Laphisto found a quiet measure of relief in her response. She understood. More importantly, she did not challenge him or fall back on the familiar argument that a leader must be shielded, kept distant from the risks borne by those under their command. There was no insistence, no attempt to correct him. Instead, there was a subtle respect in the way she received his words, something that felt closer to admiration than obligation. For Laphisto, that was enough.
When she asked if it ever became easier, he gave his answer before she had even fully finished the question. His head shook once, firm and certain. "
No. It never does." His voice was steady, but not cold. There was weight behind it, the kind carried by experience rather than theory. He held her gaze as he continued, "
But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. It only means you still have enough compassion. The moment it stops hurting, that's when you know you've begun to fail. Not just those around you, or the ones under your command, but even yourself."
He let the thought settle between them rather than rushing to fill the silence. There was no attempt to soften it or dress it in something more comforting. The truth did not need that. For Laphisto, the burden of leadership was not something to overcome or grow numb to. It was something to carry, fully and consciously, because losing the weight of it meant losing the very thing that made the responsibility matter. he had seen death and lead men and women into battle more times than he could count. he was never any good when it came to not forming connections.
As the doors to the turbolift slid open, Laphisto's attention snapped forward. Without hesitation, his taloned feet carried him out into the corridor beyond. The transition from the lift's quiet into the engineering bay was immediate and overwhelming. The air itself seemed alive with motion and sound.
From deeper within the bay came the constant rhythm of industry. Sparks flashed intermittently from active workstations, brief bursts of light cutting through the dim, utilitarian glow of overhead fixtures. The hum and grind of heavy machinery filled the space, layered with the sharp clatter of tools striking metal. Voices rose above it all, workers calling out to one another, forced to speak loudly just to be heard over the relentless noise.
He guided her through the maze of the engineering section with practiced familiarity, weaving between narrow aisles and passing through clusters of active workshops. Technicians and engineers moved around them with focused urgency, each absorbed in their own task as components were assembled, repaired, or forged in real time. The path he took was not direct, but intentional, cutting through different sections as if he were showing her not just the destination, but the scale of what existed here. if the girl was more observant, she might have noticed the lack of droid labor.
Eventually, the noise softened. They stepped into a more open room set slightly apart from the rest of the bay. Compared to the surrounding chaos, the space felt almost contained. It resembled a open aired tool shed more than a formal workshop, though everything within it was organized with clear purpose. A sturdy worktable sat at the center, its surface marked by use. Along the walls, conveyor shelves carried neatly sorted boxes of components, each moving slowly along their tracks for easy access. A terminal sat nearby.
Another feature stood out immediately. how ever A forge. Set against one side of the room, A blacksmith's anvil rested beside it, accompanied by a full set of tools that looked as though they had seen real use rather than decorative placement. Laphisto moved toward the terminal and activated it, the screen flickering to life as systems initialized. He rested a hand briefly against the console before glancing back toward her.
"
This here will allow you to look up any tool, mold, or component you'll need, You have access to ingots for smelting and crafting. Whatever you're building, you won't be limited by materials or design."
reaching down, Laphisto unclipped his
lightsaber from his belt and brought it up between them, holding it out in a steady, deliberate offering. The hilt rested in his hand not as a weapon in that moment, but as an example, something meant to be studied rather than wielded. The faint scarring along its surface and the subtle signs of wear spoke of years of use, of battles fought and decisions carried through steel and fire.
"
Your saber is a mirror of who you are," He shifted the hilt slightly, angling it so she could see it more clearly before continuing.
"I could give you everything you need to make one. Prefabricated parts. Mass-produced components. Something clean, efficient, and functional. But it wouldn't be yours. Not truly."
Laphisto lowered the saber slightly, though he did not return it to his belt. Instead, he held it at his side as he continued to speak. before eventually using the force to take it apart hovering the components int he air between them. The c
rystal now on full displayed seemd to glow with its own unique force signature. almost as if it was alive.
"
It wouldn't carry anything of you within it. No struggle. No intent. No meaning. Instead, you'll build it from the ground up. You'll forge your weapon yourself. Every hammer strike, every weld, every bolt and fastening. Every flaw and every imperfection. All of it will reflect you. it won't just be a tool. It will be an extension of you. A physical echo of your will, your discipline, and your choices. If there are imperfections in it, they will be yours. If there is strength in it, that will be yours too."
Selvrali
