Chapter 1

AN: Welcome to my tale of a Mandalorian Sith Warrior named Kadral. If you've read my previous short story, Birth of a Warrior, I'm glad you're back. If you haven't read it, that's okay. Some of its events will be referenced in this book, but nothing will play a major part (though I do recommend you read it if you'd like to get an idea of what some of the characters were like when they were younger).

A couple of things to note:

Most of the blasters in this story are references to real-life firearms. Kudos if you can identify them.

The Mandalorians in this story will sometimes speak in Mandoa. While the conversational words will be listed in the section below, some of the proper names may not be. Googling, "Mandoa" will bring up a dictionary in the top few results, if you'd like to learn more about this language.

Most of the characters, settings, and plotlines in this story belong to Bioware.

Finally, and most importantly, I'd like to give a HUGE thanks to Cinlat, the author of Family Is More Than Blood and many other great stories. Her work inspired me to start this, and she's been an amazing Beta reader. She took my rough work and polished it to a beautiful shine. Ori'vor'e.

Mando'a Dictionary (To be updated as the story progresses)

Ad: Son or Daughter

Be-: Prefix used to indicate possession

Beskad: Mandalorian saber made from Beskar, capable of deflecting lightsabers

Beskar: Mandalorian iron, a nearly indestructible metal that, when properly treated, can even stop lightsabers

Beskar'gam: Mandalorian armor

Buir: Mother or Father

Chakaar: Corpse robber, petty thief, general term of abuse

Cyare: Beloved

Dar'manda: Soulless. No longer Mandalorian. The worst insult to call another Mandalorian

-e, -se: plural suffix

Elek: Yes (shortened to 'lek' as 'yeah')

Haat, ijaa, haa'it: Truth, Honor, Vision. Words used to seal a pact

Jate: Good

Ka: Night

Kandosi: Wicked

Ner: My

Osik: Dung

Shab'rudur: Screw with

Shabuir: Extreme insult- like 'Jerk,' but stronger.

Shu'shuk: disaster, screw up

Su cuy'gar: Mandalorian greeting

Vaar'tur: Morning

Vod: Brother or sister

Vor'e: Thank You (Ori'vor'e means 'Thank You Very Much')

Kadral strode through the Imperial Grey halls of the Sith Academy with a scowl hidden beneath his blue and green helmet. The past few days had been an absolute shu'shuk. He'd been forced to kill his old master and spent two days in in the tombs of various Sith Lords gathering shards of some kind while simultaneously protecting his "treasure" from other acolytes. Now, Darth Baras, his new master, wanted Kadral to retrieve a lightsaber hidden in yet another tomb, and, apparently, he was being given a slave who knew how to get in. As Kadral approached the door to the academy's dungeon, he heard cries of pain, and the sickening laugh of the Jailer, Knash. His frown deepening, the young acolyte picked up the pace and threw open the door.

Vette gasped as electricity surged through her body via the slave collar around her neck. "What did I do?" she demanded, gritting her teeth against the pain. Another shock, stronger this time, was her answer. The young Twi'lek tried unsuccessfully to keep from crying out in pain, knowing it only served to encourage her tormentor.

"Someone's gonna be here to pick you up soon, and I'm gonna get as much fun out of you as I can," Jailer Knash jeered. As if on cue, the door flew open, revealing a large figure covered head to toe in Mandalorian-style armor. Through the haze clouding her thoughts, Vette noticed that his helmet and gauntlets didn't quite match his suit's sithy-looking black and red color scheme. The figure strode up to the Jailer and demanded in the voice of someone trying hard to hold his rage in check, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Just-uh, testin' her collar," Knash tried to explain. "Makin' sure it works. She's a snippy one, but if she starts backtalkin' you, just push the button and-" The armored man snatched the remote out of Knash's hand.

"I know how a slave collar works," he informed the Jailer darkly. "Just get her out."

The red barrier dropped, and Vette's new owner approached with the controlled movement of a fighter. He stopped in front of her, and, while she couldn't see his eyes through the visor, Vette knew they were inspecting her thoroughly. The Twi'lek recognized him from once before, when he had been tasked with judging three prisoners: a self-admitted assassin, a failed general, and a forger who had maintained he was innocent. His judgments against the first two were harsh. Upon hearing the assassin's unapologetic confession, he immediately executed her, and while he honored the general's wish for a duel, it was a completely one-sided fight, with the prisoner dying in seconds. The last man, however, still plead innocent, with the jailer confirming that even torture hadn't changed his tune. To her surprise, the acolyte had ordered him freed, claiming that the Empire shouldn't punish those who didn't deserve it. Those words gave Vette hope that she, too, might be treated fairly. Unfortunately, she had learned the hard way that one should never get her hopes up around a Sith. His voice suddenly drew her from her thoughts.

"My name's Kadral," he introduced himself in tone surprisingly different from the one he had used with Knash, though his helmet's speaker still gave it an intimidating edge.

"Vette," the Twi'lek replied, watching him warily.

"Looks like you'll be helping me in the tombs tomorrow," Kadral explained before nodding towards the door.

"Come on." The acolyte started towards the door, blatantly ignoring the jailer who'd retreated to a submissive distance. Vette took a step to follow, then paused at her new master's next words. "Let's get you to my room and out of those clothes."

The Twi'lek's eyes widened in alarm. It was all she could do not to stumble at the implied threat. Briefly, she considered bolting for the door. Even as the thought surfaced she shoved it down again. He'd be on her in an instant, then, she'd be dead. Survive today, escape tomorrow, Vette assured herself. With no other option, she followed the strange Sith.

Kadral noticed that Vette was oddly silent on the way back to his quarters. The spunky blue Twi'lek had no trouble taunting Knash during Kadral's last visit to the dungeons. She had regaled the prisoners and their guard with imitations of various animals, refusing to let the shocks deter her.

The girl definitely had guts. Not to mention, beneath the grime and the filthy rags, she looked rather… Kadral shook his head. Now was not the time. Vette still hadn't said a word when they arrived at his quarters. Kadral keyed in the passcode, and the door slid open, allowing the pair to step inside. As he walked toward his wardrobe, he noticed Vette still standing near the door with a defiant glare firmly fixed on her features.

"I may be a slave," the Twi'lek began with hands on hips. "But I'm not your toy, and I'll die before I let you turn me into one."

Kadral's full attention snapped to her, confusion replacing the list of supplies he'd been previously compiling. His eyes widened at the memory of the last words he'd spoken before they left the dungeon.

"Osik," he cursed, taking off his helmet to reveal a blushing face underneath. "I, uh, didn't mean it that way. I just meant that you're probably sick of being in those rags and might like something clean." He opened a drawer and pulled out a shirt and some pants, then hesitated before stepping closer. "These are probably way too big for you, but," he paused a safe distance away and tossed them over, "they're better than what you have on right now."

Vette's face morphed from confusion to fear when he pulled the shock remote from a pocket and pushed a button. However, to her surprise, instead of emitting an electric shock, her collar loosened.

"You won't need that in here," Kadral told her. "Now go take a shower and change. We'll talk when you get out."

Thirty minutes later, Vette emerged from the refresher feeling cleaner than she had in a very long time. As expected, the clothes were way too big. Vette made due by tieing off the shirt and rolling up the pants legs. She couldn't complain, though. They were fresh, well-made, and didn't have multiple holes like her old clothes did.

The first thing that Vette noticed about Kadral's quarters was the exotic, appetizing scent emanating from a pot sitting on a small hot plate. Her eyes traveled to Kadral next, who was sitting on a chair doing something with his armor. He looked up at her, giving Vette a chance to truly see his features for the first time. He was roughly her age, if she had to guess, maybe nineteen or twenty, with tan skin that was just shy of brown, short, dark hair and hazel eyes.

Who is this guy? Vette wondered, absentmindedly rubbing the back of her neck where her collar had been. Kadral's brows furrowed as he stared at her.

"Let me get you something for those electrical burns," he offered, standing to retrieve a medical kit he had propped on a side table.

"Why are you doing this?" Vette asked, following his movements warily. "Is this some Sithy game? You know, 'get the Twi'lek's hopes up and dash them, then feed off her despair,' or something." She stared at Kadral, waiting for some kind of retribution. Instead, to her surprise, his mouth quirked in a half smile.

"No trick, Vette," Kadral replied, handing her some burn cream and a bandage. "I'm a Mandalorian. Freedom is important to us; we don't keep slaves."

"I've seen a couple of Mandalorian slavers before," Vette commented even as she accepted the ointment. Kadral's face hardened at her words.

"Dar'manda chakaare!" He snarled, causing Vette to flinch. "Those weren't Mandalorians," he continued darkly.

Vette knew what she had seen, but didn't press the issue. She knew that Mandalorians were generally a united people, but, when they had infighting, things got messy. It was probably safer to drop the subject. "Thank you," she replied instead, squeezing some of the cream onto her hands and gingerly rubbing it on the two blisters left by the electrodes. She then gently applied the bandage, before returning her attention to Kadral, who was occupying himself by stirring the pot of… something.

"What is that?" she inquired, leaning around Kadral to take a peek at what was in the pot. A red stew was bubbling, bits of meat and vegetables swirling as the Mandalorian stirred. Vette tried to place the scent, but couldn't. All she could tell was that it was spicy. The Twi'lek sniffed, her nose suddenly runny.

"This is Wayii- Mandalorian Surprise," Kadral answered in a wry tone. "A dish named after its ability to cause people's mouths to water with anticipation or go dry with fear, depending on who's making it."

"And what do people do when they hear you're making it?" Vette asked playfully.

"Never had any complaints about my version before," he answered proudly, before admitting, "though none of my friends have tried it on Korriban."

"You just said 'Korriban' as if it had something to do with this dish," she pointed out suspiciously. "I'm not sure I like that. What exactly is inside?"

"You'll find out when it's ready," was his only reply.

"That's not encouraging."

"Too bad," Kadral sang with, to Vette's amazement, a genuine smile. He stood and pointed to the pot. "Keep stirring that every few minutes," he requested. "I'm going to take a shower myself."

Kadral basked in the glory that was Hot Water. He'd amassed an impressive layer of sweat and grime during his three-day adventure of searching for that stupid pottery in the tombs. Shutting the water off, his thoughts turned toward his new companion. Vette was definitely interesting, among many other things. Her banter about his cooking was a refreshing break from the bleak seriousness of almost everything and everyone else on Korriban.

Corbin would love her, Kadral thought. He hadn't seen his best friend in over three years, and, Force, he missed him.

The young warrior winced as his towel grazed the gash on his arm- a gift from some kind of monster guarding an old Lord's tomb. The thing's claws had managed to find a gap in Kadral's armor just underneath his shoulder, and, with all of his running around the past few days, he hadn't had a chance to put on a new kolto patch. After pulling his pants up, Kadral walked out of the refresher to fetch the medical kit and smeared a generous amount of kolto paste onto a bandage. He secured it to his arm, then turned to find Vette standing by the pot trying not look like she had been staring at him. Kadral wasn't surprised, he had amassed a few large scars on his torso, notably the large blotch on his side courtesy of a Jedi's lightsaber.

"How's it look?" he asked, pulling over a shirt. Vette blinked. "The Wayii," he clarified.

"Pretty good," she answered, recovering her composure with a grin.

"Smells ready," he agreed. "Bowls are above you. Dig in."

Kadral had made what he thought was four servings- which would have given them each an extra meal for the road. Unfortunately, he underestimated how hungry Vette was. Kadral had barely gotten halfway through his bowl before Vette had finished her second.

"This is spicy but amazing. What's in it?" she wondered, speaking for the first time in several minutes.

"K'lor'slug, Shyrack, and a few assorted vegetables I scavenged from the cafeteria kitchen," Kadral answered bluntly. "Oh, and my special Wayii base."

Vette choked a bit on her food, before swallowing it and regaining her composure. "K'lor' slug? I didn't know Sith made jokes."

"That wasn't a joke."

Vette tilted her bowl to look inside as if expecting something to jump out. When she spoke again, it bore an incredulous note. "You're saying that you took one of the most disgusting things on the planet and made it taste good?"

"I take it you approve?"

"Oh, yeah. Although, I'd approve of anything that wasn't the slop they served in that dungeon."

Kadral's face grew serious. "When's the last time you had a square meal?"

The fact Vette had to think about her answer told Kadral all he needed to know. "I'd say a month ago. Just before I arrived on this cursed planet. I was eating ration bars until they caught me."

"Why did you come here?" he asked, making a mental note to cook more servings next time.

"We- I collect Twi'lek artifacts, and was looking for a necklace that belonged to a Twi'lek Sith." Vette took another bite, swallowed, and frowned when she realized her bowl was empty. "It was going fairly well. I managed to figure out how all the statues and stuff worked in the tombs, but then some upstart Acolyte jumped me." Vette ran a finger around the rim, then licked it clean before continuing. " "He knocked me out and, next thing I knew, I was collared again."

"Again?" Kadral probed, and Vette shook her head.

"I don't want to talk about it," she replied, voice smaller than normal.

"Are you ready for dessert, or are you going to finish off that last serving?" Kadral asked to change the subject.

"Dessert?" The Twi'lek perked up, lekku twitching excitedly. The Mando answered by pulling out a brick-shaped object wrapped in parchment, which he dropped on the table with a meaty thud. Peeling off the paper, he revealed a sweet, sticky cake of some kind. "What is that?" Vette wondered with obvious intrigue.

"Uj'alayi," Kadral answered. "Or, 'Uj cake'. It's sort of a Mandalorian fruitcake smothered in syrup. Tradition says that it should be made flat, but my dad found that these bricks are a bit easier to transport." He pulled out a knife and cut off a slab, offering it to his new friend. The thought made him pause. Was she his friend? Friends were rare for a Mandalorian, even more for Sith, but the bubbly Twi'lek was growing on him at an amazing rate.

A groan of culinary pleasure cut through Kadral's thoughts, snapping him back into reality. He blinked and cut himself a piece of his own. The spicy sweetness lit up his tongue, causing his face to mirror Vette's.

"Did you make this too?" His companion asked before putting another piece in her mouth.

Kadral reluctantly tore his attention away from enjoying the cake to answer her question. "My Bui- My father made it. Sent me off to Korriban with half a dozen bricks. I've been saving this last one for a special occasion."

"I always thought Mando men were too busy running around the galaxy killing people to cook," Vette stated.

"Well," Kadral said slowly, "My dad did get a desk job about two years ago, or one of the closest things a Mandalorian can get to one. But he always did a lot of the cooking. Mom can't cook to save her life. Fortunately, I inherited my taste buds from my father."

Her eyebrows rose. "Desk job?"

"Ehh. Logistics and osik like that." Kadral waved his hand in dismissal. "He still manages to go catch raids with Aliit Mav, but he-"

Vette cut him off. "Wait a minute. Did you just say Aliit Mav? That explains a lot."

"Have you heard of them?"

"Have I? How could I have not?" Vette gushed. "They're responsible for freeing thousands of slaves. Now I see why you've been so nice to me. A lot nicer than most of the Mandalorians I've encountered."

"Mandalorians come in all kinds," Kadral justified. "We just tend to be serious, and don't usually trust non-Mandalorians."

Vette thought that was the understatement of the century, but didn't voice her opinion, instead electing to change the subject. "So… What's tomorrow's plan?"

"Tomorrow," he answered, grimacing at the word, "we wake up at oh five hundred, get you in some armor, and find that saber. Preferably, without dying in whatever ambush Vemrin has set up."

Vette paused mid-chew, her lekku twitching. "Saber? Vemrin? I'm confused."

"Sorry," Kadral apologized, "Darth Baras tasked me with finding some old lightsaber that belonged to one of Naga Sadow's underlings. A Lady Nalot."

"Nalot!" Vette exclaimed incredulously, nearly dropping her slice. "That's the Sith! The one I was looking for!" Suddenly, the excited Twi'lek stopped. "What- What happens to me after you've found it?" she questioned her voice losing its spirit as she stared at her plate.

"I don't know," came Kadral's eventual answer. "If I'm lucky, Baras will let me keep you."

"And if not?"

Kadral had no reply.

Vette was quiet for a minute. "Promise me this, if I get stuck on this planet, you'll get the necklace to the Twi'lek History Museum on Ryloth. Please."

Kadral looked her dead in the eye. "Haat, ijaa, haa'it. I will do it."

"Thank you," Vette replied sincerely. "It's nice to know that not everyone on this planet is a jerk." She followed her statement with a yawn.

"I think now's a good time to go to bed," Kadral advised. "Like I said, we're waking up early."

"I call the bed," Vette joked, jumping to her feet.

"Take it," he offered, pulling out his bedroll and throwing it over the couch. Vette was surprised at his generosity but didn't argue. It had been a long time since she slept on an actual bed. She chuckled to herself. That was probably why he gave it to her. A part of her was still afraid that this was one long con. A Sith trick just to break her spirit. But, maybe it wasn't. That was her last thought before the softness of the bed lulled her into the best sleep she'd had in a very long time.

Kadral wasn't so lucky. His two-meter frame did not fit on the couch, and he had to scrunch himself up, causing part of him to hang precariously off the side. I am seriously starting to regret this, he thought after trying and failing for the fourth time to find a comfortable position. Contented, steady breathing reached his ear and, reaching out with the Force, he could sense that Vette had already fallen asleep.

A smile crossed Kadral's face. He didn't know why he cared about Vette's happiness so much, but there was just something about the Twi'lek that made him want her to like him. Maybe it was the fact that showing her kindness made him feel like he wasn't becoming like the Sith that surrounded him, one of his greatest fears. Nothing in the Sith Code required cruelty, but, sadly, it was commonplace, and even expected. The young Mando thought about his armor, and what its colors represented. He'd make sure his parents never had a reason to be disappointed in him. Sleep didn't come to him immediately, but exhaustion eventually won over discomfort, and Kadral drifted off into oblivion.