapped and raw, and he knew they could be honed into something extraordinary with the right guidance and teamwork.

The day's evaluations continued, but as Lorn turned his focus back to the task at hand, he felt a renewed sense of optimism. It would take time and patience, but he believed that this Rosalyn Dubois could indeed become a valuable asset to their team, perhaps even one of its indomitable pillars.

-End Thread-