Disclaimer: This story is not for profit, but most of the characters herein do belong to me. The concepts that I do not own are the Radam Empire, and the Tekkamen. Those belong to another company whose name I don't recall right now.

The planet Navris,

Chelna, the coastal city

Date: Rotation 252, Planetary Cycle: 32,001,298

Drathis Marave looked out over the vast expanse of the city he had lived in all his life. Between two of the buildings, if he looked carefully enough, Drathis could imagine that he saw the ocean, stretching out before him like a vast expanse of smooth blue crystal.

A soft wind blew through the artificial canyon, ruffling Drathis' hair. With hair as black as a lightless mineshaft, and eyes that matched the depths of the sea that was just beyond his line of sight, Drathis knew that he was different than the others. Even if it was merely a physical difference.

Drathis Marave was a Navarian, one of the members of the dominant race that lived on the planet Navris. His only sibling, an elder brother by the name of Jounashi, was in the military. Jounashi was a Captain, in fact, one of the lower ranks to be sure, but Drathis was nonetheless proud of his brother.

Drathis merely wished that he knew what to do with himself. He knew that the military was not for him, but Drathis didn't know of any other profession that would suit him. His father Hyvrin did not approve of the exhibition fighters, those who had trained most of their lives to achieve the levels of skill that made their battles seem effortless, even graceful.

Drathis had the discipline and skill to become one of those; one of the great masters of the blade. It was considered a mark of true talent to be able to fight with merely a sharpened piece of metal, whether it was a small one like a dart or a dagger, or a sword two-and-a-half times the length of your own arm. Plasma rifles and railguns required only a steady hand and a target, and were confined to use in life-or-death situations. Those who had such great skill did not, of course, rely solely on their skills with those weapons to carry them through any and every situation. There were just some things that couldn't be solved in such a way.

Drathis sighed, turning away from his perch at the railing of his balcony. The apartment that his family inhabited was just below the top floor of the tower. Most Navarians lived this way, in the towers of varying height that made up their cities. Occasionally an individual or even a family would chose to live in the undeveloped wilderness areas of the planet, or on one of the orbiting space stations. But those were pretty rare cases.

Drathis did like to visit, both the wilderness and the space stations that he would often catch sight of when he was stargazing, but there was really no other place that he would rather live than his family's home in the Nalet Shayan tower.

The doorway leading in from the balcony opened automatically when Drathis reached it, and Drathis continued through the house until he had reached his room. Once there, Drathis gratefully let himself fall into his bed; wondering about his future had lately left him a bit emotionally drained.