“Color me surprised, Lloyd. When was the last time you lost a match?”
Lunchtime. Lloyd was nibbling away at a dry meal bar when Freddy approached with a teasing remark.
“I apologize, Vice Commander,” Lloyd replied in complete earnestness. “My concentration wavered during the duel. It was a lapse on my part, and it won’t happen again.”
“No, it’s not all that serious,” Freddy replied with an amused smile, quickly waving Lloyd off before he dropped to the floor and gave him fifty.
Vice Commander Freddy, despite his striking good looks that could mislead many into mistaking him for a playboy, was actually a dedicated family man—a fact Lloyd knew well.
“We all have our off days, Lloyd. Honestly, I’m just surprised it took you so long to get yours. Besides, Daz’s win is proof he’s improving. Thanks to your training, no less. You should be proud of that.”
Despite Freddy’s encouraging words, Lloyd’s mood did not improve.
He’d lost. Against Daz, no less. Lloyd’s combat record, though laden with far more victories than defeats, was by no means spotless. He’d entertained losses before, but those had been against Freddy, against the commander, against the people that stood at the top of this organization. This time, it had been against Daz. No matter how hard he’d been training, the raw difference in strength was such that Lloyd couldn’t imagine Daz ever coming close to touching him. And yet, he had.
No. It’s impossible, Lloyd concluded. He hadn’t lost to Daz today. He’d lost to himself.
“You know, Lloyd,” Freddy said, his tone shifting to a more serious note.“I hope it’s just my imagination, but you’ve seemed a tad slower these past few days, actually. Not just today. Really just a tad, though.”
Lloyd tensed. His fleeting hope that no one else had noticed his decline had been dashed, just like that. It’s not just your imagination, Vice Commander.
It was just as Freddy had said—Lloyd’s condition had been suboptimal for days. He’d struggled to accept it, but now, with Freddy’s remark, Lloyd could no longer afford not to. Acceptance, however, did little to help calm the storm in his mind. He knew what it was—a mental block, not a physical condition. But the more he tried to focus, the more he tried to not think about her, the more his thoughts inevitably drifted back to Chloe, back at their home, sweeping the floors, cooking them dinner, diligently managing their household.
“Lloyd, you there, buddy? Hellooo?” Freddy waved his hand in front of Lloyd’s face, finally pulling him out of his reverie.
“Sorry, Vice Commander, I was lost in thought.”
Freddy arched a dubious brow. “You feeling all right? You know you can take off early if you’re not feeling up to it.”
“No, I’m fine. In peak condition, as always.”
“All right, if you say so,” Freddy said, looking away, before his gaze snapped back to Lloyd and his simple lunch. “On a different note—no love-packed lunch box from Chloe today?”
“No; this morning, Chloe—”
“Aha!” Before Lloyd could divulge Chloe’s late rise, Freddy appeared to come to a conclusion himself, his voice jumping in excitement. “You had a fight. You two had a fight, didn’t you? You had a fight and as punishment, she said ‘no lunch for you’! That’s why you’re off your game, isn’t it? There, there, Lloyd, we’ve all been there. Leave it to me. As someone who’s always on good terms with his wife, I’ll teach you the simplest way to get back in her good graces and—”
“No, she just overslept.”
But instead of stopping Freddy in his tracks, Lloyd’s interjection only seemed to stoke his imagination further. “She...overslept?” he said, faking a gasp. “So, what were you doing with her till late last night, you dog? When did you two get so far—you have to tell me these things, Lloyd! But wait, if that’s the case, then why would you be feeling down...”
“No.”
Lloyd cut him off firmly, forestalling Freddy’s spiraling assumptions. Freddy’s response was a hearty cackle. “I’m just kidding, Lloyd. I know better than to expect things to move so fast between you late-bloomers. Heck, I’d be surprised if you two have even told each other how you feel yet.”
Silence from Lloyd.
“I... I said, I’d be surprised if you two have even told each other how you feel yet.”
More silence.
Freddy gasped. “Lloyd, don’t tell me you—”
“Master Lloyd, is that all you’re having for lunch?!” Just then, Luke sauntered into view, interrupting Freddy before he could broach the heart of the matter.
“This is my lunch, yes,” Lloyd replied dryly.
Luke’s reaction was immediate and dramatic. “That just won’t do, Master Lloyd! You need something more substantial. You can’t risk collapsing from hunger!”
“I won’t. I’ve survived three days and three nights in the jungle with minimal food and water.”
“But this isn’t the jungle! You should eat well and fuel your body when you have the chance!”
“I don’t need dietary advice from someone who, the day after his induction, brought his personal chef to prepare a full-course meal on the premises.”
Luke tugged at his collar. “I was...a bit naive then. But look at me now, Lloyd! I bring my lunch just like everyone else!” He opened his lunch box to reveal a lavish array of meats, fish, and assorted side dishes, crammed unceremoniously into the container. It was quite the sight for Lloyd to see such a high-end feast stuffed so haphazardly in such an unassuming container.
Undeterred, Luke urged, “Please, help yourself to my lunch, Master Lloyd! I can’t stand the thought of you eating meagerly while I dine like a king. It goes against my honor!”
“No thanks. I’m getting heartburn just looking at it.”
Luke’s face fell in exaggerated dismay. “Impossible! Then...wait here! I’ll get you something else—some jerky or bread. Just give me five minutes. I’m quick!”
Before Luke could sprint off, Lloyd grabbed him by the collar. “Sit down, Luke. Why would I ever ask anything so lowly of you?”
Luke deflated like a scolded kitten under Lloyd’s firm hand. A sly smile crept onto Freddy’s face at the sight. “Got yourself a nice squire there, Lloyd?” he teased. The former valedictorian of the Knight’s Academy, up-and-coming ace of the First Order, had been rendered meek and compliant under Lloyd’s intense training regimen. Lloyd had only wanted to instill some discipline into the boy, but perhaps he had been a bit too effective.
Shoving the last bit of the meal bar into his mouth, Lloyd stood up. “I’m heading to the yard for some sword practice.”
“Already?” Freddy asked, surprised. “We’re still on lunch break, you know?”
“I need to clear my head,” Lloyd replied, grabbing his wooden practice sword. The defeat against Daz still gnawed at him. Only one thing would solve that, and that was more training.
“Mafster Lwoyd, wet meh be yourf sfhparing parfner!”
“Swallow your food before you talk.”
Luke quickly complied, “So sorry, okay, now—”
But Lloyd was already on his way out. Freddy called out after him, “I applaud your effort; just remember to take a break if you need it. Don’t push yourself to injury.”
“I’ll be fine,” Lloyd responded, not looking back. “I won’t injure myself doing something as simple as—”
Be careful, don’t hurt yourself! A faint remnant of Chloe’s voice tickled the back of his mind.
In a moment of irony, Lloyd’s foot snagged on a table leg.
CRASH!
The next thing he knew, he was sprawled on the floor, his expression a mix of shock and incredulity.
“Lloyd?!” Freddy called out, concern in his voice.
“Master?!” Luke echoed, equally alarmed.
Both hurried to Lloyd’s side, finding him flat on the floor, having tripped unexpectedly.
I...I tripped? Me?
“You, uh, sure you don’t want to take that early leave?”
Lying there, the famed Ebon Reaper of the First Order sighed deeply. “Thank you, Vice Commander,” he finally said, his voice muffled against the floor. “I think I will reconsider.”