Star Wars: Twist of Destiny

Chapter One - Rebel

Serenno, 16 BBY

A young man, about eighteen standard, stands on one of the many balconies overlooking his vast family estate. Though his eyes are closed, he seems to feel, rather than see, the majesty around him - indeed, he seems to embody it. For he stands as proud, as unyielding and stubborn as any of the mountains out and below; and his demeanor, polished with years of political niceties, is as serene, as smooth, as the sunrise.

He is in his element, here - but there is almost nowhere he could go where he would not blend in, and then stand out. For he is brilliant, in every sense of the word... fiercely intelligent, determined, and almost glowing with power that is both natural and political. He practically glows; not only in his abilities, but in the Force as well, a shining beacon that attracts enemies and allies alike. It gives him a sort of charm - a aura that, by an untrained eye, might be mistaken for natural charisma.

He does not understand, yet, not quite - but he does know that he is capable of something special, and not only because he happened to be born into the noble title of Count. He can speculate; he knows of the Empire, of the hooded soldiers with the glowing red blades, of their powers that seem to closely resemble his own. And he is no fool, either, and he has plenty of resources at his disposal... He is excellent with his homework, self-assigned and otherwise. So it was little wonder that he was able to get his hands on such a weapon - via the black market, of course - and, after disassembling it, the materials and knowledge needed to make his own.... With a few upgrades. He strokes the curved hilt that hides beneath his cloak reflectively, his fingers surprised by the coldness of the hilt despite the cool morning air. He wishes he could draw it, but decides that the new security measures now in place - courtesy of the Empire - are meant for their protection, not his, and that it is too risky. So instead, he picks up the foil that leans against the balcony beside him, and begins his favorite drills. Fencing, he knows, is a poor substitute for lightsaber training, but he decides it will do, for now - he is the planetary champion, after all, and he can find a proper teacher later.

The challenge is finding ways to implement his Force-skills without raising suspicion - he practices subtle things, like backing his blows with power or letting it guide his feet and blade - but the real skills he wants to learn would raise suspicion, and are not to be practiced except for those rare occasions when he can get the dojo to himself. His brow furrows in concentration, in frustration... How is he to teach himself anything when he is watched so closely? For he knows he can figure it out, given the chance. He has total faith in his abilities.

He is proud, he supposes, but not arrogant; he is good, and he has no doubt that, someday, he will be best. After all, he has much to prove. A Count, especially a Count of Serenno, has high expectations to meet. Thus far, he has met every one, and he is determined to keep that streak going, no matter the cost. No matter how much it hurts. His life is not an easy one, not when he is constantly pressured so. And yet, he knows he could have it far worse. He cannot afford to be ungrateful; his family's wealth and status have been essential, not only to his success but his survival. He has heard about the raids on other planets, where Force-sensitive youngsters much like himself have been taken to be killed or trained by the Empire... and he is under no illusions.

So far, the prestige and wealth of his family have saved him, but he knows that when the Empire is stronger, and bolder, all of that will change. He can feel the change coming - a stirring in the Unifying Force, a whisper of danger carried by the breeze. He can see it - it looms on the horizon, between the shadows of the mountains, and in the shadows of his heart. Serenno will not be safe much longer.