Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any part of the franchise; all rights and ownership belong to Disney.
A/N: Chapter 15 is taking a different approach to the overall story. It is going to clarify a loose end from the beginning of the story (left on purpose of course). Lots of stuff is happening on Mandalore and I believe the series should have delved into this. Since it didn't here's kind of my take on the scenario. Lots of conflict ahead.
Enjoy!
~ProphetessMinty
Chapter 15
Life is like a whisper, starting with breathy gusto as it rides the current into a finishing hush. There is sharpness in the sound, crisp yet soft to the listening ear. Though one cannot physically touch this intangible sensory, one knows the conviction of faith in their soul. The realness of their experience, woven together by the effects thereof remains planted in the heart. Over time, a whisper's breath dies out as it goes forgotten; its purpose scattered to the winds of abandon.
Death is also like a whisper as it is short and final. The loss of a loved one is a truly tragic thing, a thorn of mystery and grief. It is jaggedly painful and quick to strike at an unexpected hour. The aftermath of such passing leaves one hollow and aching, pining for many just-once-more moments. The heart is heavy at first, grappling with the inner turmoil of the mind which must surrender to reality.
Obi-Wan could feel the inward pull of such burdensome struggles, begging him to succumb to the woes of mourning. He could still imagine regal sea blue eyes staring back at him, filled with laughter as if they knew something he did not. The light blonde wisps of silken hair, hanging in neat curls at the ends, bouncing and swaying with every turn of her delicate head. In his ears, the seasoned Jedi could hear the echo of her somber voice and the way she spoke his name with soothing coos.
He chuckled softly to himself, as sadness threatened to break free from the rims of his scrunched eyelids. The feeling dove into numbness as the image of her passing rose to his forethoughts. Obi-Wan's lips tightened and his fists clenched in their resting place atop his thighs as he pressed through the unbalanced emotions. From the moment she was gored by obsidian saber and the look of utter shock; to the final moments of bittersweet regret mingled with calm satisfaction.
"Remember my dear Obi-Wan," Satine spoke, her voice a tender whisper.
Obi-Wan held her gently in his arms with one hand tucked under her head and the other behind her back. She felt heavy in his grasp, not an ounce of struggle within her body. Satine's porcelain hand reached toward him caressing his cheek as he nuzzled into the tenderness of her affection. His throat felt swollen with grief as unshed tears stung his eyes. His mind was blank, his sole focus directly stolen by her fading presence. The Duchess' delicate visage fought between lucidity and agony as her breath hitched with dry despair.
Her struggle was shared with him, the connection between them like a sharp pain in his gut.
"I've loved you always," she declared boldly and unwaveringly. Obi-Wan watched in doleful defeat as her eyes fluttered. "I always will." The flicker of light in her eyes winked out as quickly as her lifeforce receded in the Force. He felt Satine shudder into silence as her head fell to the side, her body lightening ever so slightly.
Obi-Wan's hands released, letting his fingers stretch out and rest atop his breaches. The legs underneath him went numb long ago as he sat meditating in the dawn of early light. A tickling breeze kissed his cheeks and faded, the blades of grass around him coming to a hushed stillness. Just as quick as the sorrow had come, Obi-Wan cast the burden aside; releasing its bitterness to the Force as it washed away into the waves of resolve.
The life of a Jedi is not an easy road as there is much asked of one such as himself. Over the years, Obi-Wan had played many roles through the will of the Force. Most often he was a peaceful spectator, an outward perspective peering in on the matters of the galaxy. In others, he would act as impartial justice being cautious to yield to truth. But at times such as this he was something other. Though he could feel the flow of the Force run through him like a sort of ocean dance, or command it to his fingertips by way of thought, Obi-Wan was merely a man.
He was helpless to save Satine and she had died tragically. As often as these thoughts nagged at him, Obi-Wan understood the events were out of his control. Even the late Duchess herself would have told him so. Knowing her, she would give him a hard and meaningful stare before telling him to not waste his energy. To move forward with purpose, make a meaningful change by choosing peace.
With a long sigh, the Jedi took a deep breath through his nostrils and exhaled from his mouth. Though the times ahead looked grim and uncertain with strife, Obi-Wan would honor her by simply moving forward. Again, he breathed through his nostrils, taking note of a strong and stimulating new smell. It was a bold, nutty aroma intermingled with spices and a hint of sweet syrup.
"If you're trying to sneak up on a Jedi, then you'll have to do better than that," Obi-Wan cheeked. He kept his eyes closed, still taking in his surroundings through the Force. Behind him stood a woman not more than ten feet away. Her spirit radiated a warriors' pride, unyielding compromise, and an incredibly strong sense of will. Keeping quiet, save for the crunch of gravel and grass underneath her boots, the woman came to stand beside him.
"If I were going to sneak up on a Jedi—Kenobi—then they wouldn't know it until it was too late," she chuckled darkly. "You Jedi think too little of us Mandalorians." With a scoff, she said, "Here. I came to bring you this. It's not much, but it's something."
Obi-Wan opened his eyes and turned to face his fiery companion. First, his eyes landed on the metal mug in her hand. Her fingers were scrunched around the rim, steam undulating through the gaps of her precarious hold, as brown liquid threatened to pour out the top. Then, just as his eyes traveled up to meet her gaze, a flicker of sunlight caught her shoulder length hair. Its normally copper-red color lit up with light blonde highlights.
For a split second, she reminded him of her sister before the auriferous rays turned glaring. Her piercing eyes were shaded by straight tresses, staring back at him with hawkish observation. From time to time, Satine would look at him like this with complete scrutiny in her almost calloused squint. It was as if she were examining him like a senator examines a new piece of legislation. She had to memorize what made Obi-Wan himself.
Instead of finding sea-blue orbs, Obi-Wan found emerald eyes staring back. His blue gaze flicked away as a twinge of guilt ran through him swiftly followed by rolling shame. "Thank you, Bo-Katan," he said with a pensive nod. Obi-Wan instinctively force pulled the drink into his hands, his eyes not meeting hers again.
Bo let go the moment she felt a gentle tug from beneath her fingertips. She watched with curious fascination as the drink slid into the Jedi's hands, not an ounce of effort or strain on his seemingly thoughtful face. Though she was accustomed to force users, their innate abilities never ceased to amaze her. Perhaps, it was the warrior in her that found them intriguing, almost like a new obstacle to overcome.
Not that she liked their kind. On the contrary, Bo found them to be an infuriating cult fashioned by the clutches of hypocrisy itself. She very much disliked them, but Obi-Wan was…different. Genuine, perhaps. A small frown came to her lips as her train of thinking arrived at this conclusion. Quickly, she focused her attention elsewhere, her emerald eyes settling on the edge of the plain.
Just beyond the edge of dry, golden grass, she could see the desert grit traveling for miles and miles ahead. The terrain around them was no longer shadowed by early dawn as the sun rose on the horizon, its intensifying light making her squint. It was another bleak morning on an ordinary plateau on Concord Dawn, yet today was anything but ordinary.
"Just 'Bo'," she said after a moment.
"Just 'Obi-Wan'," he offered before taking a tentative sip from the mug. The flavor of the hot beverage reminded him of a Mandalorian pastry—Uj Cake—he had the privilege of sharing with Satine once. Looking down to the mug, he sighed, and felt a new ache creep up. "This is delicious, thank you."
"What word have you brought from your Council?" Bo asked, with a lilt of disgust in her voice.
Obi-Wan took another sip, placed the mug in his lap, before pursing his lips. His moustache tickled his lip and instinctively he spread his fingers over the hairs, flattening them with a firm glide. Clearing his throat, he said, "They will not aid Mandalore."
"What?!" she yelled with unkempt frustration.
"In the past, Mandalore has remained an independent people," Obi-Wan explained coolly, brushing past her outrage. "Refusing the Republic's intervention has been standard practice for years. The Council—"
"I don't care about the past!" Bo quipped. "I care about the future of my people!" Kicking the dirt, she walked forward as she punched a fist into the palm of her open hand. "Sundari is practically splitting in half. There are riots in the streets. Mandalorian men, women, and children, are being abducted from our homeworld—never to be heard from again." Obi-Wan could feel a wave of unbridled rage ripple through the Force from where Bo stood. He frowned and set his caf aside, taking to his feet in silent contemplation.
"Our resources are being plundered by the hour and the economy is crashing. My sister is dead and suddenly the abrupt end of her pacifist reign has ushered in a new era of tyranny." With a growl, Bo whipped around, unexpectedly facing off eye-to-eye with Obi-Wan. Her glare was filled with hate, offended at the very idea that her hope was for not. "And to top it off," she said stepping closer. "There's a traitor sitting in my Sister's throne."
Bo jabbed a finger into his chest, twisting with each successive prod.
Obi-Wan fought against her hurtful presses, a grimace on his face as he squinted against the pain. "Don't just stand there," she barked, "and tell me the Jedi will do what they do best—fail!" Whatever semblance of calm that he had collected swiftly broke away, his building ire, suddenly ablaze. He could hold his tongue no longer.
"Bo!" he yelled, catching the Mandalorian off guard.
Immediately, her shoulders went rigid as a sneer worked its way onto her condemning expression. "Do not try me," Obi-Wan warned, "I am here because you asked it of me, and I disobeyed the Council to do so." He softened, stepping back from her, their gaze still locked. "Give me proof that I can bring back. If you have anything—anything at all—we could persuade them together, but without that proof, the Jedi will not intervene."
"Proof?! Prime Minister Almec is your proof," she shouted with conviction.
"He is a citizen of Mandalore. He alone is not enough!" Obi-Wan reasoned, heat still ghosting his face.
Bo-Katan stepped back, her facial expression a mix of nausea, grief, and silent fury. "He's a traitor—a criminal! He was in jail shortly before coming to power."
"He. Is not. Enough," he said, reiterating his previous point. "From the outside looking in, this appears to be an internal affair. One that they believe will sort itself out."
The rapid crunches of grass and gravel caught the Jedi and his female companion off guard. Together they turned their immediate attention to a young, blonde male trailed by a scarlet Mikkian female. Obi-Wan stole a glance toward Bo, finding that she was doing the same.
"Aunty! Aunty Bo," the young man yelled. "Is everything alright? We heard yelling." His voice was breathy and panicked, his blue eyes racing between Kenobi and his Aunt. "I came to see what all the noise was about." As the Mandalorian came to a halt, his longish hair whipped to the left as he observed the Mikkian beside him. The female Jedi stood by his side with arms crossed in front of her as her cranial tendrils waved like dancing ocean plants.
"Is everything alright?" he asked, glancing back to his Aunt.
"Everything is fine, Korkie," Bo said with a poor calming effort. Her emerald eyes were still glued to Obi-Wan, but her ire was beginning to wane. "We were just discussing—"
"That's some 'discussing', Aunty. All of camp heard you two," Korkie explained, standing to the side with a sweeping gesture.
Obi-Wan folded his arms, his hands hidden by his long sleeves as he held onto his forearms. He had felt the multi-eyed gazes of Mandalorian curiosity when their simple conversation broke into a shouting match. Looking up, the seasoned Jedi found Bo's people—the Nite Owls—standing amongst the tents with blank expressions. Glancing to Bo, he found her embarrassed, a shade of red coloring her clenched cheeks. The warrior of the House of Kryze strode forward with fists at her side, not daring to look back at Obi-Wan.
"Mark my words, Kenobi. I will find proof." Bo said nothing more and left him in the dust of her wake.
Korkie shook his head, turning to leave. "Our house is already in shambles, Master Kenobi. We don't need you adding to it." The young man strode away, no doubt following his Aunt.
Obi-Wan sighed, his eyes closing with defeat.
"That went well, Master Kenobi," Tiplee chuckled, no humor in the notion. As she stood before him, Obi-Wan noted the pity in her expression.
He nodded, "Doesn't it always, Master Tiplee?"
The Mikkian's only reply was a gentle and melodic agreement, in the tongue of her people.
Evening came on the swift legs of the bygone Mythosaur, casting all the land in dreary darkness as the evening cool swept through like the calm before the storm. A great length of time had past since the camp relocated to the desert canyons, near a small flowing brook. Obi-Wan could hear the running waters dance over the rocks like cascading chimes. Quietly he stoked the fire in front of him with a long, skinny root he scrounged from a withered bush, its leaves having already been scavenged by wildlife.
The flames crackled and snapped, hungrily grazing upon the meager offering of the dead shrub's remains. Twigs and trunk alike glowed like red-hot charcoal, fraying at the ends as it combusted into flurries of smoke and ash. Its earthen, woody smells wafted into the air in dense clouds before dissipating into the starry sky altogether.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Obi-Wan sighed out his frustrations in an attempt to dislodge the train of thought barreling through his mind. He had not said much since this morning's dispute as a great sense of foreboding settled atop his shoulders with hefty weight. The Jedi's gaze became wistful, his mouth pulling into a tight frown, as he desperately sought for internal silence. Yet, his efforts were pointless.
Obi-Wan could not help but piece together some semblance of understanding of what the future would hold for Mandalore and its people. The last time Obi-Wan had set foot on Sundari was when he witnessed the murder of Satine Kryze, his secret love of many years. In the wake of her death, so much horror had wracked the very foundations of her peaceable efforts. What the late Duchess had spent years building, crumbled within hours…within days.
Even the steadfast Bo-Katan, seemed to be at her limits of withstanding the maw of Darth Maul and his apprentice—Savage Opress. Though Obi-Wan could discern the Dark Lords' collectively misguided wrath from Concord Dawn, another emotion reached out to him through the Force. Unlike the time before, there was fear.
Great and terrible, fear.
Obi-Wan extracted a small communicator from the sleeve of his robes for what seemed like the hundredth time that hour. His thumb ghosted over the sleek design, tempted to ring his counterpart—Master Tiplee—who had long since broke away with Korkie and several Nite Owls. The scouting party had no doubt broke through the perimeter of Sundari's encircling dome, undetected and undeterred. Just as the Jedi worked up the courage to open a communications channel, the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention.
Caution filled his sapphire eyes as Bo sat opposite from him, sweeping a lock of copper-red hair behind her ear as she took kneeling purchase in the dust. Her gauntleted hand swept over the ground, grabbing up a fist full of dust, and watched it pour out the bottom of her hand. She did this several times, before eyeing Obi-Wan altogether. Patiently he waited, anticipation rising within his chest, though he exuded calm and hospitality.
"No news from my nephew Korkie or your friend," she began. "If all is well by morning, then we will rendezvous at the Capital."
Obi-Wan nodded, taking note of the hawkish scrutiny of Bo's emerald gaze. The Mandalorian woman was testing him, not out of spite, but to try the bridge of their fragile connection. Though she would never say it, there was a degree of compunction within her impression on the Force.
"This morning, you said that Mandalore's neutrality was a problem," Bo said, looking away. "What would it take for the Jedi Council to reconsider?"
"It's not just the Council you will have to persuade, but also the Galactic Senate," Obi-Wan answered. He sighed a loud, the sound a mixture of a huff and a hard breath. Obi-Wan was tired, completely drained from the strain of frustration and resentment. Taking the dried root in his hand, the Jedi poked at the charcoal embers, effectively dislodging flakes of cinder. "You and I both know that Prime Minister Almec's sudden appearance and takeover of governing affairs is a sham. A ploy to prevent the Jedi Council from aiding Mandalore."
"Agreed," Bo nodded. "Almec is merely serving as a patsy. We need to take him out right away. We need to crush his reign before any more harm can come to—"
"Not necessarily," Obi-Wan interjected, stroking his beard with a delicate hand.
The red-head stopped watching the dirt pour out from her clenched fist and diverted her scrutiny toward the bug that was Obi-Wan Kenobi. "Excuse me?" she questioned, dropping her hand.
"Almec is indeed a problem," he began.
"A terrible one," Bo answered with a sneer.
"However," Obi-Wan interjected, his voice laced with warning as it dipped a decibel lower, "he's the only thing keeping a Civil War from breaking loose."
She scoffed, "A Civil War is already breaking loose."
"No," he dissented. "What Sundari is experiencing is the pangs of travail. War has not yet come, but it will with time. Until then, the whole of Mandalore rests on the fulcrum of balance within the Force. The tide has not turned, only the motion therein gathers to the depths before the next wave."
"What are you suggesting then, Kenobi?" Bo asked, shifting to her haunches. "We leave Almec in power? Roaming unchecked and unchallenged? I'd no sooner leave it to Maul."
"Oh?" Obi-Wan shot coyly. "Last I checked, you had no problems using him to further your agenda."
"That was different, and you know it!" she barked.
He merely nodded and shrugged, "Agree to disagree."
"Besides," Bo began, brushing past his apathetic remark, "I warned Pre Vizsla. Using that filthy Zabrak was asking for trouble. He thought he could control Maul, but I saw him for what he was really worth." She sighed and leaned back, placing an elbow on her propped knee. Eventually, she rested her head against the fist of her left hand. "I just wanted a strong Mandalore again. We'll never have that with an outsider scum bleeding our people dry."
"I'm afraid you're quite right," Obi-Wan sighed. "Unless we can locate Maul and Savage, there is nothing here for the Council or the Senate to act upon." Bo's smooth features crinkled into a glower, the creases of her face cast in deep shadow behind the fire's crackling flame. Nodding, the Mandalorian sat forward, her legs crisscrossing in front of her as she grabbed a knife from her belt. The blade sang a gentle hum, the precipice of its sharp point undiscernible.
"That'll be nearly impossible," she huffed before stowing her weapon. "Neither I nor my Nite Owls, have seen his shebs since the day of Almec's return."
"Oh? That's news," Obi-Wan said, shooting her an inquisitive look. "Nothing stays the hand of a Lord of the Sith. Not unless something much bigger is at play." The eerie sense of foreboding that had picked at him all day, finally clawed its way through Obi-Wan's stomach, the end plummeting unnaturally.
"I thought you knew," she said, her brow raised. "I thought Jedi knew everything."
Obi-Wan chuckled dryly, "Not everything."
A wolfish grin worked Bo's lips, "At last, your kind is flawed."
"We always were," he pondered. "It's the downfall of many Jedi to think we were not so. Arrogance has grown common, even amongst the elect of us."
"And what of you, Obi-Wan?" Bo teased candidly.
"What of me?" the Jedi asked. "There is not much to tell. I am merely a man."
Bo's copper brow raised, unconvinced by his vague answer. "I know my Sister and her tastes. She was never intrigued with nothing. There was always purpose in what held her attention." With a chuckle, she said, "Keep your secrets, then."
"No secrets, only truth," Obi-Wan volleyed, equally frank. "It was merely the will of the Force, that I met Satine. Otherwise, I never could have held her attention."
Bo's emerald gaze flicked to the ground, "How did you meet my sister?"
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it as the communicator stowed in his sleeve began to chirp. The two shared an equally worried glance, before he removed the device. "This is Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said, his gaze never leaving Bo's.
"Mas- Ke-obi," a garbled voice called.
"Yes," he answered quickly.
"Tipl- to Ke-obi," the Mikkian tried again.
"Master Tiplee, this is Kenobi. Your connection is breaking up," he explained.
"Master Ke-obi, a poc-et of th- city is in unr-st. There's a ri-t in th- market," Tiplee informed.
Obi-Wan watched as Bo slammed her fist into the dirt, gnashing her teeth in frustration. He looked to the ground knowing full well that skirmishes in a market lead to mass panic. Perhaps the foreboding he felt was not just Maul and Savage, but the people as well. "We'll be there as soon as possible," he sighed.
"Hu-y!" she yelled, just as the connection ceased.
Journeying through Sundari's boarders was not as hard as Obi-Wan believed it would be. In fact, it turned out to be the easy part. They slipped through as silently as the owls for which Bo's faction of warriors were named. Making it into the market, however, turned out to be the more difficult problem. For several square miles, men and women dressed in black and red Mandalorian armor blockaded the area surrounding the market. Their weapons were drawn, and some shielded themselves behind small ray shields, casting themselves in faint aqua-blue light. People stood behind their lines, pelting rotten food toward them as they yelled.
Obi-Wan and Bo-Katan stole down several alleys, sticking to the shaded areas looking for a gap in the cordon. To their dismay, there was no way of getting in without drawing attention. Just as they were beginning to lose hope, an explosion in the distance rocked the corridor like an earthen tremor. The buildings around them shook, spraying debris into the air and pelting passerby with chunks of wreckage.
Though Bo instinctively hunkered beneath her ray shield, Obi-Wan lifted a hand calling to the Force. In his mind he could picture them underneath a domed shelter and with his eyes, he watched as debris collected above them. "It's alright now, Bo," Obi-Wan assured.
The Mandalorian woman peeked out from behind her protection and stood, noting their position had remained pristine despite the area around them. "That's useful," she nodded, as a sort of thanks. "I don't know what Gar Saxon's people are up to, but it can't be good."
"No, it can't be," Obi-Wan nodded, dropping his hand.
The debris above them fell lightly to the ground before the two returned their attention toward the corridor's exit. Seeing as it was no longer being guarded, they ran through together, breaking past the line of opportunity and into the field of disarray. The streets were filled with chaos as people ran away from an oppressive cloud of dust behind themselves. Carts were overturned, rotten food trodden upon, and several children cried for their parents.
Obi-Wan winced at the emotional ordeal, as if merely witnessing this devastation was lacerating his heart. Though he couldn't see Bo's face behind her T-visor, something told him she was just as shocked as he was.
"Mas-er Ke-obi!" Tiplee hailed.
Obi-Wan grabbed his chirping communicator and answered, "Master Tiplee. Where are you?"
"Sou-h side!" she yelled.
Bo broke into a run, leading with an outstretched arm, ready to deploy a defensive tactic. Obi-Wan followed closely behind, running down streets and hurtling over rubble, until they found themselves in a market square. Four of Gar Saxon's men had cornered Tiplee, Korkie, and two Nite Owls behind an overturned food stand. Each party traded blaster fire, desperation filling their every movement.
To Obi-Wan's amazement, Bo-Katan kept running forward, no wavering resolve in her entire presence. Firing a wrist rocket at one of Saxon's sympathizers, the jetpack attached to their back exploded in a rainbow of colors as the Tibanna gas inside combusted with a loud bang. Even with the shockwave, Bo was unstoppable as she slid several feet before scissor kicking the next opponent to the floor. With one leg pushing back on their ankles and the other chopping forward behind their knees, she rolled swiftly with the motion. Just as she completed the rotation, toppling the combatant to the ground, Bo extracted the humming knife holstered at her hip. Driving it effortlessly through the enemy's chest, they remained still; never to move again.
The two remaining Saxon sympathizers took to the air while keeping their backs to one another, twirling in unison as they released their flamethrowers in white-hot incinerating streams. Bo managed to roll out of the way while Korkie and her Owls volleyed alternating shots at their enemy. Obi-Wan pictured in his mind plucking the Mandos out of the sky and made a grabbing motion with his hands while pulling toward himself. Just as his actions met with resistance, a red blur jumped into the air.
Obi-Wan recognized the blur to be Tiplee as she kicked one man in the gut, rotated in a somersault, then kicked the other square in the head. The Mikkian landed on her feet between the men she had downed and extracted the sapphire saber clipped at her hip. Activating its blade with a snap-hiss, she twirled the weapon with a readying flick.
The Mandos rolled away from the female Jedi, jumping to their feet, as they pincered her from either side. Obi-Wan jumped in just as they began showering Tiplee with blaster fire. Both he and her, deflected the bolts with the effortless twitch of their sabers, redirecting the shots out and away. Together they pushed back their opponents, giving their allies opportunity to take aim. With two loud pops, the Saxon-Mandos crumpled to the ground with smoking wounds billowing from glowing amber holes in their helmets. Obi-Wan looked back and found Korkie and Bo dropping their weapons.
"Thanks," Obi-Wan nodded solemnly.
Tiplee remained quiet but nodded her thanks all the same.
"There's not much time," Korkie said brushing aside the Jedi's appreciation. "Gar Saxon has requested more troops under Prime Minister Almec's order. They are to quash the market skirmish and all resistance is to be met with force."
"How could this happen?" Bo asked bewildered.
"You, as well as I, know that food shortages have increased for the last couple months. Look around, the provisions are rotten," Korkie stated apprehensively.
Obi-Wan watched as Bo swept up food from a nearby cart. In her hand was a round and oozing fruit, that was beyond mere bruising. Quickly, she cast it aside, tossing it harshly to the ground. The overripe produce exploded upon impact, spraying the ground with pulp and natural juices.
"Unbelievable," Bo muttered, shaking her gauntlet dry.
"When we got here," Tiplee began, "the people were rallying peaceably. There were growing concerns that they could not feed themselves nor their families."
"Yeah," Korkie agreed, "that was shortly before Almec made a public speech declaring that protestors were violating the law. When the people refused to disband, that's when Saxon's men showed up and things got out of control."
"And the collapsed buildings?" Obi-Wan pondered a loud.
"Collateral," Korkie surmised.
"For what?" Bo asked. Obi-Wan observed the woman as she stalked toward one of the deceased, hunched forward, and pulled a vibroblade from their chest. With a quick inspection, she turned the knife forward and back before sheathing it at her side. "All he's managed to do is terrorize the citizens."
"Exactly," Obi-Wan muttered, trying to piece the mystery together, "that's the point—terror. There's something more going on here. Something we didn't see before."
"How do you figure that?" Bo questioned, standing to her feet.
"Call it a hunch," he sighed.
"Whatever it is, we can figure it out on the way," Korkie stated while pointing toward a holo-display dangling from a nearby building. The metal mount sparked as the party turned and watched a news station as it panned in on a government building. Prime Minister Almec stood on a balcony with his head held high as he addressed an armored warrior to his right. The individual stood tall, decked in black and red, with a crown of horns atop his helmet.
Obi-Wan began stroking his beard thoughtfully.
"That's Gar Saxon," Bo said, brushing past Obi-Wan. "We better get moving, they'll be here soon." The Jedi nodded just as he witnessed Prime Minister Almec gesture toward the skies. Moments later, Gar Saxon and his company of men rocketed into the air in maroon streaks. The man in question led the way, leaving the capital building behind without another thought.
"I assume he took over Death Watch after you and your Nite Owls defected?" Obi-Wan asked out loud. Looking away from the screen, the Jedi jogged forward and caught up to his female companion.
"He's cut from the same cloth as Pre Vizsla," Bo stated. "Just as dangerous, but with less honor."
"Was he second in Command before all this went down?" he questioned.
"No, I was." she answered dryly. "Saxon's goals often paralleled mine, and being that he's highly competitive, Gar took advantage of the rift growing between Pre and me. It's only natural he took over."
"Opportunistic, I see." Obi-Wan pieced together. "Neither of you got along I suppose?"
Bo chuckled humorlessly, "There's a time to play and a time to fight." Obi-Wan shook his head, slightly amused before he took to silence.
Before they exited the shopping district all together, Obi-Wan felt a gentle tug in the Force. Falling away from Bo's side, the seasoned Jedi turned around and found the nearest body of a former soldier. The Mandalorian woman seemed to take notice of his departure and stopped in place, surveying his movement inquisitively.
"Obi-Wan?" she called.
He said nothing as he knelt and searched the deceased. His fingers were splayed, hovering over the cadaver until they ghosted over a belt pouch. A feeling close to suspicion pulled in Obi-Wan's gut, like he knew something important was hidden there. Whatever it was called to him, begging him to take a further look.
"We need to leave, it's not safe here," Bo advised.
Obi-Wan popped open the pouch with a wave of his hand and called forth the object held within. A box no smaller than the palm of his hand floated into his grasp. The Jedi turned it cautiously, forward, and back, up, and down. It was the color of ash wood, painted with purple and gold swirling designs, something he noted that was meant to catch the eye.
"What did you find?" Bo asked, kneeling beside Obi-Wan.
Before he could answer, Korkie yelled for Bo and him, calling them along like dawdling children. Obi-Wan shrugged and put the box into the folds of his robes. He did not yet know what it was for, but something told him it was important. The two rose to their feet and jogged after the others, none the wiser that the fulcrum of balance in the Force had shifted.
The shroud of darkness was already here.