Pausing, Obi-Wan raised his brow at Dogma. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” He questioned slowly.

Shifting, the trooper in black and silver glanced at his fellow trooper then back to Obi-Wan. “Commander Tano is on route to meet us, she’s the padawan of General Skywalker. She’ll be here in less than two days.” Dogma repeated, looking uncertainly at Obi-Wan’s stone face.

Of course, Obi-Wan was quite aware that padawan’s were in the war efforts.

Hell, he had been part of the council when they voted on allowing the padawans onto the battlefield and how young they could be.

Ahsoka Tano was fifteen years old.

Despite not meeting with them, Obi-Wan was also aware of his lineage, who joined them.

She only recently turned fifteen.

From the way Dogma spoke, not only had he met the young padawan but this was not the first time she had been on a battlefield.

He took a deep breath, sitting back in the creaky chair in his tent, pausing all his data work as he set his pad down on the equally creaky table he had. “Are you telling me that Anakin Skywalker is allowing his young padawan onto the battlefield, the most active battlefields in the entire war?” He questioned blankly.

Dogma slowly nodded, even as Zuru shifted beside him, both equally uncertain clearly. “Since she became his padawan, yes sir. General Yoda sent her to him, General Jinn thought she was going to be his padawan.” Dogma explained, though he didn’t seem familiar with the situation.

Second-hand information from one of his vode then.

Obi-Wan stared at him before slowly getting up and moving to pick up his sparring droid case. “Right, I’m gonna… I need to work out some aggression now.” He stated crisply, lips pulled into a taut, white line.

Both troopers parted, allowing Obi-Wan past them and out of the tent, the Jedi marching past several vode as he made his way over to an empty area for sparring, his mind whirling with the information he had just gained.

Not only was a padawan under the age of seventeen, as was the majority for togrutas, being regularly deployed to the worst of the war zones in this war by her master, but also with the full knowledge and permission of the grandmaster of the Jedi order.

Obi-Wan’s great grandmaster.

Dropping the case, Obi-Wan kicked it so hard he felt like his toes were going to break, his anger getting the better of him.

Even as he lunged at the droid, he could feel Zuru and Dogma’s concern bouncing of his shields, could feel the attention of the camp slowly turn towards him as the noises started echoing, could feel Jinn suddenly being there.

And with him, Skywalker.

Obi-Wan’s carefully shuttled anger grew again and he let out a deep snarl at the injustices the latter reminded him of.

Their padawans shouldn’t be out in these fields, at all, but at the very least their youngest, the ones below their majority, should never be in the worst battlefields.

Obi-Wan’s grandmaster had allowed such a thing and Obi-Wan felt like tearing his hair out as he worked with his emotions.

The myth of Jedi not feeling anger, rage or even wrath was something he didn’t understood but if anyone had seen Obi-Wan at that moment, they would have that notion removed.

Because Obi-Wan was angry, angrier than he had ever been before in his life.

But he was also working through it.

‘Feel it, taste it but don’t let it control you,’ He reminded himself firmly, teeth gritted as he dodged the swing of a metal arm and lashed out with his leg. ‘I am stronger than my rage, I am better than my wrath. I am in control, not it.’