Stellan retreated on his line, calculating the exact point where her blade would reach him. He drew his own lightsaber up front, rotating his wrist so their blades clashed, blue pushing green to the side. Again, her momentum worked against her, just as he had predicted, but she used the Force to maintain her balance, sliding her blade under his with a crackle of energy. She drew back sharply, forcing Stellan to give more ground. He would have to be careful. The wall of the chamber was behind him. Another couple of steps and he would be cornered. He could flip up and over, forcing her to turn, but that would break the purity of his line. Instead he allowed her to lunge, blocking the attack and letting his blade slide down hers, the resulting scream of charged plasma like the howl of a hroth-beast. Now Stellan had her. He waited for her containment field to hit the energy of his crossguard and twisted sharply, locking the T-formation around the end of her blade and forcing it down. The tip of her lightsaber burned into the marbled deck in front of her, and the fight was already lost. Stellan brought his elbow back sharply, ready to slice her lightsaber in two.

“Solah!” Jedi Nib Assek barked, yielding before Stellan could disarm her.

“Are you sure?” he asked, eyes full of mischief.

She chuckled. A low, husky sound that always made Stellan smile. Nib sounded as though she smoked twenty cigarras a day, although he knew for a fact that she had never touched any of the filthy things in her life.

“I think we’ve given them enough of a show haven’t we?” Nib said, waiting for him to break his stance.

With a flourish, Stellan disengaged, bringing his weapon back up into the traditional salute. Nib did the same, her blade almost hiding the lopsided smile Stellan knew so well. They held the stance for a second and then retracted their blades.

With a nod of the head, he turned and took a step toward the small audience gathered on the other side of the chamber.

“That was an ancient form of lightsaber combat, developed during a point in our history where lightsaber battles were commonplace. Of course, today such duels are purely ceremonial or used in the training of Padawans.”

“That’s great. Thank you, Master Gios. We can cut there.”

The cam droid that had been floating nearby beeped, its cluster of lenses retracting.

A young woman stepped forward, slipping a sleek datapad into the jacket she wore over a plain cream shirt.

“Are you sure, Ms. Dairo? The differences between the forms are fascinating—”

“And probably more information than the holonet requires, Stellan,” Nib reminded him gently, slipping her lightsaber back into its holster. “You’ll have to forgive Master Gios,” she told the reporter. “He is used to gaggles of adoring younglings that hang on his every word.”