Alric's form was fairly sloppy. Living life as a smuggler made him rely more on dodging blows and dirty tricks to keep his origins secret. Lightsaber combat wasn't a specialty of his anymore.
Anro Kirovan's bladework, on the other hand, proved superior. In all three of their sparring matches, the Je'daii Ranger would have disemboweled or decapitated his opponent, had the sabers been at lethal power and been wielded with the intent to kill.
"You must focus," Anro reminded him. "Concetrate on where my blade is and where your blade needs to go to keep it from your body."
They locked blades.
"Working on it..." Alric strained.
The younger man broke away from the lock, shifting backwards, before lunging straight at the elder's chestplate. In a deft and ending move, Anro stepped forward, leaned away from the lunge, grabbed Alric's wrist, and flipped him onto his back with a roll off his shoulder. Alric slammed onto the New Dream's deck with a thud.
"Ow..." said Alric.