*A/N: Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. I found myself inspired by the poetry in some of the phrasing I discovered during my research of their native language and it encouraged me to implement it. It seemed a way to also indirectly skirt the way certain aspects of Canon and Legends contradict. So, there is an emphasis on the use of Mando'a, that begins in this chapter. Translations will directly follow in bold parentheses and I would like to preface by saying that I have triple checked these lines of dialogue, still there is always a possibility of human error, so I ask you forgive me of that. At least we're finally getting to the meat of the story. Please R&R. Thanks so much -Nikki
Zeke Dinul's expression betrayed his worry when the Duchess returned and brought the three men up to speed. She was grateful to see that his distress paralleled her own, emboldening her to ask a favor. The Jedi seemed to quietly confer on the possibility of connection to the insurgent issue, but couldn't explain the indirectness of such a move, lacking in any tactical significance or publicity; they searched for intention.
Duchess Satine pleaded to her old friend without words, and he huffed. "Now seems a foolish time to overtake an investigation offworld." He said without verbal provocation.
The Duchess looked over, nudging her head towards the Jedi as she assured in Mando'a. "Ni Kelir cuyir morut'yc." (I will be safe.) He lifted a bushy, blonde brow as if to question her, but couldn't continue when he noticed the anxiety in her eyes as she grabbed his hand where it lay on the table. "Gedet'ye, ba'vodu." (Please, Uncle.) She sighed. "Haa'taylir ibac yaim atiniir." (See that home endures.)
Zeke shook his head in irritation, ignoring the puzzled looks from the two uncertain Jedi. With his free hand, he patted her own and accepted. "Vorer." He stood and turned his attention to the two males, paraphrasing their discussion. "Kalevala is in need of official assistance, so it seems I must leave the Duchess in your capable hands." He nodded to Master Jinn. "I will return as soon as I am able."
The Master quickly turned his focus to the sovereign. "Are you sure about this Duchess?" Qui-Gon couldn't cease the nagging in his thoughts that this new attack was connected to the recently silent insurgency that, until now, had shadowed the Duchess.
Duchess Satine stood at the address, causing the Jedi to rise as well; relying on her years of political practice, she banished the worry from her eyes. She smirked, a distracted appeasement filling her expression as she noticed the simultaneously severe yet indecipherable stare of the padawan. Somehow, he could see through the brief faltering in her characteristic arrogance, even if a stubborn fragment still remained in her teasing tone as she deflected the suspicion by looking to Master Jinn. "Consider this a claim of faith in my Jedi protectors." She turned to Zeke. "I believe it is well placed." Her attention darted over the padawan, briskly returning to the master with a shallowly companionable challenge. "Is it not?"
Qui-Gon wondered just how much the Duchess had heard before coming into the dining room that morning. "I can assure you it is."
She nodded with a brightness in her eyes. "Good, then we are merely short-staffed for the time being."
Zeke scoffed, his tone accusing her for such dismissal. "Ba'vodu?" (Uncle?)
She touched his shoulder and forced a small smirk as she amended. "Though we shall struggle without his presence, as Chief of Staff Dinul is an irreplaceable party member and an indispensable advisor."
He smirked, looking back to the Jedi guards, offering his hand to the master first. They shook firmly. Zeke couldn't deny the mindfulness that overtook him as he observed the padawan as they shook; he nodded speaking to the older Jedi. "I leave the Duchess's safety to you." He glanced at the monarch. "I expect to be apprised on any pertinent information."
"Likewise." She agreed.
The departure of Chief of Staff Dinul seemed a curious thing to Obi-wan and everything became quieter, even his suspicions. Still, he felt uneasy, as if the absence exposed some vulnerability that the padawan was unable to discern. After a few weeks, it became harder to maintain immunity against the restlessness he felt provoked within him. He felt encouraged to patrol, if only for the sake of vacating his mind with hopes of occupying some usefulness.
Obi-wan was surprised to find that the Duchess had resumed her midnight conversations. He passed through the large corridor just as she had exited her office. It seemed odd, the way their eyes met. He identified guilt touch her own, though it immediately left when she recognized who had discovered her.
"Are you less inclined to hide your secret now that the chief of staff is otherwise occupied?" He couldn't muzzle his accusatory tone.
"Are you less inclined to remember your manners after working hours?" She threw back.
"Technically everything is a working hour for me." He replied with a vague realization.
"The same could be said for me, which is why I sometimes have to schedule personal conferences around my free time."
"I still don't comprehend the need for secrecy." He answered without the slightest hesitance.
"I consider it privacy." The Duchess wanted to write off his statement for nosiness but wondered if he even possessed the desire for such a freedom. "Mandalore is my priority, yet sometimes I want something that is not secured by my profession."
Obi-wan felt his cheeks warm and was thankful for the dark as he processed his own constraints of comprehension. "I'm sorry if I overstepped with my assumptions."
Hearing the timidity in his voice, the Duchess was thoroughly convinced that even though he was sorry, he clearly hadn't abandoned the breach of his bashful speculation. She laughed and shook her head as she headed towards the hallway, not needing to confirm that he dutifully followed. "Yet you continue to. I have friends and family whose beliefs have strayed from the staunch pacifism I endorse. My continued conversation or correspondence with certain individuals can be the source of contention with my chief of staff. I think he worries such sympathies of mine will be exploited."
"You think him too apprehensive?"
She stopped and faced him resolutely; her whispered voice concisely crashing against consonants in a way that demonstrated the commitment of her words. "Mandalore comes first."
Obi-wan nodded before he continued walking. "I doubt he questions your dedication to the cause, perhaps he distrusts the loyalty of your confidants."
She joined him, keeping her focus ahead. "I'm not in the habit of abandoning one family for another."
To the padawan it almost seemed a pointed insult, but he wasn't sure if his own defensiveness simply provoked some perceived depth from her words. "Is that what is being asked of you?"
"My entire existence is subject to compromise. The New Mandalorian ideals could not succeed without it, still," The Duchess sighed. "There are some things, even I cannot concede."
Attachment. The padawan recognized the affliction as it flared before him. Despite his training, it didn't seem so treacherous from this vantage point. He wondered what it might be like, laying claim to even a sliver of the impassioned devotion within her earnest expression. If anything, he assumed it might bestow invincibility and it caused him to question how such an honor was meant to perceived as a hindrance. "Then for your sake, I sincerely hope you won't have to."
Duchess Satine briefly stopped, and an almost shy smile tugged at her mouth, unintentionally causing the Jedi to halt beside her. "Thank you." She continued walking, feeling as if she should say something else to the padawan once she noticed they were approaching his room. "Perhaps not all confidants have questionable loyalties."
Obi-wan couldn't stop his surprised smirk as they paused, their focus on one another's obscured expressions. "Perhaps not all sympathies are exploitable."
It was meant to be an encouragement, though something in the tense air between them caused them both to internally dispute the profundity of his statement.
She pushed herself to shatter the sensation of stroking a live wire, ignoring the tremor in her nerves as she nodded. Blindly, she looked to the expanse of the hallway ahead, consciously moving her feet. "I should like to think as much, still are we not all slaves to some emotion?"
Obi-wan wanted to disagree, for such a notion contradicted the very code he swore by, but found his rebuttal lacking any conviction as he recited. "There is no emotion…"
The Duchess seemed caught on his words; her eyes desperate to peer through the darkness. "I beg your pardon?"
He hadn't expected the familiar words to sound hollow, though he had never needed to defend them before. "The Code."
"Ah," She nodded in understanding. "How ever are you expected to manage such arduous requirements?"
"I might inquire the same thing of you, Duchess."
A quiet huff of laughter escaped from her. "I am expected to sacrifice, but I've never had to surrender my sentimentality as if it didn't define my sentience."
"Perhaps not," Obi-wan agreed. "But you have been pushed to prioritize progress to the point of personal detriment."
Duchess Satine wished to argue, but her secret conversations with her sister could easily be described as confirmation, so she smirked. "Then perhaps we are all merely a slave to our purpose."
Obi-wan wondered if it escaped her notice the way their ambitions resembled constraints in such context but didn't possess the mind to directly disagree with her just then. "Where is the justification of life if not spent in the service of something?"
The Duchess nodded, acknowledging her own insatiable thirst for change. "I cannot argue with that, though servitude can be corrupted if ignorant enough."
"Or arrogant enough." He parried.
She laughed and the padawan felt as if he had been rewarded for his undiplomatic response. He couldn't preserve the feeling for a second too long as she bowed her head and offered her own humored dismissal, bidding him goodnight.
Begrudgingly, he replied in kind.
It was only a few days later, when the padawan's growing anxiety was violently validated. His master was entirely preoccupied with holo-meetings throughout the day. His main focus centered around an appointment with the Council as well as Chief of Staff Dinul, who had recently reported that he would be returning within the next week.
Master Jinn's full schedule and genuine fettling nature (as the padawan theorized) caused him to delegate the Duchess's protection to him for her tour of the Royal Prison. The apprentice had questioned about the possible risk in his absence but was assured of the sophisticated security that distinguished their destination.
Obi-wan was unable to admit his secondary reasoning for such distress; he was wary to be stuck in the private company of Duchess Satine. It wasn't skepticism that instigated his hesitance, but an instinctive desire for caution.
The monarch possessed an artistry for provoking arguments, somehow instilling her opponents with an excitable irritability. Only the emotion that burned through her eyes and resonated with her voice allowed the logic in her words to be heard, in which she easily displayed the flaws of their claims, entirely disarming them.
He feared what it might be like on the receiving end of such condescension. The padawan couldn't refute that simply the code he lived by made it impossible to even rise to such debate, when he knew the unlikelihood of remaining impassive against her fiery intellect. He wondered how he might be expected to remain silent as she, no doubt, might maneuver the tour to make a political statement.
Obi-wan tried to abandon the negativity of his thoughts as he boarded the Duchess's shuttle. She was meant to arrive with her detail any moment and he began conversing with her pilot to ease his unfounded perceptions for what the day might become.
The young man quickly confirmed his suspicions by relaying the message that the Duchess would be running a little late. Obi-wan couldn't help but think it an omen, especially when he was told that she had went to retrieve Emissary Jinn to join them. It seemed to him, that not only was the day off to a rough start, but the Duchess had so little faith in his ability to protect her that she was trying to employ his occupied master. Though it didn't bode well with the padawan, his anxiety was underwhelming to reality.
Just after they were initially scheduled to depart, Obi-wan felt something tug at his sixth sense. The Force amplified some nearby frequency. He followed it off the shuttle, identifying it underneath when suddenly a ticking sound bombarded his focus, before building to the point of overlap.
Obi-wan rushed back, using the Force to rip open the door and pull the pilot from the controls. In less than a second, an explosion tore from the middle of the shuttle. He dived from the fiery debris that shot out. He could feel the heat on his face from the burning ruins of the transport, but he searched with his senses to find the pilot, not far from him.
Impatience filled the young Jedi as he grappled for the slightest claim of his equilibrium. Once it returned, he hurriedly retrieved the young man, who appeared to be burned badly on his back. Obi-wan carried him away from the wreckage and could see the Duchess running towards them, the guards at her sides already dispersed to see to putting out the fire in the hangar.
Her fierce blue eyes regarded Obi-wan first before quickly taking in the sight of the injured pilot, as she called for a medic. Running to his side, she helped him hold the man up, her hands careful not to apply any pressure against scalded skin.
She acknowledged the Jedi with genuine consideration, though her eyes remained on the pilot. "Thank you, apprentice Kenobi." Her voice became softer as she comforted the injured man, assuring him that with a little bacta, he'd be right as rain.
Obi-wan couldn't help but watch her, entranced. Illuminated by the transparisteel windows that surrounded them, golden light streamed through her hair and danced across her concerned expression as she devoted her attention to the vicious burn.
The medic approached and began lowering the pilot, face-first onto the hover-cot. "We have a bacta tank ready in med-bay."
"Thank you. I'd like to be alerted the moment he awakes." The medic nodded and she spoke to the pilot. "You'll be better very soon."
She watched them leave and Obi-wan could sense her tension, not merely through the Force, but by the stiff posture of her spine. "I hate that." There was something indescribable about the soft anger that weaved itself through her voice.
"What?" Obi-wan asked to her back.
"Having to smile and say that he will heal fine." She exhaled sharply, feeling the threat wrap around her tighter to know that this opposition spared no thought for those who might be caught in the middle. "He shouldn't have to heal. The damage shouldn't have been done in the first place."
"All the same, he will be fine. That explosion was meant for you. The palace security appears to be compromised." He warned.
She shook her head, more to herself than Obi-wan three steps behind. "This is why I'm desperate to see pacifism spread. Now, entirely innocent people are being treated as nothing more than collateral damage to feed some monster's addiction to violence. It turns my stomach and will not stand."
Her emphasis captured Obi-wan's attention. "Who wouldn't be innocent against a fatally frigid move such as that?"
She turned to face him. "Me, I should think."
He watched her features with impenetrable focus. "You think yourself the guilty party?" Confusion dragged through his cadence.
"For what they accuse me of, yes." A fire built in her eyes, replacing the sadness in a breath. "I am guilty of seeking to finally retire our warrior ways, of breaking with tradition, but most importantly, I am guilty of being far too stubborn to yield under the pressure of glorified thugs." Her posture released its rigidity, and she was the proud leader once again. "I am grateful to be guilty of wanting to see the New Mandalorian age educate the younger generation with the truth that we don't need violence and cruelty to prove our strength and dignity."
He couldn't help but be mesmerized by her unwavering fortitude. "I think you are perhaps right, apprentice Kenobi. We should apprise Emissary Jinn about-" She sighed jaggedly. "Recent developments."
"Yes, Duchess." He spoke with a nod, leading the way, now uneasy to have her crossing over thresholds first.
He wasted no time before using his commlink to communicate with his master. They agreed to converge towards the Duchess's more secure quarters. The padawan and the Duchess arrived first; the former securing all windows and doors as they waited for Master Jinn.
Qui-Gon Jinn entered no more than a few minutes later as the two fully briefed him on the shuttle bomb. The master stroked his chin and his padawan could see uncertainty fill his gaze. "The palace is not as secure as we initially believed."
Obi-wan nodded. "At least in the outer levels, most definitely in the shuttle-bay."
"You didn't sense the guilty party nearby?"
The question garnered Satine's full attention as she looked at the padawan, who shook his head. "No, it seemed equipped with a timed power setting." He sighed. "I didn't get long enough to look at it, but it didn't turn on until after we were set to depart." He looked back at the Duchess and tried to hide his original vexation over her insisting to bring Master Jinn. "If the Duchess had not taken a detour to plead your presence, we would've already been on our way to the Royal Prison. There wouldn't have been much for us to do, just short of leaping onto a nearby building, even then," Obi-wan shook his head again. "We would've had no way to control the damage it would have caused."
Qui-Gon Jinn nodded and though his sentiment was grateful, his voice remained grim. "The Force smiles on us." He turned his full attention to his padawan. "I fear I should have been more attentive towards your trepidations, Obi-wan." He looked at Duchess Satine. "Duchess, I believe your proposition for a political expedition seems prudent now more than ever."
"I'm sorry, Master?" Obi-wan's perplexed voice interrupted Qui-Gon's address.
Duchess Satine spoke up, asserting her presence. "I went to see Master Jinn because I've been contemplating the possibility of reaching out throughout the system, preferably even the sector to advocate the new regime beyond this planet. Mandalorians are much more than the population of this domed city. It seems the added convenience of being mobile might keep our insurgents on their toes." She rightly inferred the master's plan. Truthfully, sending Zeke to Kalevala had made her reflect on just how long it had been since she had spoken throughout the system. A respectable leader knew the breadth of their domain and allowed no corner to be neglected. "I cannot improve the lives of Mandalorians if I do not understand the full extent of their needs."
"Well spoken, Duchess." Qui-Gon agreed. "Peace is merely the beginning of progress."
Satine gave him a humble, acknowledging smile, feeling the padawan's assessing gaze on her. "There is a Consular-class cruiser on hold at the Royal Depot for such an occasion."
Qui-Gon nodded, quite familiar with its make, aware that they would have to keep their crew and guard to a minimum. "Duchess, I have some guards I think will be trustworthy to employ on this voyage; would you mind if I prioritized that?"
Satine realized he wanted her permission to overtake such a task; she gladly yielded, knowing the first call she had to make. "Please do, Master Jinn. I have a chief of staff to brief and security footage to access."
Obi-wan nodded. "I'll have the cruiser prepped."
"Obi-wan, the crew should be kept to a minimum." Qui-Gon thought for a moment. "And an astromech will serve as Navigator."
The padawan nodded and everyone set to their tasks, working at full efficiency. Though they prioritized caution upon their departure, the whole of their party (including eight guards and Pietra) was prepped, packed and on their way to the depot within half an hour.