He’d double checked – perhaps even triple checked the coordinates that Lilaena De’Ville had given to him . And she had been honest with him. They did not take him to a black hole or an asteroid field. They took him to a planet called Onderon and a city by the name of Iziz. To exactly the place they should have.

Since his meeting with the woman over lunch, he had not only met with his uncle to discuss the possibility of serving as a master to an apprentice who lived there, but he had done some research on the planet. His uncle had agreed that perhaps it was time that he took an apprentice once again – if only to learn from the experience himself, though, there was always much to be learned from an apprentice relationship. And it was with both his uncle and his master’s approval that he had made the decision to come for this meeting.

He had agreed to nothing with De’Ville except that he would make a visit there within a month’s time. And it was still within that time frame. The research he had done on the planet had revealed several things to him. It was located in the Japreal system, and was the primary planet of three. The climate was temperate climate and home to what the books and computer systems described as a primitive race of humans.

De’Ville, he did not consider primitive – and so he decided that what he had found in books and computers was not sufficient – he needed to visit there for himself.

His ship was registered and granted clearance to land without much trouble. This, he knew, could mean one of two things – friendly relations, or ambush. And so he was wary as he set his ship down, but he was not taxed or overly concerned. He was simply aware.

His saber hung on his belt, and a blaster adorned his attire as well. A light duster was pulled on, and then he moved to the exit. With a hiss, the ramp set down and he stepped from it, fully prepared to be met by De’Ville - or to have to seek her out.

Violet eyes gathered information about his surroundings and the force reacted naturally within him, searching and seeking. Dirty blond hair was somewhat tousled as it typically was with him, though it was cropped short, just a bit longer than military fashion. His uncle, was, perhaps, wearing off on him just a bit more than he might have realized. Were it not for s’Ilancy, who kept him often entertained with surprise drinking binges, he might have become just as rigid as Taylor Millard himself.

Instead, he was a healthy mix of seriousness and good humor. And it was with a small smile that he looked about, a hand reaching to rub a small crick from his neck.