The Sith Academy is obviously old in the same way as the Jedi Temple was, and the Shrine of Healing on Voss. It too has absorbed some of the essential nature of its inhabitants, and this is reflected in the texture of the Force.

The overseer's desk is disorderly and cluttered. Rafa gets the sense that his routine has been perturbed by Occlus's visit; he seems more fearful than typical.

     "Certainly. Are there... any areas in particular you wish to focus on, my lord?"

"Subtlety is of more use to me than brute force."

The overseer glances at Rafa as he leans over to pick up a datapad and make a few notes. "The Machine Vault?"

"That would be a good fit."

They discuss a few more details of trials to come, until the overseer gets an alert. "They're almost here, my lord." Occlus nods, and moves out from behind the desk to stand near Rafa. The overseer takes her place standing behind the desk, arms folded. His face makes a few attempts at "stern" before he gets it to work properly.

The group of acolytes file in, various degrees of tired and/or shellshocked, each carrying one variety or another of incredibly lethal-looking vibroblade. One girl in particular is carrying a double-ended swordstaff as tall as she is.

"So. Only two of you got yourselves killed. What a pity. The rest of you maggots will be pushed that much harder. And if you're lucky, Lord Occlus will accept one of you as her apprentice. But I wouldn't hold my breath. Her standards are exacting, and I very much doubt any of you could possibly measure up."

This triggers one or two glances.

"Eyes on me," snaps the overseer. "Or I'll rip them from your skulls. Now. The rules of the Academy. First, no killing within the grounds. I'm not here to clean up after you. That means no messy fights where I can catch you, either. Second, if a Sith tells you to do something, you do it. You lot will be in barracks three. Lights out at 2200. Meals are 0600 and 1800, if you miss that you go hungry. Be back here tomorrow morning at 0630 for your next trial. Get out of my sight."

They leave.

"We will be taking our leave as well. Remember, Harkin, don't play favorites."

He slumps, just a little. "Yes, my lord." Occlus beckons to Rafa and exits the room.

He looks perfectly proper and respectful throughout, and follows her when he's beckoned.

Through the halls, a perfect image of master and apprentice, until they come to the library.

"So that was sure something."

"A small taste of what you missed."

"Somehow I do not feel unlucky, and that's saying something."

"Jedi train from birth, or near enough. They never know anything else. Sith start later. They get a taste of what their life outside would be like, for better or worse. And they know they can never go back to it."

"Yeah both things are kinda pretty terrible aren't they."

"Indeed. So. I told Harkin not to play favorites, but did anyone stand out to you?"

"Depends on the axis. There was one girl with a huge swordstaff and if she survived while using that she must be at least passingly good at... the whole fighting thing."

"Mm. Military family, perhaps."

"Yeah, maybe. Don't know if I got that vibe off her though."

"Oh?"

"I'm not sure, I just—if you'd asked me to imagine a hundred different people with military families wielding a double-edged swordstaff none of them would've been her."

"That's good. Trust your instincts, they can serve you well."

He smiles.

"The Imperial military does not teach staff fighting, and in fact discourages the practice. You need to invest far more effort to become competent than you would with a single blade. It is inefficient."

"So is there an advantage?"