Two lethal combatants circled each other in the ring. One demonstrated a graceful style; the graceful form of Echani, undoubtedly an officer in the elite Royal Guard. The other warrior, a shorter man, indicating that he was from the Stormtrooper crop, exhibited a rugged, but still disciplined, technique. This was Commander Grant “Dragoon” Lian, an offworlder who had been serving the Empire for the past year. The two men kept a constant distance; every so often one would lunge out in a dummy to try and throw the other man off. This standoff lasted only a few seconds, when the taller man struck. Despite seeing the advance only a millisecond soon enough, the Guardsman’s forearm connected with Grant’s outstretched blocking elbow, which produced an unhealthy sound. The Guardsman moved in for the kill, but Lian managed to duck under the deadly forearm and slam his fist into the Guardsman’s side. In the next blink of the eye, the Dragoon rolled over the Guardsman’s bent over back, only to land just in time to take a kick to his chest, knocking him down. The Guardsman then planted his foot and swung out the other to sweep the fallen warrior the moment he stood, but the Dragoon leaped over his head and delivered a spinning kick upon landing, stunning the larger man. Grant took this fraction of a second to charge, ramming his shoulder into the Guardsman while yanking back on his legs, dropping him to the floor. With brutal crudeness, Lian grabbed the fallen man by the locks of his hair, spun him around and smashed his fist into his jaw.

Knock knock. “Come in.”

Lieutenant Viper Pbarny stepped in. He found Commander Grant Lian hunched over his bed, wrapping his elbow in a bandage.

The Dragoon. That’s what they called him. The Major had just witnessed Grant’s handiwork in the sparring ring. He had taken note of his fierce, but rather ugly, fighting style uncharacteristic of most elite combatants of the Empire. Nonetheless, the demonstration left Pbarny in awe at the Commander’s power and speed. This tended to be Grant’s effect on most new officers. However, Viper was not about to take this for granted. He was an educated man, slightly older than Commander Lian, who knew when something just couldn’t be normal, and he aimed to find out how in Palpatine’s name his immediate superior was such an awesome fighter. Was it drugs? Experimental physical augmentation? Was he some sort of prototype mechanical warrior?

“Sir, if I may inquire…”

“Be my guest.”

“What are you?”

This began a series of enlightening sessions for Viper Pbarny.

The setting was Lake Worth, five standard years before the Battle of Yavin. The artillery was fiercely blazing the sky, but the Firebird class transport managed to unload its small company of eighty young soldiers fresh from the Olympic Heights Military Academy. Among their ranks was a small unit of disciplined warriors who had tasted victory before. Black Magic had many veterans such as Drew Tucker, Eric Stanley, Danny Donato, and other “tough” guys, but it also had a handful of new recruits, among them a small boy of age 13, a recent transfer from the reserves.

The heat of the opposition came from a unit of CC troops from the nearby province of Creek. Battle bugles raged while sounds of metal clashing and anguished cries littered the air. Olympic Heights would lose this battle, but Black Magic would prove victorious again, suffering no losses and completing their objective of destroying the enemy battery.

Viper’s gaze of bewilderment prompted CM Lian to take a break to let him think about what had just been said. As he returned, Viper asked him a question.

“I don’t quite understand the culture of Baron, I suppose. Why was a 13-year-old boy fighting in a war?”

“Culture was only part of it. True, Baron’s society usually involved male’s to serve in the military from a rather young age, but certain individuals are recognized for potential and enlisted into various military institutions, rather than having to apply. That boy, however, was not actually recognized for physical potential. He was at the Olympic Heights Military Academy on request of his kin, rather than his own initiative.”

“So he was forced in?”

“Not exactly. The boy’s family was well-regarded in Baron’s society. They offered him the opportunity to make something of himself since he had not done so yet. You see, soldiers who emerge from such institutions as Olympic Heights Military Academy were usually instantly given a Veteran status. However, during their schooling at the Academies, exceptional soldiers have the option of trying out to serve with a Dragoon unit. Thus, due to fact that the military was so propagandized in Baron…”

“He accepted his family’s proposal. You were there, right? I gathered that from your story. Did the boy perform well in that battle?”

“He didn’t particularly shine, but he did his job. Black Magic considered it a test of his ability to keep a clear head. You see, we had a lot of doubts about the abilities of such a small child.”

“Obviously you fought well.”

“As best as I could. I myself was rather young at the time.”

“Tell me about one of your better battles.”

“All right. It must’ve been almost nine years ago…”

It was that time of year again, when rebellious groups on Vector would start to demonstrate. A distress call was made to the Olympic Heights Military Academy, requesting that the institute send units to suppress local unrest in the Suncoast region. Black Magic was called upon to do the job.

The mission was to be of a covert nature, so the unit’s manager, Ray Donato, instructed Eric Stanley, the leader of Black Magic, to insure that his troops were properly dressed and trained. The men had been trained in close combat martial arts over the past few months, and this was the time to use it. The soldiers, dressed in black cloaks, landed on Suncoast merely days before the Hall was about to be overrun.

Black Magic was divided into several small units, one for slash and run, one for heavy assault, et cetera. Grant Lian was currently leading the heavy assault group, somewhat nervous about what awaited. The night before, the young recruit who participated in Lake Worth two years ago, revealed a violent nature, when, in a fit of rage, he fought with several of the other members of the assault team. This incoherence worried Grant slightly.

The battle began in the morning the next day. Tension was still high amongst the unit, and the battle looked grim. The fire was ceaseless, and the enemy was gaining ground. Mere minutes before the revolting mob seized the building, Grant’s assault unit was able to weaken it to a point of retreat.

However, the retreat was only temporary, and Black Magic knew that. Eric was not about to allow another fiasco, and did a comprehensive equipment check. Grant’s assault unit, newly pepped from having saved the day, jumped into the fray first, pummeled the enemy, and delivered the final blows as the opposition retreated once and for all.

“Wow, that sounds really great,” commented Viper. “Didn’t you ever lose a battle? Or were you just so amazing that you never did anything wrong?”

“I pride myself in my training with Black Magic. I can’t really say that I ever made any real mistakes. After all, I would become a Dragoon a few years into my service with Black Magic. However, I remember having to often punish those who did make errors.”

One year after his first battle at Lake Worth, the small boy had grown significantly both physically and mentally, and Grant and his comrades elected that he lead the stationary artillery unit, otherwise known as the Pit. The Pit consisted of several different weapons, some for long range bombardment and others for defense. Having such a diverse arsenal, the Pit tended to be the largest team in the section, but most of the members of Black Magic considered fighting in the Pit mundane and boring, since it used artillery instead of hand to hand combat skills. Nonetheless, it was developing to be an important part of Black Magic’s fighting machine.

To the north of the main kingdom of Baron was a district, known as the Gardens, populated heavily by the less fortunate citizens. However, the area had amassed a large army called the Jurisdiction Infuriation League, or the J.I.L., for short. The J.I.L. decimated many armies in the entire region, instigating vengeance strikes from those who managed to suppress them. One of these vengeance armies was the P.B.G., or the Punic Battle Group.

Baron did not particularly support J.I.L.’s ideals, but the Olympic Heights Military Academy was built on the principle of defending those in need. The P.B.G. was a formidable force, and, especially with the help of the surrounding armies, would surely cause considerable destruction the Gardens. Thus, the services of Black Magic were called upon to support the Olympic Heights “Lion” mercenary army in efforts to repress the oncoming forces.

The battle looked good from the start. Although the P.B.G. severely outnumbered the Lion force, they were rather poorly trained. Lion formed a shield in front of the oncoming army, suppressing their attack. Every so often, a lucky unit would break through, only to be obliterated by Black Magic.

It was during this standoff that he snapped. A small, doomed enemy armored cavalry had broken through the perimeter, and Black Magic’s mobile troops were on their way to intercept. However, the inexperienced officer under Grant Lian’s command in the Pit ordered the artillery to fire, and when this order was questioned, he took the guns himself and launched interceptor missiles into the fray.

Had it not been for Grant’s warning, Black Magic would have been destroyed along with the oncoming enemy armor.

“I can see where you may have had to take judiciary action,” commented Pbarny. “What exactly did you have to do to discipline the boy?”

“I gave him exactly what he deserved. He got…” Grant’s voice trailed.

“What did you give him?”

“I… I don’t quite remember. Yet it all seemed so clear to me only a moment ago. Nevertheless, does this all answer your question about where I got my fighting skills?”

Viper hesitated before answering, contemplating the past few days of this discussion. “The Dragoons,” he finally began. “Tell me about some of the boys there.”

Seven years before the Battle of Yavin, in the distant nation of Odnalro, Grant Lian and several other Dragoons assisted revolutionaries attempting a coup on the Odnalro dictatorship. It was his first year in the Dragoons, but already Lian had fought in many campaigns of superiority. A revolution seemed simple enough. He was the youngest member of his company, and had become war buddies with many other “tough” guys: Josh was the leader, and next in rank was “Dewey,” then Mark, Tanner, Micah… or was there Micah?

Josh was a seasoned veteran, an experienced, methodical warrior, but very conservative. “Fight smarter, not harder,” he always said. And that was what he was doing here at Odnalro, keeping his distance while slashing down the enemy. He’d also said to me more than once, “When you’ve been doing this as long as I have, nothing much impresses you any more.” He certainly practiced his preaching well enough, always went into battle coolheaded.

Dewey and Mark had trained together while in the Dragoon boot camp, both lighthearted guys who didn’t particularly shine in any way but worked extremely well in any unit. Like Grant, they were raised in high-class society, and thus had always been exposed to the works of the military. They were a bit nutty at times, but had proved to be quite effective in the past and were doing their job here in Odnalro.

Tanner was Grant’s personal training partner. His technique was no better than Grant’s, but his experience gave him an edge when doing training exercises. He was not a very talkative person, but the commander considered him to be of high potential.

Then there was Micah. A strange prodigy, age 15, at least two years younger than anyone else in the company…

Viper interrupted the Dragoon. “How did the battle end?”

“We won, of course. An easy victory.”

The lieutenant shook his head. “No sir, you’re wrong.”

“What do you mean? I was there, I should know!”

“I figured as much. DCI. Delusional Conceptual Infliction.”

“What?”

“The company which you were in, MO-99, lost that battle severely. The operation continued, but your losses were too great and a full retreat was ordered.”

“But I remember fighting with them, with Josh and Jon and Breland…”

“With who? You never mentioned a Jon or Breland!”

“Tanner! Alongside Tanner!”

“Tanner was not admitted into MO-99. In fact, neither were you.”

“Lies!”

“Your story, while fascinating, had holes. I was sent to do a background check on you, since I was a biological technical authority.”

“My loyalty to the Empire is ironclad!”

“I’m sure it is. That is of no concern. Originally I was assigned to simply investigate if you were augmenting your abilities using illegal substances. That part of your story holds true, your skills were obtained by intense training in Baron’s fine military institutions.

“I didn’t want to say anything earlier, since I wasn’t 100% certain of the state’s belief. Believe me when I say that your story is extremely convincing. But surely you see the holes in your tale? The average age of a soldier at a military academy on Baron was 14 to 19! Based on your acclaimed age, you were nearly 21 upon graduation.”

“I… I don’t understand what you’re saying!”

“Sir, please relax, we are not convicting you of anything. We simply needed to know why you are the way you are.”

“What about Suncoast? And Notyad?”

“You haven’t yet mentioned Notyad, but the other day I researched this as well.

“The truth is, you were indeed an honored soldier in Baron’s armed forces. You were admitted at an early age. We’ve had your kind of case before. You must have had some serious traumatic experiences while at the Academy, for you’ve taken on an imaginary self in the past couple of years.

“At Lake Worth, you were the young boy who was being tested. You fought extremely well, causing the officials to immediately promote you to a junior officer position in your next year of service and take command of the Pit. However, it was you who committed the mistake of firing within your lines. You were hence punished with 400 days of suspension. When you emerged, you continued to serve, and again you proved to be an exceptional soldier in such campaigns as the Heartland invasion and Suncoast, which you mentioned.

“You were 16 at the beginning of your fourth year of service with Black Magic, a full fledged commander, when your superior officer, Ray Donato, recommended that you apply for the Dragoons. While you were there, a young, extremely talented soldier inspired awe in you. His name was Micah, and it was he, not you, who served alongside Josh, Dewey, and Mark. Tanner was also not there, he was cut from the unit shortly after you were dismissed.

“You were built like most members of Dragoon, and you certainly had the talent to be in them, but your fighting style was determined to be too crude, too emotional and aggressive. You often quarreled with the other recruits and eventually they sent you on an impossible task in which you were knocked unconscious and taken to the infirmary.. However, when you recovered, you never fully recovered. In your mind you were fighting alongside the Dragoon Company MO-99, when in reality, you were still fighting in the mercenary unit Black Magic. Notyad was your final campaign in Black Magic, and it was also an unsuccessful one. Since then, you have retired from Baron’s military, imagining that you were a decorated Dragoon traveling the space lanes on a mission to represent Baron in the Empire.”

“That’s not true! It’s impossible!”

“As painful as it may be, it is true, Commander Lian. Think hard. What really happened when you joined the Empire last year?”

Pbarny paused to give Grant a chance to think. Lian held his head in his hands, shivering. Several tense minutes passed, and finally Grant rose, head still bowed, and began to speak.

“Two years ago I was retired from Black Magic and branded as a wounded soldier because of psychological problems. They had seen in me several instances of violence, as I mentioned before at Suncoast and later on in the Notyad campaign as well. They decorated and graduated me nonetheless for my loyal service, but I retreated back to my noble home and then embarked on a mission to prove myself. I became a vigilante in the FF II-VII sector, and the local officials finally sent me off to join the Empire, who agreed to quarantine and rehabilitate me. Looks like my therapist was you all along.”

“Glad to hear it, sir. I imagine that you must be extremely stressed now. Will you still be able to fight? We performed this background search in hopes of releasing your inner emotions and thus allowing you to fight more safely and more conventionally…”

“I’ll be all right, Lieutenant, but I doubt I’ll be fighting any less energetically. With the truth in mind, I am more clearheaded, but ever more anxious to be the best! I will accomplish the mission I fixed myself to two years ago, and prove myself to be the equal of any of Baron’s Dragoons!”