Vheh'yaim Vizsi (some distance north of Keldabe), one week after the Caranthyr attacks

Fenn Shysa stalked through the frigid northern plains, feeling the frost-covered grass crunch under his boots as a chilling wind tugged at his shoulder cape. He grimaced against the biting cold of the wind, considering whether to replace his helmet. He eventually decided against it; he was here on a diplomatic matter, after all, and didn't need to intimidate those he would be speaking with.

"This is a stupid idea," Tobbi Dala said, following at his side. "Fenn, you're just going to escalate things."

"Don't care," Shysa replied. "I want answers. This is the only place I can think of to go."

Dala scowled and said, "It's still stupid."

"Noted."

The vheh'yaim they were heading for was definitely a step up from the usual architecture. This particular dome-house, known as Vhe'yaim Vizsi, was almost four-hundred years old and had been modified and rebuilt almost non-stop over the course of centuries. The central dome-house was largely untouched, but branching vheh'yaime had been added over the years, patched on here and there like a chaotic heap of grassy hills in the middle of a flat and arid plain. Around the mismatched buildings were massive, entrenched defensive spears embedded in the ground, their sharpened ends pointed outward to defend the complex in times of siege. A deep moat stretched around it all, almost four meters deep with the bottom lined with more wooden spikes. A single bridge led into the complex, guarded by two black-armored Mandalorians with heavy force pikes.

"They really rolled out the welcome mat for their Mand'alor," Dala grumbled. "You'd think she would come out here to meet us in person."

"You know how she is," Shysa sighed. "Jus' mind your manners and we'll all make it out of this without causing a diplomatic incident."

As the two approached, the guards crossed their pikes in an X in front of them, blocking their path.

"State your business, Mand'alor," one of the guards growled. He had a single red stripe down the matte-black forehead of his helmet. "We don't take kindly to visitors here."

"Your clan leader's expectin' me," Shysa replied, folding his arms across his chest. "You really wanna stand up to her?"

"She hasn't told us to expect anyone."

Dala clenched a fist. "Listen, boy. Shysa's te Mand'alor. That means he can go where he pleases, even in this godforsaken place. Stand aside."

Shysa put a calming hand on his friend's shoulder, while the guard just stared at the bald man with disdain. "If we don't have orders to admit people, we don't admit people. Plain and simple."

Dala was fuming, but Shysa decided to take over. "Maybe you can run it by her, then. Be a good lad and call her for us."

The guard looked like he was going to refuse again. But then he simply shrugged and said, "I'll clear it with her. Stay here."

The man turned and put a finger to his helmet's comm unit. After a few moments, he said, "Ma'am, this is Volyc down at the bridge. Te Mand'alor Shysa is here, requesting an audience..."

While waiting for clearance, Shysa turned to Dala and said, "While I appreciate you comin' to my defense, Tobbi, I need you to keep a level head. These aren't your everyday Bralors or D'kkaris, you know. They aren't as tolerant as our mates down in Keldabe."

Dala scowled. "I hate these people. You should never have come here."

"That remains to be seen," Shysa said, glancing back at the guard. "Like I said, I want answers. And as far as I know, she's the only one who has 'em."

The guard murmured a few hushed words, then nodded. Shysa could distinctly hear a, "Yes ma'am. Right away."

He turned back to them, shouldering his pike. "She's given you clearance. You can go inside, but mind yourself. We'll be watching you."

"I don' doubt it," Shysa said with a glare as he shouldered past the two. "Have fun guardin' the bridge in the middle o' nowhere."

Dala moved to step after him, but the guards once again crossed their pikes. The guard sneered and said, "She's given te Mand'alor clearance. Not his lackeys."

Dala's eyes blazed, but he glanced at Shysa for guidance. He shook his head slightly and Dala's shoulders slumped, almost as if he was disappointed he couldn't pick a fight. He clenched his fists, face pulling down in a deep scowl.

"Fine," he said. "I'll be waiting back at the speeder. But I warn you: any funny business..."

The guard nodded. "Right. We'll mind our manners if you mind yours. Just get out of our faces, little man."

Dala glanced at Shysa one more time, then spun on his heel and stalked back to their MandalMotors speeder. Shysa watched him go, then turned and made his way deeper into the complex.

The area past the bridge was just as chaotic as it looked. The ground underfoot was a mixture of pulverized gravel and wood chips, spread across the uneven ground in seemingly random patches. The layout of the various interconnected vheh'yaime created crooked, strangely-angled alleyways that seemed to stretch off to nowhere in particular, often coming to dead-ends. Everywhere he went there were more Mandalorians staring at him with suspicion, slinking out from behind corners or staring at him from perches on top of the vheh'yaim domes themselves. He could feel numerous eyes on him, following him no matter where he went.

It didn't take him long to find the main entrance, this one also flanked by guards. Shysa didn't know who exactly they were guarding the complex against, but he didn't question their orders; these folks were a paranoid bunch.

The guards straightened as he approached. One of them glanced at him and said, "She's waiting for you. Mind your manners when you're inside or we'll toss you across the moat, Mand'alor or no."

Shysa narrowed his eyes, but nodded tersely and said, "I understand."

"Good. Then pass and do what you came to do. She's waiting for you inside."

The two stood aside and let him descend down into the subterranean entrance to Vheh'yaim Vizsi. As soon as he passed inside, he was surrounded by more aggressive Mandalorians glaring at him from all sides. One of them, a burly man in dark blue armor, stepped in front of him and growled, "You came without weapons?"

Shysa nodded. "I'm not the trickster you seem to think I am. Like I said when I called; I just wanna talk."

He glared at him through narrowed eyes, then nodded and gestured down the entrance hall. "She's in the karyai. I wouldn't keep her waiting."

The Mandalorians waiting in the hall, either settled in old patchwork chairs or simply staring at him with folded arms or expectant stares, obviously had no intention of letting him speak in private with their clan leader. He didn't care; the gravity of the situation shouldn't be reserved for hushed conversation behind closed doors. The accusations he was about to level were grave, and the whole clan needed to hear what he had to say.

When he emerged into the karyai, the central gathering room of the vheh'yaim, he saw more Mandalorians lounging about and staring at him balefully. There were people everywhere, sitting on couches, reclining against the walls, or simply standing and staring. Shysa wouldn't be surprised if a Mand'alor hadn't set foot in Vizsi in over a hundred years.

And standing in the center of it all, like a queen surrounded by her subjects, was a tall woman in orange and yellow armor. She had long brown hair shot through with steel gray, pulled back in a tight ponytail adorned with beads and tassels. Her helmet was tucked under her arm, revealing the sharp angular designs painted across the helmet forehead. She was currently engaged in conversation with another Mandalorian wearing similarly-colored armor.

"Send out Second Patrol," she said in a gravelly, raspy voice. "That bandit party is still in the area and I don't want them getting into the grassgrain stocks again. If they manage to slip past you again, you'll suffer the consequences."

The man saluted, slapping a fist against his chest plates. "Yes ma'am."

As he stepped away, the woman finally turned to face Shysa. She had a wide face with a strong jaw, pinched and angry looking features, and a long scar down the left side of her face. She cocked her head and fixed Shysa with an intense, slate-gray stare.

"Mand'alor," she said, inclining her head. She put just enough empahsis on the word to sound insincere. A few of the other Mandos present snickered at her tone. She ignored them and instead held Shysa's gaze with an almost defiant air. "And to what do we owe this great pleasure?"

"You can drop the ceremony, Isabet," Shysa said. "We both know I'm not here to make a social call."

"Aye," Isabet replied, raising an eyebrow. "You're here for a completely different reason."

"You know what's been happening Keldabe the last few days?"

Isabet shrugged and set aside her helmet, resting her hands on her hips. "Something about a terrorist attack? Suicide bombers, assassination attempts... it all sounds terribly exciting."

"You're right on that count, vod." Like her use of Mand'alor earlier, Shysa put just enough effort on the word to make it sound sarcastic. "It was the busiest weekend we've had in years."

He began pacing back and forth, hooking his thumbs into his utility belt. "After all the fun was over, I started thinkin' about it all. I thought, why here? Why now? Why did Keldabe go from being peaceful and raucous as ever to a battleground in days? And you wanna know what I found?"

Isabet was inspecting her fingernails nonchalantly. "Do tell."

"I started lookin' through the reports of the aftermath: casualty reports, damage reports, missin' persons files... and I found out the strangest thing."

"What's that?"

"That Lorka Gedyc is dead. That she was one of the first people to die in the sewer assault."

He stared at Isabet coldly. "I'm hopin' you'll shed some light on that. I mean, look at it from my perspective: your old chum Lorka, a pal of yours from the old Cuy'val Dar days and a warrior held in high regard by your late boyfriend Priest suddenly shows up dead only days after a terrorist claiming to be part of the resurgent Death Watch starts blowing up parts of my city and taking shots at me and my people."

He cocked his head. "Like you said, assassinations are terribly exciting."

"What are you getting at?" Isabet said calmly, raising an eyebrow.

"Lorka Gedyc was makin' plans to rebuild the Death Watch and ally 'em with the Empire. You remember that? Back at the end of the Clone Wars? I find it surprisin' you'd forget, especially considerin' your boyfriend was killed only days later."

He folded his arms. "An' if Caranthyr was really workin' for the Death Watch, he wasn' the leader. He was taking orders from someone, someone he very specifically referred to as she."

He rubbed his chin. "Lorka was already dead by then. Priest was dead decades ago. So that leaves only one girl in the old gang left."

Isabet smiled widely; a very nasty expression in Shysa's opinion. "So what, you're accusing me of trying to bomb Keldabe?"

"I'm thinkin' there's only one person left who was so outspoken about rebuilding the Death Watch. An' she's standin' right in front of me."

Isabet threw her head back and laughed. "You have no proof!"

"They wore yellow-orange armor, Isabet. Your clan colors."

Her expression grew very serious now. "Let me get this straight; you come in here to my home, and start accusing me, Isabet Reau, Clanmaster of the Reau-Vizslas, of treason against the Mandalorians? You've got some gett'se, even for a Mand'alor."

"Not bad for Mandalore the Meek, eh?" He stared at her. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're wrong. I had nothing to do with this Caranthyr or his attacks. And I'm frankly insulted you would think so."

"Are you so surprised? We don't take too kindly to the Death Watch. You know, not since they murdered one of the best Mandalores we've had in decades."

He stepped toward her, ignoring the fact that almost every other Mandalorian present quickly rested their hands on their weapons. "I don' know what game you're playin' Isabet. But whatever it is, it's a bloody dangerous one. I'm warnin' you now, before things get serious, to call it all off before you get tossed in over your head."

"Is that a threat?"

Shysa clenched a fist but shook his head. "No. No it's not. Just know that, whether it's your fault or not, the blood of over one hundred Mandalorians stain Caranthyr's hands, as well as the hands of whoever was holdin' his leash.

"Think over that," Shysa said, finally stepping away.

Reau's face was expressionless as she nodded. "I will. Is that all?"

Shysa shook his head with a sneer. "I guess so."

"Good,"she said, pointing over his shoulder. "There's the door. It's been a nice chat, Fenn."

Shysa glared at her for a few moments, then shook his head and turned away. He could feel the eyes of every Mando in the place watching him as he left, but he didn't so much as acknowledge them as he stalked back out into the cold.

Tobbi Dala was waiting for him back at the speeder. He quickly hopped into the passengers seat as Shysa warmed the engines and prepared to take off. He obviously noticed his friend's short, terse movements, but stayed silent. At least until Shysa punched the console with a clenched fist and snapped, "Damn that woman!"

"I take it things didn't go so well?"

Shysa sat back in the pilot's seat and ran a hand through his long blond hair. "She just deflected all my accusations. Said she had nothin' to do with Caranthyr and wouldn't hear anythin' more about it."

"I told you it was a bad idea. Now they know your hand, Fenn. They know you'll be watchin' them."

"D'you think that'll be enough?" he asked as he guided the ship into the sky. "Think they'll just back off 'cause they're under too much scrutiny?"

"Would Dred Priest have backed off? Would Lorak Gedyc have?"

Shysa sighed. "I didn't think so."

"What do you want to do?"

"Triple our watch over Vheh'yaim Vizsi. I don't want a repeat of Caranthyr's rampage. Isabet may be a good liar, but there's too much tradition in her family, too many ties to the Kyr'tsad to simply let her go."

"We're spying on our own people?" Dala questioned. "Don't get me wrong; the Reau-Vizslas are the first I would put under surveillance. But if you get found out... well, then the shit'll really hit the fan."

"We're playin' the game now, Tobbi," Shysa said, narrowing his eyes as he guided the speeder south, toward Keldabe; that city of promise, the one peaceful place on Mandalore where his people could live in true freedom, without threat to their lives or livelihoods.

"Caranthyr made the first move," he said. "An' it was a good one. But if we just sit back an' pretend there's no game at all, he and his masters will defeat us all without even needing to try. So the only solution is to make a play ourselves."

He scowled as the distant cityscape of Keldabe came into sight on the horizon, with the MandalMotors beacon shining out from the peak of the hill.

"Triple the amount of men we have watching Isabet and her clan," he said. "It's our turn now."

"What the kriff were you thinking?"

Caranthyr shrunk back against the wall, tugging at his restraints. "You told me to act! To hit them with a preemptive strike!"

"So you go straight for te Mand'alor?!" Isabet Reau thundered, shaking with rage. "What the hell kind of preemptive strike is that?"

"Cut the head off the snake," Caranthyr hissed, "and the snake dies."

"Not when the snake's head is protected by hundreds of people!" Reau shouted. "I wanted a small target, something that could be written off as an accident. And you go with kriffing mind-control and suicide bombers? What the kriff is wrong with you?!"

He shook his head, cringing against the dank wall of his cell. "But it almost worked! Shysa was in my grasp! If not for that aruetii, I would have had him!"

Isabet froze, turning her icy grey gaze on him. "What aruetii?"

"A-a foreigner!" Caranthyr stammered. "A beroya. She was hired to help with the investigation. She was helping Shysa escape!"

"So Shysa, aided by an aruetii, fled the battle rather than fighting?" Reau narrowed her eyes and rubbed her wide chin. "Interesting..."

She was silent a long time, pacing back and forth in front of Caranthyr. The changeling followed her with his eyes, shivering in the dank cold of the room. She eventually nodded to herself and turned back to him. "This aruetii may be of use to us. Who is she?"

"Her name... name... Moqena! Her name was Moqena! She was an aruetii living in Keldabe. She and some other private contractors were helping with the investigation. Persistent sons of bitches, the lot of 'em."

"Names, Coro. I need names."

"There was Moqena. And her partner, Cin Vhetin."

Reau hissed through her teeth. "Should have known he would get wrapped up in all this sooner or later. I thought he was dead?"

"Apparently not," Caranthyr grimaced. "He slit my throat himself. Never seen a faster swordsman."

"You're a shoddy excuse for a swordsman," Isabet snapped. "It's no wonder he bested you. But we'll deal with him soon enough. Who were the others?"

"Vhetin and Moqena," he repeated. "Then there was the engineer, Bralor, the Echani bitch who broke my leg, and the other aruetii beroya, Bellan."

Isabet pondered over this, then nodded. A nasty grin spread across her face. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but we may just be able to salvage something from this catastrophe, despite your incompetence."

She stared down at him, then gestured to the guards standing watch over the door. "Release him," she said. "And make sure he doesn't leave the vheh'yaim without a helmet. After the events in Keldabe, Shysa and his lackeys will no doubt increase their surveillance on our home. The last thing we need is him calling in the Protectors on our heads for harboring a terrorist."

She turned back to him. "And you... from now on, you do exactly what I say when I say so."

Pale gray eyes narrowed, staring at him with cold fury. "Disobey me again, changeling, and I will kill you."

Then she turned and left the room, letting the heavy door slam shut behind her.

To be continued in Star Wars: White Snow: Isolation...