The bog stank.
It was more than a simple bad odour. No matter how it looks in a holovid or situation report, there’s nothing that can communicate how absolutely rancid bogs could smell. Mix that with the backwater nature of Dagobah…and only the most desperate of creatures would make this their home. Raiju Kang had spent enough time in swamps, back alleys, and poorly ventilated cantinas to know that there were few places in the galaxy where the air could rival the foulness of this place.
So, of course, he’d face this man here.
The Nautolan rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck from side to side, the copper rings adorning his head-tresses clicked softly against one another as his head tilted from the movement. His big black eyes blinked twice to clear the fog from his vision while his blackened left hand flexed at his side as he studied the figure across the murky water. An all too familiar presence.
Windos.
Not that Windos though…
Raiju had known a Windos Helkin Tarentae once, so long ago, and before his hand was corrupted by the touch of a Keeper. But that was a different man, in a different time, under the banner of Tarentum. That name had carried its own history, its own associations, and enough baggage to fill a freighter. But the man standing before him now was someone else entirely.
Still, they shared enough baggage to fill a YT-1300…
Raiju and this Windos had taken to battlefields together for Odan-Urr. They had fought together defending the tribes of New Tython, where titles like ‘friend’ or ‘ally’ often resulted in their name on a casualty report. Comrades in arms, it had been easy to forget their difference in politics for a time and Raiju remembered those days, even when he preferred not.
Now, years later, the pair shared the halls of the Shadow Academy. But shared was a generous word. They tolerated one another.
Sometimes.
The newly appointed Headmaster was determined to exercise his power in pursuit of growing the Brotherhood’s knowledge. A trivial Tribune’s opinions had mattered little but their deep history had protected the Tribune’s autonomy for now. While they had developed a professional relationship built on mutual utility, occasional irritation, and the unspoken understanding that neither particularly cared to make the other’s life easier.
For now.
Frenemies make the most productive relationships… Raiju thought, his mouth curled into a crooked grin.
“Well Headmaster,” the Nautolan called across the bog, his voice carrying through the humid air, “I suppose this saves me the trouble of skipping our next check-in.”
He shifted his weight, boots settling into the mud. His eyes remained fixed on Windos, but his attention spread through the surrounding swamp. The water concealed too many possibilities. A dragonsnake, submerged roots, a dragonsnake, a sinkhole, a dragonsnake, or simply another opportunity for The Force to remind him that it had a sense of humor.
Raiju had learned long ago not to trust a quiet battlefield.
A sharp snap-hiss cut through the humidity as Raiju drew and ignited his lightsaber, the orange hue marked the thick fog that had settled in between them. Yet, while The Force stirred around him, the Headmaster remained stoically still across the pond from the Nautolan. For a moment, Raiju had to remind himself that while the Miraluka couldn’t see, surely he could sense the threat he posed.
Yet, as moments drew into minutes, Raiju felt another sense of doubt. He reached outward, noting the simple creatures beneath the surface of the water between them. The shifting mud and dangers it hid. The curling fog between the trees. Then finally Windos himself, a familiar presence made unfamiliar by time and circumstances, whose hands slightly twitched upon being mentally provoked.
If only Raiju had paid more attention to those trees first.
Thwack
A sharp, shooting pain accompanied the impact to the back of his head. Staggering forward with a few curse words flowing from his mouth, Raiju quickly turned his attention away from the other Elder. Instead, he sensed the groans of the surrounding trees as the Force seized hold of more dead, twisted, and hanging branches.
Jagged lengths of wood tore free from the undergrowth surrounding the pair and shot towards the Nautolan.
Raiju twisted aside as another branch hurtled past his head, its splintered tip grazing one of his head-tresses. A second came low, forcing him to leap backward as it buried itself into the mud where his feet had been. More splintered sticks flew towards Raiju while the Headmaster held his ground.
A calm voice followed Raiju’s darting movements.
“Here's the thing, Windos.” The black eyes of the Nautolan reflected the faint glow of his blade as it turned the wooden missiles into mulch. “I’ve quite liked working with you. Most days, anyway. But the next time you see the rest of the staff, they are going to know you lost this tournament because of me.”
A beat of silence passed.
“Still talking too much,” Windos remarked.
“Still compensating for your personality, I see.”
The joke was delivered lightly, but the intent beneath it was not. Raiju was not fighting simply to prove he could trade blows with a fellow Elder. This match was an opportunity.
He had spent too much of his life clawing for his independence only to surrender it now. The Shadow Academy was a shared responsibility, but his position within it was not a favour to be granted or revoked. And if Windos needed a reminder that Raiju Kang was not merely another subordinate waiting for instructions, then this was a perfectly acceptable venue.
The Nautolan lowered his stance.
His first movement was deliberately unremarkable: a step to the side, away from the deeper water, his boots finding firmer ground beneath the mud. His cloak shifted with him, revealing the heavy armor beneath. He had no intention of allowing the swamp to dictate his footing if he could help it.
Then he moved.
Raiju surged forward with a sudden burst of athleticism, closing distance while keeping his blade angled defensively. He didn't charge blindly into Windos' reach. Instead, he approached along the edge of the shallows, his movement broken by a sharp change in direction as he sought to force the Miraluka to adjust his stance.
The lightsaber came across in a testing horizontal cut, aimed toward Windos' upper torso rather than committing to a killing strike. It was a question, not an answer.
How much of you is still the man I remember?
As if answering the thought, Windos pivoted to present a new threat. He brought his forearm up, producing a light shield to answer the Nautolan’s probing attack. As the shield and lightsaber collided, they released a violent crack. The impact drove the Headmaster back half a step, but he seized something from his belt and aimed it over the shield at Raiju.
The sharp snap-hiss of Windos’ blade drove Raiju back, a full step, as the Nautolan’s dual hearts began to race.
“That's new,” Raiju muttered and then grinned, “Good - I was worried you'd gotten predictable.”
