Legacy of the Force: A Star Wars Story [Closed]

[Bleu]

“Bigger than this?! Probably big enough to do saber work, then!” His mind fetched his lightsaber, and it flew from its holster to his hands, an immediately defensive position. After a couple pretend parries, it returned to its rightful place against his waist.

Truly, it was unbelievable. The fact that things could only get better was exciting, and he endeavored little to hide it. Why should he? It was finally his time to enjoy the progression, and he would fight whomever tried to dampen his spirits. So far, everything was just getting better and better, and he was trying not to think about when his streak would finally run out.

Upon hearing that Kere’s room was overly packed, he let out a breathy chuckle. “You do seem like the Jedi that would have a cluttered room,” the words left his mouth before he could stop them—not that he would have, anyway. “Though if you can make the sand dance to your tune with such ease and precision, I ought not question your methods.”

Then a playful huff. “Get situated, right,” his hand pushed his belongings further into the room without truly touching them.

The young Padawan walked to the far end of the room and opened his trunk. He immediately retrieved from within the many boxes of earrings and chains, organizing them neatly on the side—perfectly symmetrical and in a way that indicated his need for perfection. When his robes had been uniformly folded and stored away, he returned to Adley and Kere.

It had been but a minute, and he was already settled. “Ready when you are Master Kenobi, Master Jinn.”

[Krystal Itzume]

Kere laughed. No, it was not big enough for saberwork. Not in her opinion, anyways. Not even if it was empty, but then again, for some, it might work. Technically speaking, her own style worked well in close quarters, but she didn’t prefer it.

She didn’t take offense, “I try not to hide my nature,” she did get in trouble with the Council, after all. No one could accuse her of terrible dishonesty, even if she was a bit sneaky at times, or omitted details.

They both watched as he got things sorted, both intrigued by the arrangement of jewelry he had. Neither said anything at first, but waited for him patiently enough, and stepped out as he finally agreed he was ready to go.

“What sort of cuisine do you prefer, padawan?” Adley asked, knowing he wasn’t soon to get used to this. And liking it.

This day would continue to be a good one, a special one, if he could help it.   

[Bleu]

Colwyn turned to look at Kere, a smirk forming on his face. “I try not to, too,” he said regarding his own nature, “feels too much like lying, doesn’t it?”

Then, the Padawan turned to Adley. He contemplated the query for a second as he led the way out of his quarters and back into the general area. The problem wasn’t that he didn’t know what he preferred, but perhaps that he simply did not mind delegating the decision to someone else.

“Honestly, I find that I am not picky with what I eat. I used to think that I was, because I’m generally very picky about everything—and if you’ve asked what others have to say about me, I’m sure they have since told you the same. See, sometimes I feel like I’m in the mood for something spicy—maybe something Coruscanti—and I will swear to the skies that I’m certain with my decision, but then a minute later I am changing my mind and preferring something green, something fruity, or something stew-y.”

“Thinking more on it, perhaps something Corellian, since they have some variety there. Admittedly though, you can also not go wrong with our local Gatalentan food, am I right? Plenty of greenery, and then some to spare! I suppose that’s not all there is to consider in picking a dining venue, however, as some could argue that what you want to drink is equally important as to what you’d like to eat. To that I say—give me something with a kick and drown it with ice!”

“But not too much ice,” Colwyn touched a finger to his lip. “I don’t want to be asking for another and another because all they give me is ice! Though I suppose that would be better than them giving something warm to drink, that is just simply not acceptable, is it? Maybe I am picky then?”

Colwyn shook his head, finally ending his brief rant. “I suppose what I am trying to say, is that I am okay with whatever cuisine you and Master Jinn prefer, Master Kenobi. As long as I don’t have to drink something steaming, I am happy to just tag along.”

[Krystal Itzume]

It was more and more apparent that Colwyn Junda did not hide his own nature – and that included his talkative, indecisive, nature, which drew another shared look between Kere and Adley.

Kere all but laughing at Adley’s future.

Adley looking both amused and exasperated at once. He had asked for this, after all.

Still, they listened. At least Colwyn was familiar with plenty of cuisine, and seemed not to be terribly picky, just terribly indecisive.

Kere put a hand on his head, “Padawan, you are going to ruin Adley, I hope you know that,” it was a tease, “but since I know neither of you can make decisions about simple things now – we’re going to go to a restaurant that specializes in food of the Seswenna sector!”

Adley pulled a face, “You don’t even like that.”

“I like some of it.”

“It’s mostly meat.” Adley had no problems with it, but he was very familiar with Kere’s problem with it. He didn’t mind the cuisine himself. It wasn’t his favorite, but it was all still edible enough.

“Mostly is the key word,” she trilled, taking the lead, and spinning around to walk backwards, ahead of them, “and since we’re going to Eriadu tomorrow, it seems like the best place to start!” 

[Bleu]

With Kere’s hand atop his head, Colwyn brushed her tease aside with a casual wave of his hand. Even if the young padawan didn’t exactly know what she had meant about him ruining his new master (though a little part of him did seem to acknowledge it), he was observant enough to notice that it had been said mostly in jest.

Mostly.

“I’m sure you meant inspire,” corrected Colwyn with a grin as the trio walked.

Then the talk of food continued. As the friends carried on with their conversation, Colwyn shifted his gaze from one to the other, analyzing them curiously. It took not a keen eye to notice that these two had a rare friendship.

“Eriadu?” The topic of their incoming mission the following day killed his silence. “Is that where we’re going? Whoa—well then, to indulge in the food from the Seswenna feels particularly appropriate, does it not?” After a breath of brief consideration, he continued. “We’ll have a busy schedule, I take it?”

[Krystal Itzume]

Colwyn did not take the comments hard. He did not respond poorly. Kere was pleased by it, but did wonder if his glasses may be a little rosy. Well, what padawan’s weren’t? They had such grand ideals of what was out there, of what it meant to be a Jedi…he would learn. Kere hoped he would be strong through it all.

Not that she doubted it of anyone Adley picked.

Adley had a strength of character in himself that was hard not to learn from.

It seemed he knew of Eriadu, at least. Or he feigned knowledge. Adley decided to test the matter as Kere spun back around to more properly lead. “What do you know of Eriadu?” He asked, “Why do you think it would be so busy?”

It didn’t take much knowledge to assume that, of course. Just the infamous name ‘Tarkin’.

[Bleu]

When Adley responded to Colwyn’s query with one of his own, the padawan offered him a nod of understanding.

“I don’t know much outside of what I can remember from our history archives here in the temple,” he responded as they walked. “Eriadu is a system in the outer rim, had some history with slavery. A big trade center that was under Imperial control in the past, and the birthplace of Wilhuff Tarkin, who was a captain—or maybe he was an admiral—of the Empire and oversaw the operations of the infamous Death Star.”

Colwyn’s hand scratched at the back of his head as his mind tried to scramble some of the other note-worthy events that he might remember from the planet. Admittedly, the padawan would be in no position to accurately provide insight in the current happenings of the planet, however, which was a little unnerving.
 
“If I’m being honest,” his emerald eyes looked to Adley once more, careful. “I know I’m getting ahead of myself—I know that. I was asking about our busy schedule not because I presume to know much about the planet, but because I was hoping we would have some time to…,” Colwyn bit his lip, as if unsure how to pose his internal dilemma. “I was hoping to find another kyber crystal.”

[Krystal Itzume]

It seemed that Colwyn did know at least one thing he wanted: another kyber. “Oh, planning to take up dual wielding?” Kere was intrigued, given not many tried that. She didn’t think he could want to find kyber for any other purpose. “Have you practiced with two blades yet?”

The area around them became a bit busier as they walked into one of the business districts of Gatalenta. More traffic of speeders and the like zipped along overhead, but neither Kere or Adley stopped to hail such a vehicle.

“There won’t be time tomorrow,” Adley said, but added, “I will not forget, though – but maybe you should practice a bit, if you haven’t.” There were always practice sabers, and well, he saw no issue in letting Colwyn borrow his own.

It wouldn’t be a style he’d b suited to teach him.

He supposed they might have to call on Kere more often to help with that. Despite not being among the knights, she had taken to practicing with two sabers, and wielding two, over one.

[Bleu]

The padawan’s desire was rightly assumed. Colwyn gave a nod to Kere first, and then offered the same to Adley. He’d spoken about such desires to his masters before, but he’d not had the opportunity to see it through, and neither did his pressure gather any traction.

It wasn’t a priority by any means, but Colwyn did want to at least have his new Master know that he was on the lookout for another crystal—for him to realize that there was still a part of his combat style he wanted to explore.

“I’d like to give it an honest shot, double wielding,” he further clarified as the trio walked further into the business district. “I’ve trained with practice sabers before, but not to the point where I feel comfortable with it. In fact, I’m more interested in a double-sided blade. I don’t mean to force my style one way or another, but I won’t know what feels right for me if I don’t try, right?”

Then, he huffed, putting his hands at his waist once more. “That being said, we don’t have to talk about that now,” then with a grin he added, “I don’t want to distract from our mission tomorrow, and I also know that my training consists of very many facets, only one of which is combat training.”

The grin then transformed into a simply warm smile. “Thank you, Master Kenobi—and you too, Master Jinn—for listening to me ramble on.”

[Krystal Itzume]

Kere did chuckle at the huffing and curiosity. “No, you won’t know unless you try,” although perhaps they could find a way for him to practice with the double-bladed lightsaber all the same. It wouldn’t do any harm for him to have another blade, regardless. “Although I am curious what designs you are looking over for it – some can be modified for one crystal.”

Depending on the matrixes and power converters within the hilt. Adley gave a nod – combat was one aspect, and in his opinion, not the best aspect to focus on, even if he was a knight. Still, he wanted to know more about what his padawan was looking at, so he could do his best to help him.

“We can go over the designs, if you like. I’m certain I can access them on my datapad,” he offered, “chatting about Eriadu will not likely take up our entire evening,” he’d be terribly surprised if it did, given they hadn’t yet begun there.

Soon enough, however, they had reached the location, the scent of meat heavy in the air as they stepped in, and the building notably warmer inside than it was outside in Gatalenta due to the flames that served both as decoration, and for cooking. While Eriadu had indeed joined the ranks of civilized worlds, there were certain cultural aspects that many would look upon as primitive.

Cooking by fire was one such aspect.

They were greeted by a human, attire reminiscent of the old Empire, even if it was now used as uniform for the restaurant – and as formal uniform of Eriadu itself, really. “Welcome to Rivoche’s – just three?”

“Yes,” Kere answered.

“Right this way,” a gesture, before the woman took the lead to a place where they could sit.

[Bleu]

Green eyes scanned the restaurant’s curious sign.

Rivoche’s…

Such was not a place the young boy had been to before. Colwyn did not get out much, as most of his free time was spent either crafting his jewelry, reading at the library, or practicing the day’s teachings again and again on his own.  Where others might have exercised their freedom by exploring such attractions, Colwyn saw little point in it. He wanted to become a peacekeeper—the best one in all the galaxy.

Not that the others offered him an invitation to go out, anyway.

Shoving the thought aside, Colwyn gave Kere a shrug as the trio walked through the restaurant’s aisles and towards the place where they would be sitting. “If there is a way for me to tinker with my lightsaber to avoid getting another crystal, I’m certainly open to entertain the idea. I made my lightsaber’s hilt in such a way that when I make the second, I can attach them both together.”

The hostess motioned with her hand once they had arrived at their table. Colwyn naturally glided to the chair furthest from the walkways and the kitchen, the one where his back would be facing the wall while he sat. 
“I appreciate that, Master Kenobi. I remember well what designs I have been studying recently. We can talk about that after we go over our schedule for tomorrow.”

The young padawan wasn’t used to being so warmly acknowledged, so the pleasant feeling that came from his being frank was a welcomed surprise. He wanted it to last, and so he refused to dwell on what history predicted would happen.

“Water with lots of ice, please,” he told the hostess after she inquired after their drink order.

Colwyn took to his chair, the brown of his robes illuminated by the fire that lit up the entire area. The fire and the warmth didn’t bother the padawan in the slightest. In fact, Rivoche’s entire atmosphere was intriguing to him. It had only been a few seconds after he’d sat down, and he was already looking around to take it all in.

[Krystal Itzume]

Kere gave an agreeable sound to the design that Colwyn was considering. It was useful, and flexible. He could have two sabers in his hands, or he could have them connected together. He could even just use one, in theory, without the bulk of the second one on it. A good design, a practical one, too.

So long as he ended up being good at all the styles it entailed.

Kenobi took a seat besides his padawan, while Jinn occupied the other side. “Bantha chai, please,” Adley said, without so much as glancing over at the menu.

Kere simply knew what she wanted. “Toniray, please,” alcoholic, frowned upon by most in the Order, but Kere didn’t mind in the least. Toniray was also considered somewhat, well, offensive. It had been a drink known in Alderaan, but needless to say, the Tarkins had more or less made it into something of their own.

Whether or not it was akin to the toniray of Alderaan, no one knew.

No one would ever know.

That’s precisely how the Tarkins wanted it.

And Kenobi did give a small look of disapproval, but he wouldn’t say anything. It was hopeless to try and offer advice now. Still, he didn’t want his padawan to think he approved. The look was more for him than Kere – even if he would have done it, regardless.

He glanced to Colwyn to see he was rather preoccupied with the room, and looked to Kere, “How did you get the misfortune of a mission to see the Tarkins, anyways?”

“Because when the Grand Master can’t do something, she sends me.” Kere offered with a simple shrug. No matter the difficulties – Grand Master Billaba still trusted her. 

[Bleu]

Colwyn offered Adley a warm smile when he sat beside him. Unusual, but again, welcomed.

Even with Colwyn’s attention occupied elsewhere, the young padawan caught the look Adley gave to Kere when she spoke her drink order. To Colwyn, it was as clear as day that Master Kenobi was trying to make a point to him, one with subtlety. Whether the infraction was the nature of the beverage or its history, he would investigate later.

“Is that who we’re off to see, Master?” The boy’s gaze shifted from Adley to Kere, and back. Colwyn was familiar with the name, their involvement with the Empire, and their ruthless reputation. What could they want with such a family during a time of peace?

‘I suppose we’ll find out.’

Apparently Grand Master Billaba’s will was manifested in Kere joining the two of them to go meet the family. For a moment, Colwyn wondered whether Kere’s probation was merely a more obvious reason for their unity, an excuse that masked a grander ulterior motive.

“Do either of you have any history with the family?”

The word ‘misfortune’ did not paint a pretty picture, after all.

[Krystal Itzume]

Adley Kenobi gave a nod to the question, “Yes.”

“They’re the only ones to do business with on Eriadu, or within the entire Seswenna sector,” and beyond, but Kere wouldn’t yet acknowledge that. The Tarkin family still held immense sway in spite – or perhaps, because of – the crimes of the past, and present. Not that they would admit to any crimes. Stars forbid! They just exploited loopholes, something Kere could admire.

And resent.

It made things…difficult.

“No personal history,” Adley confirmed, “but the Jedi have a history of finding them…troublesome, even ignoring Wilhuff Tarkin,” the infamous one. “They are an opinionated family with great means, and they do not always understand what is around them.”

“He means they’re assholes with a lack of understanding of the Force, but a terrible amount of interest in hindering it,” Kere clarified, as if that needed a translation. Adley scowled, but didn’t say anything to counter as their drinks were brought. His demeanor shifted to pleasant quickly as he thanked the hostess for their drinks, and requested a bit more time with the menu – which Kere promptly took up to look into. 

[Bleu]

It didn’t take much for Colwyn to realize that the Tarkin family—the one they would endeavor to meet in the coming day—were still maintaining the problematic nature that had been evidenced in their history. Sure, some of the details of such history had been blurred (no doubt by their hand) and depended entirely on where one did their reading, but in truth it was the strength that their name carried that kept it largely unspoken.

Colwyn quickly gathered that their influence likely stretched much further than what the history archives indicated. Politics were usually so.

At least Adley and Kere didn’t seem to have a relationship with the family just yet.

“Sometimes I forget that the force, as easy as it is for us to see it and witness it, can easily be overseen by those who aren’t sensitive to it. That being said, I’m not sure that I would consider their ignorance of the Force as an excuse to hinder it.”

From how Kere seemed to speak of them, it certainly sounded like things could easily become antagonistic between the Tarkins and the Jedi Order. In his mind, Colwyn noted the importance to try and ease the tension and maintain the peace between the two, especially if their influence was greater than anticipated.

Before he could expand on his thoughts, the drinks were promptly delivered. Colwyn took a sip from his iced water, taking a quick look at the menu and placing it back down as soon as he found something inexpensive that came with greens. Just as soon as the hostess dismissed herself to give them more time, the young padawan turned to look at Adley once more.

“Is that what we’re being sent to do? Trying to ease any tension and miscommunication between the Tarkin family and the Order?” History gave Colwyn little comfort, but he understood that it was only fair to give the family the benefit of the doubt. Absently, the boy's fingers used the force to twirl the small chain that hung from his earring as he pondered his own question.

[Krystal Itzume]

Kere fought back a smile. A laugh. She picked up her toniray as she looked at Colwyn with something of a new light. She knew, once upon a time, she must have been as sheltered as he was. She had nearly forgotten those days. It wasn’t often she spoke with younglings about politics after all.

Adley considered a moment, then shook his head slowly, “Not exactly, young one,” he answered, reaching for his tea to sip and give himself a little more time to formulate an answer. “Governor Dedrich Tarkin has begun to gather proponents not to remove the Jedi Order, but to force the Senate to allow other groups a place…including the Sith.”

Kere smirked, but offered nothing to that. There was more to it than that, but she had her place in this, and Adley his. In this regard, Adley did not need to know what the Council was truly concerned with.

It wasn’t that there would be a place for a Sith. It was that the Sith was already out there. More than that, they also feared competing messages about the Force. Their arrogance told them only they had the right message. Others, like the Whills or the Nightsisters, should be silenced.

But Kere kept her attention on the menu.

[Bleu]

As Adley gave his answer, Colwyn’s expression visibly darkened. Though this came as a surprise to the young padawan, his emotions remained calm and collected. He understood the severity of the situation, and it showed across his face, but he excelled in keeping a cool head when it came to external matters. This was especially true when it came to the more serious influences—like the Sith, and the dark side of the Force.
 
‘Well, this isn’t good.’

The importance of his progression as a Jedi suddenly felt very real—as if he were only now exposed to the cruelties of the world outside of the academy. His mind had accepted it as soon as he’d heard, but these complications put them into action. It made them real.

Another sip from his iced water and the padawan crossed his arms, lettings his thoughts formulate in his mind.

If the Senate could somehow be forced to include the Sith in their ranks, then the Sith was already likely exerting their influence. If not through the Tarkin family directly, then by any of these “proponents” that would follow their lead. One of the things that Colwyn had learned with absolute certainty, it was that the Sith could hide very well, biding their time in the place one would least expect.

“That’s quite a bit worse than what I was expecting,” he chuckled to himself, though he remained serious after the fact. “If the Tarkins are lobbying to include the Sith in the Senate, then the Sith are already out there. Perhaps I was foolish to think that they had disappeared.”

Brief disappointment, and then another thought, “Geez, that would be awful, wouldn’t it? Imagine it, the Sith in the Senate…”

[Krystal Itzume]

Adley noted the way Colwyn’s expression darkened. The suspicion he already held in his heart revealed itself, and Adley gently set a hand on his shoulder, “We do not know that for certain,” and in his opinion, it was a bad idea to go in with preconceptions of guilt.

“It doesn’t seem so bad to me, though,” Kere noted, “Sith in the Senate. Sith anywhere.”

“Kere—”

“You know my opinion, Adley,” Kere interrupted, “and I’m not going to mask it in front of your padawan, either.” There was a firmness to her tone, and though Adley knew to expect it, it did not mean he liked it.

“The Sith are evil, Kere.”

“From your point of view. And what do we know of the Sith from any Sith?”

“We have an entire history—”

“—of Sith forced into hiding and hunted like dogs.”

There were seconds of tense silence, “We know their story from the side of victors, only.” Kere said, before adopting a smile as the waitress returned for their orders.

[Bleu]

At Adley’s response, Colwyn simply nodded his understanding. It would be unwise to make any such assumptions without knowing the entire story—and the padawan took note of what was expected of him.  At Kere’s response, however, Colwyn could not fight back the quizzical brow the graced his face. Was Master Jinn seriously open to the idea of having the Sith in equal standing to the Jedi?

Unfortunately, the young boy was interrupted before he could pose his query.

The waitress had returned to take their order, and the Padawan did not miss a beat to place it. Unsure how to pronounce the name of his meal, he simply pointed to the item in the menu, and expressed his rehearsed gratitude.

After the waitress took Adley and Kere’s order next, she promptly dismissed herself once more.

“I really like it that you’re frank with me, Master Jinn,” said Colwyn, the surprise that came from this new information was already mentally filed and put away. The padawan again spoke with the comfort he had shown before, and he seemed unperturbed. “If it were up to you, how would you handle the Sith trying to join the ranks of the Senate?”

Colwyn was curious as to why Kere felt so strongly about allowing the Sith to share their side of the story. Sure, it was possible that the history archives might have been unfair in their representation of the Sith, but their opposition of the Jedi was hard to contest. Whatever their intent might have been, it had been made clear to Colwyn that they countered the peacekeeping efforts of the Jedi Order.

‘Don’t make unfair assumptions,’ he reminded himself.

[Krystal Itzume]

Adley and Kere presented their orders following Colwyn, Adley opting for something notably traditional, while Kere went with something on the vegetarian side of things. As soon as she was gone, Adley thought to shift the subject, but it seemed his young padawan was eager for more on the subject.

“She’s rather frank with everyone,” perhaps Kere had tact, at times, or she wouldn’t be a counsellor, but with him it had always been blunt.

Their history aided that.

Despite their disagreements, they did remain friends.

Kere raised her brows in intrigue, and admittedly, a little amusement, at Colwyn asking how she would handle it. “I would allow the Sith the same privileges as the Jedi. The same of the Nightsisters, the Whills, and all others who practice a faith based on the Force. On that much, the Tarkin family and I agree.” 

“It’s wrong,” Adley said firmly. “The others who use the Force use it improperly.”

“So says you, who’s never practiced any other way.”

“The wise learn from observation.”

[Bleu]

Colwyn watched the interaction between Adley and Kere carefully, and although he could feel the friction between them, he suspected that this particular topic of conversation was one the two had previously discussed.

It was a testament to the strength of their friendship, despite such opposing views.

Truthfully, Colwyn didn’t understand how someone that was raised in the Order, like Kere, could be so open to give equal power to an order that had historically and directly opposed the Jedi. It went against all of their teachings. It might have been unfair for the Jedi to try and keep the Sith from resurrecting without truly understanding them, but wasn’t that still better than the alternative? The pursuit of power at any cost led to disaster—it led to war.

There was comfort in witnessing that Adley seemed to be equally against Kere’s consideration, but Colwyn didn’t press the topic of conversation. If Adley wanted to move to another topic of conversation, the padawan would show no resistance. Colwyn intended, however, to find a time to speak with Kere alone.

Colwyn sipped at his iced water and then leaned back on his seat, hands together and fingers entwined. His emerald eyes briefly lingered on Kere before they returned to Adley.

‘The wise learn from observation.’

“I suppose we ought to wait to hear what the Tarkins have to say, huh?” There was a hint of a smile on the padawan’s lips. If this brief exchange was any evidence, things would not go very smoothly. “Are either of you gifted at piloting? I should admit, if there is a single area where I consider myself lacking—maybe lacking isn’t the right word, disinterested, yeah, disinterested—it would be in flying a ship. Never found any passion for it, you know? Do you all have ships? I think the last time I was on one was when I was youngling, and a group of us went to find our Kyber crystals. That was a journey, a story for another day, perhaps.”

[Krystal Itzume]

Colwyn shifted the topic easily enough. They had to wait to know more from the Tarkins themselves. While the contentious opinions of Kere and Adley were unlikely to be changed by that, decisive action could start to be taken at that point.

Knight Kenobi sighed at the mention of flying, “I never took to it. I’ve learned, and I’m adept, but I’m not going to be flying any Starfighters anytime soon.” He indicated to Colwyn. “I can get from place to place.”

Kere chuckled a bit, “I’m better.”

“I won’t even contest it, but I do wish you would stop spinning.” To Colwyn, “She’s not flying us to Eriadu.”

“Well of course not, we’re just getting on a hyperspace lane and arriving in short order. Boring.” But sensible. “We’re using one of the Order’s ships. We don’t have our own.” Some Jedi did. They were few in number. Most of the ships were property of the Order and in use for Order business. “But I think we all have that same story of finding kyber,” Kere noted, but gestured. “Why not tell it? It tends to reveal a bit about you.”

The challenge always catered itself to what the learner needed to learn. Some needed teamwork, others compassion. It was always interesting how the cave knew exactly what to do. 

[Bleu]

“Oh good,” said the padawan upon hearing that Kere would not be flying them to their destination. He was not a fan of needlessly turbulent flights, and it showed on his expression of relief.

When Kere pressed for his Kyber crystal story, he gave a firm nod.

“Alright,” said Colwyn brightly, as if the young padawan needed an excuse to talk about himself. As Kere and Adley would inevitably find out, he didn’t.

“This was a few years ago, you’ll find. It was a group of six of us that had been picked to fly to Christophsis, where we’d have to venture into a crystalline forest, find a kyber cave, and retrieve our kyber crystals from inside. Oh boy was I excited to prove myself to my Masters! I knew I had it in me. I just needed to find a way to show it. As if the pressure wasn’t already enough, I remember well that I was the youngest youngling of the group—possibly the youngest youngling ever, am I right?” A proud huff and an eyebrow wiggle.

“Anyways, so there I am, thinking to myself that this is something I’m supposed to be doing on my own, but these kids cling to me. I decided to go left to find this place, and where do they go? Left! I pivot, they pivot. I run, they run. Listen, this keeps happening even at the point where we find and go into the cave. I’m thinking—okay, they’re going to stick to me like glue this entire mission—and that’s when things start getting weird.”

Colwyn leans forward on his seat, resting his elbows on the table as he tells his story.

“One second, the younglings are behind me, but then a second later, they’re gone. I’m thinking that this is perfect—they’ve gone out on their own, and I’m no longer lugging around this heavy weight with me. So I go on my merry way, trying to let the force lead me to where I have to go to find my crystal, but somehow this feels different. The crisp air feels different on my skin, and it feels like I am witnessing the force through a muddy filter—like if the very source of life is distorted. When I finally see my companions through the crystalline walls, I believe what they tell me—and they try to help me—but I know better than they do.”

“So as the smartest person in the cave, what do I do? I thank them, but I ignore what they are saying. They tell me to go left, and I go right. They tell me to keep going, and I go back. These kids are older than I am, but there isn’t a single thing that they can do that I can’t do better.” At this, Colwyn sighs, and instead of his typical smile, his face wears a slight frown. “At least that is what I thought at the time. And there was no convincing me otherwise!”

“Before I know it, my pride causes me to lose my way within the cave, and then things get scary. The more that time passes, the more that I feel like I’ve failed. My mind is jumbled, and I suddenly can’t retrace my steps. What’s worse is that my companions have now left me, and I am alone wishing that they were still chained to me. What a hypocrite, right?”

“It shames me to admit to it, but it takes me way too long to realize that my own brain is working against me. I stop in my tracks, and I sit down to meditate and become one with the Force. This is my last resort, and I know not what else I need to try. What I realize then isn’t that the Force can answer all of my questions, but that it was never really my last resort at all.”

“I couldn’t really see me, but I guarantee you that my face was red with embarrassment when I called to the other younglings for help. The same idiot youngling that had wished solitude in this task was now asking for assistance. Go figure,” he breathed out and shook his head.

“Needless to say that it was a lot easier to find my crystal after that. The mist that had settled on my mind had lifted, and when I made it back outside, I realized that I was one of the last ones to leave the cave. We decided to stick together on our way back to the ship.”

[Krystal Itzume]

Colwyn began his story in an enthusiastic tone that surprised both Kere and Adley. Adley, most of all, showed his confusion vividly as Colwyn seemed to note his bad traits. He seemed to recognize them as bad traits even in his telling, but he spoke with such zeal, such enthusiasm, it was hard to be certain, and Adley only looked more and more confused as the tale went on.

The abrupt change of pace was, in many ways, a relief to him.

He almost laughed at his foolishness and confusion as he realized that Colwyn was self-aware, and had been narrating from his previous point of view. He didn’t, though. He kept the laughter to himself, because he did not want Colwyn to feel bad after the way he had described it.

He had come to his senses, as everyone did. He realized he needed to trust, to take advice, and help, to get his kyber. “The cave always embarrasses us,” Adley said, “it teaches us lessons that we need to learn, before we are worthy of having a kyber. It will be the same, when you go back for another, if you try to.” Adley noted.

He didn’t know if it would put Colwyn off the thought, or not.

Still, he thought to share, “My own lesson was more the reverse of yours,” he said, “rather than being certain of myself, I was uncertain, and unable, to trust myself. I was presented with hundreds of crystals all at once, and I was unable for the longest time, to figure out which one was meant for me, if any of them were meant for me,” he could at least manage a rueful chuckle at his younger self’s inability to be certain, and how long he’d agonized over it.

“I did figure it out, in the end. The one for me had been in plain sight, right on a sort of icy altar that the cave had made, and yet I was so certain that one wasn’t it, it had to be in the pile on the ground.”

[Bleu]

The challenge of revisiting the cave, however annoying it might be to Colwyn, was not enough to dissuade him from his wishes.

As Adley and Kere now knew, Colwyn hated feeling embarrassed. To him, it was almost synonymous with failing. A second kyber would allow him to truly explore different styles, and hopefully adopt of combination of them that would cover the gaps in his armor. He’d fail less often and master a truly defensive form.

“I don’t want to inconvenience our mission,” he insisted with a grin, “but I would still like to return for a second Kyber, whenever we have some spare time. Even if the cave embarrasses me again, it’ll be worth it. It’ll mean that I’ve learned something, yeah?”

Just as Kere and Adley had done for his story, Colwyn was sure to listen their retellings intently. It was amusing to hear how the cave treated everyone differently—how it seemed know exactly what they each needed to learn. In the end, they were all humbled by it, but they all came out the other side stronger. 

 “It’s curious, isn’t it Master Kenobi? How you and I were completely different people when we got our first kyber?” Then the padawan furrowed his brows, deep in thought. “Though maybe it’s not curious at all, when I think about it. There is strength in diversity, isn’t there?”

Maybe that’s what would help them become a great team. They shared the same core values, the same beliefs, and yet they were completely different people. It was a comforting thought, and it brought a smile upon the padawan’s face.

“What about you, Master Jinn? What did the cave teach you?”

[Krystal Itzume]

Adley couldn’t help but wonder at exactly when Colwyn thought they would be going to this cave. Did he really intend for it to be so soon? Adley couldn’t imagine it for a year or more, unless Colwyn was some sort of prodigy with a single blade. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to go sooner, but he thought he might like to see how Colwyn performed, first.

“Oh, I don’t find it that curious,” Adley noted with a sly smile, “Then again, I did pick you for a reason,” he had time to put thought towards it. Time to consider what he wanted in a padawan, and time to know he needed someone different, as well. Even if he’d found someone exactly like himself, he suspected it would still be a challenge.

Yet, he wanted to see more experiences.

The question was, inevitably, turned on Kere. She gave an overly dramatic sigh, and a shrug, “I wasn’t that concerned about the one meant for me, the first time around,” she offered, “I planned to take the first kyber I found – and I did. Only, before I was able to leave the cave with it, it turned red and broke apart.”

It had startled her, the color more than anything, “So I opted to try sensing the one that was actually meant for me, rather than attempt to take a crystal meant for someone else.” She sighed, “I always thought it was a bit…well, exaggerated, when it came to the crystals and them choosing someone.”

[Bleu]

If there was any sign of incoming friction between Colwyn and his new master, the young padawan did not seem notice. Neither did he seem to consider the possibility that Adley might be of a different mind regarding the timing of finding a second kyber. In his young mind, there was no reason to wait any longer than was necessary for the mission. Further, Colwyn could hardly think what else someone could teach him with a single blade that he had not already mastered. 

No doubt, the padawan would inevitably be taught a lesson or two—or many—on humility.

So detached from concern was his attention, in fact, that his eyes were firmly settled on Kere as she retold her rather short anecdote. The green in them seemed to look into Kere with intent, overly curious as to what her lesson might have been. In that moment, it was lost on him.

“Red, you say?” It was a curious color, but in his mind, it held no further significance than that. It reminded him of his own interaction with his kyber, and the color it awarded him. The initial disappointment he had felt in his own lightsaber color had very quickly faded, and now it was little more than a piece of trivia.

“I don’t know,” Colwyn leaned back against his seat, crossing his arms and resting his fingers thoughtfully on his chin. “The connection to my kyber felt very natural—genuine. If there was anything that I was skeptical about going into that cave, it wasn’t the bond between crystal and Jedi.”

Unfortunately for his companions, this was enough of a bridge for Colwyn to go off on another one of his rants. The padawan spoke first of the connection between the kyber and the Jedi, and then he proceeded to elaborately recant his initial interpretation of the connection every living thing had with the force. The Force was then a crossroads to any and everything he valued about the Jedi way.

His enthusiasm was so intense that he only drew breath to thank the hostess as she arrived with their food, before continuing on his droll sermon.

“But you see, that’s why I think nourishment is so important! It is for the physical body what meditation is for the mind, wouldn’t you say? And of course meditation is something that I think everyone should do—the world would be much more peaceful if society just stopped to breathe a little.”

A shrug was indicative of a pause, and his eyes wandered to the platter of food he’d been unintentionally neglecting.

“When did the food get here?”