*A/N: Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. When I decided how I wanted to present this story, I was grateful to find that what I had imagined appeared to be complemented with information in Legends regarding Satine's succession of power. The politics of the Mandalorian Civil War will be touched upon and elaborated in later chapters, though some explanations might be kept vague to refrain from heavy tangling of Legends and Canon material. Anyway, please R&R. Thanks so much. - Nikki
Over the past few months, Qui-Gon sensed the growing confusion in his padawan. Obi-wan seemed almost troubled by the inactivity of the insurgents and ever perplexed in his own suspicions. Though the master could not deny the foreboding that bore down on his own thoughts, it was quite obvious he hid it better.
It did, however, feel like cause for concern, the silence. He wished for such stillness in his morning meditation, but found his thoughts stuck on a loop, linking to his original theory, as if feedback interference playing against static. Since the two Jedi had landed on Mandalore, there had not been the slightest move against the Duchess. Again, he was inclined towards two possibilities; either the enemy was planning to make up for their most recent failure or the presence of Master and Padawan had been detected.
The former seemed more likely to him, considering the enforced secrecy of their identities, though he did fear the culprits' familiarity with the Duchess. Even such a theory barely narrowed down the possible list of suspects, as she was centered with countless responsibilities, her company broad and ever-growing. Still, Qui-Gon couldn't deny his own baffling certainty that they had yet to encounter the guilty opposition.
Despite the Duchess's proclivity of upsetting party members and the transparency with which she ran her office, he had yet to experience any true hostility aimed at her. She inspired respect, marching along a fine line of artless honesty interwoven into effortless diplomacy. Within the palace, he sensed allies, but not much could be said for those beyond these walls, inside the city of Sundari, even further to the entire system of Mandalore. Many opposed the eschewing of tradition and Duchess Satine was the face of such a movement.
The only thing that he had recently learned of any interest was that her Chief of Staff had once carried the rank of General at the beginning of the Civil War, more than a decade earlier. He wondered after an opportunity to question the man further as he appeared to be the Duchess's right hand.
Master Jinn exhaled, unable to shake the slight sensation of being defeated as he couldn't find his center, causing him to finally dismiss himself from his attempt to meditate. As long as things stayed quiet, his mind could not. He would not find answers in the silence.
Qui-Gon had reported to the Council again and they were equally troubled by the dormancy of his mission. It certainly wasn't for lack of investigation as the master had made his way through subtly interviewing staff throughout the palace.
All the past attempts on the Duchess had taken place after planned events, where her confirmed presence would be public knowledge. He had no evidence to support his own theories, but if he was sure of anything, it was following his Force-given instincts. While visions had been easy to misinterpret in the past, intuition communicated itself with the utmost clarity.
He smirked, thinking of how Obi-wan had not yet reached such a point of self-assurance. It was clear in the way he watched their charge with inarguable suspicion. Qui-Gon supposed their quest on Pijal had plagued the padawan with projecting such prejudices on the monarch of this current assignment. However, Duchess Satine, the pacifist, appeared to operate on an entirely different level of morality than that of Princess Fanry, the revolutionary. Still, each mission left some impression; Qui-Gon knew that undoubtedly and it caused him to wonder what mark might remain on the padawan after the conclusion of this one.
As he began dressing in the uncomfortable uniform of the Royal Guard, he hoped to himself that it might be an increased interest in politics. It wasn't as though Qui-Gon enjoyed statesmanship, he merely understood its place in the greater scheme of the galaxy. Coruscant was rife with it, but only so much could be understood in the arena where policy was made; the real discernment came from seeing the direct effect of its implementation.
As ambitious as the New Mandalorian regime seemed, Master Jinn could not doubt its enforcement after the months they had spent in the Duchess's company. It had been an endless stretch of political dinners, speeches of address, pacifist rallies, inner-party debates and even a few late nights of dictation for treaty transcription. Beyond detailing the agenda each morning over breakfast with her chief of staff, the two Jedi had not been more than guards in her company.
It gave Qui-Gon limited time to gauge the Duchess on the slow progression of the investigation. He would've found it suspicious that she seemed unaffected – despite his padawan appearing more than capable to encapsulate such speculation all on his own – if not for the absolute determination she had set towards her duties. It was as if she didn't have the time to be worried, or perhaps the sense, he had begun to think, sourly.
This threat of insurgency had not solved itself, of that he was certain; yet, perhaps due to the Mandalorian legacy of revolution, insurrection seemed as inevitable as the passage of time and therefore nothing to lose any sleep over. The political stability of Coruscant seemed a legend in comparison to the legislative quicksand of Mandalore; still he found such incessant need for improvement to be inspiring. It seemed the Duchess refused to wait for the peace she sought, all too certain that it would not come to Mandalore of its own accord, not without her relentless and inexhaustible pursuit.
Before he could leave his room, the buzzing mind of his padawan greeted him on the other side of the door. He inhaled and prepared himself for the cavalcade of observations he might hear from Obi-wan.
Much to his surprise, he was received with a silent nod of acknowledgment from the younger man. Whatever filled his thoughts remained unspoken, as if he had yet to take any conclusion away from it. Though the master was curious, he trusted his apprentice to make sense of what he might and search clarification when he could. He couldn't find the need to question him just yet, not when they had a breakfast briefing to attend.
The two Jedi entered the empty dining room. It was rare to arrive before the Duchess and Obi-wan figured it was his master's incomplete meditation that was the cause. Usually he wouldn't mind the quiet, but now it made his concerns feel amplified and he wasn't sure how to proceed. Merely the padawan's recent bout of restless insomnia finally brought it to his attention:
For the past several nights, he had sensed her walking throughout the palace, passing down the hallway. Only last night did he confirm his suspicion that the Duchess had indeed been going to her office, it seemed for the purpose of having a conversation over hologram. Obi-wan knew this wasn't the mission, but he couldn't stop recalling her initial demand of transparency, yet he was hiding something, and whether or not it pertained to their assignment, it was something of great importance.
He hadn't eavesdropped, despite his curiosity; after confirming where she had gone, he returned to his room and meditated, hoping the Force would conjure some guidance for the solution they were looking for, even while their enemy remained still. Just as he felt himself align with the Force he could sense the Duchess's weary return into the hallway coincide with the habitually patrolling Zeke Dinul. Within a second, she hid in an empty room, two doors down and waited for her chief of staff to pass before finally returning to her chambers. When Obi-wan realized that she was keeping her midnight communications from her closest advisor, he couldn't sort through the questions that began to impose themself upon him.
His train of thought was disturbed as his master looked him over with overwhelmed eyes. "What is it, my padawan?" Qui-Gon's deep voice cut through the deafening silence, diluting the tension Obi-wan had unwittingly cocooned himself in. "You seem uneasy."
The younger man sighed, both in relief and refrain, unsure of just how worried he should be. "I just don't understand why we are here, Master."
"To protect the young Duchess, Obi-wan." He replied resolutely.
"She's already repeatedly denied being in need of it." He reasoned, not wanting to admit that he would rather spend his time helping more grateful and trusting beings.
Master Jinn watched his apprentice closely. "Have you taken a disliking to our current sovereign?"
Obi-wan's eyes widened and he shook his head. "Of course not, Master." He paused for a moment. "Nothing so serious."
"What is it?"
Obi-wan tried to encompass just what he was ready to divulge at that current moment, uncertainty surrounding her. "It perturbs me is all."
"What does?"
"She's very proud." He blurted quickly before his expression betrayed his fear that he had been too blunt, but he wouldn't rescind his honest opinion. Duchess Satine wielded her condescension as both a shield and weapon, causing him to question just who it was they were protecting.
"Ah," Master Jinn smirked, thinking for a moment. "Understand that she must be, to lead her people."
"I thought pride was a fault, not a virtue." He had heard Master Yoda say as much countless times.
"More often than not, yes, it is." He replied with an acknowledging nod. "Certainly, for the Jedi, but the rest of the galaxy cannot always operate on such strict terms."
"I don't understand."
Qui-Gon nodded with a soft smirk. "The Mandalorians are a proud people; they find honor and esteem within that kind of strength." Obi-wan gave a brief nod, having been reminded often enough. "They could never respect a meek or humble leader. While some of our code might take issue with her for this, it is the only way she will keep hold of her people." He exhaled, his eyes briefly closing as he wondered after the threat that had seemed to go cold. "To succeed in the ambition she possesses for them, to uphold the mantle of pacifism amongst her Mandalorian brethren, she must inspire confidence and exude nothing but decisive effort."
Obi-wan thought on that for a moment. It sounded exhausting, to always act strong and certain. He had never felt that way; having Qui-Gon as his master always made him feel accepted for his own shortcomings; he was never met with judgment or disappointment. He felt encouraged to perceive and even celebrate his own failings. Suddenly the padawan was grateful. "Do you think she'll be able to do it?" He asked gently.
The older Jedi pondered that question in a swift, silent reflection. "Her cause is noble and her motivation entirely focused; worlds can rise with such determination."
Obi-wan's eyes narrowed in a briefly distracted humor. "You didn't answer the question."
He smiled and a huffed laugh fell from his lips as his own indecisive reply had been thwarted. "I believe that if she continues on this path, she will see a great deal of opposition, though I wouldn't do her the disservice of believing it could deter her from such a quest." He shook his head. "What I think is that if anyone can encourage such change, it would be her." His brows lifted as if in slight contention to his words. "Only the Force knows and only time will tell."
Obi-wan nodded, as his blaring thoughts returned, tumultuously revolving around his recent discovery. She clearly didn't trust them entirely. He wanted to make sense of it, but irritably felt his focus continuously slip. "Surely, we could be put to better use than shadowing an entitled monarch for months on end."
"It is the will of the Force that has brought us here."
"I thought it was the will of the Council."
Master Jinn smirked again. "Yes, and sometimes, even to my own surprise, those two things aren't mutually exclusive."
"Consider my gratitude," A voice lined with rigid decorum spoke from behind Obi-wan. "Organized opposition has ceased, yet neither the Force, nor your Council of the Republic see fit to relinquish Mandalore's fate back to its citizens."
"The Jedi Council," Obi-wan corrected before turning around. "Not the Council of the Republic, Duchess." He offered an obligatory bow after his address, while the wait staff entered behind her.
Duchess Satine met Obi-wan's uncharacteristically terse expression with a smirk in her gaze as she amended. "The Jedi Council, of the Republic." She extended her clarification with a nod, as if it was only a mere technicality.
As she turned her attention to Qui-Gon behind him, Obi-wan finally lifted his head and quickly looked for signs of exhaustion on the leader's face. For once he could see some form of concealment cosmetics over what should've undoubtedly been dark circles underneath her eyes. The padawan wondered if such deception was excusable to uphold the esteem of her office, or was it, perhaps a disguise to hide whatever secrets kept her awake at night.
"Have they not been apprised on the opposition's inactivity?"
"They have, Duchess." The master answered with a nod. "Still, the Council and I believe the threat has not dissolved."
"I should hope not." She scoffed, unapologetic and sarcastic frustration enveloped her voice. "It would be an utter insult to my supposed penchant for inciting aggravation amongst my people."
Though it was clear she was being facetious, the padawan's misgivings had not subsided in the least and he sought out any other visible clues of her fatigue as it slightly peeked from behind her façade.
The Duchess watched food and caf be distributed. "I don't disagree with your assumption Master Jinn, merely your Council's relentless desire to maintain involvement." She sighed. "I should truly be loath to think I legitimized this insurgency against the New Mandalorian regime if it cannot be bothered to possess the fundamental requirement I expect from any worthy adversary."
"And what might that be, Duchess?" Obi-wan was just barely able to swallow the bitterness that pleaded for the right to infect his tone.
"Persistence, Emissary Kenobi. Without which, it reveals itself as nothing more than a fickle tantrum." She steeled her voice as she sat down. "Mandalore will not be lost to privileged outbursts."
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The Duchess knowingly welcomed the party to enter. Zeke Dinul held the door open and let Pietra inside first. She quickly made her way to the leader and quietly relayed a message directly to her. Zeke Dinul was standing close by, his eyes fixed on Duchess Satine as she received a data card from her handmaiden.
The two Jedi sat down; Obi-wan keeping his full attention on the exhausted nobility while she longingly eyed the cup of caf directly in front of her, the breadth of his qualms about her honesty, or lack thereof, ever expanding. It didn't help that he noticed skepticism on the chief of staff's face, as if, he too presumed some secrecy shrouding itself around the Duchess.
The padawan looked back to his teacher, feeling guilty for his silence on the matter; he realized that with all Master Jinn's interviewing of witnesses in the hopes of managing the Council's expectations despite the stagnancy, he most likely needed to be updated on the padawan's most recent observations.
In three months, they had no attempts, no leads and now it looked as though the very Duchess they were protecting was indeed, concealing something from her security detail. Perhaps it was a coincidence, but it seemed the only variable left unaccounted for and at this point, he was willing to consider it entirely pertinent to their ongoing investigation.
"Thank you, Pietra." She gently double-patted the brunette woman's hand with a frustrated, though obligingly grateful expression, her fingers quickly finding their way around the handle of her cup. "I will see to it shortly."
"Of course." She nodded her head, eyes wary as she wasted no time with her exit, the transparent bearer of bad news.
The Duchess made no remark on the reason for her lady's entrance, quickly taking to her beverage quietly while Master Jinn consulted on scheduling an interview with Dinul. With an impressive speed, the sovereign devoured the freshly brewed energy stimulant and stood with a melancholy shake of her head. "I'm very sorry to announce that I have an unforeseen matter that requires my immediate attention." Before her chief of staff had the chance to move, she waved him off. "I insist you finally allow the Jedi their interview." She wore a winning smirk. "I'm sure it won't be too painful."
The Jedi Master's first question succinctly set the tone for the interview and the chief of staff was actually impressed with his frankness. "Have you been a supporter of the New Mandalorian regime for a long time, former General Dinul?"
Zeke was tempted to crack a smirk but refrained in irritation with little Satine. "No, merely one of its representative, our Duchess."
It was clear that the master was evaluating the sincerity of such a claim, pushing him to elaborate on the inception of it. "I'm curious as to how that began, considering the varying opinions of your Houses?"
The older man finally allowed himself the smirk. "Are all of your questions set to reveal how much you already know?" He laughed to stop the Jedi from replying, figuring him serious enough to answer the rhetorical question. "No, I started in the war fighting against the True Mandalorians, against her father, Duke Adonai. Can't say that I didn't continue to fight with him for some years to come, even after we begrudgingly became friends." The smile stayed in his eyes. "Soon after my recruitment in the war, my strength and keenness to battle secured me my rank early on," Brown orbs revealed reminiscent humor. "It didn't last long; I hated leading troops, didn't have the patience for it. Warring was in my blood so much that I couldn't even stomach my allies." He rubbed at his nose. "It ended with me on the run, obscenely bloody and broken from my own men, crash-landing into some cover on Kalevala.
"After just barely pulling myself out of the wreckage, I realized how grim my chances were and everything just went black. I came to in some storage unit with this young, pale brat tending to my wounds. Her father had donated all the bacta to the cause, so she apologized for the weaker remedies." He laughed. "I tried to tell her not to bother. I'd been injured enough to know when I pushed myself too far, so instead I regaled the times in which I had triumphed. I mostly wanted to remember that at some point, I had fulfilled that honorable warrior creed." He shook his head. "I guess I had expected awe or perhaps admiration, but she was thoroughly uninterested."
Obi-wan couldn't help but think that it sounded exactly like the Duchess. Violence would not impress her, though upon further contemplation, he wasn't sure what would.
"Looking into that little girl's disappointed eyes, I could see how frustrated she was by such praise glorifying the inevitability, even monotony of our warrior ways and she had no qualms about letting me know." He exhaled. "Growing up, war is a lullaby, a bedtime story for Mandalorian children, yet to her, it seemed a nightmare.
"My recollection of honor and titles spurred her to ask me, what good any of it meant, when there I lay, alone, bleeding and on the run? When I realized I had no answer for her, she smiled and said she would rather hope for peace and prosperity than simply withstand war and destruction." He smirked, his head swaying in fond irritation. "I should've immediately understood how right she was, but I was desperate to believe my energy and dedication, that service to Mandalorian principles wasn't all for nothing, so I lashed out, yelling at the poor girl."
He shook his head, shamefully this time and both Jedi were moved by the genuine contrition that could be seen wading in the man's brown eyes. "But she came back every day to make sure I healed, bringing me food from her own plate." Even now, he was still moved by the power behind such innocent selflessness. "Peace wasn't simply an ambition for her, it was a lifestyle; choices she made every day to be kind and compassionate. I was affected by it, but still thought that little girl mad, so we no longer talked on the matter."
He looked back to Qui-Gon. "Once my prognosis was better and it was clear that I was no longer dependent upon her for survival, she decided to revisit past topics of contention. As I stood, for the first time in weeks, she regarded me with a strong, immovable gaze and asked me one thing."
"Which was?" Obi-wan couldn't swallow back his curiosity, causing his master to quietly smirk.
Zeke looked directly at the padawan and exhaled deeply. "'What have we gained from our warrior ways?'" Shaking his head, humor filled his eyes. "After our first conversation on the subject, once I had scared her away, my mind kept reeling back to this child's simplistic way of viewing our birthright, our legacy, how easily she invalidated the source of more than a millennium of pride, but when she asked me that question, I realized that I had been the one clinging to simple, childish views. I had been taught that battle was the greatest honor to experience and violence was our language, our depiction of Mandalorian poetry and in 24 years of life, I had never thought to question it, but when forced to review every fight, every victory, I saw nothing but a legacy of loss; loss of life, diplomacy, of habitable land, like this barren rock we live on, now cocooned in this small dome of ours, all too satiate that greedy burn in our blood." He sighed. "The only thing we've gained from our warrior ways is our reputation, yet even that is a double-edged sword, trapping us in one way of thinking, one way of being. I finally could see that she was right."
"What did you do afterwards?" Qui-Gon asked in curious consideration.
"I stayed on Kalevala, becoming an impartial neighbor of Clan Kryze." He sighed heavily. "The battles all seemed pointless, as if they were simply being fought for nothing more than the sake of it. Adonai tried to convert me a few times, but I knew that if peace started on a small scale, one could find it for themselves." He laughed. "I was selfish enough to try, succeeding for essentially the rest of the war, only claiming my affiliation two years ago when the Duchess returned after finishing her political inner-system education." Zeke didn't attempt to mask the familial pride in his voice, though it quickly deflated. "It was just after her father was lost in battle."
"Despite the strain it caused her Clan, she didn't hesitate to take charge and solidify New Mandalorian principles at the start of her reign." He shrugged. "It was difficult for her to turn from the True Mandalorians, but she said she had had enough of concessions." He laughed. "Still, Duke Adonai always swore she would lead Mandalore one day and at the time, it made me wonder if the madness was genetic." He smirked. "Regardless, I didn't pause when she asked me to lead her security detail. If Satine Kryze as a naïve child could finally convince me of peace, I can only imagine what our educated, adult Duchess is capable of."
Bringing his dark brown eyes to center on the master, Zeke inquired. "Beyond my former rank and affiliation, was there anything else you wanted to ask about?"
Obi-wan was tempted to learn the reason behind the man's seemingly recent suspicion for his sovereign, though he wasn't sure how to broach the topic. Qui-Gon watched the man for a moment, sensing the deep, familial affection he had for the Duchess and felt his words to be true. "It doesn't seem necessary; I appreciate your frankness."
"Of course." He nodded. "We're all just doing our jobs. I'm almost flattered to be considered suspicious, though I don't possess such subtlety to move in secrecy." The Mandalorian wasn't sure if the same could be said about his surrogate niece, the controversial leader of their people.
Satine hurriedly strutted to her office, thoroughly drained of energy because of how late Bo had kept her up that night. She was thankful she had the Jedi to push on Dinul. It felt a cheap diversion for an old friend, but she knew he was growing exceedingly ready to confront her by the second. She understood why her most trusted advisor and friend might not approve of their frequent conversations; still she had already sacrificed so much for the cause. Besides, what right did she have to the authority her name provided if she abandoned all familial tie to it?
That was the argument she had crafted should Zeke catch her during one of her late-night, confidential communications with her younger sister. She knew her chief of staff disapproved of her protective nature towards Bo Katan and agreed that to some degree it was warranted; her sole sibling had not been easy to manage directly after the passing of their father, but the Duchess refused to believe it affected her duties, especially now since her sister was an adult and merely sought out her conversation. In her ever-buzzing life, full of political discourse, she found true relief in their direct discussions, unburdened by the dictation of diplomacy.
Satine knew he was bound to worry about anything, though she was thankful as it had kept her safe and silenced her concerns surrounding the insurgency. Upon entrance into her office, she immediately listened to the hologram left for her from Prince Tal Merrick. She uploaded the data stick she had received from Pietra and sighed as the message seemed to perfectly narrate the damage that appeared before her.
There had been an explosion, destroying the New Mandalorian wing in the Museum of Mythos on Kalevala, her homeworld. She felt more bothered by this threat than any against her personage. Her home had truly become a testament to the peace this movement could usher in and it burned her to see such cruel destruction disrupt it all.
For a brief moment, she entertained the thought of seeing to the attack herself, until she realized at how ludicrously presumptuous it would be. Dozens of specialists and investigators were already working on it and there was very little that she could accomplish with her consistently divided attention. No, she would have to notify Zeke and the Jedi.