Jaster sits straight and tall, attentive and listening carefully to the archivists and historians before him as they deliver their report.
He is not looking forward to arranging the return of so many Jedi artifacts. By the looks on their faces, neither are they. He knew what they were likely to find when they started looking but… stars, knowing is worse than guessing.
He is certain they all have their own image of a curious little Jedi pestering them with questions in their mind as they report on the padawan braids they found in the depths of storage.
It is time to make things right, or, as right as they can be.
It is time to lay those children to rest.
“Mand’alor.” Silas murmurs from his side.
Jaster tilts his head in acknowledgement, his eyes never leaving the discussion at hand.
“We have guests.” There’s a strain to his voice, no one else is anywhere close enough to hear.
If he were not mourning long dead children Jaster might smile and ask when they don’t have guests.
“Is that so?” He asks quietly, fishing for more information.
“Outsiders, they’re… a stubborn sort and not the kind I thought wise to turn away.” Whoever it is, Silas won’t risk it in a semi-public forum.
“Hmmm, do I have time after this?” He hopes so, if only for Silas’s sake.
“Yes, plenty. Shall I tell them they have an audience after the reports are finished?”
Jaster only nods and refocuses on the conversation before him.
-
His visitors are… Well, he will be choosing his words carefully.
He suspects lying directly would be ill-advised. Clever words for powerful and difficult organizations.
Jaster almost regrets his attempt at diplomacy.
His helmet sits steadily at his side and he suspects it is foolish to rely on ignorance hiding his body language.
This really is getting difficult.
Silas takes his place by Jaster’s side and introduces him.
A very dramatic display but Jaster is only grateful to maintain the illusion of power.
The lone human of the group steps forward, nervous and twitchy and young.
“Greetings, Mand’alor Mereel. The InterGalactic Banking Clan and Trade Federation send their most humble respects and hope that you will see fit to hear to their representatives.”
Jaster does not respond beyond a nod.
It was clever of them to risk such a sudden visit. Jaster cannot risk sending them away now that they’re on his planet, now that he has seen them. He has no research prepared, he has not had time to hide anything he may want to.
The thought has his heart clenching.
The Jedi.
They haven’t decided what exactly to do about their place on his planet. Jaster knows they hope to keep it quiet as long as possible, afraid of sparking a war that would bring nothing but suffering.
The spacers who pass through his territory may gossip, but as far Jaster has heard, nearly everyone in the galaxy has seen the Jedi. Whether that be on Jedha or on their way to Wild Space or sneaking around the Hutts. He suspects this is intentional but he has not asked. The current theory seems to be that they’ve spread across the galaxy, their children hidden on some secret planet only the Jedi could ever reach. No one has confirmed their place with his people and Jaster has no interest in changing that.
This could be disastrous. The Republic finding out from a spacer is one thing, a problem certainly. The Trade Federation and the Banking Clan, powerful organizations with priorities and ambitions that twist and manipulate telling them? That is dangerous.
“Um, the Trade Federation sends their brightest members. I have the honor to introduce Lott Dod and Daultay Dofine, representing the Trade Federation.”
Jaster nods to both of them, just polite enough to be appropriate and tries to remember everything he knows about the organization. He does not miss that they are not given titles. He also does not fail to notice their youth. The Trade Federation may have sent their brightest but they certainly haven’t sent their powerful. Another point in favor of this being a ploy for information.
“The InterGalactic Banking Clan sends its best out of respect for the Mand’alor’s position and glory. Therefore, I introduce the honorable San Hill and Hego Damask II, who speak for the Banking Clan.”
The Banking Clan fails to inspire any great faith in their own way. While their representatives are older, and without a doubt more powerful, they are also sharper in a way that Jaster doesn’t trust, cannot trust. Really, he should have expected this.
He hums, considering.
The human flinches faintly and darts their gaze down to the floor.
He needs support.
There is a quiet humming in the back of his mind. His instincts tell him to take care.
They tell him not to trust, not to listen.
They tell him not to allow the Jedi’s presence to be known.
They tell him he needs help.
He runs through his options carefully and makes a decision.
He only hopes the Jedi will forgive him for it.
“It is an honor to meet you, representatives.” He does not attempt to lessen his accent. “I’m sure our meeting will bring many… fruit.” He looks to Silas, who nods. “Tell me, have you found lodgings?”
One of the Trade Federation representatives steps forward.
“Ah, we had hoped to locate lodgings after our meeting. We did not want to keep you.”
We did not want you to have time to consider.
We hoped you would not catch wind early.
“Well, that will not do. You are guests, perhaps you would like a guide.”
The human perks up, no doubt glad to have assistance in what is likely their responsibility.
“We would be honored.” San Hill replies.
“Excellent.” He turns to Silas with a smile that his second has never liked. “I believe Ad’ika is still in the library, I think they would do well.”
“Ad’ika.” It’s a statement and a question of sanity all at once. Silas is very talented.
Jaster nods.
“If their teacher is around, ask them but Ad’ika will do fine. Have them visit Chassa first, it wouldn’t do for them to be missing pieces.”
“Of course, Mand’alor.” Ah, Jaster hopes their visitors don’t pick up on the grinding teeth.
Silas leaves with all the efficiency of his position and Jaster turns back to his guests with a smile.
“Ad’ika?” San Hill asks. He seems to have taken the speaking position for now. It does not surprise him, the Trade Federation representatives are still young enough they likely defer naturally.
“A nickname, my apologies, we have known one another for a long time. I will introduce you properly once they’ve arrived.” They nod at this and hesitate, only for a moment.
“So, what brings you to my system?” Jaster smiles, affable.
“Well, sir.” Lott Dod gets his courage back and takes charge. “We, the Trade Federation that is, respect Mandalore for its independence and… influence.” Well, Jaster won’t say he’s surprised.
Mandalore has dealings with the Trade Federation but… nothing formalized with Jaster’s government at the moment.
“We believe that… together we could…” He continues, attempting a partially improvised sale of some kind of alliance.
“You have lovely domes, Mand’alor.” Jaster’s attention snaps to the Banking Clan’s other representative. He hadn’t even noticed him move to the windows.
“I wonder, where did you get them?” Jaster follows his gaze and does not allow himself to react.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” He smiles tightly. “We are mostly desert now, no thanks to the Republic, we use domes to protect many of our settlements.” He chooses his words carefully.
“Ah, it’s just, I couldn’t help but notice, they look so familiar.”
That… is not good.
“They may.” Jaster concedes. “We have obtained some new ones recently from Republic space.”
Damask hums. “When I was a young one, I briefly visited a planet in the throes of famine. The Jedi had domes just like those. An amusing coincidence, I’m sure.”
Jaster does not grit his teeth, not when it would give him away.
Instead, he smiles. Let them see the monster they so believe him to be.
“You are an observant being.” Jaster chuckles through the compliment before sobering. “There are many things one might say about the Jedi.” He says lightly. “But they are not such fools that they do not know when they have met their match. We may have… come to an understanding that their domes were better suited here.” Their people as well, but Jaster will not mention that.
Damask studies him, a glint of something unidentifiable in his eyes.
“Is that so?”
Jaster doesn’t bother to answer that. He turns back to Lott Dod and gestures for him to continue.
“Right, we believe that a closer relationship between Mandalore and the Trade Federation would reap great-.”
Jaster half listens to the sales pitch and cuts him off as Silas reenters from a side door, a figure following close behind.
“Ah, apologies for the interruption, Sir Dod. This is Adi of Clan Wren and House Vizsla. She is much better with the… hm, language than I am. I hope you will find her assistance useful.”
Adi Gallia does not bow, does not even twitch like she might, instead she inclines her head slightly to their guests.
“Welcome to Mandalore.” She says, a pleasant smile on her face. “May your stay be fruitful.”
The Jedi’s move to Mandalore is both an opportunity and a loss.
Adi had only just told her Master of her carefully considered thoughts and quietly formed plans for Coruscant when Initiate Kenobi was taken from them.
Her days after were spent honing and preparing a plan that would not leave them in the dark again. She is only a padawan but Adi has seen more than one Jedi return with far greater injuries than they should have had with proper information.
She has seen the danger of ignorance and given time, her plans would have assisted in making Coruscant a wellspring of information and intelligence.
She trusts in the Force to keep them safe but she will not allow her family to be blindsided by lies and clever words again.
Mandalore has been a new interest of many Jedi. Her cousin has found a shared passion for art. She has heard some of the younger Knights are quite taken with shig. The younger padawans have added the Force to some of the Mandalorian games they’ve learned.
For Adi, her interest is everything. Her Master cannot take her on missions outside the system at the moment but has given Adi approval for her own solo mission. One that she will see through to the best of her ability.
She has gently bothered Knight Feemor into telling her everything he can remember.
She has watched Obi-Wan’s Clan and listened to their childish questions and his simple answers.
She is steadily working her way through Mandalore’s histories, the recorded and the spoken. She has made herself a regular presence in the armory and the Mand’alor’s House armorer is happy to answer the questions she has and explain the factions and when and where to take care.
She sits in on public meetings when she can and the Council of Keldabe has dubbed her their Jet’ika and talk very loudly about how if only their own children were as interested in the important things as the very nice young Jedi.
Adi is learning Mando’a as fast as she can, through datapads and immersion and sheer force of will.
Coruscant is gone and her dreams of an intelligence network spanning the planet are gone with it. Mandalore is new and uncertain and surprisingly kind and her plans will adjust to it.
Adi has spent a long time uncertain of her path forward as a Knight.
She is certain now.
Knowledge will be her future, not as an archivist but as a diplomat. Someone who knows and plans and understands.
Someone who walks into a dispute and knows it isn’t actually about the fence being too high.
Someone who arrives on the scene of an assassination attempt and understands each suspect’s motivations.
She will not be blinded by arrogance but she will not be caught unawares when it can be avoided.
She is in the Mand’alor’s library, studying the life of a tyrant a thousand years dead with a legacy far longer when Silas walks in.
“Padawan Gallia.” His smile is strained.
She has not spent much time with Silas but he seems to be radiating more stress than usual.
“There wouldn’t happen to be any… other Jedi around would there?” He tries for casual.
Adi considers him and does not allow herself to feel slighted. He is only worried for her and something whispers that it is for good reason.
“No, the others left hours ago. I’m the only one here.”
He grimaces.
“There are visitors, outsiders from the Banking Clan and Trade Federation. Jaster wants you there as a guide. You don’t have to, no one will force you but…”
She considers this. An opportunity she never thought possible and nods to show she understands.
“As a Jedi?” She hopes not, things are still far too delicate to announce it outright. The Senate may guess, the Senate may even know but they have no proof and that cannot change.
“No.” He winces. “I’m supposed to take you to Chassa, she’ll know best.”
The Mand’alor is serious then, to send her to his House Armorer.
They hurry down to the armory, Adi allows the Force to enhance her movements just enough to keep up.
Chassa is ready for them and sends Silas a glare that has him cringing.
“I could only do so much with so little time. We don’t keep enough durasteel around and it will not look fitted but I doubt they know enough to notice.”
The helmet does not accommodate for her skullcap or tendrils so it must remain clipped to her belt.
The other pieces fit more or less.
She hides her saber beneath the too large backplate and tucks her padawan braid well out of sight.
Adi doesn’t think it looks too out of place, a few stripes of green paint ensure she isn’t obviously different. She’s been on an extended undercover mission with her Master in the past that required armor.
A month may not be long enough to appear seamless to Mandalorians but Adi hopes it is enough for beings in business and banking.
Silas whispers tips and instructions. Where to take them, what to say and how to hide but Adi is not worried.
The Force will guide her.
She only has to trust.
She takes a deep breath outside the chamber and nods to Silas that she is ready.
Mandalorians do not bow, instead Adi inclines her head slightly in the way she has observed is common.
“Welcome to Mandalore.” She says. “May your stay be fruitful.”
She keeps her body language open, confident and almost arrogant in a way she is not.
The Mand’alor draws their attention away from her and she takes the time to observe.
The human is nervous. They defer to the others and do not want to be here.
The Neimoidians are young but this does not make them foolish. Adi wonders which branches they come from, she will have to find out.
The Muun are… the Force whispers to her, too faint to make out and barely noticeable.
Adi will be careful of the Muun.
“We will have to speak more at a later time. I’m afraid I did not have time to plan for your arrival and I have other responsibilities to attend to.” Jaster smiles, a reproach and an offer in one.
“Of course! We appreciate you taking the time to meet with us!” One of the Neimoidians nods eagerly.
Adi straightens with a smile that is all teeth.
“If you will follow me?” She gestures to the door.
Jaster calls the Jedi first, a priority message to their council and waits for them to assemble.
In the meantime, Silas sweeps the room in search of trouble.
Jaster winces at the clear sign of nerves. Silas has not felt the need to prowl so aggressively for listening devices in quite some time.
He doesn't acknowledge it, instead pulling up his next commcode. He considers calling but… well, he has looked for enough trouble today.
Clan Wren can learn of their new temporary member via message and yell at him later.
Their Clan head will understand, although she may make some very pointed comments about how her candidate for Mand’alor would have called at the next council meeting.
The Jedi call back and Jaster sighs before he accepts the call.
“We… may have a problem.” He grimaces. “The Trade Federation and Banking Clan are here.”
Some of the Jedi frown, some grimace, some remain visibly unaffected.
“Report to the Senate, they will. If profitable, it seems.” Yoda frowns.
Jaster nods. “I would not be shocked. If nothing else, they will certainly report to their superiors.”
He hesitates, it was not a long conversation and it may mean nothing at all but… It is wise to be thorough.
“One of them, from the Banking Clan. He recognized the domes.”
Dooku raises an eyebrow.
“That is…” He hums in thought.
“I implied they were stolen but… it may be best to keep away for now.” Jaster does not know which Jedi have had dealings with either party, any member may be recognized if the circumstances are right.
He is banking on the fact that Adi is a padawan and by what he has heard, is more likely to be overlooked by outsiders.
He takes a deep breath. “I have… employed Padawan Gallia’s assistance in the matter.”
“Why?” Windu asks, not hostile but insistent.
“We are in this together.” Jaster says, fierce. “You are your own people but… this, I will not keep you in the dark when it has the potential to endanger you, your children. There is something more to this, I do not know what but… I do not like it. I cannot trust it.”
Nu tilts her head in acknowledgement from the side.
“Padawan Gallia will be a good asset.”
“Master!” Someone, Jaster isn’t sure who, protests.
“She is a Senior Padawan, observant and careful.” She cuts them off. “We must trust in the Force to keep her safe. I trust you don’t have her doing anything too reckless.” There is a challenge in her voice and Jaster smiles.
“Of course not.” He reassures them.
-
Adi leads their guests down lonely halls and through doors without running into anyone, something she is terribly grateful for.
She doesn’t believe the people here would break her cover but not everyone is good at improvising or recognizing when… certain deceptions are necessary.
This part of the complex, as Silas had breathlessly explained to her, is rarely used. It is subtly cut off from the rest of the complex, a wing that can be shut up and excluded from siege preparations.
It is meant for visitors you do not trust and any Mandalorian entering it would be insulted to stand in its halls.
The only use it has seen in recent years is as overflow for a great meeting of the Clans that coincided with another gathering and even then only the very edges with much apologizing.
Even Knight Feemor did not stay in its lonely rooms. A show of trust that Adi notes to consider later.
Now, it will see use again.
She ignores the layer of dust building in the corners and steadily heads for the furthest chambers. Silas sent word to someone to get new bedding but they’ll need as much time as possible to prepare.
“Ah, Lady Wren.” One of the Munn pauses. “I wonder, these tapestries, would you be willing to tell us about them?”
She glances up and holds back a grimace.
It is a gruesome thing.
She wouldn’t be surprised if all the tapestries she’s been ignoring are similar. A subtle warning of the consequences of treachery.
She recognizes the scene, a triumph by one of the ancient Mand’alor’s of old, the hunting of a Jedi.
“Of course,” She smiles and does not look at where the blood flows from the long since dead and mourned Jedi’s stomach. “My apologies, I thought you might be tired from your long journey.”
She tells the story, leaving out the more upsetting details for the benefit of the visibly unenthusiastic Neimoidians and Human.
She does not waver for even a moment.
-
Jaster schedules a meeting of his own council next.
There is no need to give his guests any indication that his government is anything more interesting than a dictatorship with strange and archaic rules of ascension.
There is a reason he had the rumor quietly spread that his position was won in a duel.
The less they understand, the better in this case.
By now, Silas has informed the people within the complex who need to know that there are outsiders being housed and where. The details and Adi’s inclusion are kept quiet, the more that know, the more that may talk.
Jaster does not need any hint of the truth getting back to his visitors.
He trusts his people but… well, accidents happen.
Even Mando’a is no guarantee.
All it takes is a recording and a half decent speaker.
If the council meets and they are thorough enough in their planning and consideration, there need not be even a hint of anyone or anything behind the Mand’alor.
Let them think he is alone at the top, respected and perhaps even loved but without true support beyond a chosen few.
Let them see Mandalore. Vicious, violent, and uncivilized Mandalore and let them look no further.
Adi’s charges only stop her one more time, another inquiry into a horrible ancient battle.
No Jedi killing this time. No, this time it’s a battlefield piece from one of the Sith wars.
Adi keeps it short, even the other Muun is starting to get visibly restless. Damask only smiles and thanks the rest of the party for indulging his interests.
“An interest in history?” She asks, making pleasant conversation as they take the last turn.
“Oh, yes.” He smiles. “Although, I’ll grant that much of the time I find myself fascinated by the frontiers of science.”
“Someone will be by later with a meal, freshers are through to your left.” Adi opens the first door and gestures to Lott Dod to go in. He sighs with relief as the door closes.
“Ah, well, there is much to learn in the galaxy.” She nods, turning back to Damask. “I can’t say I’m much of a scientist myself.”
“Oh, not a scientist.” The Munn corrects. “Only an enthusiast. I suppose you are more of a warrior then.” It is a subtle dig for information and Adi does not answer for a moment.
Her implied proximity to the Mand’alor should not make her too deferential to outsiders.
She lets the other Trade Federation representative have the next room and waits until San Hill has also been shown his rooms.
Two left.
“I am not only a warrior,” she says lightly. “I find the old histories interesting as well.”
“Hmm, perhaps I will have to ask you more. Will we be seeing you again?” He asks, eyes sharp.
Adi nods, decisive and clear.
“It is likely, the Mand’alor will want you to have a tour at a later time.” She smiles, allowing a little fondness into her expression. “I was a late foundling so my grasp of Basic is better than many of the others.”
“I see, I will be looking forward to it.” He says before entering his room and closing the door behind him.
Adi turns to the human.
“Hello, I don’t believe I got your name.”
They cringe, clearly intimidated.
“I’m, um, Dae.”
“Adi.” She smiles.
“Yeah, I heard.” They say and then blush in embarrassment.
She chuckles and opens the next door.
“This will be your quarters. They’re the same layout as the others, so freshers.” She points to the door.
They openly gape.
“Is everything alright?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s great. I wasn’t-, it’s, um, acceptable.” They sober quickly and straighten up with a nod.
Very low on the hierarchy then.
“Alright,” she considers. “Have you had mid meal yet?”
They startle but slowly shake their head.
“They did.” They tilt their head in the direction of the other rooms. “I was too nervous.”
She nods.
“I haven’t either. I could bring you something from the kitchens if you want?”
“Oh, um, that’d be great.” They smile hesitantly. “Thanks.”
She steps back with a smile and waits for the door to close.
Deep breaths, Adi.
-
She takes a few moments to step in and update Silas, letting him know who she put in which room as well as a brief summary of the conversations.
He winces once he hears about the tapestry and apologizes sincerely that no one had thought to warn her. She accepts it, as much as it brought disquiet to see.
Mandalore has gloried in hunting her people for a long time.
It is not a surprise for all it saddens her to see the traces that remain.
“It’ll be suspicious if we remove it now.” He says with regret.
“I agree.” Adi knows it to be true. Damask at the very least would notice.
“I’ll make sure it’s taken care of once they leave,” Silas smiles. “I think we have some lovely pieces depicting one of the Civil Wars we could put up, or…” he grimaces. “There’s always the Demagol one.”
Adi tries to keep the interest off her face but all Silas does is chuckle knowingly.
“We took it down after one of the kids got lost wandering the halls one night and saw it, found them an hour later in tears. It’s a great intimidation piece though.”
“I’m sure.” Adi cannot say that she understands the appeal.
-
Food is easy to obtain and she returns to Dae with a selection of items. The Mandalorian who assisted her swears they shouldn’t be too much for an outsider and Adi acquiesces to their experience.
She kicks the door lightly with her foot, her arms full, and Dae opens it with no small amount of relief in their expression.
“Thank you,” They seem excited to eat.
“Do you mind if I join you?” Adi asks.
They look bewildered but nod easily enough.
“You are not a representative.” She states more than asks, setting the dishes out on the small table provided.
“No, I’m not.” They respond cautiously.
“I wondered if I could ask how you came to join their party.” It is a reasonable question. “And if there are responsibilities they expect you to fill. The Mand’alor does not enjoy outsiders wandering the complex but I might be able to assist.”
Dae visibly slumps with relief and drops into the chair across from her.
“I work in one of the comm centers, for the Trade Federation. I’m from Thustra which is… close enough, I guess? To Mandalore they thought I might know something. I left Thustra when I was nine and, well, it’s not exactly Mandalore adjacent in the first place.”
Adi can feel her expression tugging with surprise.
“They weren’t sure if, um, Mandalore had a thing about protocol droids since you guys don’t really buy them so… here I am.” They make a helpless little expression and reach for the dish closest to them. “Oh, this is really good!”
Adi smiles agreeably and takes a bite of her own meal.
“We don’t, if you're curious.” She muses after a few moments of pleasant silence. “Have a thing about protocol droids.” She doesn’t think that piece of information can do much harm.
“Huh,” They mutter. “That’s good to know.”
“So… you are here to…” She prompts once their eating has started to slow.
“Right, uh, introduce them, first of all. I was supposed to find them appropriate lodgings, terrifying, and um, fix anything they complain about I guess. This is not my job at all but…” They shrug. “I’m up for a transfer to a better department pretty soon and, well, saying no sounded like a great way to get myself fired.”
“I can’t say I was expecting to play guide today either.” Adi smiles and begins to clean her dishes. “Don’t worry about fixing anything, I’ll leave Silas’s comm code with you. If your employers need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I certainly won’t argue.” They smile sheepishly.
Adi nods and politely takes her leave. She does not want to bother them further and it is not her intention to manipulate them with her friendliness.
Adi leaves for one of the far off quiet corners of the complex. She should meditate and consider her next steps.
Jaster takes a moment after he’s left the council meeting to just breathe, slow and calm.
They have made their way through crisis before. They will again.
Logically, this isn’t even much of a crisis. They knew this would happen eventually. And yet… some instinct he cannot name remains alert and taut.
It is… stressful to remain so rigid with suppressed action for so long.
He considers his next steps. They can delay another meeting until tomorrow with no issue and promise some sort of tour as well. The silent alarms are all set outside the outsiders’ doors. They will know if they leave and they should have no reason to.
Ultimately, he is not quick enough to make his decision as Arla appears around the corner with a stubborn set to her stride.
“Jaster.”
A memory springs to mind of a much younger Arla, literally digging in her heels and jutting out her chin and insisting that she would have her way.
It shouldn’t have been that cute on a young teenager but… they do say that a parent never quite loses their memory for how precious and small their child used to be. Even if, as in Jaster’s case, he never knew Arla as a true child.
“Arla.” He returns, a small amused smile tugging at his lips.
“You haven’t eaten yet.” It is not a question and Jaster knows exactly who told her.
“I see Silas is keeping track of me again.”
She doesn’t bother to respond to such an obvious statement. “Come, I got your favorite gross shig and everything.”
“It is not gross.” He protests, knowing that it’s useless.
“Of course, of course.” She scoffs and tugs him along.
He follows with a fond smile.
-
“So, what are you up to?” Arla asks once he’s managed to finish a decent portion of his meal.
“I am trying to hide a people who number in the tens of thousands from less than half a dozen all while avoiding whatever horrible business deal they want me to agree to.” Jaster responds, because his daughter is right, he can be intentionally insufferable on occasion.
She tosses a piece of fruit at him.
“Oh, stop being cryptic.”
Jaster catches the projectile and pops it in his mouth with a grin.
“The Trade Federation and Banking Clan are here, came right up to the gates and demanded an audience according to Silas.”
“They weren’t hailed?” Arla’s eyes sharpen.
Jaster shakes his head. He knew her mind would catch on that little detail.
Mandalore does not police traffic in and out of the system per se, doing that would be a nightmare even at their level of traffic, but he should have known about them before they landed.
Every non-Mandalorian ship coming from out of the system is supposed to be hailed and asked a few questions upon entering Mandalorian air space. There isn’t much they can do to prevent ships from landing if they don’t answer. Not unless they want to start maintaining a heavy naval presence and blowing ships out of the sky at the slightest provocation. Something no one is interested in, but anyone who doesn’t answer does face scrutiny and most are too wary to try.
“They were hailed and they answered,” he takes a sip. “They didn’t even lie, if you want to get technical about it.”
He grimaces and Arla glowers.
“There’s a contractor in Keldabe who has some dealings with the Trade Federation. They told control they had business with them and as far as Silas can tell, they did go there first. They didn’t lie about the ship or its inhabitants, just didn’t mention positions or anything beyond Trade Federation and associates. It’s a common enough story.” He takes another sip of his shig.
“They didn’t want us to see them coming.” Arla states.
“No, they did not.” Jaster agrees.
“Why?” Ah, always looking for the heart of the issue.
“So I could not turn them away so easily? So they could survey the situation first? Are they looking for evidence of unrest among the people? Rumors of Jedi? Information on weaknesses to sell? Are they hoping I will agree more easily if I have little time to prepare? I do not know.” Jaster says, grim.
It could be nothing sinister at all.
He does not like not knowing.
He certainly does not trust either party not to sell any information they think they might be able to get credits for.
There is certain to be a market for it these days.
Honestly, in hindsight, he’s almost surprised this hasn’t happened before. He’ll have to have Silas and Kho coordinate something, see exactly which rumors are running around where and which ones the powerful are taking seriously.
An oversight he won’t be repeating.
“Eat.” Arla orders and he huffs but obeys. “I can ask Kho to do some scheming with me, see what the chatter looks like.”
Jaster considers the offer for a moment and nods. Arla has an eye for detail that sees her to impressive results in investigative work when she gets a target and the motivation. Kho is flexible and experienced enough to try things without hesitating or awaiting orders. They don’t work together often but when they do… Well, Jaster rarely has reason to complain.
“I would appreciate it, I’m sure Silas would enjoy not having to think about it.”
“Silas would enjoy not having to deal with outsiders.” She crosses her arms and leans back.
“True enough.” Jaster allows and decides they’ve talked of politics and subterfuge for long enough. “Where is your brother?”
Arla grins.
“Jan’ika,” she pauses dramatically, “has been wrangled into helping Myles with the vaccine clinic.”
“The one for the younglings?” Jaster can’t help the surprise edging into his voice.
“The one for the younglings under three standard.” She confirms.
“How did that happen?” He wonders.
“Personally, I have credits on Myles’s influence.” A safe bet. “But I understand one of the kids he helped watch a while back, that little group that went to visit Ob’ika? I guess one of them was feeling a little nervous about it.”
“Well, I’m glad he’s expanding his skillset.” Jaster says neutrally.
She grins and it’s full of promises to interrogate her brother when he gets back.
Jaster finishes his shig with a smile and makes a mental note to cook tiingilar again soon.
Adi wakes up early to allow herself plenty of time to meditate.
It isn’t her preferred place to meditate but the Force provides and the room she’s staying in has a scruffy plant and a comfortable cushion.
It’s enough that she doesn’t need a long time to settle.
The Force is a comfort and a balm for her nerves.
She allows her muscles to slowly relax and unwind as she seeks the Force’s guidance.
She senses no threat ahead, not a physical one anyway, but there is a swirling unease beneath the surface. A humming be careful, be cautious, be alert.
Adi will heed the warning, for all she is not quite sure what she is to watch for.
The Force is with her.
She meditates for some time longer but, beyond the first hints of caution, she gains no further insight into the day ahead.
Finally, she shifts and comes out of her meditation. She may not have gotten answers to everything but, there is a comfort to communing with the light.
She heads to the armory next, she dropped off the durasteel pieces in the evening at Chassa’s request and finds them arranged on a table.
There is little visible difference to her inexperienced eye but they fit much more comfortably now and Adi is grateful.
Hopefully, their guests will not notice the change.
Silas gives her the rundown of the day's plans as she eats first meal, explaining where to take their tour and what to avoid discussing. She isn’t surprised Mandalore wants their government structure solidly mired in assumption but she is slightly surprised to hear it discussed so blatantly.
Perhaps she shouldn’t be.
-
Adi takes a deep breath outside the room provided for the representatives to meet together.
The Force is with her.
It will see her through.
She steps into the room.
“Hello, I trust you have eaten well?” She asks.
“Oh yes, Lady… my deepest apologies, I am not certain of the customs.” Hill inquires. “Would you be Lady Wren or Vizsla? Or is it simply Adi?”
“Ah,” she asked about this, at the beginning of her stay. “Clan name is often considered proper in this case, so Wren.”
“Lady Wren then, it has all been very good.” He nods with a polite smile. “We appreciate the Mand’alor’s hospitality.”
Lott Dod pipes up from the table. “We do indeed, might we inquire about a time for-.”
“The Mand’alor will meet with you this afternoon.” Adi interrupts, no room for protest in her voice. She is not a Jedi here and senses a less conciliatory tone will pass better under scrutiny. “Barring more urgent matters, of course.”
They do not expect a Mandalorian to be meek.
“Of course, of course.” He nods, not willing to push further.
“I am here to offer a tour of some of the grounds.” Adi announces. “There is no need to join and you are welcome to return to your rooms if you would prefer.”
Dae does not look enthusiastic but keeps quiet until Dofine claims a minor headache.
Hill and Damask agree readily and Dod seems unwilling to allow the Trade Federation to go unrepresented even in this small activity.
A concern with merit, from what Adi knows of the Banking Clan.
“If I may ask, Lady Wren, where are we going?” Hill asks as she leads them down the long hallway to the outside.
It is a long route but one that sees little traffic.
“Ah, I thought we would see the complex gardens first.”
“Gardens?”
“Yes, we have a number of gardens in Keldabe.”
She leads them through to the outside and down the path that leads to the most isolated garden. It is all desert flowers and bushes and rocks, Adi thinks it’s beautiful.
Not everyone agrees, of course, Dod does his best to look politely impressed.
San Hill seems to enjoy the bench more than the garden itself.
She can’t read Damask’s expression at all.
He glances around for a few moments before turning to face her.
“I hope you don’t mind staying here for a period, my colleague enjoys the fresh air.”
“Not at all.”
The gardens are slightly elevated relative to the streets of the city and while they don’t overlook the buildings there is a sense of being above the hustle and bustle of everything.
Damask walks over to see the view and Adi follows.
“Lady Wren, if I might ask, I am a curious creature at heart. I couldn’t help but notice, you do not have much of an accent.” He prompts.
Adi hums for a moment before responding. “I was adopted later than many, my first family did not speak Mando’a.” This much is true, for all it is slightly twisted. She was not an unusually late arrival to the Temple but there were certainly plenty younger.
“I see,” he replies. “I had assumed you grew up here on Mandalore.”
“Not for some time, there are advantages to my childhood.” She smiles politely and turns to ascertain the state of the other two.
Lott Dod looks bored but not in any distress. San Hill might actually be enjoying himself.
“Basic, for one thing.” She continues and with all the casualness she can muster asks. “I’m afraid I must have missed it but, what is your position?”
“Ah, I am the head of a small holdings organization.” He makes a dismissive motion. “Damask Holdings is nothing on the galactic scale but, well, I’m still proud of what we’ve managed to become.”
Something tells Adi that “small” may not exactly be the truth.
-
“Here we have an artistic representation of the second battle of Keldabe during the Third Great Civil War period.” Adi introduces, internally proud of herself for getting the period right.
“It certainly is… impressive.” Hill comments politely.
The massive piece displays a less personal view of the battle than many of the other tapestries, the participants mere details in the sweeping overview of the conflict. There is little bloodshed to be seen, left to implications as the fighters remain frozen in time on the cusp of battle.
Damask nods, a strangely wistful expression on his face.
“A great battle, if I recall correctly.”
Adi doesn’t dispute that assessment, great is certainly one word for it. Anything with that much death and destruction deserves the title.
“Have you studied it?” He asks. “I am not familiar with Mandalorian schooling.”
She tips her head in neutral agreement, another gesture picked up from her observations in Keldabe.
“I have, it was my own choice rather than in a classroom. I am under an apprenticeship.”
“Is that common?” There is something horribly knowing in those eyes, Adi fights back a shiver.
“It depends on the Clan.” She says slowly. “Clan Wren tends towards apprenticeships after a certain age.”
It may be true, she does not have the numbers to prove it but… she knows enough to make the claim without it technically being a lie.
The gleam of interest in Damask’s eyes doesn’t fade.
Dod scoffs near inaudibly and mutters something about uncivilized societies.
Hill remains unaffected, absently studying the wall.
“I had an apprenticeship of sorts of my own as a youth.” Damask smiles, as if recalling simpler days. “It can certainly be a wonderful opportunity. Who is your mentor? If you don’t mind my asking of course.”
Adi considers her answer carefully, naming her master is an unnecessary risk but there are few Mandalorians she can name who know about the situation.
“The Mand’alor’s Second has been guiding me.” She responds.
He nods regally and she swallows.
“This way, there is much more to see.” She gestures towards the door.
Jaster studies his guests carefully the second time.
No human this time, they must be satisfied with whatever posturing they’d hoped to accomplish with their presence.
Damask and Hill remain placid and calm, neither make any move to speak.
Dofine makes a nervous twitch when Jaster’s gaze falls on him but otherwise remains impassive.
Lott Dod takes a steadying breath and steps forward.
“Mand’alor Mereel, you have a truly impressive city.” He begins.
Jaster resists the urge to sigh. He much prefers his council meetings to this blatant flattery. He'll have to remember this the next time Clan Vizsla’s head calls him a fool and an idiot for the crime of agreeing with Clan Kryze on some minor issue.
They would never call Keldabe an impressive city, they would certainly never call it his.
“What do you want?” He interrupts halfway through some statement about the graceful beauty of war tapestries. Jaster can afford a little poor diplomacy.
Silas was just agreeing with him that their image as rude warriors with no sense of tact is beneficial for now. He won’t object.
“Excuse me?” Dod looks taken aback, from what little Jaster knows of Neimoidian body language. They are not a people that often find themselves in Mandalorian clans.
“I am not interested in flattery.” He dismisses. “You have something to offer, yes?”
“Of course.” Dofine cuts in. “The Trade Federation is a powerful organization with many resources, many would be honored-”
Dod shoots him a quelling look and he falls silent.
“The Republic is… wary.” Dod starts. “Mandalore could do with influential allies.”
Jaster leans back into his seat and considers whether to play along. To pretend to miss the implications for the sake of diplomacy.
“Are you threatening me, Representative?” He raises an eyebrow.
The Neimoidian splutters out denials, Dofine joining him.
Jaster does not waver.
“Think of it as an offer of support.” Damask suggests absently. He is facing the window again, looking out at the city. “Mandalore is strong and capable but there is no need to be alone in it.”
That is a nice way of putting it.
How fortunate then that Jaster is not alone in this.
“Perhaps,” he concedes. There is no need to be actively unreasonable, especially at this stage. “And what does the Banking Clan have to offer then?”
Damask smiles, a sharp grin that has Jaster wary and turns his gaze from the bustling city outside.
“Ah, we are slow moving people, caution has seen us through many crises.” He dismisses, sharpness gone like it had never been there in the first place. “We only wish to extend the offer of the possibility of future business and express the hope that we will be welcome in your system when the time comes to have those discussions.”
Jaster considers him, watches the way he remains steady.
“And you will inform us you are coming, of course.” It is not a threat, not really. It is a warning.
“Of course,” Damask smiles like there is some joke they are both in on. “The Banking Clan has always been an honest organization. We take pride in it.”
Honest is not how Jaster would describe them but… well, he supposes that is one way of framing an organization that will always fulfill their contracts or, more accurately, will always make sure their contracts are fulfilled. No exceptions, no mercy, no second chances.
There is a reason, after all, that so many Mandalorians find themselves paid with credits from the Banking Clan’s coffers.
Jaster tilts his head just slightly and wonders absently whether they read it as the sign of warning that it is. “And what, exactly, is it that has your slow moving people approaching Mandalore now?”
Damask is watching him intently now, it isn’t obvious, but somehow Jaster knows. “We value contracts, as a people.” He begins. “Many believe that only applies to business contracts. A rather insulting notion, I’ve found.”
Jaster nods, slowly, just an indication of his attention.
“I hope this isn’t taken the wrong way, it is not intended as an insult but the contracts of culture and tradition are often overlooked. We respect those who value them.”
Jaster isn’t quite sure where Damask is going with this.
“Your representative, to the Senate. She explained the importance of children to your people. You did not need to express your displeasure, it holds weight, that you did so anyway.”
“The Banking Clan can… respect that kind of dedication.” Jaster does not like this line of conversation, does not want to think about Obi-Wan right now. There is no way the Banking Clan is reaching out because they watched Arla lecture the Senate.
The Banking Clan might respect it, but that doesn’t explain why they’re here.
“I presume that child has a real family now.” He continues, amiable, as if that child hadn’t had a real family they were stolen from in the first place. “After all, Mandalore has, from what I understand, a truly fascinating adoption policy. Such a kindness, to raise an ancient enemy as one of your own.”
He makes eye contact with a smile and Jaster can’t help but think there’s some sparking triumph in those eyes. “Ah, my apologies, I am getting off topic. My point is that you are a people of conviction. We understand you hold contracts in similar regard.”
Jaster nods and does not say that there is a balance, that a good Mandalorian knows that contracts are not everything. He is certain Damask knows this.
The Muun turns back to the window and gestures absently to Dod who, to his credit, rallies quickly.
The strange atmosphere fades quickly, so quickly that Jaster can almost forget it existed in the first place.
San waits until he is alone on the ship with his former mentor to ask, reasonably safe from listening devices and spies.
The negotiations are through and finished.
Incomplete and unsatisfying for the Trade Federation, near non-existent for the Banking Clan. San knows that much of the goal of this trip was information and yet, he can’t help but think it was a waste of time. He can tell the Chairman certainly thinks so, his expression at their recently finished report was distinctly unimpressed.
San certainly learned nothing from their hosts he would call particularly useful.
“Was it a success, sir?” Damask has always been sharp, observant in a way that San has never managed to master. He has other strengths, it does not bother him.
Damask hums, a questioning tone.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” He clarifies. He isn’t sure what he was looking to find on Mandalore, perhaps information or some ally San missed. He wouldn't put it past him to leave things out in their official report.
Damask smiles, it’s San’s least favorite one. It’s not the proud smile he occasionally wore when San was young and did something particularly clever. It’s not the polite smile he wears most often. This one is empty and endless. It's the smile of a Muun who has written a contract so cruel and inescapable. It's the smile of a Muun who has ruined livelihoods for no reason but for entertainment's sake.
It reminds him of the stories whispered among Damask's few enemies. That he hides secrets so terrible none can comprehend. That he waits for the moment to ruin even his closest allies. San has always dismissed them, dramatic, and they don’t know his mentor as he does. However, like this, he can see where the lies may originate.
“Oh, I think I did.” He muses. “This galaxy is such a fascinating place, San. You never know what they might do.”
San nods.
He wonders if Mandalore knows what a threat they face.
For their sake, he hopes they do.
He doubts it.