A/N: Hello there! I have been eager to write about the famed "extended mission to Mandalore" since we were introduced to Satine back in Season 2 of Clone Wars. After ten years, here we are... It only took a global pandemic to give me the free time necessary to write this properly. Although I am no expert on Mandalorian culture, I have done my best to accurately represent it in the context of this story. Any Mando'a words used can be found at the end of each chapter. Please note that FFN does not allow for indentation and requires an extra space after each paragraph, so I know the format is a little funky. Anyway, please enjoy Vor Entye! I hope that if you are socially distancing, quarantined, or simply stressed and anxious, this story provides a nice escape for you!
Chapter One: ''Your Ladyship"
By the time Qui Gon and Obi Wan arrived in Kalevala City, the sun was just a sliver of orange-red light on the horizon. The sun, as Obi Wan understood it, was called Mandalore, sharing its moniker with the system's most-infamous, eponymous planet. Kalevala is a periphery planet, circling the sun alongside eight others… The Padawan could hear Master Nu's dry, academic voice now. He had known better than to waltz into the Jedi Archives, requesting information on the Mandalore system. He was practically asking for the wizened librarian to deliver a long-winded lecture, but he needed information—and fast. The Council had dispatched he and Qui Gon on their mission with a sparse briefing and less than a rotation to prepare. He had spent an excruciatingly long afternoon holed up in the Archives, hurriedly absorbing as much information on the Mandalore system as he could. In the end, he had only incurred a headache and the ire of Master Nu—Mandalorian history was far more complex than Obi Wan had initially assumed.
The most notable bit was, of course, the Mandalorians' conflict with the Jedi. This was not Obi Wan's first encounter with this topic—even non-Jedi knew of the Order's legendary battles with the Mandalorians. Do not let centuries-old prejudices cloud your judgment, Master Nu had droned, as though Obi Wan were still a Youngling, unable to think for himself. At eighteen years old and approaching knighthood, he was perfectly capable of moderating his own thoughts and feelings. And yet, as he gazed at sun as it died on the horizon, he wondered how many Jedi had lost their lives beneath its light.
"Keep your thoughts on the here and now, Obi Wan," Qui Gon chastened, no doubt sensing his apprentice's wandering mind. Perhaps I'm not quite so good at moderating my thoughts after all, Obi Wan thought with a rueful grin.
"Yes, Master," he answered, "the here and now…" Presently, the waning light was bathing Kalevala City in a wash of red-orange glow, once-grand houses casting diffused, ever-growing shadows over empty cobblestone streets. Perhaps calling it a city was a misnomer; if anything, it more closely resembled the quaint, picturesque villages of Naboo, which Obi Wan had once seen depicted in holographic form in the Archives. Of course, there was a major difference—those villages had been intact. Kalevala, on the other hand, was nearly decimated in Death Watch—or Kyr'tsad, as they were known in this region—bombings.
Not a single house along the main roadway was entirely undisturbed: at best, the windows were broken and the yards scorched; at worst, they were little more than heaps of rubble. The Force surrounding the neighborhood was heavy, scarred by the incommunicable pain and fear of its former inhabitants. Obi Wan had learned in his rudimentary sweep of the Archives that most of the Kalevalans were either displaced or dead, with only a few remaining.
Those few were to be found in the ancestral home of the Kryze clan, which rose resolutely into the twilight, as though its very existence served to defy the destruction around it. The shattered lapis windows were dark, of course, in order to lend the appearance of desertion. Obi Wan could sense the beings within, though, a furtive swirl of trepidation and dread. Mandalorian culture was proud, and the fearful emotions inside were a testament to just how devastating the bombings had been. Obi Wan glanced at Qui Gon, trying to gauge the older man's response, but he continued towards the manor stoically, seemingly untouched by the pain around him. Obi Wan, on the other hand, felt a surge of righteous compassion. He resolved to treat the people inside with the utmost kindness and gentleness.
The master and apprentice trekked on, until they were swallowed up in the shadow of the manor house. It was nearly dark now, and the sky was that hazy, plum color which heralds the end of the twilight. Obi Wan noted that the Archives had indeed been correct: Kalevala lacked a moon. No stars shone tonight, either, as though they knew their glittering presence would be inappropriate in the somber, broken scene. In the darkness, Obi Wan could make out the soft, worn curves of sandstone, which comprised all of the buildings in the neighborhood. Chunks of it lay strewn across the ground, and as Obi Wan stepped, he could hear the cracking of lapis shards beneath his feet.
"Master Jedi!" A voice rang out through the darkness, from the direction of the great, ornate durasteel door, which was opened a crack. The voice belonged to a stooped, thin, elderly man, with the same pale golden hair characteristic of the New Mandalorian faction.
"Baron," Qui Gon returned, approaching the door. He and Obi Wan stepped inside and were instantly met with the dry, cold smell stone. Hushed, muffled voices echoed from the end of a long hallway, and the fearful energy pervading the Force grew more potent.
The Baron admitted the Jedi quickly, before hurriedly closing the door and bolting it shut. "Thank you for coming, truly," the elder man began, "I would not have contacted you if our situation had not been dire."
Obi Wan was taken aback by this admission. The duchess herself had not contacted the Jedi? Why had her court taken it upon themselves to secure protection for her? In the mission briefing, the master and apprentice had been informed that the duchess' father, Duke Adonai Kryze, had been killed in the same bombing that destroyed much of the neighborhood, only three rotations prior. It was clear that as the current leader of the New Mandalorians, Duchess Satine would soon become the target of greater intrigue. But she had not seen fit to secure her own protection?
"The Jedi are always ready to come to the aide of innocent life forms," Qui Gon answered, motioning for the nobleman to lead the way. They made their way down the hallway, before entering what was presumably the former great hall. The throne occupied by late Adonai Kryze just days prior sat empty and coated with dust from the recent bombing, an oddly poetic image. The walls were lined with tapestries of rich, indigo velvet, interspersed with portraits of the royal family, rendered in the odd, angular art style of the Mandalorians. They seemed fearsome by the light of flame.
The great hall housed what was left of the Kalevalan court, a half dozen nobles huddled together by the dim light of small fire, which barely staved off the chill of the night air. Smoke curled upward, and presently, Obi Wan realized that a significant portion of the roof was blown off, revealing the starless sky above. From beside the fire, a willowy young lady sprang to her feet. Immediately, Obi Wan was struck by the pure, pale gold color of her hair, which glimmered in the petering light of the fire. "Uncle!" she exclaimed sharply, "Who are these men?"
"Duchess," the Baron answered with low bow at the waist, "these gentlemen are Jetiise. They have been sent by the Jetii Council to protect your ladyship."
Her ladyship! This slip of girl was Duchess Satine? She seemed to be close to Obi Wan's own age, if not slightly younger. Her wide blue eyes and narrow frame, coupled with the golden waves which dusted her shoulders, gave her the impression of an incorporeal being—like a diathim. She was the political savior who was to negotiate peace between the True Mandalorians and the Death Watch… Who was to lead her own faction, which had existed for nearly a millennium?
Obi Wan's surprise was only matched by the duchess' own. The Force around her lit of first with shock, then quickly turned to ire. "I asked for no such protection," she insisted hotly.
"Your ladyship," the Baron began, but she silenced him with one deft gesture.
"And Jetiise, no less!" The duchess continued, infuriated, "What possessed you to grovel before our hereditary enemies?" Obi Wan could not help but bristle at this sentiment. He glanced at Qui Gon, but the Jedi Master remained serene and unperturbed.
"Satine, ad'ika," an elderly woman began, but quickly corrected herself, "Your Ladyship, I mean." Obi Wan was again reminded of the fact that the duchess had only been their leader for three rotations. Doubtless, it was a difficult adjustment, especially for her close relations.
"Your Ladyship," the elderly woman continued, "your safety is our only concern. Lay aside old prejudices. These men are here to protect you, out of their own kindness and good will!"
Now, Qui Gon stepped forward, bowing, motioning for his apprentice to follow suit, "Duchess, I can assure you that old grudges have no bearing on our mission. My padawan and I are at your service."
The duchess glared at him with imperious, crystalline eyes. "I do not recall asking for your input, Master Jedi."
At this, Obi Wan could no longer contain his frustration. "What gives you the right to speak to us in such a manner?" He demanded, "We have given you no cause to treat us with such disdain!" After a second, despite his better judgment, he added "Your Ladyship" in the same acrid, sarcastic tone that she had used to utter his master's title moments ago.
"Padawan," Qui Gon barked—sharp, warning, final. He bowed his head, instantly ashamed of his words.
"Apologies, Duchess," Obi Wan muttered, color rising in his cheeks, resenting the look of satisfaction that had arisen in the girl's pretty face.
The duchess resumed her seat beside the fire, with an air of undeniable grace. "You must leave us," she told Qui Gon in a gentler tone, as though he had reprimanded her as well as his padawan, "return to Coruscant. You are not welcome here."
"Sleep on it, ad'ika," the elderly woman piped up, gently. Obi Wan noticed that the duchess and this lady possessed the same high cheekbones and long, thin nose. "Do not make such a rash decision tonight. Let cooler heads prevail tomorrow."
The young duchess sighed, thought for a moment, then answered measuredly, "Very well. We are adjourned." She stood again, more imperiously than before, and exited the room with a rush of emerald toned Belsavian silk and an upturned chin. As Obi Wan watched her leave, he was again reminded of her heritage. She certainly carries herself like royalty, he thought to himself, and behaves with the hauteur to match. He glanced again at Qui Gon, and for the briefest second, he thought he saw an amused smile pass his master's face. Or was it just the flickering firelight?
Mando'a words:
ad'ika-sweetie, darling, child
Jetii-Jedi
Jetiise-plural form of Jedi
Kyr'tsad-Death Watch; literally "Death Society"
Source: Wookieepedia