Private A Quiet Thing

[Cedric Grayson]

The winds howled madly just beyond the walls of his office. The summer storms were rapidly encroaching on the Graywall, and the sheer mountain passes that surrounded the ancient fortress only channeled the air in such a way that a strong gust could knock a grown man clean off his feet if he wasn't careful. Cedric was keen to remain beyond nature's fury. There was much work to be done anyway.

Darth Petrichor 's recent donations would need to be catalogued and stored properly. Once again, Cedric found himself laboring into the quiet hours of the night working out logistics. It was a duty he could have left to his subordinates, but the work was important, and he had a natural talent for understanding the ebb and flow of supply lines. He muttered a quiet string of curses as he swiped through the many request reports sent in by the quartermasters of the crusade. They had barely enough weapons to arm the soldiers, but food was still in short supply. The army would starve before it ever reached the battlefield if they went off to war now.

"Lord," one of the guardsmen muttered as the door to Cedric's office slid open. "Eng nei arrivée wëll e publikum hunn."

The exile lofted a brow. "Anyone I know?"

The guardsman shook his head, "Zweifelhaft. Hie behaapt awer e Jedi ze sinn."

He supposed he had a moment. Any Jedi passing through the Graywall ought to pay him a visit one way or another anyway. The exile nodded, "Send him in, and maintain your watch. I don't want a repeat of last time," he paused, "And try basic Leinsten, the old tongue intimidates our new recruits."

Leinsten offered a shrug, "I try, but no speak very good." He grumbled in heavily accented basic. Cedric snickered. "Keep trying. It's the only way you'll learn," he waved the guard away, "Now let the man in. I want to hear what he has to say."

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

Starlin was still looking up and around in awe at the magnificently imposing interior of the estate when the doors before him were suddenly opened, startling him. The boy hesitated before taking a cautious step across the threshold, his gaze wandering around the room, taking it all in. It was a few moments before he even noticed the man behind the desk.

“Uh… hello,” Starlin greeted him, awkward yet earnest. “Are you Cedric Grayson? I’m looking for him. Heard he was taking on new students.”

This was the short version of why he was there, devoid of context and complexity. He had come looking for a teacher, and at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

Cedric Grayson​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The simplicity of the boy's words caught Cedric offguard. The vast majority of those he kept company with as of late were keen on opening with heavy questions, be they philosophical or matters of war. Truthfully he was having some difficulty recalling the last time he'd taken part in any conversation that had not opened with something along the lines of 'we're out of food' or 'what do you plan on doing if you beat the Sith back'.

It was refreshing, to say the least. "Unless I'm a very well programmed and strikingly unaware HRD, I am indeed he," Cedric offered a thin smile, "And I am taking on students, though the training that I offer is not wholly traditional." He reached out within the empyrean, getting a vague idea for the youth's presence within the Living Force. There was talent there, hints of compassion, perhaps even private ambition. These things would reveal themselves further in time.

"Have seat. Care for a drink?" Cedric lofted a brow as he poured himself a glass of pale liquid from an equally white glass. "Ession Shine. An old favorite," he turned his attentions from the beverage., "Whom might you be, my friend, and where do you come from?"

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

“Heh, nice.”

Starlin took a few steps closer to the desk, sitting down as bid. He looked very relaxed despite his intimidating surroundings and the stature of the man before him, though not to the point where he was putting his feet up on the desk. That wasn’t to say he had no idea who Cedric Grayson was… er, well, sort of. He was raised on Coruscant and remembered a time when the planet was briefly called the Grayson Imperium, though he had been young enough then that he wasn’t paying much attention to politics.

He took a sip of the drink Cedric offered, then proceeded to chug it. Not even in an attempt to impress with a display of his ability to hold liquor—the kid was half Balosar and alcohol, like most other toxins, barely affected him. He was simply thirsty, and found that he liked the taste.

“The name’s Starlin Rand,” he replied, licking his lips. “I’m just a city boy from Coruscant. Oh, if you mean what Order I’m from, I’m with the Silver Jedi. For, uh… as long as that lasts.” It was no secret that the Silvers were getting pummeled by the Bryn’adul. “My master is Syd Celsius . She’s, uh, taking a break right now, so I figured I better find another teacher so I don’t get rusty in the meantime...” He trailed off, eyes averting to the floor for a moment before he restored eye contact with Cedric. "There's not a whole lot to me. I've fought in battles before against the Bryn'adul, mostly, but I've faced Sith too..." And Jedi. "...and Dark Side cultists, witches, weird demonic spirit-things, you name it. What I mean is, I'm not inexperienced. I've been training for five years, so it won't be like you're taking in a stray puppy who's still wet behind the ears. Less work for you, y'know?"

Cedric Grayson​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Starlin Rand . He'd not heard the name before, but he knew of Syd Celsius well enough. He'd worked with the woman a handful of times in years long since past: didn't know enough about her to get an idea at her typical training regime, but he expected she was an effective teacher.

The exile's brow inched upward as Starlin threw back the drink. Were it not for the young man's utterly laidback presence in the empyrean, he would have expected that to be an attempt at trying to impress. The youth's emotions did not reflect his spiritual assessment, however, so it was possible alcohol had little hold over him. Either a technique Cedric wasn't picking up on, a cybernetic implant, or a quirk of genetics. Either way it likely wasn't relevant to the Jedi Master, but he focused on it all the same. Paranoia had kept him alive this long, no sense in denying it now.

"What a warrior," Cedric huffed a quiet laugh as the glass was drained. He took a sip from his own, appreciating the honey-like flavor for a moment as he appraised his guest. "You sound fairly experienced Starlin. Before I agree to anything, you ought to know I mean to head to war soon enough. My people gather here to prepare for our liberation of the Tingel Arm. I can train you one way or another, but that teaching may be cut short somewhat once the campaign begins if you are not with me."

They needed every Jedi they could feasibly get, but he wasn't about to pressure a padawan into service. "Five years is a decent time for a student in this day and age. My apprenticeships generally last seven," the exile's eyes narrowed into pinpricks of flint, "What happened to your master exactly? Is she alright?"

 

[Starlin Rand]

At the mention of war, Starlin’s eyebrows rose and his mouth creased into a smirk, his expression undoubtedly saying “here we go again”.

“Oh yeah, I totally expected that.” He paused. “Uh, not that I assumed you were a… a warmonger, or anything. I came here figuring you were pretty busy defending the galaxy and I’d have to work my schedule around that.”

The Tingel Arm, the Tingel Arm… who was wreaking havoc in the Tingel Arm? “So you’re going to be fighting the Warlords, huh?” Lucky guess. “I guess I could… go with you. If you’d have me.”

It would be a nice break from the Bryn, to be sure. He thought back with a strange sense of nostalgia to Ossus and meeting Arcturus Dinn . The planet had been taken, brutalized by the Graug from what he’d heard, but for a couple of months, Thesh and Starlin lived as brothers. Then the boy had gone back to Korriban, and even that brief victory was lost.

Starlin politely stifled a belch, the Ession Shine catching up to him. Cedric’s question about Syd once again put a dampener on his mood. He tried to keep his gaze from drifting away to hide the emotion behind his eyes, but it was difficult. Starlin’s was the sort of blue-eyed look that gave everything away.

“Syd…” he began, scratching his head as he tried to find a way of explaining her situation. “Is not necessarily in trouble, but for a while now she’s been riding with the wrong crew, if you know what I’m sayin’. She’s Laertia Io’s lover, and ever since Laertia went Sith and started killing Jedi it’s been ‘guilt by association’. I even got hit with some of the heat, although that—that was really my fault.”

Tugging on a curl of hair, he dropped his hand, resting it on the armrest of the chair. The next part was exceptionally difficult for him to say.

“I was at Dantooine when the NIO invaded, and where Laertia started her crusade against them and the New Jedi Order. Syd was with Laertia, and I was with Syd, since she was my master. I tried not to kill anyone… I was cutting off their hands and disarming any New Jedi who came after me… but one Padawan caught me by surprise and I ran him through accidentally.” Perhaps that sounded hard to believe. Starlin himself still wondered how much he could blame on bad luck and sheer chance when he had been the one holding the lightsaber. He held up his prosthetic right hand. “A Jedi Master saw me do it, we dueled—he cut off my hand. And that was the last time I ever fought alongside Laertia Io.” In other words, he’d learned his lesson. "But Syd had to go into hiding after that. She kept training me a few times in secret, using disguises and such, but most of the time she's been off somewhere else."

Cedric Grayson​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The exile could only snort in response, "Me? A warmonger? I'd never." He shook his as he rumbled with quiet laughter. "Some might call me that, and that is acceptable. I believe in peace as the ideal, but I do not believe in letting atrocities continue to keep it. The Ashlan people need a home and the Sith Empire must be destroyed. These two things are simple facts. I intend to reclaim the land of my people, and free all those crushed under the Sith yoke."

The others could call it whatever they liked. Cedric had long since foregone any semblance of care toward the opinions of his peers. Most of them had never led a proper army, never seen the true realities of war. It was grim work, but wholly necessary. If the Jedi ways and the values of liberty were to survive, they would need to go on the defensive. No more reactive councils. No more hidden enclaves.

One order. One people. One purpose, guided wholly by faith and tempered with extreme discipline. The Jedi he was to train would be a different breed than the rest, utterly immune to the temptations of the Dark Side as far as Cedric was concerned. True masters of their emotions, true stewards of peace.

These thoughts came to a standstill as Starlin recounted what had happened to Syd. The exile knew well enough of what Laertia Io had done, and had been keen not to form an opinion. He had no stake in her conflict, and thus had no right to comment on it. He only listened, nodded along occasionally, and eventually exhaled a very deep sigh.

"Sith confusion," Cedric grumbled, his face twisting up in disgust, "A padawan dead, you maimed, and for what?" He asked rhetorically as he rose from his chair, pacing along the length of his office. "That is what they do Starlin. They use. They corrupt. They waste life," he turned to meet the youth's gaze, his expression softening. "I am sorry they manipulated you like that. If Syd associates openly with a follower of the Bogan, then it is very likely she too is corrupted. I will not tell you what to do, but I would advise avoiding her in the future. She is clearly dangerous," perhaps not due to her own intentions, but Sith had a way of using those around them. She might have remained wholly pure of heart for all Cedric knew, but that would waver in time. It always did when one tolerated the Dark Side.

"I would be more than happy to teach you Starlin," He concluded as he returned to his chair. "And you have experience with Sith trickery firsthand. I will have need of a man with your experience on the battlefront."

 

[Starlin Rand]

Starlin sat in silence as Cedric rose from his chair. The Jedi Master described the Sith as users, corrupters, wasters, manipulators—and Starlin was their victim. Was that what happened to him? He’d been just seventeen years old when he went to Dantooine. But surely he was old enough to know the difference between right and wrong. Syd had given him a choice, and he had made the wrong decision.

A memory flashed through his mind, sending pangs of phantom pain up his right arm. The image of Syd, having sensed the pain of his severed hand, cutting a path across the battlefield to reach him, tears streaming from her eyes.

It was followed by a far more recent recollection of the fight to save Csilla from annihilation, how Syd had failed to save a single Chiss child from death at the hands of a Sith… and how he had, for a few dire seconds, fallen to the Dark Side himself, consumed with hatred for the loathsome witch who had caused the kid’s demise. When Syd had told him that she had once been a Sith.

He flexed the prosthetic’s fingers, smirking faintly at what he said about avoiding Syd. But his words were sincere.

“I’m always willing to fight for what’s right. The only trouble was, they were able to convince me that they were right.” He folded his hands. “Knowing what I know now, I think I might be able to tell if you were in the wrong, sir. But I see nothing wrong here.” Not now, anyway. He’d see how things went.

“Great. When do we start?”

Cedric Grayson​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

"If you ever do, I'll be relying on you to call me on it." If he could not have accountability, then he had nothing. To walk the path of warmaster was to stand upon the edge of the knife. If one looked like they were about to start slipping, they needed to be stopped. The alternative was to accept the unacceptable, to permit damnation.

The winds roared loudly once again. There'd be a powerful storm tonight - the perfect weather to test a burgeoning Jedi Knight. He momentarily considered returning to the logistics, decided that he'd sooner rather cut off his only remaining organic arm, and rose toward the doors. "You're welcome to settle yourself in." Cedric promised as he set his glass aside. "But I would present a challenge, if you're up to it right now."

The exile outstretched a hand, and though he presented the challenge as optional, his tone said otherwise. "I need your lightsaber for a moment Starlin."

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

Starlin rose from his chair and unhooked two hilts from his belt. One was his lightsaber, the weapon he had constructed at the beginning of his training under Syd’s supervision, when he was just fourteen. The other was a shoto, made by Syd and given to her apprentice as a gift.

The boy held out both weapons to Cedric, saying nothing.

Cedric Grayson​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

If Starlin wished to complete his training under the knight of Ession, then he would do so in the manner of the old knights of the watch. Cedric took the lightsabers in each hand, pausing for a moment to examine their craftsmanship before clipping the weapons to his belt. Without a word, he meandered back over to his desk, and donned his helmet. The cowl of his cloak followed shortly thereafter, and he moved back toward the door, still in silence.

The wind roared in greeting as he willed the door open with a gesture. Cedric's office balcony overlooked the great canyons of Ruusan below, a sea of craggy mountains jutting up toward the heavens stood unwavering against the arrival of the storm. Rain began to fall as Cedric stepped out onto the balcony, his hands resting upon each of Starlin's lightsabers.

"To teach you, I must test you!" He yelled out over the cacophony of the storm. "Take back your tools," he patted each saber affectionately, "Use whatever means you have at your disposal."

No further instructions were given. Cedric strode toward the edge of the balcony, turned to face Starlin, and simply leaned back. One moment was there, the next he was soaring through mist and low hanging clouds toward the crags below.

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

Unsure of what Cedric had planned, Starlin had kept his distance, lingering on the threshold of the balcony door. He watched the Master as he walked to the edge, shouted his orders over the storm, then fell.

The boy felt a familiar tingling sensation in his gut at the sight of the man plummeting, but he was not afraid. Gearing up, Starlin ran to the edge and leaped, his body lunging forward in a swan dive worthy of an acrobat.

Starlin remembered when he first learned to fly. Fighting a Terentatek in the shadowlands of Kashyyyk, he had soared among the trees, breathing down fire on the beast like a dragon. As the crags of the canyon rose up to greet him, Starlin played with the Force—not as a toy, but as an old friend. The toy was the crude matter of air and gravity, which he now protected himself from.

Amid the roll of thunder and flashes of lightning, Starlin sensed the presence not of Cedric, but of his weapons, bound to him by an invisible cord. One arm stretched forward so he could more easily maneuver his body as he followed them down.

Cedric Grayson​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

There was serenity in the eye of chaos. Cedric fell like a stone through the heart of the of the storm, the splattering of raindrops against the back of his helmet nearly as loud as the air rushing past his ears. Several of the rocky spires were growing terribly close, and he decided a course correction was necessary. With an expression of telekinetic will, Cedric hurled himself safely out of the spires' reach, and found himself colliding with the face of a plateau. The empyrean slowed his impact dramatically, and all that was required of him was a brief pull of his arms to find himself atop the plateau.

If Starlin was as experienced as he claimed he was, then he wouldn't be too far off now. Not keen on losing the game so soon, Cedric reached both hands out toward the skies. He drew upon the energy of the storm, his pulse thundering to meet the cadence of the falling rain. He visualized the individual drops of rain as if they were frozen within the air in his mind's eye.

It took only the faintest request for the empyrean to make his vision a reality, as much effort expended as if one were simply moving a limb. Gallons of water congealed mid-air in front of the exile, forming into three balls of water the size of a small bantha each.

A small smile of amusement painted Cedric's features as he waved an arm forward, the aqua missiles sailing toward the vague area he thought Starlin Rand to be in.

 

[Starlin Rand]

Three spheres of gathered water came hurtling towards him. Heat already warming his throat, Starlin dodged two of them in order to buy himself a few seconds more, then blasted the last with fire which spewed forth from his mouth.

He alighted on top of the same plateau, closer to the middle of it than the edges, and faced Cedric, an armored figure gray and blurred by the rain. Taking a moment to recover his mental strength, Starlin attempted to slow Cedric to a near-standstill, in hopes of getting close enough to take back his weapons now.

Cedric Grayson​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The first two balls missed, the third being rendered little more than steam rising up toward the heavens. Cedric had not expected significant elemental manipulation, but Starlin had surprised him. He began to turn and prepare for another jump toward the canyon when he felt his limbs slow. His mind lost its focus, the series of actions he'd planned out blurring together until they made little sense. The Jedi muttered a curse as he began to subconsciously realize what was happening.

It was a sensation similar to being poisoned with a mild narcotic, but Cedric was encased in a full suit of armor. It was highly unlikely that Starlin had managed to dose him during the fall, and even less so beforehand. No, this was a matter of the Force.

Cedric reached out with the empyrean, and felt the link Starlin had forged between the two of them to deliver the psychic poison as if it were one of his own limbs. He reached out a hand, envisioned the tether between his fingertips, and yanked back hard both physically and telekinetically. The link broke immediately, his thoughts returning to coherence, and an invisible hand jerked back violently to try and hurl Starlin toward and then over Cedric's head, aiming to send him down into the canyons below.

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

Starlin felt the cord snap, and though he mustered up a defense in time, it was not enough to resist the master. The boy was flung up into the air and above Cedric, flipping end over end as he tumbled toward the canyon once more.

Inevitably Cedric’s hold on him disappeared, content to let him fall. Starlin again was able to fly, preventing his body from becoming a red smear on the rocks below. He pushed upward, spiraling back to his place on the plateau.

“Ha! I'm not so easy to get rid of!”

He laughed, almost taking a bow. But that would be a waste of time. Instead, he simply reached out and attempted to telekinetically snap his lightsabers off of Cedric’s belt, bringing them to his hands.

Cedric Grayson​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The elements seemed to be Starlin's toys to play with as he saw fit. Cedric quirked a brow beneath his mask as the boy rose above the edge of the plateau once again, laughter on the youth's lips as he boasted.

"So it seems." Cedric's voice carried over the storm as heavily modulated by his helmet as it was. The lightsaber snapped off his belt with ease, flying freely toward their master. The exile made no move to stop the blades, indeed his body stood rigid against the rain as they returned to to their owner.

The fingers on his left hand twitched, and as they did so, so too did the activation switches on the lightsabers. He was keen to set them only to stun, but each blade would roar to life just as they were about to reach Starling, the weapons spinning violently to try and incapacitate Starlin at the cusp of his victory.

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

Oh no you don’t!

Starlin dodged the spinning blades as they drew near. Cedric was good, he had to admit. Kept him on his toes.

Grinning, the boy exerted a little more force with the, er, Force, and sought to seize back control of the lightsabers. These weapons, one of which he had made himself, the other which had been with him for years, were as familiar to him as old friends. It was quite different from trying to manipulate the matter of a stranger’s body, as he had done when he attempted to slow Cedric down.

He saw his lightsabers in his mind, their exact makeup, all the changes and modifications he had made to them over the years as his training progressed. He knew them like the back of his hand. They belonged to him. They would obey him. They were his, and he was theirs...

Cedric Grayson​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The boy was quick.

Cedric hummed in quiet surprise as Starlin weaved his way through the blade. Whatever control Cedric had held over the weapons receded the moment Starlin reached out to them. Starlin's greater understanding of the tools resulting in a far better grasp over the blades. The lightsabers came to his hands without protest.

The contest was over, but Cedric's curiosity was not yet sated. Rather than congratulate the padawan, Cedric's hand fell toward his own lightsaber. The two-handed weapon roared to life in brilliant cyan light as the exile began to walk toward Starlin.

"You've got some decent tricks Starlin," Cedric mused as he channeled the empyrean through his legs. Dust and rocks exploded outward as Cedric launched himself into the air, his blade humming toward the youth's midriff.

All stun, of course.

Starlin Rand

 

[Starlin Rand]

The blades stayed on in his hands, blue and orange light misting the rain. Starlin was admittedly starting to tire from all this use of the Force, so he was glad they were switching to bladework.

Rather than catch the blow aimed at his middle, Starlin moved out of the way. Wearing only clothing rather than armor, he kept moving as their lightsabers clashed, setting off their own staccato rhythm.

All the while he was… not quite laughing, but very close to it, a smile permanently on his face. The Padawan took a kind of joy in combat, especially when he knew he was in little to no danger. It was like a game to him, a marvelous play in which he got to be the Jedi hero.

For the most part, he stayed on the defensive, blocking Cedric’s hits, dancing out of the way when the blows were too strong for him to parry. Only occasionally did he come in with a sudden unpredictable move, a jab here, an arc there, and at one point he even employed a Force-assisted drop kick aimed at Cedric’s gut—something he had learned from a great swordsman who doubled as a professional dancer. His legs were nowhere near as muscular, but it would still hurt if it landed.

Cedric Grayson​