A/N: Next chapter's up. :)

Katieelessar: Wow, thanks. Glad you liked Scaltia so much – I enjoyed creating it too – that's the best part of an SW universe, isn't it? Even my word application recognizes it as a planet –grin-.
Seven is Me: Ah, my padawan. Thank you. I will never forget that this story was the one that brought you into my sights :)
szhismine: thanks. :)
Shadow (rachel) : …and here's the next. :)
amber75: LOL. You have so many descriptions of the perfect Obi – and he is perfect – but I couldn't help seeing him through the eyes of a rather obese population. :)
Lady Ivy Castillo: Ah, thank you, daughter. So glad you're enjoying this. :)
A. NuEvil: Thanks! Figured you'd like this one. :)Yep, his fork is alive…and Qui is ever the diplomat. :)
ForsakenOn: get ready for the ride. :)
ShalBrenfan: I do actually have a couple of Anakin viggies… thanks. :)
Estel Baggins: Wow. Thank you. Hope you continue to enjoy this. :)
Killer Goldfish: Glad to see you back. :)Thanks.

A special thanks to LE, for her review on 'In the Eyes of the Beholder' – you're a sweet one, m'dear. :)

IV

Fortunately for Obi-Wan, their first meal with Scaltian Royalty did not end in complete and utter disaster. After the debris had been cleared and order more or less restored, Qui-Gon managed to impress upon their host that insectoid food was not particularly palatable to them, and they, especially his apprentice, would prefer something of the less exotic variety—until they had time to adjust themselves, and enjoy Scaltian delicacies. King Zor was nothing if not understanding, and accordingly made amends—and for this, both master and apprentice were extremely grateful.

They were then shown to their chambers by genial, if rather portly palace guards—a lavishly furnished room that seemed to be large enough to accommodate, if not half the Temple, at least a considerable part of it. On entrance, Obi-Wan had simply stood silently, taking in the richness of the tapestries on the walls, the crystal chandeliers that dazzled his eyes even in the bright light of day, and beds of truly stupendous dimensions (created keeping Scaltians in mind, probably)…technology seemed to be in abeyance, somewhat. Barring the mandatory control panel that was cleverly disguised as a modern provincial painting, there seemed to be no evidence that Scaltia was as developed a planet as any.

"I did say that Scaltia's wealth is its people," remarked Qui-Gon mildly, and Obi-Wan smiled. He had not been shielding—he rarely felt the need to do so, these days.

"I suppose they feel the need to use what is available, rather than resort to mechanizing everything," he commented, moving towards his master, who had elected to sink into one of the plush arm-chairs resting beside the beds. "It makes sense…especially for royalty." He flopped down on one of the beds, feeling suddenly exhausted. The airy light-heartedness that had buoyed him through the journey evaporated, and he felt as though he had run for miles in a parched desert. He threw a look at the riches surrounding him, and bit his lips. Anything farther from a desert, he could not see, at the moment. King Zor was providing what he had promised to—unlimited comfort, for as long as they chose.

And it puzzled him. Not King Zor's offer…but Qui-Gon's choosing to accept it. His master had a knack for adapting himself to any situation, but said situation nearly always involved a distressing lack of amenities. They neither of them had much leisure to throw their Jedi duties to the winds, and take off when they chose, to wherever they pleased…and though Qui-Gon had always seemed to know exactly when his padawan was at his best, and when he required rest…avid acceptance of such lavishness was surprising. For a master who relished abundant plant life and had simple tastes, Scaltia seemed rather out of place for a voluntary vacation—all professions of accepting gratitude aside.

What was he thinking…? Whatever he had accomplished, Qui-Gon was best known for his unique instincts…of doing what no conventional Jedi would think of doing. Was accepting a friendly invitation by Royalty such an unconventional thing to do?

Why am I dwelling on this so much?

Unnoticed by his apprentice, Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan stare at the richly carpeted floor, apparently lost in thought. Humour at the meal-table aside, he had noticed that the padawan had not really eaten much, instead electing to spend his time toying with his meal, looking at the dining-hall, and in politely answering broken-Basic questions put forth by their host.

As a padawan, his behaviour had been exactly what a Jedi master would wish. Not surprising—it had been drilled into him for years, after all.

As Obi-Wan Kenobi, however, this (occasionally) stubborn youngster meant more…much, much more to him than any single being in a remarkably insane galaxy (not that he chose to proclaim this fact to outsiders). That being so, his ward's emotions (and they did exist) and vagaries affected him more than any other. A paternal instinct was most definitely not what Qui-Gon had wanted when the almost-thirteen year old had first become his apprentice…but it had become exactly that, and Qui-Gon had surprised himself when he understood that this was what he had wished for, years ago.

Strange, that the mind should wish for one thing and the heart another—still more strange that he, who always advocated 'feeling, instead of thinking', had fought desperately against such affection.

This conflict was now a thing of the past, however. He had long since reconciled himself to the fact, regardless of his maverick instincts (or perhaps, because of it), the Code, and the lack of emotions it advocated, Obi-Wan had made his home inside a heart that shrank back from such intrusion…no matter their status, or character. And there you will stay, resilient whelp of mine.

Which meant that he had to find out what was troubling the boy—young man?—boy, so much that he had barely moved since setting foot into the room. And why he had unaccountably put up his mental shields.

/Come now, little one,/ he spoke, knocking at the mental barriers. /What troubles you?/

Obi-Wan seemed not to have heard him, and the master leaned forward slightly, placing his hand on his padawan's head. "Obi-Wan?"

The apprentice sat up suddenly, blinking. "Master? What—" he shook his head, looking at Qui-Gon with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I was…thinking."

"Yes, I gathered that." He waited, wondering if Obi-Wan would confide his thoughts.

The padawan did not. Instead, Obi-wan shook his head again, sighed, and stood up. "What are we doing this afternoon? Exploring the city?"

"That can be undertaken this evening...after accepting His Majesty's offer of providing us with Scaltian entertainment."

Obi-Wan pursed his lips. "I'd forgotten that King Zor wouldn't stop with stuffing us with walking insects," he grinned. "What torture has he planned for us?"

"Shame on you, for thinking so about our host. I'm sure he has our best interests at heart."

Obi-wan raised his eye-brows, his mouth beginning to curve into a sly smile. "Do you, now? I'm sure you know him best. What with you meeting with the Scaltians' approval, and the rest of it."

"They weren't wrong, you know. You are thin, and deserve some fattening up."

"I am not. I may not be a towering giant, but I'm…ah…" he stopped, mock-frowning at Qui-Gon, who had begun to chuckle. "And I don't relish being laughed at."

"It is time you learnt to do so, then," Qui-Gon smiled, rising. "After all, padawan, you cannot be my apprentice, and not be subject to comparison between us."

"Unfair, I call it. Appearances are deceptive, as you keep telling me."

"Then you would do well to repeat those words of wisdom to those you underestimate you," the master moved towards his bed and sat down, pulling off his boots as he did so.

"No, thank you. I gain much when my adversaries underestimate me. It's a weapon, not a liability." He threw a look at his mentor. "You taught me that too."

"I seem to have taught you too many lessons, of late. And you'll now learn one more."

"Which is…?"

"Sleep the afternoon away."

"Sleep?"

"It is a way to rest, padawan. And it has been followed for centuries, by humans. A time-tested way of refreshment."

Obi-Wan placed a hand on his hip. "Are you sure this isn't an obscure way of teaching me facts of life, or something?"

"My poor padawan. If everything I say or do makes you want to fall all over yourself, trying to learn 'lessons'…then I've done a poor job of teaching you."

"Pitiful," Obi-Wan nodded, walking towards his bed. "I agree entirely."

"Little wretch," commented Qui-Gon, without heat. "Rest now, before you make me give you a sleep suggestion."

"You wouldn't dare, master."

"I have earned a reputation as being one who frequently does."

"I'm not tired."

Qui-Gon raised an eye-brow. Abruptly, he sat up. "In that case, you will engage in a demonstration of the 'Gentle Storm' kata…in front of an admiring Scaltian audience."

Obi-Wan pulled off his boots without much ado, throwing a glare at his master. "You're aware that I shall report this case of padawan abuse to the Council?"

"By all means," Qui-Gon said, arranging himself into a posture for meditation. "They will banish me to the moons of Denaira, where I will spend a lifetime of peace."

"Not really. You would be caged to our quarters and told to teach twenty initiate sabre sessions…back-to-back."

"A terrifying prospect. Rest assured that I will do all I can to avoid it."

"The day I learn to win a verbal battle against you, will be the day I become a knight."

"Or the day you finally learn to prepare a welnet stew that can actually be consumed."

Obi-Wan had been lying down, but he sat up at this. "Is that why you polished two platefuls before we started for Scaltia?"

"I merely wished to spare you a lifetime of self-loathing, my deluded apprentice."

"Gah." Despite all assurances to the contrary, Obi-Wan felt his eye-lids grow heavy, closing almost without his wishing to. Qui-Gon, the omniscient, indeed. How does he know these things?

"Your vocabulary leaves much to be desired, padawan," Qui-Gon's voice floated towards him, and he smiled. "By the way…I expect to hear a full account of your travels with Archivist T'shar, when you wake up."

What…? But how did he know…? Obi-Wan's thoughts slowed down, as he felt his limbs growing heavy.

Qui-Gon the omniscient, were his last thoughts, before he dropped off to sleep suddenly.

Tbc…