Stage 2: Imperilment

[Jantar Keltainen]

Jantar focused on the Yevetha again. She sensed something. Arrogance. Smugness. He knew this game was him. In fact he was prolonging it just to make the spectacle all the more appealing to the crowds.

These thoughts were useless to Jantar, except…yes, she used them to fuel her own power.

This boost allowed her to probe further. Finally she found it. Small at first. Concern. She focused on it and like data flowing along a cable, she followed it back to its source. By allowing only this emotion to fill her mind, she could amplify it and see why he was concerned. And what he was thinking about it.

So she performed the one move he dreaded her making. In his flamboyant display, he’d opened himself up to a counter, not believing she was capable of such an insight.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

The gasp from the crowd was audible. She’d not won the game by any margin, but her move was significant.

It was said that Yevetha were quick studies. This one must’ve been left in orbit when that particular facility was passed out, as he remained assured that she was incompetent and made a bold move that would soon crush her. Except again he’d left himself exposed and feared she’d see the opportunity.

Jantar’s next few moves were decisive. His last globe – a green and blue world – went tumbling down the steep incline of space-time into the inferno at its centre.

The Yevetha was still. The room was silent. And Jantar felt drunk, which was why she ambled around the now empty holosphere, extending her right hand as she said, “Hey, excellent game, you almost had me –”

The Yevetha moved fast; Jantar barely got her arm out of the way as the cadaverous creature’s left dewclaw shot from its sheath of skin.

Loysia was in the sphere and had her saber drawn before the Yevetha could retract his claw. “Temper,” she said, wagging the index finger of her free hand.

“Scum,” the Yevetha hissed. He went on share many other unsavoury phrases, the least offensive being the outcome of an improbable romantic liaison between a Jawa and a Wookiee.

“Generally not a good idea to cuss out the person who’s holding the saber,” Jantar told him. But before she could add anything else there was the smell of cauterised flesh and the alien fell to the floor. In pieces.

Six to be precise.

 

[Jantar Keltainen]

“Well done, my young Apprentice,” Loysia said. “Now, let’s find somewhere quiet to discuss your training.”

She glanced at the barman who nodded towards an empty booth, whilst simultaneously holding up a new bottle of the fizzy stuff. “On the house,” he added. “Best show I’ve seen in here…ever.”

Jantar smiled. “Not sure I can drink much more, I already feel intoxicated.” But she grabbed a tall stemmed glass as she headed to the alcove. “But then, what’s life about if you can’t enjoy your successes, right…Master.”

“Guess I’ll have to get me some black clothing. And a cloak. And I really want one of those,” she finally added, indicating the saber.

“All in good time,” Loysia said, her tone approving. “Tomorrow we start training, and you need to know, I don’t suffer fools gladly.”

Jantar stared into the Sith’s eyes. “I never for a moment thought that you did.”