AN: This story is based on The Old Republic, but it will not be following the stories of The Old Republic, specifically the Sith Warrior and Sith Inquisitor storylines. As there isn't much about what it's like as a youth in Sith society, that I could find, I shall be taking a few liberties as I believe it was like Spartan society in that they were trained under harsh conditions and pitted against each other. At least for the Sith Warriors, anyway.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Star Wars.

Huge thanks to my beta for betaing for me: D

-x-

Chapter 1: Arrival

Yellow eyes narrowed as a small red hand came up to protect them from the sun. The owner of said eyes looked about at the mountains of dried earth, the rare shriveled up plant, and the odd spindly tree that leaned away from where he stood, stretching as far as the eye could see. Only the assortment of stone buildings he walked towards made up any settlement. Perhaps there was another settlement somewhere in the dry wasteland. But unless it was beyond the mountains in the distance, he could see none in the area surrounding them. The boy wrinkled his nose, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he took in his surroundings. This was Dromund Fels? The place his father said separated the weak from the strong? This was where he would be staying for the next five years? There had to have been a mistake. He rubbed ridges along the bridge of his nose in contemplation as he questioned if he had been on the correct ship.

Ahead, a large group of students the same age as the boy milled about the landing pad, waiting to learn what to do. The intersystem transport that had brought them all here from Dromund Kaas had made it near impossible to gauge the genetic makeup of his fellow students. Now, the boy was able to see that, including himself, there were only six Pureblood Sith present. There were also a few Zabrak and Twi'lek children, as well as a female Rattataki and a male Chiss. But, the majority of the children were humans.

The red-skinned boy's amber-yellow eyes passed over most of the other children without pause. Except, of course, for the blue-skinned boy and the pale, almost chalk-colored, skinned girl. He'd never seen a member of either race up close before, only having seen pictures and holos on his datapad at the Kaas Preparatory School. And even then, the information on the Chiss was limited.

The girl, like all members of her race, had a completely bald head and dark blue or black facial tattoos. Compared to some of the other students, she was a bit on the stocky side and had a look in her eye that made the boy throw a wary look in her direction. Even if he succeeded in making her an ally, he would be wise to keep an eye on her.

The Chiss boy drew his attention far longer than the girl had. Not only was the blue-skinned boy the tallest in the group but, he also appeared to be older and frankly burlier than everyone else, including the Rattataki girl and the observer. What was this boy doing amongst students who were years younger than him? He should have been brought to Dromund Fels at least two years if not three full years ago to compete on equal footing with that year's batch of eight-year-olds. Could this blue-skinned boy be the one 'slow' member of his species? The question only lingered in the Pureblood boy's mind for a few seconds before being dismissed as foolishness. Although the Chiss' pure red eyes were hard to read, it was easy to see they were being used to carefully examining the other students with scrutiny.

"Keep moving!" A voice barked, and a giant hand connected with his back, knocking him out of his reverie.

The boy barely managed to keep from falling on his face as he found himself roughly pushed forward. Catching himself, the Pureblood boy turned and glared at the person behind him.

"How dare you! Do you know who my father is?" The boy demanded, eyes flashing with anger and resentment over being pushed. His rage increased when the blubbery man began laughing, his rotund belly quivering with each guffaw that emerged from between the man's plump lips.

"Oh aye, I know who he is, Commander Amevar Dresal, Captain of the Dreadnought, Enforcer, and one of the 'heroes' of the battle of Bothawai," the heavyset man replied as he got his laughter under control, a sadistic grin beginning to bloom under his thin mustache. "And I know who you are. You're his brat, Rathe," the smile grew wider. "It will be interesting to see if you're as much of a failure as your brother was."

The story of Joltur Dresal was one that had been repeated countless times in whispered conversation over the past year. As the eldest son of a powerful Sith and an incredibly gifted boy, Joltur had been expected to achieve great success. Unfortunately for the Dresal family, Joltur died barely halfway through his first year of training. Joltur had not been the only one to perish, by the end of the year, twelve students had died, but he had been the only one of importance. Now, Rathe found himself under a great deal of pressure to succeed where his brother had failed.

Though he would not admit it to anyone, and barely even admitted it himself, Rathe had doubts about whether he could succeed. He had heard many whispered, and some not so whispered, conversations between his parents and family friends about his abilities and knew he was a bit less prepared for Dromund Fels than his brother had been. Exactly one year ago today, on his final day at Kaas Preparatory School, his father had started training him in preparation for Dromund Fels. The problem was, and Rathe couldn't help but burn with a bit of resentment at this, Amevar Dresal had spent four years training Joltur before the elder brother had been shipped off for official training. Before that day, Rathe had never even thrown a punch, let alone wielded a training saber.

Blinking, Rathe pulled himself from his thoughts and prayed to the Emperor the unease he felt didn't show on his face. Glaring once more at the large man, Rathe made his way down the rest of the ramp to the other children. Despite the vast differences between all of them, every single one of them, even the Chiss, were here because of the interest they showed towards physical aptitude and prowess of the Sith Warriors. That wasn't to say that Rathe and his peers were stupid, although some could very well be, they merely hadn't shown the same interest in force techniques as they had lightsaber skill during testing. Despite this knowledge, Rathe curled his lip in disgust as he got a closer look at the other children. Some were runts while others showed signs of being less than ideal candidates for becoming Warriors in service to the Emperor. These students, mainly humans, sported cybernetic implants to either correct an injury or a possible birth defect. They wouldn't last long here.

"You look like you smell something foul."

Rathe jumped slightly at the unexpected voice next to him and felt a flush of embarrassment as he looked up at the Chiss boy he had been examining earlier. In his mind, he could hear his father's voice scolding him for not being more aware of his surroundings. It was one thing to observe the weaknesses of others; it was another thing to lose track of your surroundings. Despite his embarrassment, Rathe found his interest in the Chiss boy increase, how could one so large move around so silently?

"No, but I see a few things that offend my eyes," he commented idly.

"Would those offenses happen to be people like me?" The Chiss boy asked, his words almost drowned out by the sound and wind produced by the shuttle they had arrived in taking off. "Those of us who are not pure-blooded Sith like you."

The Sith boy shook his head. "Not entirely no, while I would prefer for there to be more purebloods like me, I know the Imperial forces are made up of more than just my kind." Rathe looked away from his conversation partner and focused upon one of the humans with cybernetic implants, this one having a cybernetic eye. "I was offended by the sight of humans with obvious weaknesses such as hers. If one already has an implant, then either they caused themselves enough of an injury to need one, or they were born with a defect that caused them to be unable to use one eye." He returned his attention to the boy standing next to him. "I realize that the implant will probably give her a slight advantage as she'll be able to see in the dark with it and analyze others. But it also gives the rest of us an immediate target to go for."

The Chiss boy fell silent and just looked at Rathe for a few moments as he thought over the Pureblood's words. As the moments passed, Rathe began to feel a bit uncomfortable under the gaze of the other boy's solid red eyes. "I suppose you are right." The blue-skinned boy finally said. "But sometimes remember even those who appear weak survive while those who appear strong die."

Rathe blinked in confusion at the other boy's words, but before he could ask for clarification, the fat instructor from before began ordering them into a nearby building. Upon entering the building, Rathe immediately wished he was back outside. Outside, the temperature had been extremely high, but at least it had been a dry heat. Here, the air was stale, stagnant, and humid. Within minutes of being inside the building, Rathe could feel his clothes becoming damp as beads of sweat rolled down his face and the back of his neck.

As he wiped the sweat from his brow, Rathe warily eyes the marked off area in the center of the room and the large group of older children already standing around the edge of the area. Every single one had their eyes trained on the students who had just arrived. As he drew closer to the older children, the Sith boy noticed that there was something a bit...off about them. They all appeared to have a certain rough edge to them, despite their crisp outfits. At first, Rathe thought this was because he of their rough, dry skin or their hair was long enough to touch their chins. But then he began to realize that, despite having the appearance of being clean, they all reminded him of manual laborers he had seen coming back from the forests of Dromund Kaas who always seemed to look dirty no matter what they did. It certainly did not help that he could see dirt under the fingernails of the students closest to him.

The moment the last student had come to a stop around the rectangle, the fat instructor, as well as a purple-skinned Twi'lek woman with black tattoos and scars covering her lekkus and a slim man of average height, with red hair and a scar that bisected a milky white eye moved into the center of the marked-off area.

"Welcome to Dromund Fels." The Twi'lek woman began, the amusement in her voice making Rathe shiver. She sounded jovial, but the dark look in her eye told him she was not all that friendly. "You may refer to me as Instructor Akiva. To my left is Instructor Trevin," she indicated the skinnier of the two humans standing with her. "And to my left in Instructor Uthyn," She gestured towards the largest of the three instructors. "Now that you are all here, we will begin your training. Immediately."

The shock coming from the newly arrived students, including Rathe, was nearly palpable. None had suspected they would start training the moment they set foot off the transport that had brought them here. At the very least, Rathe had thought the training would begin in the morning.

Instructor Trevin took a step forward and began speaking. "Some of you might have received training from your parents, and some of your parents might have told you what training here would be like, but I assure you, none of you will truly understand what the training here is like until you've seen it firsthand." He turned and gestured for his overweight associate to take over.

"When I call your name, move to the center of the fighting area, and take your weapon." Rathe's eyes narrowed as the Uthyn's beady eyes landed on him. Whatever the fat man was planning, he was ready for it.

"Kasal Traael."

A dark-skinned boy stepped forward from amongst the group of older students and took the practice blade offered to him, moving to the center of the marked-off area.

"Rathe Dresal."

Rathe kept his face blank, ignoring the raised eyebrows and whispers of confusion from the older students, as he stepped forward and took the practice blade held out to him. Once he reached the center of the fighting area, the red-skinned boy took a moment to examine the older boy. From being surrounded by so many humans on Dromund Kaas, Rathe knew the blond hair and green eyes combined with his dark skin was an incredibly unusual combination. His observations came to an abrupt halt when Rathe realized the other boy was smirking at him, his green eyes filled with nothing but pure arrogance as he gazed back at the Pureblood. Rathe's nostrils flared in anger as he realized the other boy was expecting an easy win. He would show the Kasal just how wrong he was when he wiped the smirk off his face.

"FIGHT!" The fat human bellowed.

Both boys raced forward with their practice blades held aloft. They met each other with a crash; their blades locked together. Immediately Rathe realized he was at a disadvantage as the human was taller and broader than him. The added strength, plus the natural pull of gravity, forced the red-skinned boy to hold his blade at an awkward upward angle to keep the other boy's sword at bay. He growled faintly, jumping backward and dodged to the side when the human lunged at him.

"Running away?" The human taunted.

Rathe scowled, his irritation with the other boy growing as the two boys circled each other. He charged the bigger boy, ducking under a blow to strike at the boy's leg. Unfortunately, despite the blow hitting its target, it did not knock Kasal off his feet and instead earned Rathe a punch to the face. The impact sent pain racing throughout his entire skull, causing him to fall back, clutching his nose. Rathe was so thrown off by the pain radiating from his nose, he unconsciously dropped his guard and did not notice the dark-skinned boy's attack until Kasal's boot was embedded in his stomach.

As the wind was driven from his lungs, Rathe could hear his father's voice in his head scolding him for dropping his guard. Fighting his immediate instinct to clutch at his ribs, the red-skinned boy grabbed Kasal's boot before it withdrew too far with his free hand. He realized his mistake as Kasal used his hold as an anchor and lashed out with a kick that Rathe barely ducked out of the way. Letting go, he awkwardly struck out with his practice blade at the back of Kasal's knees but only managed to hit the older boy's thighs. A grunt and a muted smack were the only indications his blade had even made contact before the boot he'd been holding slammed into Rathe's face.

Blood burst forth from his nose, and the taste of copper filled his mouth as Rathe fell backward onto the floor. Practice blade clutched tightly in his hand; he quickly rolled to the side. Continuing to move as Kasal brought his sword down, missing Rathe's side by inches. The blood flowing from his nose left a trail on the floor as he rolled and steadily dripped into a small puddle as Rathe pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He was unable to get much further before Kasal's foot buried itself in his abdomen. The air escaped Rathe's lungs once more, and a second later, the knee from Kasal's other leg appeared in his line of sight. Rathe wasn't able to get his hands up to block, but he was able to tilt his head back, so the knee hit his mouth instead of his now undoubtedly broken nose. He barely registered the pain blossoming from his mouth before Kasal's practice blade slammed into his back, and Rathe was knocked to the ground. He hissed faintly as both his cheek and upper chest were awkwardly forced down onto his own practice blade. The Pureblood boy had just enough time to pull the blade out from underneath him before Kasal stomped down on the spot between his shoulder blades. The air that'd slowly been returning to his lungs solidified in Rathe's throat, and he choked. Panicking slightly, the red-skinned boy barely registered his instincts telling him to strike before Rathe was sweeping his blade back. He felt the blade impact, and out of the corner of his eye, Rathe saw Kasal falter slightly.

'Move!'

The word flashed through his mind, and he was crawling forward, quickly rising from a belly crawl to moving on all fours and then awkwardly stumbling upwards onto his feet. Spinning on his heel, Rathe had just enough time to bring his blade up clumsily, parrying Kasal's sword away. The second swing of Kasal's sword was blocked, and Rathe found his blade locked with Kasal's once more. Just like the last time they had locked swords, the red-skinned boy strained against Kasal's greater strength and gravity. But, unlike last time, blood loss was starting to make him fatigued so when Kasal shifted his weight and eased up the pressure, Rathe stumbled forward. He tripped as Kasal's foot swept his feet out from under him and his practice blade slipped from his grasp as Rathe instinctively moved his hands to catch himself. Once again, he was knocked flat onto the ground by a kick from Kasal. A second hit him hard enough to push him onto his side. Rolling onto his back, Rathe had just enough time to take a ragged breath before an increasingly familiar boot pressed against his throat.

Choking, Rathe moved to pull the foot off but found his right bicep pinned by Kasal's left foot and his right hand anchored by the tip of Kasal's practice blade. Panic started to set in as he tried to kick Kasal, but his legs were too short to reach the boy, literally standing on top of him.

"That's enough," the voice of Instructor Trevin called as Rathe's lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen. "Congratulations on your victory Traael."

Kasal looked disappointedly towards where the instructor was standing but did, with great reluctance, move off Rathe. The red-skinned boy's hands immediately shot to his throat as he greedily sucked air into his lungs.

"For your reward, you will receive a single ration bar," Instructor Akiva said, turning to run her gaze over each of the new students. "This is how things work here, you win, and you receive a ration bar. You lose, and you receive nothing!" She came to a stop and locked eyes with Rathe. "Now clear out of the arena so the next fight can start." Rathe's practice blade lifted from the ground and shot towards her outstretched hand.

The Pureblood boy struggled to his feet but must not have moved fast enough as he suddenly found herself roughly pulled to his feet by Instructor Uthyn and shoved towards the edge of the ring. Rathe stumbled and tripped over his own feet but was saved from face planting by a steady hand grabbing his bicep and steadying him.

"Now, let us see what the rest of you are capable of," the large instructor continued with a dark laugh.

Rathe nodded his thanks at his savior, the Chiss boy from earlier, and continued through the spectators to the wall. Turning, he heavily leaned his back against the wall and slid down it, so he was sitting on the floor with his knees touching his chin.

A shiver worked its way through his body, and Rathe vaguely realized that despite the heavy, humid, heat he was not only freezing but violently shivering. His already shortened breath became even more labored, and Rathe's mind grew unfocused as the proud son of Amevar Dresal slipped into shock.