Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The adventurer grunted. What had he been doing, already? Oh, right, just taking a nap in his favorite spot, at the bottom of the Burning Wall. Never mind that the aether emitted by the orange crystals was corrupted. He was immune to it, and the bright amber color gave the place a very pretty, almost precious look. The jagged cliffs provided a welcome shade from the Thanalan sun, which warmed the water just enough to be pleasant. Neither too hot nor too cold, just the right temperature for a swim.

So, he had gone for a dip before taking a well-deserved nap under the cliffs’ shade. He was awake, now, but not just because Argos was nuzzling him insistently. There was something wrong with the heat. Thanalan, even at its worst, wasn’t that oppressively hot. He opened his eyes to see two suns dotting the sky.

“What.”

Argos stepped away as he rose. Fortunately, he was still fully dressed. Unfortunately, it was in his heavy Paladin armor. Sure, he could sleep in anything but, under the glare of the two suns and with the sand slipping in the slits of his armor, it was far from his most comfortable gear. A wardrobe shift was in order. After consideration, he opted for the Aiming set which made his Bard, Machinist and Dancer gear. The leather-and-tissue armor was rather simple, which left him free of movement while being quite aerated. And its hood protected his head from sunstroke.

Argos waited patiently.

“What, now?”

“Now?” The adventurer looked around. “We go on a new adventure. Let’s find the closest town.”

The golden dog barked as the adventurer got on his back. Then they took flight.

<><><> 

From atop the cliff, A’RroRg’Urrur blinked as he watched the golden creature fly in the sky. Briefly, he wondered if the suns had driven him mad. Given the reaction of RroR’ArruK’RagRg at his side, no, it wasn’t an illusion. Gro’UrorR’OgrRa took his gaffi stick.

“What are you waiting for!? Shoot it! Shoot it down!”

The Tusken Raiders shook themselves and grabbed their rifles. Then they fired.

In the sky, Argos swiftly dodged the shots, causing the adventurer to yelp. He glared at the culprits. The humanoids still had their guns trailed on him. Growling, he shifted to Dragoon and jumped. The fiery shockwave threw at least one of them off the cliff. One reached for their club. The other held their gun. Before either could move, he swung his spear at the gun wielder with enough strength to knock them unconscious. Then he jumped and knocked the club holder with the pole of his weapon. On the other side of the cliff, another humanoid aimed at him. He held a hand and a dragon-shaped mirage fell on them, knocking them out. The last humanoids ran like Voidsent were after them. Argos landed at his side.

“That was fast.”

The adventurer shifted back to his Aiming gear and climbed back on the dog.

“They weren’t tough.”

It was true. To him who hunted men, monsters, gods and kings, the group of humanoids had proved easy to defeat. And he hadn’t even killed any of them, hitting with just enough force to knock them cold. The pair took to the sky in search of a town. Instead, after what felt like hours, they found a huge tank crawling across the dunes. Argos landed and easily outpaced it, especially after it stopped. Tiny humanoids emerged, hooded with glowing eyes and barely taller than a lalafell.

“What do you want?” One of them asked. “Here to bargain?”

The adventurer glanced at the two suns.

“I doubt you would accept the currency I carry. However, if you’re willing to barter, I am willing to trade information for service.”

He could feel Fray stir in his head. The Shadow grumbled as his voice echoed.

“Serve, save, slave, slay. Be careful, partner. If they take it too far and you refuse to say no, I will express my displeasure.”

“Good to know.” The adventurer thought back.

Fray was his darker, pragmatic side. Given his relentless habit of helping everyone – He couldn’t help it. Such was his nature as Azem Reborn – he was glad his Shadow Self kept him “on the straight and narrow”, so to say.

“Service?” The small humanoid asked. “What can you do?”

“I’m a good fighter. And, so long as it remains legal, I can run errands.”

The humanoids huddled between themselves, muttering. Eventually, they turned to him.

“Deal. You protect the sandcrawler and we tell you what you want to know.”

“Got it. However, I will leave you once we reach the next town.”

“Works for us. We’ll need two more days to reach Mos Espa. What’s your name?”

The adventurer hesitated. Argos nuzzled his hand, and even Fray seemed amused.

“Azem.” The adventurer eventually answered. “Call me Azem, the Traveler.”

<><><> 

As promised, the small humanoids – Jawas, as was their names – told Azem about the world he had found himself in. Tatooine was a blisteringly-hot desert lit by two suns and orbited by three moons. Life was scarce and harsh, the native population made of the Jawas themselves and the Tusken Raiders, the humanoids the adventurer had defeated earlier. They weren’t its sole inhabitants, however.

Azem was admittedly startled to learn the world was but one of many in the wider Galaxy. The closest he could think of was the dying worlds he had seen in Ultima Thule as he hunted Meteion. Though they knew little about those foreign worlds, the Jawas still did their best to describe them. Interstellar travel felt particularly amazing to him. The technology of the Galaxy seemed beyond even that of Etheirys. However, their knowledge of magic was close to inexistant, even though he could still feel aether coursing the world. It was strongly fire, earth and wind-flavored.

The Jawas, as it turned, were quite close to lalafells, even though he never saw their face. They were mercantile, going from town to town to peddle machines. Because, and it was their second trait, they were skillful scavengers with a knack for machinery. There was nothing they couldn’t repair, and Azem learned the cities of Tatooine relied a lot on them for equipment, even though said equipment was just above serviceable. They were also cowards, as an attack from Tusken Raiders demonstrated.

They were dismantling an abandoned speeder when the Sand People attacked. Riding on banthas, yelling war cries and brandishing rifles and gaffi sticks, they were running straight at them.

“Hunt them down! They will make fine sacrifices for the bloodrite!”

Azem frowned and discretely switched to Machinist. Guns were the main weapon across the Galaxy, and he was working on new equipment using what the Jawas had gathered. The diminutive people yelped and abandoned the speeder.

“Hurry inside!”

“No.” Azem quietly said. “Our deal said *protection for information*. Let me uphold my end of the bargain.”

He aimed. The Tusken Raiders were coming fast. He was faster still. Three shots claimed three lives. Six remaining. He reached for his Aetherotransformer and deployed a series of mirrors on which he fired. The shot ricocheted five times, each bounce ending a life. He jumped aside to avoid the charge of the last Raider.

“Damn you! I will kill you myself!”

Azem simply shot at the bantha, detonating the explosive he had stuck as he’d dodged the charge. The Tusken Raider rolled down – and found himself face to face with the muzzle of a gun. Azem fired once. The Raider didn’t rise.

“Simple enough.”

The Jawas peeked out.

“You… You killed them all. Singlehandedly.”

“I told you: I’m a good fighter.”

“Better than good! We’ve never seen anyone dispatch Sand People so quickly before! You’re strong!”

Argos huffed. “Strong” was a mild understatement when it came to Azem. The adventurer was the reincarnation of the missing member of the Convocation of Fourteen, his soul Rejoined eightfold. Azem wasn’t his name. It was his title. But his partner was loath to use his true name, preferring to answer to the various epithets he had earned during his adventures.

“We’re almost tempted to keep you around. With you at our side, we would fear nothing but the sandstorms! Bet you could even take on a Krayt Dragon!”

Azem didn’t know what the creature was, but dragons were generally fierce opponents. Hunting one might prove interesting.

“I must turn down your offer. A deal is a deal, and I intend to stick to it. Once we reach Mos Espa, I will be on my way. But, until then, nothing will happen to you.”

Morning came when they finally reached the town. Mos Espa was wide, though not as big as Ul’dah. The buildings were white and domed, more on the short side to shield from the sandstorms. The people Azem saw in one street were made of more species than he’d met in Radz-at-Han, Ul’dah and Kugane put together. The beasts were also completely unfamiliar, though the Jawas had given him names. Swift womp rat, fierce-tempered ronto, resilient eopie, placid dewback… The Jawas tugged his sleeve.

“So, this is where we part ways. Thanks for keeping us safe, and may your journey bring you fortune.”

“May your findings be many, and your credits aplenty.” Azem answered back.

He had given most of his gils for the local currency, keeping only a handful for the memory. Argos at his side, he made his way across the city. First step: find an inn. One thing he had learned early in his adventuring career was that taverns and bars were the best place to gather information. Sadly, there was no adventuring guild in the Galaxy. There were bounty hunters, mercenaries, smugglers and various assortments of thrill-seeking trades, but Adventurer Guilds like the ones found in Eorzea were unknown. If possible, Azem decided, he would try to stay on the side of the law. Given his propensity for drawing trouble, no need to tempt the Void and involve himself in something illegal.

He found a cantina and bought a bottle. Call him paranoid, but after the Monetarist Coup and the events at Falcon’s Nest, he refused to drink anything he didn’t pour himself. The darkly-lit place was filled with rough patrons who spoke harshly and loudly, which put him ever-so-slightly on guard. Not that he doubted his chances. After the Endsinger and Zenos, a bunch of half-drunk Sentients was no challenge. As he drank his fill, he listened. Thanks to the Echo, he understood everyone.

There was a podrace in two weeks, for the Boonta Eve Classic. Might be worth buying tickets. A trio of people was discussing how to best catch a bounty. Not his business, thank you. Unless they were criminals, he preferred to stick to monsters. Five people were playing sabacc. The Jawas had taught him to play and let him keep the deck after the Sand People’s raid. Maybe… Someone was pestering against a merchant for selling him a defective droid. Worth a dressing down? …Nah. Someone grumbled about Tusken Raiders making the journey home risky. After consideration, maybe another day. He was a bit too tired for an escort mission. A pack of womp rats making a nuisance of itself on the town’s outskirts? Now, this was a job for him. Fray groaned. Azem shrugged.

“It’s easy money.”

He went to the patron, gun resting on his shoulder.

“Excuse me, I heard you have a problem with womp rats.”

The patron, a human, glared at his drink.

“You tell me! Those pests gnaw on whatever they can get their fangs on! Speeders, power boxes, droids… Even people! My home suffered from a blackout because they chewed the wires! But they are viciously fast.”

Azem shrugged.

“Try me. I’ll hunt them down if you’re willing to foot the bill. How much?”

They ended haggling the price but, in the end, his client promised the adventurer enough for a night at the cantina. So, Azem went to Mos Espa’s outskirts and, with Argos’s nose, hunted the pests. The womp rats turned to be around seven fulms and chewing on an abandoned speeder. He shot three before they noticed him, then took a small sphere from the toolbox of his Aetherotransformer and slammed it on his gun. The sphere expended to transform the weapon into a bioblaster, which he fired on the rodents. The green substance acted instantly, causing a supernatural sickness in the womp rats who staggered away.

The concept had come from learning about the sickness-inducing effect of aetheric imbalance on the First. You could develop an immunity to a lot of diseases, but aetheric imbalance was nigh-impossible to guard against, and difficult to cure.

The rodents were groggy. The sphere retracted, turning the bioblaster back to a gun. Azem took a smaller sphere and threw it, leaving it expend into several mirrors on which he fired. Once again, his shot ricocheted, killing most of the womp rats. He took one last sphere, which turned his gun into a flamethrower.

“What do you say, Argos? You want your rats well-done or extra-crispy?”

“Extra-crispy. To get rid of the diseases.”

Cranking the flame’s strength to the highest setting, Azem set the rodents ablaze. When he was done, nothing but ashes remained. He returned to his client.

“Job done. Just look for the ash pile near a half-gnawed speeder.”

His client was a man of his word. He was given exactly what they’d agreed on. It let the adventurer buy a night at the inn.

The next morning, he played a few rounds of sabacc with the patrons and accepted an escort job, riding Argos while his client rode a speeder. Nothing happened, and he returned in time for lunch. He extended his stay to another night. Someone ended asking him to get rid of some particularly territorial scyks. He took the job and hunted the reptiles, shifting to Samurai because he felt like working on his swordplay. His katana swiftly cut through the creatures. He was paid handsomely, enough to start working on some improvements for his gear. A lot of the local rifles had a greater range than his gun, and several people duel-wielded pistols. Maybe…

<><><> 

Little Anakin watched the stranger enter Watto’s shop. He was average in height, with blue eyes and brown hair under a Stetson hat, his face covered by a scruffy stubble. Besides the bantha leather jacket and pale shirt and pants, he had sturdy leather boots and a checkered red-white-black bandana wrapped around his neck. The most distinctive part, however, was the heavy metallic revolver hanging in his back, the canon nearly as tall as his torso. A toolbox was hanging on his belt.

He wandered around, examining the merchandise. Watto came flying.

“Hey there. See something interesting?”

“Not yet, but I’ll let you know if I do.”

He looked at parts. A scope here, a bipod there, a bundle of wires… Eventually, he took the scope and the bipod, as well as a bunch of other knickknacks. Then he turned to Anakin.

“Who’s the kid?”

“Ani? He’s my slave. I make him work around the shop.”

The stranger glared and muttered under his breath.

“Enslaving children…”

He left. Anakin let his gaze linger.

Outside the shop, Azem was quietly shivering with rage. He could barely stand slavery, but the Hutt Cartel was simply too powerful to fight alone. Going on a crusade to end the practice would end with him dead or in chain. So, he swallowed his distaste and forced himself to tolerate it. But enslaving a child was simply despicable. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to exhale. He would free the kid, this was his promise. One day, little Ani would be free.

In the meantime, he had ideas to work on. Increasing his gun’s range, for starters.

Chapter Text

Azem came back to Watto’s shop. He always bought something, like a bundle of wires because stepping in a shop without buying anything was simply rude. His true reason for coming, however, was Anakin. He fully intended to buy the boy and free him, so he wanted him to get used to his company. Anakin was wary, at first. It took him a few days to warm up to him, especially after Azem caught him tinkering with cast-off parts.

“You like it?”

Anakin jumped. He hadn’t noticed the adventurer. Azem knelt to his level and watched the boy. He was working with junk parts, putting them together with an expertise someone his age shouldn’t possess.

“It’s alright.” Azem reassured. “I won’t tell Watto.”

Anakin went back to his work.

“I like working on machines. They’re simple, not like people. That, and… I can feel them, if I focus. It’s hard to explain.”

The Soul Crystal of the Machinist was acting weirdly. Not two ways about it: the boy had an affinity for it. But it wasn’t the only Soul Crystal to react. Casting a quick look at his surroundings, Azem took the Crystals of the Red Mage and Dark Knight. They were reacting, albeit not to the same extent as the Machinist. The fact only strengthened his determination. One day, Anakin would be free, and he would take him as a student.

He ended spending a lot of his free time with the boy, encouraging him in his hobby. He met his mother, Shmi Skywalker, a woman with a core of steel beneath her demure exterior. Anakin showed him the pod he made for the race at the Boonta Eve Classic, as well as the protocol droid he was working on for his mother. It made Azem bitter, that Watto was wasting the boy’s potential by keeping him a slave. He needed to rescue them both, the mother and her son.

Two days before the Boonta Eve Classic, the adventurer was hanging around the shop when three characters entered. One was a man with long brown hair and brown eyes, his beard in a ducktail. His body was hidden under a grey poncho which only revealed brown pants and boots. The second was a woman in baggy blue shirt and black pants with a brown tabard and a blue belt. The last was an alien of a species he didn’t know, with a reddish-white skin, floppy “ears” and bulging yellow eyes on a goose-like face. Their grey clothes were simple and worn, and they had no shoes.

Watto greeted them and they started talking business, the Toydarian calling Ani to watch the shop. Azem’s gaze lingered on the man –

The Echo chose this moment to act.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I don’t sense anything.”

“It’s not about the mission, Master. It’s something… elsewhere. Elusive.”

“Don’t center on your anxiety, Obi-Wan. Keep your concentration here and now, where it belongs.”

“Master Yoda said I should be more mindful of the future.”

“But not at the expense of the moment. Be mindful of the Living Force, my young padawan.”

A clash, swords of solid light tearing through skeletal droids. A fight through a giant starship. An escape.

“You were right about one thing, Master: the negotiations were short.”

A fight through the forest, an encounter with the goose-faced alien, who led them to an underwater city.

Azem found it beautiful. If he managed to leave Tatooine, he would look for it. The place was well-worth a visit.

A sharp talk with the leader of the alien species, the Gungans. An agreement.

“Wesa give yousa una bongo. Da speedest way tooda Naboo, tis goen through da core. Now, go.”

A journey through the planet’s watery core, facing underwater monsters worthy of Voidsent.

“There’s always a bigger fish.”

A city, as beautiful as Ul’dah with its verdigris roofs. A rescue. An escape. A forced halt, because the ship’s hyperdrive was damaged.

The vision ended and Azem shook the stiffness in his limbs. He turned to Ani and the woman, just in time to hear the boy.

“Are you an angel?”

“A what?”

The adventurer listened as the kid explained. The woman chuckled.

“You’re a funny little boy.”

Azem grinned and winked at the kid.

“Precocious, much?”

Anakin jumped.

“I’m not – I don’t have a crush!”

“Right… Ani, she’s older than you.”

“And? She’s still pretty.”

“No argument here.”

The woman blushed. They were interrupted by the Gungan, Jar-Jar Binks, making a mess around the shop. Azem sighed.

“Watto won’t be happy.” He swiftly clocked the little droid and crossed his arms. “Basic shopping rule: you don’t know, you don’t touch.”

The Gungan looked down. The woman turned to him.

“You’re familiar with the place. Do you come here often?”

“He does.” Anakin grinned. “Azem comes every day. He encourages me to build stuff. Sometimes, he even gives me advice.”

“Really?” The woman smiled. “Are you his father?”

Azem flinched.

“I’m not. I’m just an adventurer.” He glanced at Anakin. “I hope to gather enough money to buy Ani and his mother from Watto. They deserve better than the life of a slave, especially given how good Ani’s with machines.”

Anakin turned to him, wide-eyed.

“You never said anything about it, before!”

“I didn’t want to clue Watto. Greedy as he is, there’s no telling what skullduggery he would’ve devised before letting me buy them – given he let me do it in the first place.”

Anakin looked down. Even the woman felt sorry. Watto and the bearded man, Qui-Gon Jinn, returned from the back of the shop, apparently disappointed. As they left, the Toydarian grumbled something about the trio of outlanders before turning to Azem.

“You still there?”

The adventurer simply handed him his find and paid for it. Then he headed to the cantina. Argos, ever faithful, was waiting in his room.

“Anything interesting happened?”

“The Echo showed me something.” Azem frowned. “A world came under planetary invasion and its ruler managed to escape. Unfortunately, their ship broke down during the escape, so they stopped to buy replacement parts.”

“Interesting.” The golden familiar huffed. “This sounds otherwise more exciting than pest control around Mos Espa. Wanna help?”

“I can’t go anywhere until I’ve bought Anakin and his mother. Can’t afford to have Watto sell them while my back is turned.”

This was a sad reality, but Azem was patient. He was starting to have a small fortune, almost enough to buy a slave. A few more days, and he could afford either the mother or the son. Argos put his nose in his hand and smiled as his partner caressed him. Azem stroked the thick dog’s fur. His original owner was Hydaelyn, formerly known as Venat. Now she was gone, the least he could do was taking care of his old mentor’s creation.

He dreamed of Elpis, that night.

The next day, he went to Watto’s shop and caught the Toydarian negotiating with Qui-Gon. The topic, however, was Ani’s participation to the Boonta Eve’s podrace. The adventurer hid his grin. The boy had showed him his pod, and Azem had discretely supplied him with parts he couldn’t steal. The result was a small, lithe and speedy little machine Anakin was rightfully proud of. The adventurer nodded. Qui-Gon had decided to sponsor him, with Watto footing a large part of the bill. Welp. Now, he had to watch the race.

Qui-Gon turned to him. Azem respectfully tipped his hat. Anakin tugged his sleeve and he followed the boy to his machine. Though he was no Cid, his knowledge of machinery easily matched Stephanivien’s, especially after his trip in the First. Together, adventurer and slave worked on the pod while Shmi talked with the other man. Azem wasn’t listening. He was more focused on helping the blonde boy.

Then a bunch of thugs decided to crash the party. The adventurer counted a Gamorrean, a Rodian, two humans and a Weequay, all adults, all thuggish. He kept his eyes on them.

“Hey, that’s quite the ride you got, boy!”

“Yes, and it’s mine.” Anakin said harshly. "Hands off.”

“Yours? You are a slave! Not even your life belongs to you!”

Azem rose. He wasn’t particularly tall, but his blue eyes had an edge that couldn’t be missed.

“True. Anakin, his mother and all their possessions belong to Watto. You mess with them, you will have to answer to him.”

“Easily done.” The Weequay shrugged and took a purse.

He found himself face to face with Azem’s gun.

“Also, I plan to buy the pair, so leave my future purchases.”

The five instantly drew weapons. A strange sound was heard, one Azem would be hard-pressed to describe. Then Qui-Gon was at his side, a blade of solid green light in his hand.

“I agree: you are touching neither the boy nor his machine. Leave. At once.”

The five shuddered at the sight.

“A Jedi… Forget it, I’m not losing an arm for a pod!”

They swiftly turned tail. Azem holstered his gun, silently glad violence could have been avoided.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Qui-Gon smiled. “I noticed you seemed protective of Anakin. You want to free him.”

“He and Shmi both. However, saving money takes time.”

Qui-Gon turned to the man, thoughtful. On the outside, the gunslinger seemed like yet another scoundrel among the many which populated Mos Espa. But it was only on the outside. Through the Living Force, the Jedi could sense the man in a way no one else did. His power rivaled Anakin’s. The gunslinger shone in the Force like a beacon of evenly-balanced Light and Dark. Some Jedi would find it disturbing, that someone so powerful held so much Darkness in them. Qui-Gon found the balance beautiful.

He wondered how he had failed to notice earlier. The gunslinger was surprisingly powerful in the Force, an easy match for Mace Windu, maybe even Master Yoda. And yet, he was clearly not a Jedi – or a Sith, for that matter. Maybe one of those renegade Force-users found across the Galaxy, like the Voss Mystics, the Green Jedi of Corelia or even the Force Priestesses he'd met.

A mystery, he decided. One he would gladly solve if given the chance.

They spent the afternoon refining the pod. The man's expertise was a boon, though Anakin was quite skilled as well. Night fell and he found time to talk with the man.

"I don't quite believe I got your name before."

"Call me Azem." The gunslinger shrugged. "And you're Qui-Gon Jinn, right?"

"I am." Qui-Gon smiled. "You sound like an interesting character."

"As you are, and powerful as well."

His eyes fell on the lightsaber. Qui-Gon looked away.

"The Jedi use violence as a last resort, but we know the mere threat of violence holds power. And coming from some of the best fighters of the Galaxy? It is a threat that holds weight."

"Tell me something I don't know…"

When the mere mention of "The Warrior of Light" was enough to scare most people and the threat of your coming was enough to send people running, you knew you were a legend. He still had trouble believing that, in an alternate timeline, it was undoing his death by the Black Rose which had driven the survivors of the Eighth Calamity to band together and send G'raha and the Crystal Tower back in time. And the worst (or best) part of it? It had worked. Sometimes, his popularity made him uneasy. After all, Azem or adventurer, he was just doing his job.

Qui-Gon put a hand on his lightsaber.

"Tell me, how much do you know about the Jedi?"

"Nothing. I never heard the term before meeting you. From what I understand, though, either you are an order or you are a kind of fighter."

"Both are true." The elder man smiled.

His explanation was interesting. Azem idly wondered if the knowledge could be put inside a Soul Crystal. Then Qui-Gon began to talk about the Force and the adventurer's interest increased. He couldn't tell whether the mysterious energy was akin to aether or dynamis. If the two weren't mutually incompatible, he would hazard a mix of both. It was sadly not the case.

"You can use the Force as well."

Azem grimaced.

"Not the way you do."

He took the over-belt on which each of his Soul Crystals were carefully slotted. Qui-Gon looked at them, intrigued. The adventurer explained.

"These Crystals contain the memories and knowledge of all those who used them. Each teach a different discipline, which we call Job: Bard, Warrior, Dragoon, Monk, Samurai, Black Knight… They only react around those who can draw their knowledge."

Qui-Gon counted twenty gems, each of a different color and shape, each bearing a different symbol. The green and white gems were reacting to him. Azem smiled.

"The green gem is the Bard Soul Crystal. Bards wield a bow and sing enchanted songs which strengthen their allies. The white gem is the White Mage Soul Crystal. White Mages are healers who channel water, earth and wind to fight, but their true power is their ability to mend and restore. No Job is better at healing."

Qui-Gon took the white gem and closed his eyes. The effect was instant. It was half-like a whisper and half-like a trickle of water, knowledge running through his mind, teaching him how to channel – the Force? It felt like the Living Force, the mystical energy connecting every living together. In any case, the energy could be channeled to command the elements and heal the livings, and the Soul Crystal was whispering him how. Finding a vegetal catalyst was going to be hard, though, especially on Tatooine. On Naboo, it would be a different story.

He took the green gem next. Here again, the Crystal whispered him the knowledge it contained. Now, using the Force to empower and strengthen others was something he had heard about. He wasn't particularly surprised it was conveyed through singing: music had a knack for carrying emotions and was generally considered the universal language. Using a bow, on the other hand, felt more archaic than a lightsaber… Right until he considered how the compactness of an arrow made it much easier to steer than a blaster bolt. Combine it with the clairvoyance every Youngling learned at an early age, and Jedi could be surprisingly-skilled marksmen when they put their mind at it. And the Crystal contained knowledge on how to empower shots, turning them into outright volleys of energy.

He returned the two gems. If the opportunity presented itself, he would love to give them a try.

"And you can use them all?"

"Yes. I switch between them depending the situation, but I mastered all of them. Now, any progress I make adds to their knowledge, rather than me drawing from it. The one I'm working on most is the Machinist." Azem took the pale blue, cubic Crystal. "This world is further than mine, technologically-speaking. I am implementing some of the ideas I've seen, like the scope or the stunner."

Given the prevalence of droids, having a reliable way to disable them when bullets failed to break their chassis had quickly become a necessity. Hence the Static Shocker.

Qui-Gon looked away and to the sky.

"…Anakin has strong potential as a Jedi. Tomorrow, I plan to wager his freedom against our ship in the podrace. I know you plan to free him –"

"But I don't have the money yet, for either him or his mother." Azem frowned bitterly. "I will in a few days, but I get you're pressed for time… Fine. Anakin has an affinity for the Machinist, Red Mage and Dark Knight Soul Crystals, so I wanted to teach him. But, if you believe he'll be better with the Jedi, I respect your choice. I'll buy Shmi instead."

"Thank you."

Azem wasn't totally sure about his decision, but the Jedi were still a better choice than slavery. And the boy wouldn't be apart from his mother for long.

Chapter Text

The day of the Boonta Eve Classic had come. As Azem helped Anakin prepare himself, he watched Qui-Gon bargain with Watto. A neat little telekinetic push cheated the dice and forced the Toydarian to wager the Force-sensitive boy. The adventurer nodded. So long as Ani won the race - something he had no doubt he would - his freedom was secure. It now fell to him to secure Shmi's. Hopefully, what he'd win from his betting would be enough to buy her.

He followed the group in their seats, watching patiently as the ceremony unfolded and the race began… and Anakin stalled. His only saving grace was that he wasn't the only one. Ben Quadrinaros was also not in control of his pod, who stubbornly refused to start. After a few manipulations, the boy's pod started again and let him speed after the racers. The group watched. Azem hummed appreciatively. Their work on the machine was bearing fruit: despite being the smallest, the lithe little pod was overtaking everyone else. He felt mild amusement that professional racers were being beaten by a kid who wasn't even a teenager yet. But Anakin was skilled. And he had to be, because fair-play was not of the party.

Sebulba slammed against another racer, forcing him to crash against a canyon's wall. Azem tensed. The Dug better not try anything against Anakin, or he would have word with the racer. Another was shot down by Sand People. The adventurer quickly revised his priorities and whistled Argos.

"Be right back."

Qui-Gon nodded. Azem jumped on the golden familiar's back and flew away. It didn't take him long to reach the sand-folks lying in ambush. Switching to Bard, he began to fire.

Padme blinked when a deluge of energy arrows fell on the Sand People, killing three. Then Azem jumped among the group and the watchers held a collective gasp. The adventurer lost no time and slammed his bow with enough force to send one of his aggressors flying. Two Raiders ran at him. Azem backflipped, fired and landed as his opponent fell. The other was beheaded by a twin shot of blue energy arrows. Three Sand People readied their rifles. The adventurer channeled wind inside his bow and focused. It was an improvement of Stormbite he had been working on, inspired by the violent sandstorms which plagued Tatooine.

Hurricane Bite.

The single arrow he fired generated a gust of shearing wind which left his opponents bleeding and in pain. Easy pickings for the wide volley he fired. Five were left standing. He fired a blue-cloaked shot, taking down one. Then he focused his power and four golden portals opened, each with an energy arrow ready. The Sand People aimed. He was quicker. Each arrow killed one target.

Azem turned to the canyon and held a chuckle as adventurous Jawas ran at the crashed pod. They traded a friendly gesture before the adventurer climbed on Argos and returned to the benches. The group was waiting for him and, besides Qui-Gon, all were looking at him weirdly.

"What are you!?" Padme breathed.

Jar-Jar wasn't hiding his mirth.

"Yousa bombad!"

"Yeah, I'm tough." The adventurer shrugged. "As for what I am, well, I'm just an adventurer who dabbles. Business as usual."

"And the worst part?" Shmi sighed. "He's right. Fighting Tusken Raiders is something he does semi-regularly."

Azem gave Qui-Gon an insistent look. The Jedi returned it with a small nod. More than simply getting rid of a threat, the adventurer had used the opportunity to show him some of the Bard's abilities. It was enough to sell the Jedi on the idea. If the occasion presented itself, he would try it.

Ben Quadrinaros's pod finally gave in, flying apart in four different directions to the delight of the crowd. The racers flew by soon after, Anakin steadily catching up with the frontrunners. One of the racers tried to cut him off. They failed, the boy's pod's small size letting him sneak past his contestant. They weren't the only ones. Three more were hopelessly outmaneuvered by the lithe machine. Then Sebulba dumped something which flew in an engine and blew it up, taking the pod's owner out of the race. Another crashed in the cavern in a fiery explosion Anakin narrowly outran. One of the racers decided a pit stop was in order and let his droids maintain his pod. Unfortunately for him, one got caught in the turbine.

The little droid was fine. The turbine? Not so much. The racer sighed exasperatedly at being ousted from the race that way.

The boy and the Dug were close as they began the third lap. And things got ugly. Azem had switched back to Machinist. The longer he looked, the more he wanted to put a bullet in the alien's head. In any case, he would have some strong words with him. Sebulba pushed Anakin to the side, forcing the boy to use the service ramp. The Dug naively thought he would be out of the race…

Anakin soared. The group didn't see what he did midair, but they saw him suddenly speed up as he dived and overpassed Sebulba. Azem cheered. He wasn't the only one. However, though the Dug's engines were huge, they were also powerful. Human and alien fought viciously all the way to the last stretch, right until their pod's bodies got stuck. They didn't see what manipulations either contestant did but, when Anakin suddenly sped up, he untangled himself in the process – and the sudden velocity shift made Sebulba lose control. He crashed. Anakin was the first to cross the finishing line.

The group gathered around the boy, whooping and cheering. Watto was naturally unhappy. Azem ruffled the boy's head.

"Congratulation on being free."

He went to collect his own winnings and counted them. Argos nuzzled his hand.

"So, do you have enough?"

"I do. Let's find Watto and buy Shmi. Separating her from Anakin is cruel and shouldn't be done."

They returned to find Sebulba threatening the boy. The Dug's only warning was a golden blur. Then Argos had his throat on his neck. Azem pointed his gun to his head.

"You go anywhere within five yalms of the boy and I will kill you. Now, scram!"

"You mercenary shit –"

The adventurer put the canon straight to the alien's head.

"Five yalms. I'm warning you."

Sebulba swore. He still hurried away. Padme looked down.

"That was brutal."

"Some people only understand two languages: violence and money. Better have both on hand."

On the Star, he had both aplenty thanks to his adventures. On Tatooine, he was sadly short on cash, which forced him to rely on violence. Turning to Shmi, he held his winnings with a reassuring smile. The elder woman nodded and showed him the place where Qui-Gon had gone to find Watto. The adventurer found the pair arguing about their bet.

"You can't have him! The bet wasn't fair!"

"Would you like to discuss it with the Hutts? I'm sure they can settle this."

"No. No more of your tricks. Take the boy and go!"

Azem gave a sheepish smile.

"Is it a bad time for me to buy Ani's mother as well?"

Qui-Gon grinned. The Toydarian glared daggers.

"It is! Shmi is my last slave! I got no money to run the shop. I'm going to need her hands to keep it going!"

"And my money wouldn't be enough to keep your business running?"

Watto looked at the heavy bag, weighing his options. Keep a pair of free hands to work while he recovered from his losses at the cost of a load of cash? Or take the money to keep the shop running at the expense of free workhands?

"…No. No more business. Keep your cash. I'll keep the woman."

Azem glared. Separating Shmi and Anakin was something he refused to do. Luckily, he still had a few cards to play. This one was his last legal one.

"Find more players. I'm challenging you at sabacc: my money and my freedom against Shmi's. Deal?"

Everyone in earshot froze, including Qui-Gon and Watto.

"Not just your money… but your freedom as well? Are you serious?"

"You've seen me at work. You know how strong I am. If my money won't be enough, my freedom will be a fair price for Shmi's." The adventurer looked the Toydarian dead in the eyes. "Either mother and son stay together or she and I both work for you. And, if you play your cards right, you will have not just my money but also what the other players betted. So?"

Watto knew he should refuse. He had taken massive losses today. He couldn’t afford to lose any more. But the prospect of winning not just more money but also another slave was simply too tempting.

"…Fine. Let's find more players."

They found two more. Ben Quadrinaros was looking forward to making good his losses after his humiliation at the race. Bib Fortuna saw a chance for easy money. While Anakin was being freed and the spaceship pieces Qui-Gon had won were being sent away, the four sat in an empty room. Qui-Gon was at the entrance, meditating quietly, his mind turned to the Force.

“House rules.” Watto declared. “We only ante the sabacc pot once and no Sabacc Shift. I have enough of people altering the game like that…”

He gave the Jedi a pointed glare. Qui-Gon shrugged. Gasgano, who was wondering what the commotion was about, refused to join and instead agreed to be the dealer.

“Alright. Gentlebeings, place your bets! The sabacc pot awaits!”

Watto huffed.

“I ante the brat’s mother in the pot.”

Shmi remained steadfast, her face as stoic as a Jedi’s. Quadrinaros huffed.

“I ante one million peggats. Stupid bet, I knew I shouldn’t have accepted Roor’s challenge even if he was drunk. The sleemo…”

“Ah, that’s why you entered.” Gasgano snickered.

“Stupid bet, stupid race, stupid planet. As soon as we’re done, I’m going back to the Pooffra Circuit.”

Bib Fortuna looked at the pot and took a holoprojector, which displayed a canine creature with a whip-like tail.

“I obtained this vornskr from a Rodian smuggler, a few weeks ago. I ante it.”

Azem was the last to speak.

“I ante my freedom.”

Gasgano, Fortuna and Quadrinaros turned to him, surprised. The adventurer shrugged. The xexto dealt the four, first Fortuna, then Quadrinaros, Watto and finally Azem. The four bet their credits and looked at their cards. None let any emotion show, least of all the adventurer. Quadrinaros drew and discarded a card. Then they laid down their hand.

Bib Fortuna had a Master of Staves and a Three of Sabers. Seventeen.
Ben Quadrinaros had a Commander and Two of Flasks. Fourteen.
Watto had an Ace of Coins and a Five of Staves. Twenty.
Azem had a Mistress of Sabers and Endurance. Five.

Watto laughed.

“Ha! Now, that was bad luck!”

“The game’s just starting. Don’t count your credits yet.”

But, since he had the highest hand, this was exactly what the Toydarian did. They placed their bets and Gasgano dealt again. Azem frowned and drew the Three of Sabers. He cast away Endurance. The other players also discarded and drew, a tried-and-true strategy to keep their hand hard to predict. This way, one card would remain the same but the other would be a surprise – for the other players, but also for themselves. There was never a guarantee that their find was better than their discard. The four players laid down their hand.

Bib Fortuna had a Master of Staves, Two of Coins and Five of Flasks. Twenty-one.
Ben Quadrinaros had a Commander of Flasks, Five of Coins and the Star. A clear Zero.
Watto had an Ace of Coins, a Four of Coins and the Queen of Air and Darkness. Seventeen.
Azem had a Mistress, Three and Two of Sabers. Eighteen.

Quadrinaros groaned at having the lowest hand, Gasgano gently patting his back. Watto was miffed as he watched Bib Fortuna move the pile of credits to himself. Personally, Azem thought that having an even Zero for a hand was rather nice, even if it was worthless.

Then everyone took note of the others’ cards and tension shot up. It had every reason to: the adventurer and the junk dealer were one card away from winning. The four quickly brought their card to themselves as Gasgano dealt again. None of them needed the Force to feel it. This hand would be the last. Azem did his best not to stare at the card he’d received. Breathing evenly, he discarded the Mistress of Sabers and didn’t draw. Around him, the other players discarded and drew and Watto failed to hide his mirth. Ben Quadrinaros looked pleased with himself while Bib Fortuna failed to hide his grumpiness. They laid down their hand.

Bib Fortuna glared defiantly as he showed his cards. Balance was right next to the Master of Staves, Five of Flasks and Ace of Sabers. Twenty-six. The twi’lek had Bombed Out by three points.

Ben Quadrinaros showed his cards, satisfied. Alongside the Star and the Commander of Flasks were the Ten of Staves and the Ace of Sabers. Twenty. Not bad for a finishing hand. Sadly, it wasn’t enough. Watto smirked.

“Well, I believe I win this game. Pure sabacc.”

Everyone stared at the Toydarian’s hand. The Queen of Air and Darkness, the Ace, Six and Four of Coins. Positive 23. Watto had won. Shmi bit her lip and looked at Qui-Gon. Oddly, the Jedi remained serene. In fact, he was even smiling. Then Azem spoke quietly.

“You don’t. Idiot’s Array.”

And he laid down his cards. Everyone gasped as they saw the Idiot, the Two and the Three of Sabers in the adventurer’s hand. Azem reclined in his seat.

“Winner takes all. Gentlebeings, it was a pleasure.”

The Toydarian’s wings failed him as he fell in his seat. Bib Fortuna’s jaw fell to the floor. Ben Quadrinaros shrugged.

“I still have four million peggats. I’ll take my leave before I lose anything else.”

The twi’lek meekly nodded.

“I will retrieve the vornskr. Wait here.”

He left, quickly followed by Quadrinaros and Gasgano. Watto stared at the table for five solid minutes, unable to grasp what had just happened. Shmi, having recovered from the shock, didn’t hide her delight.

“I’m free!”

“Yes.” Qui-Gon smiled. “Free to stay with your son and join us to Coruscant. And, if Azem is willing to share…”

“I am.” The adventurer reassured as he took the debit card which contained the one million peggats. “I have little use of so much money. Give me time to trade it for credits. What’s exchange the rate, already?”

“Right now? Forty standard credits.”

“Which means forty million. I can easily split the sum in two and we’d both have enough to live comfortably on any world we want, at least for a time.”

Shmi was a hardy woman. Her knees still nearly failed her when she heard.

“Twenty million!? This… This is a lot! I – Why? Why are you doing all this for us?”

“That’s what I do.” Azem shrugged.

And Qui-Gon felt in the Force the adventurer meant every word. It was Azem’s nature to right the wrongs and fight injustice everywhere he went. Sometimes, it meant ending a life. Other times, it meant wagering his freedom. Azem was a problem solver. It was his essence, his Being. The Living Force rang loud and clear to his ears.

They accompanied Shmi to a surgeon who removed her chip. Anakin could barely stay still. Qui-Gon held his shoulder as the boy bounced on his feet. At long last, his mother emerged, Azem and Argos behind her. Mother and son fell in each other’s arms.

"We're free! We're both free! At last!"

The Jedi turned to the adventurer.

"What you did was very kind. Keeping them apart would have been heartless."

"I know. That's why I did it."

Padme was smiling from ear to ear.

"What will you do, know?"

"Well…" The adventurer looked away, sheepish. "If you got room for one more, I will gladly come along."

"We do." Padme confirmed. "Welcome aboard."

They caught up with Bib Fortuna. The vornskr was in a cage and looked in an admittedly-poor shape. Its black fur was missing a few patches and its red eyes looked tired. The beast was underfed and clearly showed signs of neglect. Qui-Gon frowned.

“I heard about those creatures. They are capable of sensing the Force and thus target anyone sensitive to it, starting with their favorite preys, the ysalamiri. This sadly means they also hunt Jedi, and there are two of us aboard the ship, plus Ani.”

Bib Fortuna scoffed.

“Not in the shape it is, it won’t. I’ve had tamers take care of it, to no avail. That mutt couldn’t even hunt a womp rat, least of all a Jedi.”

Anakin had a different train of thought. Gently, he went to the cage and knelt at a safe distance. The vornskr raised its head and looked at him. The boy looked the canine in its eyes. Qui-Gon froze.

“Anakin?”

Boy and vornskr stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Then he held a hand and the canine gently licked it.

“Pateessa.” The boy said softly. “Your name is Pateessa.”

Friend, in Huttese. The Jedi watched in awe as he felt, through the Force, the bond which brought boy and beast together. With a flick of the hand, he unlocked the cage. Bib Fortuna jumped.

“What – Are you mad!?”

“It’s alright.” The Jedi reassured. “Look at them.”

To everyone’s wonder, the vornskr rose and put its head in Anakin’s hands. The boy smiled warmly.

“They are Bonded.” Qui-Gon explained. “Jedi usually avoid getting attached to people or animals but, sometimes, they still form a Force Bond with another being, commonly their padawan. More rarely, though, they do it with a creature which becomes more than a simple pet. It becomes their partner, their companion. Such Bonds are rare and powerful.”

And vornskr could sense the Force. The former slave boy had just gained a powerful ally. Azem shrugged.

“I guess it’s yours, now. Come on, let’s get to the ship.”

The group left and didn’t look back.

Next time, don't mess with a kid the Warrior of Light took under his wing...

Chapter Text

Anakin and Shmi were free.

Packing their things didn't take long, their most important possession being their protocol droid. C-3PO could indeed use more bodywork, but the boy had been working from stolen and scavenged parts. Finishing him would come when the family settled down.

They had nearly reached the chromed Naboo starship when the man in black struck. Pateessa sensed him before he reached them, turning and snarling and standing protectively before Anakin. Azem tackled the boy and his mother moments before he crashed into them. Qui-Gon engaged their opponent.

"Hurry to the ship! Come on!"

Heeding the adventurer's words, mother and son hurried. Azem turned to the man in black. He had red skin, black tattoos and horns which gave him a rather evil look. He was also wielding a blood-red lightsaber Qui-Gon was parrying with his green blade. The adventurer shifted to White Mage and cast several spells at the Jedi, who breathed in relief. His opponent turned to the adventurer, clearly surprised. Azem used the opening to throw light at his face. The alien stumbled. Qui-Gon turned to him.

"We fall back!"

"Got it."

They hurried to the starship, which was taking flight… and their opponent jumped before them. A second red blade emerged from the handle. Qui-Gon took a step back.

"A Sith."

Azem didn't back down. He began to bombard their opponent with light, forcing them to use some impressive lightsaber skills to deflect them, the red blades parrying each spell. So distracting was the barrage that he didn't notice Qui-Gon sneak in his back. It was only through sheer clairvoyance that he managed to dodge the Jedi's blow. Qui-Gon took over with swift, acrobatic swordsmanship as Azem kept him healed and energized. The Jedi was silently grateful of it. Ataru was a very demanding Form and he wasn't getting any younger. The adventurer's spells gave him easy access to Light-sided Force he used to keep himself going. And he needed it, because the Sith's unorthodox wielding was hard to adapt to. Not many people used a dual-bladed lightsaber, these days.

The adventurer glanced behind him. The starship was right above them.

"Qui-Gon! Time to go!"

He switched to Dragoon and jumped to the ramp. The Jedi followed. The Sith didn't follow. As the starship reached the stratosphere, the pair breathed.

"That wasn't one of yours." The adventurer frowned.

"Indeed. Between his lightsaber's color and his skills, I'll hazard he belongs to the Sith, an order of Dark-sided Force users. The old archenemies of the Jedi. He was probably after the queen."

"Or just you."

"Or just me, right. But my instincts tell me he was after the queen. Killing a Jedi on the way was merely an added bonus."

The rest of the group gathered around them, Shmi holding her son tight.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Azem's powers kept me going."

The adventurer shrugged.

"And that's why you never see an adventuring party without a dedicated healer. Not unless they have a death wish."

And the mentors in the Halls of Novices made a point of drilling the tanks to never run out of their healer's range. He had seen it happen at Tam-Tara Deepcroft. To say the whole story had ended in tears was an understatement. At least, after the events of the Palace of the Dead, Edda and Avere were together in the Lifestream.

There was someone besides the Skywalkers. Azem recognized the young man as Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon's padawan, who turned to him with a smile.

"Thank you for assisting my master. This opponent looked vicious."

The adventurer didn't answer. To him, it was business as usual.

"He was." Qui-Gon confirmed. "Azem's abilities are rather different from the Jedi, but there's no denying their efficiency."

"I live to serve. And Fray? Pipe down, please."

His Shadow Self grumbled but still went back to sleep.

Azem and the Skywalkers were introduced to the rest of the crew and given a quick explanation of the situation. Soon came the question of what to do with the three. Anakin's fate would depend of the Jedi Council, while Shmi's would depend of her son's. Azem looked at Queen Amidala.

"I'll help you free your world. I've done it before on my own planet. I have experience in that field."

Obi-Wan abruptly turned to him.

"Wait, you're a war hero!?"

"Yes. The biggest threats are out of the picture, though. I can afford to explore the Galaxy. Hydaelyn should be in one piece by the time I go home."

If he found his way there. Captain Panaka crossed his arms.

"If you are a decorated veteran, what were you doing, running errands in a Tatooine town?"

"I am an adventurer. Traveling and helping others is what I do for a living. Me becoming a war hero is, simply put, a job which snowballed. I'm back to adventuring, now."

This was really the simplest way he could sum up his joining of the Scions and everything that happened afterwards.

"He says the truth." Obi-Wan breathed. "He isn't telling everything, but he is being completely honest about it. He just sounds so… blasé. Like he's seen it all."

"Chances are I have."

Queen Amidala raised a hand.

"We will ask Azem about his story at a later date. For now, I am grateful that someone of his skills is willing to assist us. We will discuss your payment once the war is won."

"Agreed."

<><><> 

They were on their way to Coruscant. Tired as they were, most of the crew had gone to sleep. Anakin was no exception. From the room's entrance, Shmi watched her son sleep in the adventurer's arms. She was joined by Qui-Gon and Padme, then Obi-Wan and Captain Panaka. Azem was gently rocking the boy, lulling him to sleep as Argos laid his head on his master's knees and Pateessa curled at their feet. His voice was soft and melodious.

Echoes from the West, great axes will fall
Over the waves, all will answer the call
Bring us your arms, buccaneers of yore,
All faces turn up to war

Traders of the sands stare through golden glow
Knights of Halone raise their hands in the snow
Bring us the might of the Destroyer’s men
Courage is rising again…

War will weather the souls of the lost
Stand together whatever the cost
Shields will falter and many will fall
Time has come for us all
To answer the call

Pride of Thaliak’s flows guide the voices of kings
Children of the Shroud will tighten their strings
Lend us the craft of the Far Easter hands
Clouds cover all of the lands…

War will weather the souls of the lost
Stand together whatever the cost
Shields will falter and many will fall
Time has come for us all
To answer the call

Black wolf, burning sky
Purify…
Black wolf, burning sky
Purify…

War will weather the souls of the lost
Stand together whatever the cost
Shields will falter and many will fall
Time has come for us all
To answer the call

Anakin was curled in the adventurer's arms, tight asleep as the blanket covered him. Azem was watching him with obvious fondness, blue eyes filled with love. The group agreed they were adorable. Qui-Gon silently vowed himself the boy would still be able to visit his mother and the adventurer after joining the Order. Regardless of the Jedis' stance on attachment, both were positive influences on him. Azem turned to them and put a finger on his lips. Message received: no one on the ship would disturb the boy. They remained like this until they finally left hyperspace and reached Coruscant.

Watching the planet growing closer and closer was a unique experience. It was a city. A city covering the entirety of a world. The sheer size baffled Azem. By what Etheirys-worthy miracle of engineering did the planet and its people manage not just to live but to thrive!? Sadly, logistics and architectural engineering weren't his forte any more than bureaucracy was.

Still, it was impressive. Grids of shining lights mapped the world as districts became visible, geometric patterns of white, blue and gold weaving across the surface like the gigantic web of a spider. Spires taller than a mountain, spun from stone, metal and glass, soared beyond the clouds to pierce the heavens, skyscrapers in the most literal sense of the word. Billions, trillions of people crossed sky and space aboard flying vehicles of all kinds, from small air-speeders to massive space carriers, all men, women and beings of different species, wearing different faces, whose sheer diversity made the word "cosmopolitan" feel thoroughly inadequate.

All of this was a world.

All of this was Coruscant.

Anakin was so entranced by the sight he almost forgot to give Padme his gift. The handmaiden held the pendant of delicately-carved wood.

"A japor snippet. It will bring you good fortune." The boy smiled. "This way, no matter what happens, you won't forget about me."

The intent was touching. Padme smiled as she put it around her neck.

"I don't need a trinket to remember you, Ani. You are a very special boy. But thank you still. I'm sure it will keep me safe."

Azem shook his head with a grin. Oh, the boy was absolutely crushing on the handmaid. Hard. It was adorable. He remained with the boy and his mother as they flew between the towering spires to reached their destination, an airborne platform on which Chancellor Valorum and Senator Palpatine were waiting for them. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan left them to head for the Jedi Temple. Azem remained with the Naboo delegation. He had, after all, promised to assist. The hours ticked by. Padme was sent on an errand and Anakin was retrieved by Qui-Gon.

“Leave Pateessa with your mother.” The elder Jedi suggested. “Everyone in the Temple is Force-sensitive and, no matter how weakened she is, we can’t predict how she will react to their presence. Best to act with caution.”

“I got it.” The boy sighed and turned to his canine companion. “Pateessa? Stay with Mom.”

The order was given through their Bond. The vornskr dutifully obeyed and went to his mother’s side as the boy left. Slowly getting bored, Azem decided to take his Triple Triad deck. Shmi perked up.

"What is this game? I don't think I've seen it before."

"It's a game from my home world." The adventurer smiled. "Triple Triad. Two players face each other on a board of 3x3, each with five cards. See these numbers?" He pointed the numbers at the bottom of the cards. "They indicate which value each side a card has. Cards are placed next to each other and the highest number wins, switching them to the winner's ownership. Whoever owns the most cards at the end of a game wins."

To demonstrate, he took his portable board from his bag and placed a Tonberry in B1. The tile lit red. Then he took a Spriggan card and put it in C1. The tile lit blue. The Tonberry's tile swiftly switched color. Shmi tilted her head.

"Sounds easy. But I don't know the numbers displayed."

Azem took a piece of paper and wrote them down. The woman nodded and smiled when he emptied his card bag on the table. Then he took several packages of carefully-sorted cards and added them to the pile, which he shuffled.

"We'll pick the cards at random. It will be fairer that way. Alright?"

"Alright. Let's get started."

They each drew five cards, which they kept face-down. Then Azem picked a coin.

"Head."

"Tail."

It was Head. The adventurer picked a card.

"Uh. Coblyn on C2."

Shmi looked at the card depicting a crystal-shelled invertebrate on the blue tile and picked her card. It was a strange leonine, three-headed monster. She checked the paper to translate the numbers before setting the card.

"What is…"

"Chimera."

"Thanks. Chimera in B2, takes your Coblyn."

The Coblyn's tile turned red. Azem took his next card and decided to play nice.

"Morbol in C3, takes back my Coblyn."

Shmi chuckled and took her next card, which depicted a white plan-like creature - a Mandragora, Azem explained.

"Mandragora in C1, takes back your Coblyn."

Azem took his next card and decided to induce his opponent to a feature of the game.

"Succubus in B3, takes your Chimera, who takes back my Coblyn. Combo."

Shmi's eyes narrowed in understanding.

"I see. Very well…" Her next card was a turtle-like creature Azem gave her the name of. "Adamantoise in A3, takes your Succubus, who takes your Chimera, who takes your Coblyn."

"We're going to fight for that critter the whole game." The adventurer snickered and took his next card. "Still, well-played. Speaking of: Brachiosaur in A2, takes your Chimera, who takes your Coblyn."

Shmi frowned and picked her next card, which depicted a furry creature with tusks and a trunk that Azem identified as a Mammoth.

"Mammoth in B1, takes your Chimera, who takes your Coblyn."

Azem quietly nodded and picked his next card. His finding made him grin.

"Paissa in A1, takes your Mammoth, who takes your Chimera, who takes your Coblyn. I win."

Shmi counted the tiles and had to agree. Azem owned the Paissa, Brachiosaur, Mammoth, Chimera, Coblyn and Morbol. She owned the Mandragora, Adamantoise and Succubus. The adventurer chuckled.

"Combo-heavy games are equally interesting and frustrating. You never know who'll win until the last card is set. Rematch?"

"Sure thing."

They ended playing well as twilight as fell. Azem glanced at the window. He never liked waiting. More exactly, he didn't like being idle. There was always so much to do somewhere! Resources to harvest for the Guilds, materials to craft for Khloe or M'naago or Kai Shirr, monsters to hunt, treasures to find… Letting Shmi win their last round, he packed the game, took the Machinist Soul Crystal, found a comfortable seat and focused on a particular memory. Come on, which place would be the best for testing his new gear…?

After consideration, he chose his second run through Halatali. Now the place was back to its old role as a special gladiatorial area, it was perfect to test any new skill. As he'd guessed, the Static Shocker did wonders against the automatons, overloading their system with Lightning aether. And the aiming scope he'd built to set on his gun was doing its job just fine, allowing him to shoot coeurls and sunbears at twice the distance. He was busy fighting Catoblepas when something disturbed him. Grunting, he forced the memory to pause as he turned to the real world. Shmi was indeed shaking him. He would have asked what was going on if Padme, Jar-Jar, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Anakin weren't also there. Sighing, he left the interactive memory and returned to the living world.

"I'm back. What is it?"

"We're leaving to Naboo."

"So quickly? I get it the day was productive."

"Yousa got it right." Jar-Jar grinned. "Da Queen decided deysa need da help of da militiagung. Wesa gonna go home to take it back."

"Oh." A dangerous grin crossed the man's face. "Well, I did say I'll help. Lead the way."

As they returned to the chromed starship, Azem turned to Anakin. The boy seemed equally anxious and sullen.

"Something wrong?"

"They said I couldn't be a Jedi." The boy admitted. "I'm too old. I don't feel right. Qui-Gon says he'll take me, but…"

"He already got a padawan: Obi-Wan. And, from what I got, Jedi can't teach two people at once."

Qui-Gon heard them and scoffed.

"Obi-Wan is ready. I know it. The Council is just being its usual blind, stubborn, obtuse self. I don't regret not being on it."

His padawan gave him an odd look. The elder Jedi ignored it. Azem shrugged.

"I'm not complaining. It's more time Ani can spend with his mother. You're sure they will have to part ways after he joins the order?"

"Sadly yes." Qui-Gon sighed. "Jedi are forbidden from getting attached, which is why they are taken young: they haven't had time to grow close to their family. Unfortunately, Anakin holds his mother dear."

"You bet he is." The adventurer dryly pointed. "He is a former slave. Slaves are meant to have nothing, not even themselves. Of course, they'd cling to whatever little they possess, especially each other."

"Exactly." Qui-Gon frowned deeply. "Anakin's past is too dark. The Council is worried it will burden him too much to become a proper Jedi. This is why they refused."

Azem understood.

"Does he really have to be part of your order for you to teach him? Can't it be something you do on the sides, like a pet project?"

"The Council would strongly disapprove…"

"I got the distinct feeling you don't care."

Qui-Gon's answer was a knowing smile.

"You're right: I don't. Jedi or not, Anakin will be taught. And if I have to leave the Jedi to do so, well…" The elder man grinned. "Nothing of value will be lost. For anyone."

<><><> 

Senator Sheev Palpatine, soon to be Chancelor and secretly known as the Sith Lord Darth Sidious, was silently fuming. The young boy who had accompanied the group had so much Force potential it was nearly intoxicating to his senses. It was so tempting, to utter sweet words to his ears, to corrupt him and turn him to the Dark side patiently and carefully until he became a Sith Lord who could annihilate the Jedi Order singlehandedly…

Except he was Force-Boud to a vornskr. A goddamn, Force-forsaken vornskr! He had reinforced his shields the moment he noticed the creature, and even considered cutting himself from the Force as a last resort. The bloody, mangy furball could undo years of planning by literally sniffing him out and it was out of question.

Then there was the gunslinger who had nearly made him forget the walking carpet. Forget the Jedi Order. He had never felt this kind of power from anyone. The closest he could get to his Force signature was the legendary Sith Lord Revan, and he could only make the comparison based on what he read about the man. An even wellspring of Light and Dark, both sides perfectly balanced and in such intensity it could rival Master Yoda, or even his own Master, Darth Plagueis. He strongly doubted the adventurer was human.

He was also, from what Queen Amidala had told him, protective of the boy. One more obstacle in his path, and one he doubted he could overcome. In a pinch, the mangy furball could be rid of with Force Lightning. The adventurer, Azem? An open fight would be for his life, which made it a really stupid idea.

Palpatine sighed. Anakin Skywalker was a forbidden fruit and he hated it.

Chapter Text

Night was falling as the chromed ship left Coruscant. Qui-Gon's words were disturbing Azem and the adventurer couldn't hide it. He sat with Shmi and her son, Argos's head on the boy's knees while Pateessa was curled at their feet. Anakin was petting the golden familiar, the fur a pleasant sensation to his fingers. The adventurer smiled. He knew several members of the Arcanist Guild used their Carbuncles as therapy pets. This was something he did on a semi-regular basis with the children of Ishgard and Idyllshire. Argos was simply bigger - much bigger - and more intelligent.

Qui-Gon sensed his unease and sat at his side. Obi-Wan was watching from the entrance.

"You are troubled, friend."

"I usually have a better sabacc face than that, but you're right."

"What is it about?"

Azem looked at Anakin.

"What you said about attachment. You said the Jedi Order takes children young, so they cannot form bonds with their family. I find it equally cruel and pointless."

Obi-Wan perked up.

"Pointless?"

"Yes: because those children will instead latch on the Jedi who raise them as parental figures, and the children who grow at their side as siblings. You are tearing them from their birth family merely to give them a new one."

No one said a word. Eventually, Qui-Gon looked away.

"It is more complicated than that, and we do it for a reason. I believe I told you about the Jedi Code, right?"

"You did." Azem confirmed.

There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
There is no death, there is the Force.

"I find myself disagreeing with several lines, but to each their own. You have your religion and I have mine. If this is what you believe in, fine by me."

"And, of this, I am most grateful." Qui-Gon smiled. "And admittedly curious about it. But, back to the Code and attachments, I believe I told you about the Force, and how the Jedi serve its Light Side."

Azem didn't flinch, but it was close. Ever since the events of the First Shard, the Light made him uneasy unless he knew there was Darkness nearby to balance it. Nearly transforming into a Lightwarden had been traumatizing.

"The Light Side of the Force is, in essence, selflessness. It is calmness, peace and passiveness, used for knowledge and defense. A core lesson of the Light Side is learning to let go. When it is time to move on, we do not cling to the bonds we made, but let them fade away as we hold onto the memories. Such is life. Such is the Force. Another lesson is compassion. The Jedi care for all beings equally and put them before themselves. This selfless love is one of our greatest ideals, and the one which drives us to wander the Galaxy to help those in need."

Azem didn't say anything. In his head, Fray snickered. He could feel his Shadow Self's hilarity at the beliefs and, given the entity's nature, he understood. The adventurer knew his own shortcomings and was silently glad Fray could keep him from going too far.

Serve, save, slave, slay. A sharp reminder he could say no if he felt like it. Even if saving everyone was basically his job as Azem.

"A beautiful sentiment, but one not easy to follow. Many people are selfish by nature. And why would they not? The root of selfishness is self-preservation. It is in the nature of every living being to want to survive. You can't do anything when you're dead. Now, I can think of and name several exceptions, so this belief is far from universal."

"You still have a point." Qui-Gon sadly conceded. "Which is why the Jedi take in Force-sensitive children when they're young. We take them before they can learn of selfishness and attachment, so the lessons we teach them have an easier time taking root. And, as the Light Side is peace and serenity, we also teach them to let go of their emotions, so…"

Azem flinched as Fray snarled.

"Let me come out, I want to talk."

"I noticed you were hardly fazed by anything." The adventurer agreed. "I figured it was a result from your training."

"It is." Qui-Gon confirmed. "We never let our emotions get the better of us and do away with them, either through meditation or through other techniques to retain a clear mind at all times."

The adventurer quietly nodded.

"And what about the Dark Side?"

Qui-Gon hesitated.

"The Dark Side of the Force is, in essence, selfishness. It is the polar opposite of the Light Side: passionate, restless, active. It feeds on raw emotions like anger and hatred and is aggressive, but also secretive. Dark Side users like the Sith act from the shadows. Not only that, the Dark Side corrupts. It tempts with power, and power is what its users receive. But because it is what they want doesn't mean it's what they need. Not only that, I'm sure you know the saying how Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely. It is very much true of the Dark Side: the more power it gives you, the more you want..."

"Until it becomes an end unto itself. Yeah, I've seen this one before."

Especially when it came to money. Twelve, how often had he dreamed of passing Lolorito by the sword, the smug little bastard…

"This is what the Dark Side is, and this is to prevent Force-sensitive children from Falling to it that we take them so young: so we can teach them how to avoid the pitfalls leading them to the Dark Side."

Shmi placed a hand on her son's shoulder.

"And Ani is too old to learn those lessons."

"Not without massive efforts, and without unlearning what his life as a slave taught him." Qui-Gon admitted. "His life wasn't easy, I can tell. There is a darkness in him which can lead to his Fall. This is what the Council fears. But I hold fast to the hope that I can, with your help if necessary, teach him not to give in."

"I love Ani with all my heart. I would gladly help you, should you ask."

Anakin kept petting Argos. Azem reclined in his seat.

"I can understand why you want to teach Ani. He is a Force-user and not knowing how to control his powers is a waste. But why are you so insistent about it? I am not questioning your motives." The adventurer raised his hands. "But I am surprised you would go against the Council's orders and even risk expulsion from the Order. This isn't just dedication. You have personal reasons to act."

"You're right." The elder Jedi admitted. "There is a prophecy: A Chosen One shall come, born of no father, and through him will ultimate balance in the Force be restored. I believe Anakin is that person. This is why I want to train him, so he can fulfil the prophecy and bring balance to the Force by destroying the Sith."

This time, the adventurer couldn't help it. He jumped from his seat.

"This isn't what Balance means in my book. If you really think the destruction of the Dark Side is a good idea, let me tell you one thing: you're wrong. You are dead wrong."

Qui-Gon didn't need the Force to sense Azem's fear. Right now, the man was terrified.

"And how so? Would you be kind enough to explain?"

Azem looked away.

"I am no expert in the matter. Urianger and Y'shtola are the aetherology specialists. But I know that Light and Darkness have to coexist specifically because of their opposite nature, and destroying one will lead to the other running amok, unchecked. I have seen it happen, both of them, and both times were literally apocalyptic disasters."

Everyone in the room was silent. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan tried to quash the dread which crept into them. They knew the Dark Side was bad news, but to hear the Light could be just as bad didn't sit well with them. Azem crossed his arms.

"You say the Chosen One will bring balance to the Force. And yet, look at the state of things: the Jedi are the dominant Force-using Order in the galaxy. If balance were to be restored, the Chosen One would join the Sith instead, and fight the Jedi until either the Sith dominated the Galaxy like the Jedi did, or until both sides stood on equal footing. This is the meaning of Balance."

The two Jedi shared a look. Neither felt good. Qui-Gon went to grab a cushion and made himself comfortable.

"I need to meditate. There is truth in your words, and I can tell you speak from personal experience. I need to reconsider the situation while accounting for what you said."

Azem nodded. Obi-Wan had other ideas.

"How can Light be dangerous, exactly, when it is peaceful and selfless?"

"Light is peaceful and selfless because, at the core, it is Order."

Qui-Gon's eyes snapped open. The adventurer explained.

"I'll give you a quick lesson in aetherology: I don't know how much of it applies to the Force, but I find that its nature is very close to aether, so I think both are somehow related. Anyway, aether is an energy found through the universe and the source of both life and magic, and disruption in its flow is either the cause or indicator of catastrophic events. Aether can have six elemental aspects: ice, water, wind, lightning, fire, and earth, and is drawn towards two polarities: Astral, the active, and Umbral, the passive. The elemental aspects of aether are cyclical: The spark of Lightning ignites when it strikes, and thus Fire is born. The heat of Fire renders to ash all that it touches, and thus Earth is born. The density of Earth shuns Sun and harbors cold, and thus Ice is born. The armor of Ice melts away, and thus water is born. The moistness of Water mists and rises, and thus Wind is born. The gusts and sighs of Wind gather the clouds, and thus Lightning is born. At the same time, Eorzean scholars believe that the elements are drawn to two polarities, Astral and Umbral, which represent active and passive states of aether."

The two Jedi listened with rapt attention. Azem looked down.

"The Eorzeans were wrong. I experienced it firsthand. As it turns, the essence of Astral - Light-aligned aether, is that of order, stasis and passivity. On the other side, the essence of Umbral - Darkness-aligned aether, is that of chaos, growth and action. Just as all six Elements are needed for life to develop, so are the two alignments required. A world overwhelmed with Darkness will be a world of raw chaos, a place of eternal yet never-lasting change, filled with darkness and always in motion. On the contrary, a world overwhelmed with Light will be a world in such stasis it may as well be stuck in time. Nothing will change. Nothing will grow. No life, no thought, nothing. Oh, it will be a perfectly bright and orderly world… but the light will blind you, and the order will stifle you. This is why Light and Darkness are both necessary for the universe to exist: Darkness brings change, and through change, growth. Light brings order, and through order, control. The universe moves on, but in a controlled way which allows us to live and prosper."

It made sense, the two Jedi had to admit. It made a lot of sense. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and spoke.

Emotion, yet peace.
Ignorance, yet knowledge.
Passion, yet serenity.
Chaos, yet harmony.
Death, yet the Force.

"That's more like it." Azem huffed.

Anakin turned to the adventurer, big blue eyes filled with questions. He asked only one.

"What happened to you?"

Azem turned to the boy and, after a moment, took a cushion and made himself comfortable. Then he took the Bard Soul Crystal. If he was going to tell that story, he was going to do it right.

"Not so long ago, in a Star not so far…"

He told the story of a young hunter of Dalmasca, who lost his village to the scorn of an invading empire. How the hunter got even and sailed to western shores in search of a haven. He told them of the rocking of the tides and the salt of the air and the white walls of a city blessed by the Navigator. He told them how the hunter traded his bow for an axe and became a warrior, and found himself fighting the very empire who had robbed him of his home. On the battlefield, under a blood-red moon, he fought for the land which had become his home.

He told them how the blood-red moon broke apart and released a vengeful dragon-god.

To all of my children in whom Life flows abundant
To all of my children to whom Death hath passed his judgement
The soul yearns for honor, and the flesh the hereafter
Look to those who walked before to lead those who walked after

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, Shmi and Anakin, all of them listened with rapt attention. Slowly, the rest of the spaceship joined them. Azem kept speaking.

He told of a valiant sacrifice, time and space twisted by the will of a man. He told how the warrior found himself five years after the disaster, his homeland changed by the wrath of the draconic deity. He told them of a new start, how the warrior with his axe had helped rebuild the land he loved, and his reunion with old yet dear friends who, alas, had forgotten him. But he didn't care. He told them of his struggle against the rise of the twisted Beastmen's gods and his victories, only for the empire to strike once more, taking the lives of many of the friends he had made along the way.

He told of the conflict starting once more, a black wolf nipping at a land blessed by the gods. And he told them exactly how the land had fought back, crushing the black wolf and his ambitions once and for all, revealing in the process a menace greater still: those without shadows. The warrior fought the men and women without shadows, putting their machinations to a merciless end. But every victory came at the cost of a sacrifice, and the death blow came not of their sworn enemies but from a place none of them could predict.

For coin and country, a crown fell, and the warrior and his friends were forced to run to a land of eternal winter, to face yet another war.

Swelling overlong, seas of blood, are a song
And death an afterthought,
To those who fight for naught.

A throne, lying empty...
A reign incomplete.
Alone for eternity...
A pain without cease.

Padme didn't know which of her handmaiden had gone first for the holo-recorder, but she needed to thank them. Azem was telling his tale, but it wasn't a mere recount of personal events. It was an epic worthy of legends.

He told of an eternal war between mankind and dragonkind, and how the warrior traded his axe for a spear to better challenge the airborne enemies. Thus did the warrior become a dragon knight. He told them of a journey for peace and truth, and the bitter discovery of a past deliberately twisted. He told of the rage and sorrow eating at a mourning heart, and the mercy of a death at the end of a protracted fight. The war was over… but the truth had come to light, and not all were ready for it. Those who weren't fought back the truth, and as a shield faltered and one life ended, the dragon knight made an oath of blood and death. He hunted the culprits, tracking them beyond the sky, to a land long forgotten. A dear friend fell opening the way, but at the end of the day, all were avenged as those who fought for naught fell before the wrath of the dragon knight. His oath was fulfilled.

With truth came peace between mankind and dragonkind, and the land of eternal winter began its slow reconstruction. But trouble found the dragon knight once more. An old foe fanned the flames of war between the land blessed by the gods and the empire, and yet another friend fell in battle. But the land had always fought, and as the dragon knight traded his spear for armored fists, he found himself leading the charge as a monk of the Destroyer.

Sing, a song of dawn
Dawn, the day reborn
Breathe deep of the dawn before the storm

This hearth, this home
Wrested forth from tired fingers
Bathed in blood and sealed in stone
Souls scarred, twelve-fold
Beckoned by the bells of vengeance, spirits bold

The entirety of the starship's crew had gathered and was listening to the adventurer's tale. None of them said a word. None of them questioned or made a comment. They didn't dare break the magic of the moment. Azem kept speaking.

He spoke of a land marching for war, not as invader but as liberator. He told of a land of broken souls, of the dread of hope and the harshness of war. But the monk fought back, and seeing their oppressor broken rekindled the lost hope… only for it to be quashed ruthlessly as the monk finally met his match. But the tale didn't end here, for the monk journeyed to the east, which was also oppressed by the empire, and traded his gauntlets for the katana of samurais. With steel and bravery, he and his friends fought, and though they had hoped to distract the empire away from their homeland, by accident, they ended doing much better. With the assistance of a landless prince and the fierce children of the Sun and the Moon, they freed the east and brought back hope, and gave the prince back his crown. And, when they returned west, the eastern lands followed, and east and west fought as one. At long last, the city of the Destroyer was freed, and the man who matched the samurai lost his life in a finale of death and glory.

The east and the west were free to rebuild, and rebuild they did, and the samurai assisted them, fighting off any threat which came their way. The samurai loved his homeland, and he gave his all in its protection. But the empire wasn't done, far from it. It faced the east and the west, first on the altar of diplomacy and, when it failed, on a battlefield of fire and darkness. The samurai prevailed… but disaster struck once more as a call for help reached him from beyond the rift, beckoning him to a land unlike any others.

One brings shadow, one brings light
Two-toned echoes, tumbling through time
Threescore wasted, ten cast aside
Four-fold knowing, no end in sight
One brings shadow, one brings light
One dark future no one survives
On their shadows, away we fly

The song rang through the ship, and Rick Olie thought it was a very good thing the hyperspace lane was long and eventless because he really didn't want to return to his seat right now. He refused to leave until the story was over. Azem kept telling his tale.

He spoke of a world bathed in endless daylight, of a Light which consumed everything, from the land to its people. He told of sins eaten and forgiven, and how the samurai was the only one who could stop the radiant flood. So, the samurai cast aside his katana and picked the heavy broadsword of the dark knights. He crossed the land and fought the Light, and people called him the Shadowbringer. But there were those who sought to protect the Light and drown the world in endless radiance, men and women who found pleasure in pain and wanted naught but to wait for the world to end in indolence and endless decadence. And, of course, there were those without shadows. The true enemy made himself known and even assisted the dark knight and his friend, gauging their worth… and, as the Light ate away at the dark knight's soul, he found them wanting. A final gambit was enacted to let Light flood the world, but the dark knight fought harder than before, and as the truth of the world became known, the true origins of the Star, a soul sevenfold mended was mended one eighth time. And, with the very Light he had sought to destroy the world, the man without shadows was undone by the dark knight.

Those without shadows were furious. They fought back, but as the dark knight fought them, clues of his true past became known, of a time when he was one of them, of a time when he was the Sun. One without shadows who was the heart of the dark divinity took the face of the Warrior of Light, but he was a pale copy of the glorious Sun and died, and the dark knight and his friend made a triumphant return home. Alas, without the dark divinity's heart to bind them, the others without shadows were free to act. One sought to bring upon the end of the world, as the old land of the Sun had perished in ages gone.

Heart of ember, autumntide
Burning brightly, hot and white
Kindred severed neverwhere
Sorrow's silence, we needn't bear

Stories sown along the way
Tales of loss, and fire, and faith...

The story was ending. Somehow, they all knew it. They held their breath, Padme silently mourning the end of the epic, Shmi respectful of the tale's wisdom, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan vibrant with the emotions and feelings of the storytelling adventurer. Azem kept speaking.

He told of a journey across many lands, one colorful and ruled in secrecy by a dragon, one of proud yet stubborn scholars who knew much more than they let on, and finally of the empire's own land, blighted by war and strife. The dark knight abandoned his broadsword and took for himself the sword and shield, a paladin sworn to save the Star. From the empire to the moon, he saw the dark divinity freed by the maddened man without a shadow and his own archnemesis, back from the dead for one final, glorious battle. And though the deity fell to his blade, too late did the paladin learn its will was the only thing preventing the end of the world. But not all was lost. Of those who came before, who survived the Star's first demise, one had taken secret measures to ensure their people's survival. Within the moon, the paladin and his friends discovered an ark, a haven for the Star's survivors to sail away from their lost home. But the paladin refused. He would fight and prevent the end of the world. So, he journeyed to the past, to learn the truth of those without shadows and how the Star had first met its end. He learned, of a madman's quest for the meaning of life and an experiment gone awry and a song of sorrow and despair. The paladin returned and, with his friends and the people of the Star, he tracked the madman and his creation. At the edge of the universe, with the help of his old archnemesis, he brought an end to the song and replaced despair with hope. And as the song was forever silenced, he granted his archnemesis the glorious demise he sought.

Thus did the story end, as the paladin closed his eyes one sunny afternoon and opened them to the harsh glare of twin suns.

Hush love, close your eyes
Let them sleep all blind, in such a strange night
It calls to unto dreams, be and all
Though you will weep, the winds rise again, for this journey's end
Is but one step forward to tomorrow...

Chapter Text

The final notes rang and the starship remained silent. Slowly, everyone returned to their post, the pilots to their seats, the Queen and her handmaids in their chambers and the Jedi in their cushions. The tale had taken long, yet they hadn't quite reached Naboo yet. They still had time.

Chapter Text

The horns’ deep bellows echoed through the mist as the Gungan Grand Army emerged from the swamps. Thousands of combatants, footmen and riders, armed with spears, atlatls, cestas, electropoles and shields, lined the plains to face the Federation’s droid army. Falumpasets were drawing carriages filled with boomas as fambaas carried the shield generators which would protect the troops from the Federation’s artillery. At the command of Captain Tarpals, the huge energy fields were deployed, covering the entirety of the Grand Army.

Moments later, the tanks and assault mechs of the Federation appeared over the hill. They opened fire, and a hail of energy blasts fell on the forcefields. None broke through. So, the droid legions were deployed instead, rows upon rows emerging from the bellies of the transports. As one being, on an unseen command, they stood and grabbed their blasters.

And the Gungans knew fear. Not just because the droids looked a lot like a Gungan’s skeleton, and seeing them was like watching a mechanical army of the dead for the amphibious species. No, it was because there was something eerie about the way the army marched on, each unit so perfectly in synch it was outright uncanny. Living beings didn’t walk like that. It was wrong.

But the Gungans were warriors. The droids were invaders. They would fight, and they would push them back. The droids stepped beneath the forcefields and they opened fire.

<><><> 

Near the Royal Palace of Theed, Azem, Queen Amidala, the two Jedi and their teams had gathered and were ready to strike. A signal was exchanged. Smirking, Azem took an EMP grenade he had put together the other night and threw it with masterful aim, right as a landspeeder opened fire on a Federation tank. The grenade fell straight in the second tank’s hatch, frying the vehicle’s circuits and its pilot’s. The two teams dashed onward, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan parrying blaster bolts while Azem, Shmi and the Naboo shot any droid in their path.

They hurried to the starship hangar, engaging the forces there. The droids didn’t last long, falling to lightsabers and blaster bolts. One of them aimed at Anakin – and was summarily tackled by Pateessa, who ripped its head off. The boy grinned.

“Good girl!”

The vornskr whined happily. She wasn’t back to full shape, but her partner had spent the past days tending her carefully, supplying her with meat and medication. And, of course, their Force Bond empowered her, the mystical energy naturally harnessed by the boy passing unto her and making her much stronger than she should have been.

The path was clear. The pilots had taken flight, hurrying to the Federation’s control ship. Anakin found a quiet spot in one of the unused starfighters, Pateessa jumping at his side. Qui-Gon turned to the boy.

“Ani, stay here until we return.”

“But…”

Shmi walked to her son and spoke in the strange language she had used before.

“An’Ahn-Kyh, loskh hih mona: phia het ahrk no kohl!”

Here again, Azem didn’t realize she had switched tongues and heard it in Dhonan.

“Steal-the-Hidden-Light, listen to your mother: stay here and don’t move!”

Anakin shrank in his seat and answered in the same language.

“Ess, Mon’.”

Yes, Mom, the Echo translated.

The group hurried to the throne room, only for the door to open on a dark, threatening hooded figure. The Jedi recognized the Force signature instantly and drew their lightsabers. The figure removed their hood, revealing themselves to be the Sith they had met on Tatooine. His saberstaff ignited, both blades a threatening red. Qui-Gon turned to Azem.

“Stay with the Queen. Protect her at all cost.”

“Will do.” The adventurer nodded. “Try to stay alive. Both of you.”

“We’ll do our best.”

They hadn’t died in all of Obi-Wan’s visions, so their chances of survival actually existed. Still, the pair knew those endings were rare, as rare as both dying at the hand of the Sith – who never survived his subsequent encounter with an angry Azem. But Qui-Gon died more often than Obi-Wan. Those were the most common endings. Chance and the Force willing, they would both make it.

If they didn’t, well… this was why they’d written their wills.

As the group hurried away, the Jedi engaged the Sith in a furious assault, green and blue blades clashing with red. Azem fought the urge to stay back and watch. The acrobatic styles of the Force users were beautiful. He briefly toyed with the idea of learning it. Then he quashed the thoughts and focused back on the mission. He had to escort the Queen to the throne room and arrest Nute Gunray. Easier said than done with three droidekas rolling into view. He drew his gun –

Fighter fire blasted the droids one after the other. The group turned to see Anakin’s fighter in the process of taking off. Shmi glared.

“Ani, what do you think you’re doing? I told you to stay put!”

R2-D2 made a series of beeps and whistles which made the woman sigh.

“Of course, the computer’s on autopilot. Hurry and turn it off!”

The droid whistled more as the ship left the hangar. There was nothing they could do. Shmi put a hand on her face.

“Yu’Moh and the Force keep them safe… Let’s go.”

They hurried through the corridors, shooting any droid they came across. Shmi never missed once, her skills easily matching that of Captain Panaka. Azem and Padme weren’t to be outdone and fired with the same deadly accuracy. More droidekas rolled and Azem growled.

“Alright, change of plans.”

He grabbed the Dark Knight Soul Crystal and let its power flow. No longer clad in his gunslinger outfit, he was now wearing a dark armor of heavy plates, its helmet concealing his face. The claymore in his back was easily his size. A dangerous grin crossed his face.

“Fray, ready for some action?”

“Always, partner ~”

His Shadow appeared at his side. Then both leaped at the droids, massive swords ignoring the shields and tearing through the metal. Blaster fire bounced against the dark armor and phased right through the living shadow. A sphere of darkness caught a droideka right in the face while Fray beheaded three B-1 droids in one swing. Then Azem planted his sword in the ground and red-black spikes impaled the rest of their foes. The pair turned to the others.

“Path is clear.”

The only reason, Shmi, Padme and Captain Panaka didn’t comment on the sight was because they knew the adventurer’s story. The talents of the Dark Knights had been the one he’d used to save the First Shard from the Flood of Light. Still…

“Hearing about it isn’t the same as seeing it.” Padme muttered as she passed him. “How did you come upon it, anyway?”

As he and Fray hurried with them, the adventurer grimaced.

“After Haurchefant’s death. I was in a bad place and stumbled upon Fray’s body. The Soul Crystal reacted to my negative emotions and manifested them. At first, I believed the Dark Knight I’d found had woken back, especially after he started teaching me. But…” He looked at the group. “I wasn’t alone. I had Alphinaud, Tataru, Aymeric and Estinien to support me. They helped me with my grief and I managed to overcome the pain. Naturally, Fray wasn’t happy, so he revealed his true nature at Whitebrim Camp. We fought. I won. He’s remained loyal since then.”

“But I still make myself heard.” Fray pointed. “And partner is wise-enough to listen. Serve, save, slave, slay. Help others as much as you want, so long as you don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

“What can I say?” Azem shrugged. “Wandering the world while solving everyone’s problem is in the job description.”

“Hard to do your job when you’re dead, partner.”

Padme had to remind herself that the living shadow was an aspect of Azem’s psyche, his inner darkness made manifest. Apparently, the adventurer’s dark self was selfish, pragmatic, merciless, and with a tongue sharper than a tusk-cat’s fangs. She was glad it wasn’t the dominant personality.

They tore their way through the palace, leaving a trail of blasted and cut-down droids behind them. At last, they barged in the throne room to find Nute Gunray and Rune Haarko with a group of B-1. The droids quickly fell to blaster fire. Padme crossed her arms.

“We win, Viceroy.”

“Not yet.”

A full platoon of droidekas rolled at the entrance. Azem growled and summoned his magic. Fray smirked.

“Oh, yes… Love and fury! Bing it on, partner!”

His sword struck the ground. Clouds of darkness wrapped themselves around the group as the droids opened fire. Though none were aimed at the Queen, her handmaidens and soldiers were still targeted. And none of the shots hit. The dark clouds coiled themselves, taking in the blaster fire and leaving them unharmed. At the same time, Fray was cloaked in a blood-red aura. Laughing madly, he launched himself at the droids and landed among them. A single circular slash cut them down. A platoon of B-1 appeared… and deactivated on the spot. Panaka breathed.

“The command ship is gone. Our pilots succeeded.”

Padme turned to the viceroy.

“You were saying?”

<><><> 

The Gungans fought valiantly. Thousands upon thousands of droids fell to their plasma weaponry and electropoles. But, in the end, the Federation Droids had the strength of numbers. Wave after wave wilted down the army, until the shields were destroyed and they were left at the mercy of the tanks.

“Retreat!” Captain Tarpals ordered. “We’ll get dem in da swamps!”

Though the Gungans were capable of open warfare, their amphibious nature made them preternaturally skilled at guerilla tactics. In the marshlands they called home, they would be able to harry the droids at will.

Then, as they were retreating, the droids suddenly lost all power and fell to the ground, inactive. The Gungans shared a look.

“Deysa did it… Deysa got da mekanics’ ship! Wesa won!”

There would be time to mourn later. For now, the survivors whooped and cheered in delight.

<><><> 

Anakin had never piloted a starfighter before. He had, however, a sixth sense when it came to machines. It didn’t take him long to get a grasp of the commands, especially with R2’s assistance. He managed to blast a few vulture droids before one of them got the drop on him and landed a shot. The boy ended skidding in the hangar bay. Pateessa whined plaintively.

“Yeah, I know, we’re in a tight spot.” The boy petted her. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you out there. R2, help please!”

The little droid obliged. The deflector shields came back online just in time to block the shots of the B-1 and droidekas. Then the starship lifted off and Anakin started firing left and right. Pateessa snarled, and the boy felt the thrill of the hunt through their Bond. The droids were their prey. None was leaving the ship alive. One of their shots began a chain reaction aboard the ship. R2 whistled.

“Yeah.” Anakin agreed. “Time to get out.”

They flew outside, narrowly outrunning the explosion. The other pilots flew at their side, cheering through the comms. Pateessa howled in mirth and R2 beeped happily. The boy laughed along.

<><><> 

Qui-Gon was getting old. This was something he was sadly aware of. Unfortunately, Ataru was very physically demanding, and Azem wasn’t around to keep him fueled with Light. He did his best. He really did. But the Sith had learned from their last encounter and managed to get him away from Obi-Wan. Not only that, the narrow walkways of the generator weren’t wide-enough to fully use his favorite Form. The fight was dragging on. The longer it went, the lesser his chances of victory.

Being trapped between the laser doors let him meditate. He centered himself, focusing on the peace and serenity which came from the Light Side of the Force. The Light was Order. It was quiet and stillness. His talk with Azem had revealed as much, and it had made a lot of sense. So, he calmed his mind.

But the reprieve was too short. Soon, the laser gates were open again and he and the Sith were at each other.  And though his mind was strong, Qui-Gon’s body… wasn’t.

The saberstaff struck him right through the stomach.

He heard Obi-Wan scream and remembered the visions. In the end, it seemed one of them would die. And, as the Force would have it, it was him who fell to the Dark Side user. Eh, this simply meant Anakin would have a normal childhood with his mother. As for Obi-Wan, he would become a formidable Knight. He didn’t need to be a Jedi to know that.

His mind was at peace. The peace gave him strength.

He used it. Before the Sith could react, he grabbed his wrist and held him in place. His opponent was too stunned to react to his next move. Obi-Wan gaped as his Master’s blade sliced right through the Sith’s neck. The head clattered away and the padawan rushed at the elder Jedi’s side.

“Master! You…”

“The vision… showed me dying. I decided I… wouldn’t go alone.”

Qui-Gon was smiling despite his injury. Obi-Wan held him tight.

“You aren’t alone, Master. I’m here. I’m with you.”

“I know… I can feel it.” The dying Jedi leaned in his padawan’s arms. “You know what to do… The visions… The will… You know what to do.”

“Yes. It will be as we agreed. Don’t worry, Master.”

“I’m not worried.” Qui-Gon reassured. “There is no death… There is… only…”

“The Force.” Obi-Wan finished as he felt his Master’s Force signature vanish at last.

He didn’t know how long he remained like that, cradling Qui-Gon’s dead body.

<><><> 

It was a victory. The casualties were high on every side but, in the end, it was still a victory. Obi-Wan returned, Qui-Gon’s body in his arms and the Sith’s head hanging from his belt. Shmi stopped scolding Anakin for his recklessness and closed her eyes. Her son grabbed her clothes and clung to her side. Padme looked away and fought back tears.

Azem sighed heavily. In his head, Fray was equally despondent.

“Should’ve stayed with them.”

“I know.” The adventurer said softly.

Louisoix, Noraxia, Moenbryda, Wilred, Minfilia, Haurchefant, Ysayle, Papalymo, Ardbert, Emet-Selch, Hythlodaeus, Arenvald to an extent, Ahewann. Venat, Zenos. And it was without the people he’d met during his adventures outside of Scion business. G’raha, nearly twice. Mide. Musosai. Ba’Gamnan. Anogg and Konogg. The androids. The Werlyt Children. Gunnhildr’s Blades. Misija.

And now, Qui-Gon was gone as well.

How many people had he lost? How many of those he cared for had he failed? It had begun with his family, Grandpa Hiroshi and Mommy Liza. Naively, he had thought Venat and Zenos would be the last he mourned. He’d been wrong.

“It never gets easier. Right, partner?”

“Never.”

Chapter Text

Qui-Gon’s funeral was a quiet affair. They built him a pyre and gathered around, silent. Mace Windu and Master Yoda were here, along with Chancelor Palpatine, Boss Nass and Queen Amidala. Shmi was holding Anakin tight and Pateessa had her head firmly against the boy’s hand. Obi-Wan was fighting his tears. Azem watched, heart heavy with remorse. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. Taking the Bard Soul Crystal, he went outside and sang, harp in hand.

For whom weeps the storm
Her tears on our skin
The days of our years gone
Our souls soaked in sin
These memories ache with the weight of tomorrow

Everyone turned to the adventurer, surprised. Funerals were usually silent, the attendees reminiscing and addressing unspoken prayers to the departed. Music, and especially singing, were never part of the event.

Who fights?
Who flies?
Who falls?

Azem didn’t care. For the short time they’d known each other, Qui-Gon had been a friend, and he had hoped they would stay in touch after the Naboo crisis was over. But Fate had decided otherwise. So, he mourned in his own way.

Stand tall my friend
May all of the dark lost inside you find light again
In time tumbling turning we seek amends
Eternal winds to the land descend
Our journey will never end

The music was melodious and soared to the sky, carrying notes of sorrow and hope. Azem smiled, even as tears marred his face. After all, a smile better fit a hero.

From those who've fallen to those who rise
A prayer to keep us ever by your side
An undying promise that we just might
Carry on in a song

Shmi silently approved. It was also custom for slaves to find an isolated spot to sing for the dead. This was how they mourned, in secret, away from their masters’ ears.

Pray don't forget us, your bygone kin
With one world's end does a new begin
And should our souls scatter unto the wind
Still we shall live on

Yoda appreciated the song. There was no death, there was only the Force. For Jedi, to die was never an end, merely a new step on their soul’s journey. The eulogy was fitting.

Stand tall my friend
May all of the dark deep inside you find light again
This time tumbling turning we make amends
Eternal winds from the land ascend
Here to lift us that we won't end

The final notes arose in the night before the adventurer fell silent. Right on cue, a gentle wind blew around the pyre and made the flames dance, the faint smoke swirling up to the night sky. This brought a smile to the attendees’ faces.

<><><> 

There was a lot of talking, after that. A lot of very harsh negotiations would occur between Naboo and the Trade Federation, no doubt involving crude and strong words.

“The people of Naboo will never forget, Viceroy.” Queen Amidala warned Nute Gunray. “And I doubt they will forgive. Next time you want to tangle with us, I suggest you tread carefully.”

The viceroy grumbled but didn’t answer. Azem wasn’t particularly worried. He wasn’t skilled at politics. Never had been, not even in Etheirys. If the Trade Federation wanted to mess with the verdant planet again, he would be there to fight back. And, if he was going to make it his home, or at least his home base, well, he had a few ideas. One of them was learning how to pilot a starfighter.

He was more concerned about the Jedi Council. Apparently, Yoda and Windu had changed their mind and wanted to introduce Anakin to the Order. He and Shmi quickly put their foot down.

“No.”

“And why not?” Yoda asked. “To the Order, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon brought him, in the hopes of making him a Jedi.”

“Things changed.” Obi-Wan pointed. “I had a vision, on the journey back to Naboo. I am still to be Knighted, right?”

“You are.” Mace Windu confirmed. “Qui-Gon Jinn may have killed the Sith Lord, but you still survived the encounter when he didn’t. A Battlefield Knighthood. They aren’t delivered often, these days…”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“So, if I am to be Knighted, Anakin would become my padawan, right?”

“Yes.” Yoda confirmed.

“As I feared.” The former padawan grimaced. “In the state I’m in, I am in no position to take on a student, least of all Ani. If I were to do it, I would fail him, and eventually lead him to Fall. This is what the visions showed me.”

The Jedi tensed. Obi-Wan frowned and held the two datapads containing his and Qui-Gon’s wills.

“In no vision where I teach him does Ani become a successful Jedi. In everyone of them, he at least comes close to Falling. Only Qui-Gon had the means to teach him right. That’s why we agreed that, should he die, Ani wouldn’t be introduced to the Order.”

Yoda and Mace frowned deeply as they held the two datapads.

“I don’t like it.” The dark-skinned Jedi frowned. “We have the confirmation that the Sith are back. We got his head in a tank and have recovered his body for autopsy. Then there is the prophecy of the Chosen One. Qui-Gon Jinn believed it was Anakin. With the Sith active after a thousand years…”

“Prophecies have their twists and turns.” Shmi pointed out. “Just as *balance* has many a meaning.”

“Maybe it’s Anakin.” Azem agreed. “Maybe he isn’t. And, as Shmi said, the word Balance can have a lot of meanings. Far as I see, the balance is tipping pretty heavily toward the Light.”

The two Jedi bristled at the implication, though Yoda was more successful at hiding it. Shmi crossed her arms.

“In any case, Qui-Gon was clear on the matter: if he couldn’t teach Ani, he won’t join the Order.”

Mace looked her dead in the eyes. The two stared at each other, the Jedi’s barely restrained anger clashing against the former slave’s cold determination.

Shmi won. Mace looked away and sighed heavily.

“Fine, your son won’t join. But I don’t like it. Not with the Sith confirmed to be back.”

Azem glanced at the Skywalkers and made his mind. Tentatively, he held a hand.

“If you meet Sith or other Dark Side users, I am willing to help you. How does that sound?”

The two Jedi turned to him, surprised.

“Unexpected, your offer is.” Yoda raised a brow. “Say, people do, that a skilled fighter, you are.”

“He is!” Obi-Wan strongly nodded. “We had a spar, the day before the attack. He dominated me. And, in the few visions I had where he engaged the Sith alone, it was less a fight and more a one-sided beatdown.”

Mace hummed pensively.

“Really, now?”

“Yes.” Shmi confirmed. “Even back on Tatooine, he repelled Sand People raids singlehandedly. He is a talented fighter. You won’t regret having him at your side.”

And besides, she and Obi-Wan still remembered the adventurer’s tale. On his home planet alone, Azem had stopped world-ending disasters several times and fought beings which could legitimately be called gods.

Yoda nodded.

“Very well. Appreciated, your offer is. Remember it, we will, when the time comes.”

“Thank you.”

The matter was settled. Yoda turned to the Skywalkers.

“What to do, will you now?”

Shmi looked away, embarrassed.

“Captain Panaka offered me a place among the Palace Guards since I am slightly too old to be a handmaiden. I’m considering turning him down. I want a quiet job to raise Ani. As for the housing, we have twenty million credits on our account. It should help us get settled. And, of course, since he won’t join the Jedi Order, there’s Ani’s education to consider. Queen Amidala, as Padme, told me about Naboo’s technology and engineering schools. Knowing his knack for mechanics…”

Yoda nodded, reassured. The family had projects. It was good. He would keep an eye on them, as well as on the adventurer. Though he hadn’t show it, he could feel the man’s presence in the Force.

He had found it startling, at first. The man looked rather ordinary, yet his power was an easy match for the Grandmaster of the Order. He was glad they were on the same side. If they were to cross swords… It would be a challenge. Even for him. Anyone else in the Order, except maybe Mace, would be thoroughly beaten by the adventurer, even Cin Drallig.

Anakin’s future wasn’t decided, but it looked bright. This, at least, relieved the old Jedi.

<><><> 

Now that the dead were mourned, it was time for partying. And nothing quite said “party” like a huge parade of Gungans crossing the streets of Theed under the cheers of thousands of Naboo, with flowers flying in the air, ribbons dancing on the wind and music blaring across the city loudly enough for the nearby moons to hear it.

The Invasion had brought the two people together. Blood had been shed on both sides for the other, forging a bond each knew would last.

Boss Nass got down from his fambaa and joined the royal crowd. Padme handed him a sphere of vibrant plasma, which he raised in the air. Ribbons of light danced around in a dazzling sight as everyone cheered and whooped and sang their joy.

“Peace!”

And peace, they would have, even if they had to take arms again.

Azem lifted Anakin on his shoulder and watched the boy whoop in delight. Pateessa barked and jumped around them, her joy echoing his. Shmi smiled warmly. It always made her feel lighter, to see the adventurer act like a surrogate father to her son.

They had found a house on the capital’s outskirts, a small place to start on their new life. There was a lot of paperwork to manage, and the reconstruction of what the Federation had destroyed. But they would do it. The Naboo may be pacific, but the Gungans weren’t and both were resilient. There was steel beneath the silk, as the Federation had discovered.

Azem looked at the sky. He didn’t know why he had ended so far from the Star or what the future held but, honestly, he didn’t care. The Scions had their own business and, last time he’d checked, none needed him. This galaxy, meanwhile, was huge and full of wonders and adventure.

A perfect place for the Traveler.

So, this is the end of the story. I'm proud: I actually managed to complete this one. Yay me ! But, there may or may not be a sequel focused on the time between The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones. I haven't decided yet.

In any case, have a good day and the TvTropes page: Star Wars A New Dawn (Fanfic) - TV Tropes