Laphisto
High Commander of the Lilaste Order
Laphisto stood at the center of the training room, his posture rigid and deliberate, both arms folded behind his back. The chamber stretched wide around him, its reinforced flooring worn with the marks of countless prior engagements. he stood there patiently waiting for the others to arrive. he had sent the message out to all his current apprentices, and yet they would have the option of open challenge or simple speciation. there was a part of him that actually hoped at least one if not all of them would rise to the challenge.
After all The war with the Mandalorians had forced a realization he could no longer ignore. It was not a matter of strength or resolve. Those had never been in question. What the conflict had revealed was something far less forgiving. There were gaps in refinement, in adaptability, in the kind of disciplined combat training that could not be replaced by instinct or experience alone. Against an enemy that fought with precision and unity, those gaps became liabilities.
And that failure did not belong to him alone. His apprentices had chosen this path. They had chosen to stand within the ranks of the Lilaste Order, to take on the responsibilities and dangers that came with it. That choice demanded more than guidance. It demanded preparation, and preparation could not exist without pressure. Laphisto had held back before, he was afraid truth be told. that if he let them out on there own accord then he would lose them. just like he lost Jacen all those years ago. shaking his head free fromt he thoughts he sighed.
The message he sent had been direct, stripped of anything unnecessary. They were to meet him here, in the training room, and they were to arrive as if they were stepping into a real engagement. No hesitation. No assumption of safety. No expectation that he would temper his actions for their sake. He would not. This would not be a lesson in the traditional sense. It would be a trial. They were to treat him as an enemy combatant. Not their master. Not their commander. Not the High Commander of the Lilaste Order. Titles held no meaning in what was about to unfold. The moment they stepped into this room, those distinctions would cease to matter.
After all The war with the Mandalorians had forced a realization he could no longer ignore. It was not a matter of strength or resolve. Those had never been in question. What the conflict had revealed was something far less forgiving. There were gaps in refinement, in adaptability, in the kind of disciplined combat training that could not be replaced by instinct or experience alone. Against an enemy that fought with precision and unity, those gaps became liabilities.
And that failure did not belong to him alone. His apprentices had chosen this path. They had chosen to stand within the ranks of the Lilaste Order, to take on the responsibilities and dangers that came with it. That choice demanded more than guidance. It demanded preparation, and preparation could not exist without pressure. Laphisto had held back before, he was afraid truth be told. that if he let them out on there own accord then he would lose them. just like he lost Jacen all those years ago. shaking his head free fromt he thoughts he sighed.
The message he sent had been direct, stripped of anything unnecessary. They were to meet him here, in the training room, and they were to arrive as if they were stepping into a real engagement. No hesitation. No assumption of safety. No expectation that he would temper his actions for their sake. He would not. This would not be a lesson in the traditional sense. It would be a trial. They were to treat him as an enemy combatant. Not their master. Not their commander. Not the High Commander of the Lilaste Order. Titles held no meaning in what was about to unfold. The moment they stepped into this room, those distinctions would cease to matter.