The General

A/N: This is a short one-shot I wrote a few weeks ago while I was still trying to figure out what I wanted to do with Kuryama. I was playing around with the idea of doing a pre-K2 series about her in the Mandalorian War but I dropped it shortly after writing this, other ideas coming into my head.

They came at her in a five-pointed attack. Wooden swords swung and thrusted, stabbed and chopped, all of them trying to breach the defense put up by a single opposing blade. Occasionally, someone would grunt in pain, but that someone was never the person in the center of the five attackers. They could not land a single blow that was not deflected.

Bodies were slick with the sweat of exertion; this had been going on for hours.

Jedi Knight Kuryama Nari stood in the center of the training room at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, holding back five Padawans with her single sword. She was dressed in training tights, garments not known for their particular modesty but freedom of movement. Her tanned flesh glistened with perspiration, black hair was pulled back in a braid that hung over her shoulder, piercing gray eyes always alert.

She knew each of the five Padawans quite well, she had been training with them for over two years.

Serda was five years younger than Kuryama, an up-and-coming Padawan, she had a special interest in the Ataru form.

Jilon, Vrook's apprentice, was cautious to the point of indecision. Kuryama did not hesitate to teach him the dangers of wavering in battle, and he was more often than not hit hard by her blows.

Tave was about her age, but had yet to learn to adequately control his impulses.

Kile was a bold-faced imitator. She wanted nothing more than be like Kuryama in every way, and her enthusiasm always made things interesting.

The last of them, Barek, was Kavar's apprentice. He, like Jilon, would often hold back cautiously, but he usually knew when best to attack. And he was quite good at attacking.

They all knew she was more than a match for all of them combined, but valued the skills to be gained from learning from the best. And by the Force, everyone knew Kuryama was the best. She was on her way towards becoming a sabre master in her own right. She was a living legend, a hero of the younger Jedi. Though recognition of her talents brought divided feelings from the older Jedi, including some on the Council who saw her exceptional lightsabre skills as wasteful to the point of arrogance, the fact remained that there were a great many talented Jedi whom Kuryama could fight to a standstill.

But even legends needed to train. In fact, they required to be in constant training, day in day out, in order to stay in top form. And Kuryama meant to continue improving.

Tave lashed out with a wild strike to her side. She ducked down, redirecting his wooden blade to intercept Jilon's slow thrust and bending beneath Serda's arcing swing. As she straightened she brought her sword up to parry a charging stab from Kile's blade. The girl was not discouraged by the block and rotated her sword arm around to swing it in a cleaving swipe. But Kuryama was too fast, anticipating her move and driving an elbow into Kile's stomach as she tried to bring her sword into play. Barek swung for her unprotected back but she flipped her sword over her shoulders and blocked his blade with lightning-quick reflexes.

Kuryama counter-attacked. Jilon stood still too long, watching her, and she brought the attack to him. She stabbed low, forcing his guard down to protect his knees, and then she unexpectedly pulled back just before the blow struck. Instead of impacting with his well-placed parry, Kuryama shifted her strike and catch him on the shoulder, evading his guard completely. Jilon cried out in pain and staggered back while she went after Serda. Serda met her attack with one of her own, clashing their swords together. Kuryama quickly spun out of the hold and forced Serda to defend. The girl's parry of Kuryama's blow was weak and her guard came crumbling down. Kuryama poured into the opening and caught Serda in the ribs, sending her to the floor.

As Tave and Barek came at her, Kuryama bent over to the side, supporting herself on her free hand and lashed out with her feet. Barek deftly avoided her unexpected attack but Tave was knocked off balance. She finished him off with a slap of her sword to his chest. Barek charged for her but she side-stepped, blocking his sword and grabbing hold of his arm. As he continued forward she forced his sword arm up over his head and yanked him back. He crashed to the floor.

The last one still standing, Kile thrust her sword at Kuryama in a stabbing motion. Her strike was easily deflected by Kuryama's quick parry. The block put Kile at a disadvantage which Kuryama pressed mercilessly. She locked blade and forcefully knocked Kile's from her hands to hold her at sword-point.

Thoroughly beaten Padawans lay all around her.

"I think that's enough for today." Kuryama panted heavily as she spoke.

Kile nodded gratefully as Kuryama handed her the wooden sword. The other Padawans crawled to their feet, as exhausted as Kile. Kuryama graciously helped them up, uttering words of encouragement and instruction to each of them. She was a teacher to them, and they took very seriously everything she said to them, whether it be praise or rebuke.

As any teacher would, she told them their failings.

"Kile, you think too far ahead at the expense of the present. Forethought is good but the moment must also be considered. Barek, never discount the enemy's skills; always be prepared for anything they might throw at you. Serda, your form is good but you must be faster. Tave, you must never be caught off-guard; you have to expect everything and nothing. Jilon, you must remember that one has to commit himself to the fight or it is lost, battles are not won by pacifism."

Kuryama took a towel from the rack that stood by the wall of the training room, wiped the sweat from her face. Two hours of intense practice left every muscle humming, her heart pounding in the rush, her skin slick with perspiration.

She took her gray robe from its hanger where she had left it and headed for the showers. A Temple Vanguard intercepted her before she made it to the showers, alerting her that Revan had contacted the Temple from Dantooine and requested the speak with her.

"Please tell Revan I have just finished a two-hour training session and am in need of a shower. I will be available in ten minutes," she told the Vanguard.

He shook his head. "I'm afraid Knight Revan was quite insistent that he speak with you immediately."

"Very well. Where?"

"The holo room in the Archives, second level."

"Thank you."

Kuryama hurried off, thinking of what Revan might want to speak to her about. She had to guess it concerned the Mandalorians and their unprovoked aggression towards Republic worlds. Revan had been among the first within the Order to speak up in favor of intervention; as the attacks continued unabated, his homeworld was placed directly within the line of fire. But still there was no word from the Council.

Revan was a strong character, one who stood up for his beliefs and challenged anyone who contradicted him. He had a great many admirers scattered about on Jedi worlds all over the galaxy from his frequent travels. Lately, however, he had been spending most of his time on Dantooine. Kuryama would often see him at the academy during her weekly visits.

The holo room was empty but for Revan's glowing figure. That he had asked to speak with her in private spoke lengths of his seriousness, for Revan had a very open personality; he was practically Jedi celebrity.

"I am here, Revan. What is it that is so urgent it could not wait until I've showered?" Kuryama asked the famous Jedi.

Revan unconsciously tugged at the dark beard that lined his square jaw, a sign of worry. His deep set eyes looked like they hadn't seen sleep in three days.

"Kuryama, old friend, I need you to come to Dantooine right away," he said.

Her alarms went off immediately at his use of the term 'old friend'. It was a code word reserved for his inner circle, meant to convey to others that he was calling a gathering of his closest allies. Revan had always excelled at drawing people together for his own purposes, whether they were parallel or in conflict with those of the Council.

"What has happened?" Kuryama asked.

"There are urgent matters I must discuss with you. But it must be in person. I trust only your eyes and ears, you must come to Dantooine," Revan pressed.

"Very well, I'll come as soon as I can," she promised.

"Hurry. Time is the one thing we don't have."