cal kestis, older, angrier, sturdier than heâs ever been before, as though the darkside has festered in his skin and muscles for years now, like tumors, like calluses, like blocks of steel woven into his body, frowns over at the boy who would be his apprentice, if cal had ever been allowed a personal one. kuruk is a budding masterpiece, a child with the sympathy and softer ends of him shaved off, trimmed and cut until he is as close to a soldier as cal could make him, but there are still treatments to endure, styles to learn, darkness to absorb.
cal stands from the table, his black and grey robes falling around him, and strides purposefully towards kuruk, to get a better look at his failings. âdonât be stupid, of course it matters,â he snarls unkindly, taking the boyâs chin in his hand and lifting his face towards the light. âif youâre bruised it means you werenât fast enough, or strong enough, or smart enough.â he doesnât get rough with kuruk, much as he would occasional wish to, but he does press his lips together disappointed. âso which is it?â
he releases the boy, but his face remains steely and disgruntled. âdo we need to go over more fighting techniques so that youâre more prepared for the next mission?â he sighs. âhelmets can be replaced, even the heads inside them can be replaced, but you are building an empire, and a reputation for that empire, and that cannot be so easily reconstructed.â
the moment the words left his mouth, kuruk knew it was a mistake. he knows better than to talk back to this man. cal has been - so many things to the young knight-in-training. kuruk knows he wouldnât be the man he is now without calâs attention to his progression, harsh as it has been at times. more often than not, really. but kuruk understands. the pain, the punishment, itâs to prepare him. to sharpen him, to make him more than he could ever dream to become on his own.
and itâs for that reason that kuruk - as much as instinct screams to - doesnât flinch, when cal takes hold of his chin and all but snarls in his face. he doesnât resist, letting the man take a closer look at his... his failure. thatâs what it is, and kuruk knows it. for all the work cal has put in, all the time the inquisitor has spent to train him, to form him into the knight heâs to become, to come back from a mission in this state can be described as nothing but a failure. âwasnât fast enough.â he responds evenly, much less attitude in his tone than before. heâs more than smart enough, and his strength isnât an issue. but he hadnât reacted as quickly as he should have. a future knight of ren must be able to do better than that. just because kuruk is going to be the sniper doesnât mean he can afford to be caught out like this.
training is.. cruel, unkind, but necessary. kuruk would be a fool to try and deny it, given the state in which heâs returns here. he responds with a nod, âyes, sir.â he knows cal will overpower him, and he knows it will hurt. a reminder to be.. better. âthe orderâs reputation is intact. the man who caused these bruises will not be able to tell anyone he did so.â itâs not enough. he knows. itâs no where near enough. but itâs something.
