A long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

STAR WARS

THE NEW ORDER

The Jedi are all but gone.

The challenges and the wars of the Republic was too much. The decay and rot of the Republic wore and tore down the Order that they vowed to protect. Few remain, exiled, and spread far, keeping what order they can for those without anyone to protect them.

However, the Jedi are not the only the only force users in the galaxy. Seeing a chance to fill the vacuum left by the order's decay, local governments have created their own orders of force users. As tensions rise throughout the galaxy, the force calls out to those who will listen…

The dust storm was fierce. The ominous howling complimented the violent barrage of wind and sand that sought the destruction of life and the lifeless in equal measure. It would be a frightening experience walking through a storm like this, not knowing what was ahead of you. Not knowing what be carried by the wind and collide with you. Few people went out in storms like this on Cortese Minor. Even fewer managed to get through one unscathed.

If Arn was a normal person, he would be scared. If he was a normal person he would be in doors, waiting out the storms like everyone else on this dusty rock. If Arn was a normal person, he would not be walking through the storm blindfolded and hands bound following a paper ribbon let loose in the maw. Luckily for Arn, he was a Jedi.

Once upon a time, being a Jedi was an experience unlike any other in the galaxy. Once upon a time, being a Jedi was position of honor, a guardian of the Republic and a protector of peace throughout the galaxy. Warrior diplomats, scientist philosophers. Beautiful contradictions that were a mainstay in the thought of the galaxy.

Now, Jedi were hardly ever remembered. Relics of a bygone era. The failed protectors that the Republic had grown far beyond. Now their numbers were few and much of their lore and craft gone. Aron was a dying breed.

My nose itches. The thought he had been trying to push down had crept up on him. Stupid. Focus. Focus. Focus. Aron could not fail this trial. His master sent him on this precisely because of these distractions that were so hard for him to ignore.

"A Jedi must forget all that is around him. The corporeal is merely a distraction. Your focus on material comfort is a detriment to your true perception. A cloud that blinds your heart to what is beyond the sensations of your nerves," Master Jord had told him. A fly landed on him during meditation. He could not help himself. Its small legs crawled over him, the little hairs tickling and rubbing in a way that he could not ignore. His master worried it might cost him his life one day.

It had been four hours. He followed dutifully, trusting his feelings, following the current of the force and somehow hearing the paper's flapping through storm. He had to follow it all the way through the storm, to trust in his feelings and succeed. He couldn't disappoint his master.

He was ten when Antos Jord took him in. He was begging on the streets of Sartoph, a little Outer Rim trading port adjacent to the Cortese system. His mother had died years ago when the Shaddan Flu tore through the outer rim. The two of them lied in bed together for days, clutching one another, burning on the inside and freezing on the outside.

"It'll all be okay," his mom kept whispering to him as she stroked his hair. He stared into her eyes, the same golden brown as his own. She was a plain looking woman with a plain looking son, but to him, she was beautiful. She was the one person that would always protect him from the terrors that haunted him. He dreamt dark dreams next to her. Dreams that still sent shivers down his spine to this very day.

After their fourth night lying there together, holding each other and waiting, the fever broke, but only Arn woke up.

She was buried in a mass grave outside the small trading city he grew up in. The flu killed millions across the Outer Rim over its three-year course.

Jord was the only family he had now. He was the father he never had. In their twelve years together, Arn had only disappointed him. He couldn't fail him this time.

He thought of when they met. Jorn's index and thumb were wrapped around his wrist as it came out of the master's bag, looking him in the eyes, smiling. "Hello there. What are you have you got, my friend?" If it was anyone else, Arn would have been scared. Looking into the old Cathar's eyes, he was not. The old giant simply leaned on his Beku Staff and offered to change his life.

Arn smiled at the happy memory, the day his life changed for the better. Oh no. His focus was suddenly lost as the memory invaded his senses. It was gone, that feeling, the quiet echo of the paper gliding on a liquid pond of perception. The quiet ripples of its being were halted and ceased to be. He tried not to panic. He tried to remain calm.

His biggest flaw, his master always told him, was keeping his composure when failure was around the corner.

Lorse's boots echoed down the halls of the senate building. Impeccably shined, they reflected the golden light of the Alderaanian sunset. The light flowed down the halls. The halls represented two millennia of democracy. And hopefully, many more to come. Once, this Republic that Lorse loved so dearly was defended by the Jedi Knights.

That time has passed. So much had changed since those days. After the Sacking of Coruscant, the Republic's government was moved to the Democracy, a massive capital ship that changed the location it landed on every ten years. Now it rested on Alderaan. In three years, it was voted, the ship would land on Corellia and rest there for the next ten years.

Lorse glanced down at his chrono. He had to hurry. The military man in him could not handle being late. His steps echoed rapidly down the hall, his lightsaber bouncing against the side of his thigh.

He loved the feeling of the hilt. It was an old lightsaber and one of the few left in the galaxy. The Jedi Order was disgraced and exiled, left to rot in its failure. They were weapons of the Republican Protectorate now.

Lorse hurried down the hall. He rounded the corner, eyes straight ahead and focused on the door of the chancellor's office. Blue armored Republic guards stood outside the door at attention. He nodded at them, and they let him in.

The Chancellor stood looking out the massive window in his office. Alderaanian mountains stood at attention off in the distance. Their peaks were covered with snow, rivers gently flowing down through the valley below.

Chancellor Cormum stood, arms behind his back, his long white hair flowing down his back. "Lorse." Lorse went down to his knee and bowed his head. The Arkanian turned toward him, his white eyes giving no hint of his thought or emotions. The Chancellor cut a regal figure, appearing more king than elected official.

"Rise." Lorse stood at attention, hands behind his back and chin raised.

"Sir."

"A matter has come to my attention, Captain-Protector Merac." Lorse's pulse quickened. Excitement, something he has craved for a long time. Another push into the Mid Rim, or perhaps the Hutts have been found creeping their way into a powerful industrial center. Were he not better trained, he would give some hint of his excitement.

What he heard next killed his joy he felt. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"Mandalorian Knights. Our sources say a squad of them have infiltrated the Bilbringi Shipyards. You are leading the mission."

Lorse swallowed. Mandalorian Knights were the only opponents he had no desire to face. They had taken so much from him throughout his life. Others would hate them with a burning passion. Not Lorse. He only felt fear.

Mandalorians. I have a bad feeling about this.

His briefing went by in a daze. His face was stone, the only indication of his nervousness was the ring of sweat that began to form around the chest of his red Protectorate uniform.

He was instructed to bring three Protectorate Blades, six Protectorate Marksmen, and a battalion of Republic Marines. These numbers meant that these Knights were serious business. The briefing confirmed this.

The Knights were led by Corak Sord, Knight Commander of the Mandalorian Royal Knights. This was bad. After the briefing, Lorse walked slowly and evenly, his stride and manner giving no hint to his emotions.

He reached his room on the other side of the Democracy. It was a long, tortuous walk for Lorse. When he finally entered, he lied down on his bed and started shaking.

Arn wandered blindfolded, no idea where the paper he was supposed to follow was. It was taking everything he had not to panic. The wind and dust battered him. He marched forward, hand outstretched, trying to reach for what was not there.

He marched forward, battered by the madness around him. Stop. He stopped himself and froze. Peace and calm, like master taught me. Slowly his hand came down to his side. The dust and sand scratching his exposed skin, faded away. The wind's screams died. All was silent, all was gone.

"Wake up, Arnen." He was sixteen again. The blackness of the blindfold was replaced by the light of the sun, and he was resting on his bed in the Jedi outpost he and Jorn called home. The great Cathar leaned on his staff in the doorway.

"Good morning, my friend." Jorn had always called him 'my friend', a genuine acknowledgement of their relationship being more than that of a student and master. Jorn always made it clear they were partners, brother Jedi serving the will of the force. It always made Arn feel like he was seen, valued in a way that he had never been. "We have a long day ahead of us. A vital lesson is in store for you."

They walked through the cattle fields on the Cortese Minor's northern hemisphere, the red dust that made the majority of the planet's landscape nowhere to be seen.

"What are we doing, Master?" Arn asked, itching for some action. Not that they encountered much. They were typically mediators, traveling around the sector settling trade disputes and handling domestic problems. They rarely encountered any serious action, and the times they were called face against raiders, Jorn left Arn back at the outpost to meditate. He was not ready to craft his Beku Staff or learn the art of the energy reflection.

"Patience, my friend."

"Yes, Master." He waited a few seconds and then began biting his lip. He was anxious, dying to get to the new lesson. The force was vast and mysterious to him, a great mystery that called to those willing to listen and discover. Every new way of using the force excited him. Sure, meditation was a rather dry and the readings on philosophy was rather dry, but it was all worth it. He remembered the first time he lifted a rock.

He had tried for weeks to concentrate, to reach out and feel all the life, the death, the very existence of the force in every object both living and dead. He fought with the rock, he bargained with it, he begged at it, and finally, when all else failed, he let go of himself, his wants and his desires and simply asked. The rock lifted for him. He knew that to use the force, to become one with the life around him, he had to let go and open himself up and accept the force's will, to ask for its power. He got shivers thinking about it.

"Get out of your thoughts, my friend. We are here." Arn looked around. They were in a grass plane outside the farmlands. There was nothing around absolutely nothing around. "Sit, my friend," Jorn said as he gestured a open hand to the grassy ground.

Arn sat down, placing his legs into a crisscross. Jorn did the same, placing his Beku Staff down gently next to him. Jorn's eyes rested easily on his apprentice. They sat there in a comfortable silence for minutes before Jorn finally spoke. "Do you know why we are here, my friend?"

Arn was unsure. He thought of a good answer, a guess or idea to impress his master. Before he could speak his clever answer, he stopped himself. "I don't know, Master," he spoke honestly and simply. Jorn smiled at him.

"That is right, my friend. You do not. Look around you. What do you see?"

Arn looked around slowly. Nothing. Was this a trick? "Nothing, Master."

Jorn chuckled. "Another wise answer, my friend. However, it is both true and false. When look merely with your eyes, there is nothing here. Absolutely nothing of interest. A land devoid. But what if you don't look with your eyes?" He had a hint of mischief in his eyes as he looked at Arn. "Close them."

Meditation. Arn held back a groan. He should have known. He followed his master's instruction.

"Now simply listen," Jorn said. "Listen to the wind, listen to the strange little noises you cannot really place, listen to your own heartbeat. Choose one and focus on it."

Arn listened and focused on the sound of the wind. His heart lightened, the weight of disappointment in their choice of exercise slowly dissipating. The quiet whisper of the wind relaxed him, drew him into its embrace. He felt at peace.

Something cut through the wind, coming at him fast. He shot his hands up and opened his eyes to defend himself. Centimeters from his arms was his master's staff, posed as if to hit him. Jorn's eyes regarded him calmly. "What have you observed, my friend?" Jorn asked, still remaining in his pose.

"Ears can save your life?" Arn asked him, unsure if he had really learned anything.

"Yes and no. Ears can often tell you the same information as your eyes. Ears can save you, as can eyes but they can both deceive you. Your eyes tell you there is nothing here, yet your ears say that there is the wind. Your ears tell you I am going to hit you yet have I hit you?" Arn looked at his master's staff. It had not hit him, it simply remained near. "The force is more than your senses, it allows you to see the truth beyond what our simple biology would allow. Now close your eyes, and your ears. Focus only on my staff, conjure it in your mind, feel it's current through the force and the way it calls out to you. Every object, every creature possesses some presence in the force. We are all connected through it. Every single thing in the universe."

Jorn's staff moved back to him, and he readied himself for staff combat. He held his staff back handed, tight against the back of his arm. He bent his knees. "Close your eyes and control your ears, my friend. See my staff in your mind's eye."

Arn closed his eyes and cut out all noise from his consciousness, focusing only on the image of the staff, the way it pulsated in the darkness of his mind's eye. The staff danced around his head, never hitting him, never touching him. He felt powerful and sure, a conduit for the force able to see beyond normal sentient perception. He smiled.

Then he was hit right in the center of the forehead. He fell back, hard. Slowly he got up and looked at his master. He could tell Jorn was disappointed in him. "Did you see the Beku Staff, or did you merely imagine that you did?"

Arn did not understand the lesson at the time. He could not understand how he failed, how he was not actually seeing the staff in his mind. Now he did. He had failed that very same lesson yet again.

He simply wanted too much. He wanted his master's approval, he wanted to become a great Jedi, to find his place in the galaxy, to understand the mysteries of the force. He wanted all these things, but by wanting them too badly, he had kept himself from achieving his goals.

No more. No more failure, no more doubts of what I can do, of what I can achieve. I must do. And so, he did. He got down on his knees as the dust storm raged around him. He pushed away how he imagined the force felt and opened his heart up to it. His mind was blank and suddenly, he felt. What he experienced was beyond the dark pond where the paper rippled. No, he was the paper, he was the wind, the dust, the sand. He was the sun hidden behind the storm and the clouds in the sky. He was the ground and the very air he breathed. It was so simple for him to simple reach out and grab the paper.

He opened his eyes, and the storm was gone. He was standing underneath a large rock sticking out of the red desert. In his hand the paper rested. He felt something, a strange familiar sensation. He looked up to where he felt the sensation to be. There sat his master, smiling gently at him.

"Finally, my friend. You are ready for your next big step. It has been long and hard, but the time has almost come for you to no longer be my student, but my brother."

And Arn smiled right back at him, feeling confidence he had never felt before in his entire life.

AN: Hello, everyone. I hope you enjoy the story. I wrote this because I'm usually very disappointed in fanfiction. I feel like the medium never really captures what makes Star Wars special. It is a vast and fascinating universe that is perfect for exploring new corners of the universe with new characters and new ideas. I was emboldened by the release of STAR WARS: Visions to release this. The idea of the Star Wars Universe reimagined is very interesting to me and I couldn't help but write something in that vein.