Chapter 25
Time check: 4 days, 6 hours, 43 minutes, 28 seconds before the Triumph
The question startles me.
The Mandalorian dilemma. Such a euphemism for a quagmire that has plagued the Republic and Order for decades. It is a topic that has been argued about incessantly, in the musty Council chambers to the exalted halls of the Senate, never reaching a satisfying conclusion. The questions has hung over the temple halls like a unwelcome pall, a reminder of the catastrophic legacy of Kun's heresy.
What can be done?
I can tell my brother is equally uneasy. His brow is furrowed more than usual and there is a tightness in his eyes, indicative of a fight or flight instinct. It is rare to see him so discomfited. Of all the topics he hoped to broach today, this was certainly not one of them.
"I think..." He chooses his words carefully, mindful of Noctua's hard stare. "I think it is unfortunate that the Order sidelined a resolution for so long. There were always too many fires to quell."
"That is the excuse I'd expect you to give to a reporter," Miriam chides gently. "There is no need to censor yourself here, Invictus. Tell me, what do you really think can be done?"
"What would you have me say?" Revan rubs the bridge of his nose. "That I see a path to de-escalate this war? Better diplomats have tried." He stares directly at Master Miriam as he says this. "If there was a clear way to resolve this quagmire, it would have been implemented after the last warlord was killed."
The reproach in his tone is unmistakable. If the Conciliator takes offence, she does not show it.
"Is that all you have to say, vod?" Noctua growls in a low voice. "Have you never turned your brilliant mind to this question? I've seen you run simulations for countless battle scenarios. Surely you must have theorized a way to settle this cold war without further bloodshed?"
Revan shakes his head ruefully.
"Forgive me, sister. I do not. The Order tried after Dxun, you know this. There have been countless overtures to the one they call the 'Ultimate', some even sincere. It has never amounted to anything but failure and severed tongues."
He stares at his wine cup, its contents untouched.
"Dxun was a Pyrrhic victory. Both sides were and remain too battered to truly end this stalemate. And as the years went on, things have only turned more sour. I have witnessed the retaliatory strikes that Mandalorian raiding parties have committed, the piles of scorched and flayed bodies. I have stood in the black sites where Mandalorians are hauled off to be tortured for precious little information. Yet from what little they extract, the story is always the same. The new warlord is hell bent on enacting revenge against the Republic, against us. Those under his banner have cast their recruitment nets wide, letting different species bolster their ravaged ranks with alarming alacrity. In doing so, the Taung have diluted their purity but created a more dangerous alloy in the process. This all points to a new muster, one where old and new blood will strike at the Republic."
"Supposition," Noctua declares.
"Fact," Revan counters. "Both sides have committed too many atrocities to back down now. There can be no peace. We have waded in too much blood to reach an accord. The new Mandalore will never back down so it will come down to extinction. Ours or theirs."
I expect the finality of the declaration to anger Noctua but her crooked grin remains.
"Do you hate the Mandalorians for what they have done, vod?"
"Hate?" Revan repeats tonelessly.
"You know what I mean."
He shrugs. "Should I despise all Tuskan Raiders for their slaver practices? Or the Hutts as a species because the infamous ones are known for avarice? The Mandalorians are nothing to me. They are numbers, statistics. A problem to be solved in the wider tapestry of the galactic ecosystem."
"That is a cold answer," Miriam remarks. She finishes her cup of tea and places it on the table. Unbidden, Noctua shuffles from her seat and refills her Master's cup, despite the obvious discomfort it puts her. That surprises me. It is the first sign of deference I have ever seen her make.
Miriam takes the cup back, tilting her head as a nod of thanks. "Does nothing move you?" She continues.
Revan pauses, mulling over the question. "I suppose certain individuals do," he admits eventually. "You cannot choose which race or social class you are born to so I respect those who went beyond expectations. Those who did as much as possible with the hand that fate has dealt them."
Miriam nods gently but doesn't push the issue. "Another question then," Noctua declares. She gestures with the teapot. I gladly take a fresh cup but Revan raises his hand to politely decline. "What if Ultimate was no longer in charge? Does the problem become easier?"
"You know that won't happen."
"Humour me," Noctua urges as she pours for me. "Picture a scenario where this current Mandalore no longer reigns. What changes between the Republic and Mand'oa then?"
"Very little."
"Oh?"
"Removing Ultimate wouldn't suddenly align factional interests," Revan reasons. "Or am I to believe the Mandalorians will settle for coexistence with the Republic now? Resources? Territory recognition and establishments of trade?" He leans forward. "Or are you proposing something more outrageous...Republic citizenship?"
She shrugs noncommittally, settling back to her seat. "Is that so hard to believe?"
"It is. You are speaking of a radical shift in the galactic power dynamic." Revan replies. "In your...scenario, there would be colossal logistical issues with integration, not to mention the difficulties of cultural assimilation and the financial burden needed to support a displaced population."
"New factions are constantly incorporated into the Republic," Master Miriam says lightly. She cups her hands around the tea, her rheumy eyes thoughtful. "Refugee populations. Countless worlds change allegiances after their leaders are disposed. This is not so different."
My brother shakes his head, a sour look on his face. "But there has always been compromise there – something to gain. New populations are integrated so they will eventually contribute manpower and their territories stimulate different industrial sectors in the Republic. They contribute their qualities to the greater melting pot of our society. We cannot do this with the Mand'oa. It is not merely a debate of economics or lost territory. At the core, The Republic's differences with the Mandalorians are ideological, as irreconcilable as the Jedi and Sith.
He turns and looks Noctua straight in the eye.
"I will not pretend to understand all the social intricacies of the the Mandalorians but I know this. They were made to hunt. To roam free and feel the thrill of running their prey down. In many ways, the Republic is the antithesis to that creed. To them, we are the fat, indolent masses who cower behind higher walls. The clans sneer at our nest of avarice, politicking and petty squabbles. They see us indulging this long slide into decrepitude and it disgusts them. To expose themselves to the Republic's weakness would only invite contamination."
Noctua absorbs this in silence although I see her exchange a quick glance with Master Miriam. It appears they are having their own silent dialogue, formulating their own arguments.
"To the Republic, the Mandalorians are the barbarians at the gates," Revan continues. "So they build higher walls, cowering behind static defenses and hope the storm will pass. In the end, these differences cannot be reconciled. As I said before, either we end them or the Republic as we know it burns."
"And lest we forget, their collective pride was shattered at Dxun," I point out, warming to his argument. "Their veterans remember the indignity of their leader's death and long to avenge it. This hate has been passed to their newest generation."
My brothers nods in agreement. "Every culture is cursed to bear the grudges of their forebears, and we are no different. It is one of the great ironies of life. The success of a civilization can only be measured by how many enemies they surmount."
He folds his arms. "The Taung have always resisted assimilation. Since their exodus from the Throneworld until their evolution as true Mandalorians, they have cultivated a fierce pride for their cultural purity. That pride was crushed in Kun's war. As my brother said, their leader was killed under dubious and frankly embarrassing circumstances. The shame of defeat still hangs over their collective psyche like a dark pall. They will never rest until the stain upon Mandalorian honour is expunged. This is blood debt now, a sacred oath. You said it yourself, sister, nothing is more important to a Mandalorian."
Noctua expression is unreadable. Her tattoos gleam an eerie red against the firelight as do her eyes. I do not sense anger in her aura though. More like...anticipation.
"If the Mand'oa remained one species, I would agree with you," Noctua begins slowly. "But the Taung no longer bear the flame of their heritage alone."
She nods at her master. From beneath the table, the Conciliator produces a thick tomb almost a head tall. With a thought she wills the gigantic book over to us, hovering momentarily in mid air before settling in front of Revan.
"Your opinion, vod?"
My brother and I inspect the tomb. The cover is a smooth leather inlaid with a thick golden trim and etched in Mand'oa script.
"The craftsmanship is exquisite," Revan admits. He glances at Noctua for permission to open the tomb who gives it with a nod.
"I've been told you like to read," says Noctua with a crooked grin. "You've written one yourself, have you not?"
"It's more a collection of ideas." Revan replies absently. He flips through the tombs thick pages slowly with a thought. The parchments are yellow with age though the ink looks fresh, as if someone has painstakingly renewed the material within.
"My foster parents presented this to me on my tenth name day, the last year before my path took me to the Order. Yet even after all the priceless knowledge I accumulated, this remains my single most precious possession.
"What does it say?" I ask with curiosity. Noctua just smiles, letting my brother absorb its contents.
"History," Revan says eventually. He points to a specific column. "These are succession dates. Years when different Mandalorians took the the mantle of leadership. Recounts of their life's work."
He flips through a few more pages. "And here. Markings of different clans large and small. Those that went extinct or were subsumed into other ones. I see references to new ones as well.
He looks up at Noctua. "This is a book of Mandalorian genealogy, isn't it?"
"The Sagas," she replies proudly. "As complete a historical accounting of my people as there ever was. Every clan throughout the ages, every deed - catalogued and remembered."
Your people. I stifle a smile. "This is a treasure trove of information."
"It is," she agrees solemnly. "This is the original and only tomb to fully document the course of our history. It started as a collection of journals, written by a scrivener who bore witness to the Taung's first exodus from Coruscant. Through generations, more witnesses came to add their records, their experiences. That was how the first Cabur be Ruyot came to be recognized,
"Cabur...be Ruyot?" I repeat, unfamiliar with the term.
"There is... no true translation," Noctua explains. "The closest would be...lore keeper, a collector of knowledge. Throughout our history, Cabur be Ruyot roamed among different Mandalorian gatherings, reciting sagas they learned from this tomb. Sometimes they recounted stories from their host's clans or even their rivals. Lore keepers held no biases, all Mand'oa were equal in their eyes. In the past, they also mediated blood feuds between families. But their primary duty was to remember, to praise every clan's traditions, their rivalries and their victories."
"They told...stories?" I ask, slightly bemused. "Surely there are more...efficient ways to document these exploits,"
Noctua snorts. "You miss the point, vod. Yes, digital archives exist but oral history is sacred to my people. It was their task to chronicle the history of my people through memory and the recounting of tales. That is how they remember the Mandalorian's moral codes and our way of life. But when the nights grew chill, my people could draw strength from the feats of our kinsmen. They do it to remember, to honour those who made the Mand'oa stronger. That is the tradition passed on to me."
I blink. Revan stares at Noctua. "Sister," he says slowly. "Do you mean to tell me, you are one of these...Cabur be Ruyot?"
"I am," Noctua says proudly, and her hunched frame seems a little straighter. "I was trained by my clan elders to take on the mantle, the first New Blood to do so. They passed the Sagas to me, so I may guard the soul of the Mand'oa."
Revan and I exchange a look. "Forgive me, sister," I remark eventually, fighting to keep the skepticism from my voice. "I find it difficult to believe such an artifact would be entrusted to a, to a..."
"Human?" She finishes sardonically. I nod.
"It is true, I was not meant to be it's custodian. Not so soon at least. But after the fallout between my clan and Amarinthe's, it could not be helped."
"You and Amarinthe?" I repeat, perplexed. Noctua raises an eyebrow in surprise. "My sister has not told you?"
I shake my head. "She spoke of her past once but she was vague...evasive. There was no mention about a feud between clans." Noctua lips purse. "She would be reluctant I suppose. It is not a pleasant memory for either of us, and some wounds never heal." Almost involuntarily, Noctua hand grips her lame leg.
"What happened?"
At this, Miriam gives a soft chuckle, more like a rattle really. "Why don't you ask Invictus?"
My confusion mounts. "You know?" Revan frowns but does not deny it.
"Of course he knows, he knows everything," Noctua growls and there is a dangerous look in her eyes. "I have always been fond of you, vod but you take after your wretched Master in so many ways, fishing for secrets where prying eyes should not be. Remember, our circle is always vigilante for spies. I knew you accessed our personal files before Corvaine. My wrath has landed on others for less egregious actions."
Revan winces. "You wound me, sister. You cannot expect me not to make background checks on those that follow me on campaigns."
"Noted, but I tell you the truth because I respect you enough to say it," Noctua replies crisply. "You should only start worrying when I lie straight to your face."
She grins to soften her admonishment.
"Here is another truth. The decision to accept New Blood was hotly debated. Vhett aliit, Ordo aliit and Kar'tayl aliit were the most open to accepting New Blood, insisting it was the path to survival. More traditional clans, like Kal aliit, Cerar aliit and Akaan aliit could never countenance the thought. They resisted because they feared dilution and the eventual elimination of their cultural identity. Some simply could not conceive the possibility that racial integration may be possible. But many families insisted it was the path to survival. In the end, those in favour won out and Ultimate, for all his flaws saw the wisdom of making it official decree. Henceforth, all clans must accept non Taung into their ranks. Humans, Twi'lek, Bothans...it didn't matter. They would be treated as equal to the Taung, all bonded by shared traditions and beliefs.
"This history lesson is interesting, sister," I remark. "But with respect, why are you telling this to us?"
"Because you need to know why I cling to the old ways," Noctua growls. She brushes locks of unruly hair from her face. "I know what they say about me in the other circles. That I'm some outlander, a barely tamed animal draped in the robes of a Jedi, unfit to hold that title. But I am more than that. I am among the first of the new breed, the bridge between two worlds. The Mand'oa trusted me to ensure the race's survival. I could not betray that trust. So I needed to show it was possible to be part of the Republic while still clinging to my roots."
"You speak as if you are placed in the Mandalorian's highest echelons," Revan remarks in a low voice. His dark eyes narrow. "Is there something you haven't revealed to us? Something that wasn't mentioned in your records?"
Uncharacteristically, Noctua hesitates. Uncertainty is not a trait I am accustomed seeing her with. She glances at Miriam who gives her an encouraging nod. Assured, she squares her shoulders and looks my brother in the eye.
"Ever since my induction to the Order, I have kept ties to the clans. Sending coded transmissions to different elders so I may guide them through the brewing strife."
Revan's expression mimics my own, a tightening of the jawline, clenched fists. I feel surprise of course. Anger. This is a dangerous admission, no this is outright heresy. From the day each child arrives in the Order, they are hammered with the fact that all former ties must be severed. Familial and emotional bias has no place in a profession that must safeguard all Republic citizens. From that point onward, their only brothers and sisters are the Knights fighting at their side.
Such a flagrant breach in Order protocol carried heavy penalties before Atris took office. And while Levius has enough political clout to skirt this rule, Noctua has no such protection. Even her status as a Keeper would not keep her from punishment if this secret was unveiled. I glance at Miriam, who seems perfectly composed. She must have sanctioned all this. Why she would allow all these back room negotiations to occur is beyond me but it must have had her discrete approval. What kind of game was the Conciliator playing? What could she possible gain from working against Order policies? The Exemplar Host has done a pitiful job handling the Mandalorians, it is true. But so have the other Republic branches.
"You mentioned strife," I venture before Revan can make any accusations. "Are you saying there is...dissension in Mandalore's ranks?"
"Not openly. Not yet," Noctua begins slowly. "Contrary to popular belief, Mandalore does not rule alone. He is the figurehead, raised above all clans to lead them but the families have their own leaders, just as strong and independent. If the First Warlord tries to lead in a fashion that is contrary to the will of the aliit, then his reign will be short indeed."
She leans in, lowering her voice into a conspiratorial whisper.
"But here is the heart of the matter. Mandalore has not united the Mand'oa as much as outsiders think. Oh, he makes boasts across the airwaves and conducts acts of aggression, but many of the clans elders are beginning to turn against the First Warlord."
She takes a sip from her own cup and takes a deep breathe.
"If you two take anything away from this meeting, let it be this. My people want an end to all this, vod. They are weary of the fighting, weary of a war that drags year after year, bleeding them dry for empty vengeance. They want peace."
Revan taps his fingers on the table, looking at his hosts with a furrowed brow. His jaw muscles remain clenched and his previous deference has turned into a stony mask of barely constrained hostility. "Have you discussed terms in these clandestine meetings?" He asks eventually, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.
"They are willing to compromise but they need assurances," Miriam replies. "Treaties, officially sanctioned by the masters of the Republic that peace offers will be reciprocated and with favorable terms." She sits a little straighter and smoothes out her robes.
"It will be a monumental task to convince so many and that is why I must return."
The words catch us off guard. "Y-you're returning to the Order?" I stutter, barely daring to hope.
Miriam smiles. "Only for a time. For this." She waves her hand over the table. The center parts to reveal a holographic projector and a ghostly image springs to life, showing three planets orbiting a golden sun. The lush green of the second planet stirs my memory.
"Class A planet, terraformed to Coruscant standard. Ideal climate and ecology for human habitation." Then I see the planet's designation, Promus and suddenly, it all clicks into place. I look at the Master, bewildered. "You mean to attend the Triumph?"
She nods. "It is a suitable place to establish a dialogue," Miriam explains. "Each year, I am invited to the festivities but since Second Oaths, I have always demurred. This year however, I will break with tradition." She glances at Noctua who bows her head. "With an entourage of course."
Revan shakes his head, looking nearly as baffled as me for once. "Forgive me, Master but I do not understand. What do you hope to achieve there?"
The Conciliator gives him an indulgent smile. "I have played the diplomat's game for decades, Invictus. I have seen all the tricks and back alley politics needed to forge an alliance. Policies are rarely cemented in a courtroom, but in the balls and bedrooms where tongues and inhibitions loosen."
She waves a hand and the hololith expands to show the sweeping vistas that the world is famous for. The snow white peaks of the northern continent and the crystal blue seas surrounding it. The lush green tracts of land set aside for the newly completed fortress palace and the marble avenues constructed for the annual parade marches.
"The Triumph is the greatest annual diplomatic theatre in the galaxy," Miriam continues. "For one day, one day, it sees the Republic's highest echelons come together. The titans of industry, the commanders and politicians, all mingling and plotting their little schemes. If we hope to change the course of this war, we must be at the Triumph turning the greatest pillars of the Republic to our cause."
I nod slowly. It makes a certain sense when she explains it. During her diplomatic career, Miriam must have established many ties with different Republic branches, parleying with powerful planetary governors or high ranking army officials. No doubt many of those connections still exist and probably in better health than the venerable Master.
She turns of the hololith and addresses my brother directly.
"I have sent word through different channels. The highest echelons of government know to expect my arrival this year. Many of them are old friends of mine and will be very interested in what I have to say. Many are power players in the Republic tapestry, the ones who truly move the gears. Some are middle men, suited for the more nebulous arrangements we will have to procure. It is these titans that we must bring to the table."
"That is only half of the equation," Noctua adds. "For any real change to occur, all parties must be present. All must agree on a course of direction. The clans must send their own to hammer out a peace accord."
"Impossible," I protest immediately. "There is no formal ceasefire in effect. A Mandalorian delegation would never be allowed into the system."
"True enough," Noctua admitted. "Which is why there won't be a formal delegation. I have requested the families to send New Blood, masquerading as minor dignitaries from backwater planets. With my help, it will be simple enough to fake their credentials."
"Sister!" This time the word comes from me and my brother simultaneously. Our outrage does not illicit even a shred of guilt from Noctua.
"Bah, save your outrage, both of you. A breach in protocol is a small price to pay if we can finally get real talks underway."
She waves her hand, flipping the pages of her massive tomb until it comes to a stop at a section detailing different clan symbols. I am familiar with the bovine symbol of Clan Fett, the fanged etching of Clan Ordo. One symbol that looks suspiciously similar to the one tattooed on her right cheek, a clawed hand clutching a fistful of scrolls. The others are a mystery to me, images of swords, helmets and animals I have no name for. There is another that catches my eye, a red skull with snakes pouring out of the sockets. It is daubed in red and hastily scratched as if the writer was trying to deface it.
"This is what I hope to achieve," Noctua declares. "A meeting of the Mand'oa envoys with the Republic's leaders, mediated by us. An unofficial summit of sorts with the individuals who can actually move the gears."
"Move towards what?" Revan asks pointedly. "What do you hope to achieve with all this...scheming? Do you think a show of force will convince the Mandalorians to sign a peace treaty?"
"No, not just a peace treaty," Miriam corrects. "No more stopgap measures. We aim to negotiate a realistic framework with which both sides de-escalate and move towards reconciliation. Mutually beneficial agreements. Settlement and trade deals. And in the long term, integration."
The scope of their ambition staggers me. "You're serious," I mutter. "You really think this summit will achieve this."
Noctua flashes her predatory smile. "Why not? Think of the benefits. A greater infusion of my people would invigorate the Republic's septic soul, even drive out some of the rancid torpor that infects its upper echelons. And it all starts at the Triumph. If my people see the sincerity of our efforts, they will reciprocate."
"But-" I start. Miriam silences me with an upraised hand.
"You are right, all previous attempts failed. But through Noctua, I have come to understand that the Mandalorians always doubted our sincerity. They dealt with bureaucrats, grey suited clones without a warrior's spirit. They did not respect them. But this year will be different. First, my involvement will add legitimacy to the talks for the Conciliator was a title known to them even before Dxun. They know my venerable status amongst the Order, an institution they despise and respect in equal measure.
I rub my hand across my head. "Say that this happens," I begin. "Say that your trickery goes unnoticed by the Council and all the power players from both sides come together. Even then, why would they listen to you? You are..." I almost say not a true Mandalorian. But settle on "not Taung."
"I am Cabur be Ruyot," Noctua counters fiercely. "I have taken the rites, blooded myself in the sacred trials and scarified my skin to cement my bond. All Mand'oa who look upon me will know me for what I am, First and New Blood alike. So when I speak, they will listen. Believe that."
I cannot hold that steely eyed gaze for long. When I bow my head in contrition, Noctua turns to Revan. "You are quiet, vod" she observes. "I had thought you would have more to say on this matter."
Revan rubs his brow. "I wish you had not told me any of this," he admits.
"Why? Will you run off to council and divulge my plans?" Noctua asks dryly.
"Maybe I should. If only to avoid complicity by association." Revan grimaces. "Be truthful, sister. Why have you shared these schemes with me?"
"Come now, vod. Do not pretend to be dense," Noctua growls. "I've told you of my little conspiracy because I wish you to aid me in it. I want your involvement because it will guarantee success. No one will bat an eye if you attend, the Masters of the Order beg you to represent them every year. We will say my alor finally persuaded you and no one will question that."
Her expression becomes serious.
"And despite Atris' and her cronies best attempts to tarnish your reputation, it has spread like wildfire. Many thought Courvaine an impossible task and I was amongst them. But you did it, vod, you magnificent bastard." Noctua gives a wolfish grin at the memory.
"Whatever task is set upon you, vod, you will find a solution. That is something I always admired. You can accomplish the impossible and I do not say that lightly for I have seen it myself. Courvaine impressed me, but when you passed the Harrowing, that convinced me." She puts a hand on his. "I would have no one else by my side in this endeavour. I have no doubt if you put your mind to it, we will finally put an end to the Mandalorian dilemma."
Revan looks deeply uncomfortable with all this. "There are better candidates," He protests. "More prominent Knights who would add more clout to your cause."
"Who, the Grandmaster?" Noctua retorts. "She is a bird in a gilded cage. Atris? What an ally. The list grows short. But you, vod...you understand change. Adaptability. Your mind is not frozen in the rotten roots of our Order's traditions."
"Surely, the Sword Saint-"
Miriam shakes her head. "The Sword Saint is a talent that comes once every few generations. But his use is limited to the field of battle, Invictus. He cannot help us navigate the treacheries of diplomacy, to sniff out falsehood and outfox our enemies. And there will be push back. The Exemplar Host will do everything to trample our attempts. The Council will likely try to exert their own muscle. None of them can be trusted so we must be subtle and spin this web away from their prying eyes. But to accomplish this we need the best to help us in our task. We need you."
I can see that Revan isn't even close to being convinced. He looks at his hosts with a kind of wariness, unwilling to give even hint of a promise.
"I can see the doubt in your eyes, vod," Noctua says. "You think I overreach, that I am too tied down to my roots."
"It is not just that. Keepers are forbidden from interfering with galactic affairs. Your remit is here, in the plane of the senses. Not meddling in politics."
"My remit is the preserving the sanctity of the galaxy," she growls. "To preserve those in it and prevent catastrophes unravelling what we hold sacred. How can you not see that?"
"Sister...," Revan says quietly. He struggles to find the words. My brother is not bad at navigating delicate situations but he is poorly suited to this type of diplomacy. If a target needs to spill their guts, my brother will have them weeping in minutes. But for soft negotiations like this, he has always relied on Mysteel's charms. Perhaps it was a mistake to send her away.
"Whatever relationship you think you have with the Mandalorians, you cannot go home," he says eventually. "The Order is your family now. I know you want what is best for the Mand'oa. That is admirable but they must find their own way. I am not disputing that something must be done with the Mandalorians. But whenever the Order is influenced by...familial entanglements, things always go awry. I do not see your plan succeeding, no matter what the circumstances. I do not think you should have given the clans false hope."
That strikes a nerve. I can feel Noctua's anger brimming at the surface at Revan's words. The air around her curdles like sour milk. He is not wrong but where others may have sugarcoated their response, all my brother can offer is cold hard truth.
"By the void, you are goading me," Noctua growls and to my surprise, I see her eyes are rimmed red. "I thought you would understand. I thought-" Miriam puts a withered hand on her shoulders, calming her protégé.
"This plan was not her idea, Invictus," Miriam says firmly. "I compelled Noctua to reach out."
Revan gives her an appraising look. "Why have you allowed this?"
"When I left the Republic decades ago, I left it in turmoil," Miriam admits. "I never saw the Mandalorian problem to its conclusion. That was a mistake."
"Master, you cannot blame-" I begin, but again she holds up a hand.
"It was a mistake," she repeats. "Suni was not a bad replacement. She was young and had policy ideas not dissimilar to mine. With proper support, I thought she could bridge the generational gap and mend the Order's wounds." She sighs. "But I did not account for the infighting from the circles, the pettiness. I did not account for Atris."
"None of us did," Revan agrees
"But things have reached a critical point, Invictus," Miriam continues. "The disasters you have reported to me, that is just the tip of the iceberg. You know our circle is much more attuned to the ripples of the Force. We have to be, for even a slight disturbance here can lead to a tsunami of disaster in the material world." She leans closer, as if sharing a terrible secret. "And make no mistake, the currents are more than disturbed now for they all point to disaster. And that is truly frightening for our prognostications have never been so...unambiguous. "
I feel dread prickling my skin. If the Conciliator is discomfited by our future, then the Order should truly be worried.
"I have heard of these portents," Revan replies. "During my exile, a traitor even warned me that an age of darkness beckons. But surely, Master, you are aware of the danger in self fulfilling prophecies? I fear our attempts to thwart such a fate will actually be the catalyst."
"The future is not fixed," Miriam agrees. "But some possibilities are more likely than others and our scryers have ways others circles do not. Your arrival for example, was foreseen for immediate destinies are easier to discern. But peer farther, and the skeins of fate twist, becoming murky. But like I said, every portent points to disaster now, Invictus. Everything."
Her hands clench into fists.
"There are things that have laid hidden in the Force for millennia," Miriam continues, almost a whisper. "Things which have become agitated by the currents and that is a terrifying prospect. I do not need to explain why, you have met one of them."
"There is no way to avert this?" I ask. She shakes her head.
"Disaster will come, I am sure of it," Miriam continues solemnly. "The difference now is whether we can weather it or be swept away by the coming onslaught."
She sighs.
"There is no other way to say it. The Order has lost it's way. In our complacency, we have let the state of affairs slip out of our control and now, we are suffering the consequences. I have come to believe that the Triumph will be the pivotal point. What we do there will determine how the crisis will unfold. We need to make peace with the Mandalorians or the Order will not survive."
Revan says nothing but his expression remains steeped in doubt.
"We can end this bloodshed, vod," Noctua urges. "We can finally bring a resolution to this whole sorry affair. None of us want to see another generation thrown in this meat grinder. The Council is a quagmire of feuds. The Senate lacks the spine to make sweeping reforms. It falls to us."
"They will never assimilate," Revan says wearily. "Never. They will die before bending the knee."
"It can work," Noctua insisted. "You say that the Mand'oa will never change, but it is already happening. They have evolved faster in the past three decades than the Order has in millennia. I am living proof of it, the New Blood, the first generation. We must make that mean something."
Noctua is gripping Revan's hand so hard her nails have drawn blood. She breathes a sigh to calm herself and releases her grip.
"I am not demanding a miracle, vod," she says more calmly. "I know there will be pushback, attacks from Atris and her brood. All I ask is that we establish the foundation, a working dialogue with my people. If they walk away from the Triumph believing in our sincerity then we will have accomplished something."
"I can try," Revan says reluctantly.
"No, do not try! There is no try!" Noctua snarls. She pounds her fist leaving a crack on the silver table. The flaw disappears almost immediately. "I have seen what trying amounts to, less useful than a Hutt's fart. I need guarantees. You must be committed to this endeavor like a true believer. Because two fates will be in your hands. The Republic and the Mand'oa and whether anything can be salvaged from this travesty. So, I need you to apply your peerless talents to this effort as if your honour depended on it. I need your oath."
At that, Revan makes a noise that could either be a chuckle or a wheeze of despair. He glances at the Conciliator.
"You sanction this action?"
"I do," Miriam says softly. "Come with us to the Triumph. Help us secure the guarantees we need to get the bureaucratic machine moving in the right direction."
"Common ground," Noctua urges. "Is that not the foundation of the Republic?"
Revan can see the arguments hemming him in.
"One eye to the past, one to the future," he said quietly.
Noctua looks momentarily startled. "Very good vod, you know my clan's creed. Not many do."
"It is hard not to notice," he points to her hands, party of her elaborately tattooed tapestry. When you steeple your fingers, they spell it out."
The Keeper gives a sharp bark of laughter and glances at Master Miriam.
"What did I tell you, my alor," Noctua asks "Sharper than any kad in our aresenal. Are you not convinced?"
The Conciliator chuckles. "I was convinced before we did this elaborate charade."
This time, she reaches out a bony hand to clasp my brother's. "This is my proposal to you, Invictus. Help us resolve the Mandalorian dilemma once and for all. In exchange, I will ensure Bastila Shan will not fall into the clutches of your former Master."
And that was it. The final chess move to pin my brother into the corner. He knows it too. Revan has the expression of one who realizes he has been deftly outplayed at a master of negotiation. Decrepitude has not addled the Conciliator's diplomatic acumen.
My brother had come to the Keepers of Sanctity with his own designs but now finds himself caught in their web of intrigue. Had the Keepers planned this all along, scryed the fates and seeded the paths which would ultimately force Revan to side with them? With this circle, it is impossible to know for sure but having seen their capabilities, I am more inclined to believe it. Once again, I am reminded how dangerous Order politics are, each circle pushing their own occluded agendas without a thought to Order unity. Had it always been this way? Or have the generations only widened the mistrust between factions to the point we must skulk in shadowy rooms and conspire like this?
For minutes, Revan says nothing, staring past our hosts, his fingers steepled below his chin. I see a familiar look on his face then, the furrowed brow, the darting of eyes. He is calculating the best course of action, weighing the factors laid out, the chances of success, and seeing the avenues that can be taken to affect the best outcome. If he were to commit to this, he might gain the trust of the Keepers and influential members of the Republic but it would also turn many Knights and Masters against him. Primus would be opposed, I am sure of it. I doubt Master Vandar would approve of this either. If Atris hated him now, she would be calling for his head if this plot was uncovered.
Noctua waits for his answer, tense but Master Miriam looks serene, leaning back on her chair, hands folded on her lap. Finally, my brother turns his dark eyes to me, his question plain in his stare.
In truth, I do not know what to think. My gut is to resist this plot like Revan. To align with any circle carries dangers, particularly one so steeped in the forbidden lore of the Force. And this scheme feels too audacious, too liable to fail with catastrophic results. But then...so are all the back door politicking within the Order. And when judged with the track record of the Exemplar Host, could our convert attempts at reconciliation possibly be any worse than them? They had their chance, perhaps a more unorthodox approach is required. It is only heresy if we fail. But deep down I know my rationalizations stem from a desire to attend the Triumph, to stand amongst the Order's most worthy. Still though, does that make it wrong? And if we succeed, our names will be cemented in the history books. We would be lauded as heroes for the future generations, the standard that all Jedi should aspire to.
"We have a chance to end this conflict," I declare. "If this is the course we must take, so be it."
That seems to convince him. Revan rises and walks straight in front Noctua. He stares at her. She stares back. The air in the room has become electric and I can sense some silent contest of wills taking place between them. Then slowly, like a cliff edge inevitably giving way to the passage of time, my brother bends the knee.
"Bear witness to my vow," he whispers. "On this day, I pledge myself to your cause. My sword and my resources are yours until the Mandalorian dilemma is resolved. On my honour."
As he recites these words, my palms begin to tingle. The hairs on my back stand up. There are moments, when a single decision has the potential to upheave the course of history, fundamentally changing the dynamics of the galaxy. I have always been wary of fate and the prognostications of our seers but I can't help but feel I am bearing witness to one such event. It is as if something...fundamental to the galaxy has shifted.
I can see that Noctua is similarly moved. She places trembling hands on Revan's shoulders.
"You swear to aid me, vod?" She asks. "Will you devote all your power to ending the conflict between the Mand'oa and the Republic?"
"By the hidden arcs of my name, I swear to find a solution to this."
"I accept your vow." She whispers. Then she laughs and pulls my brother up to his feet, enveloping him into a mauling embrace.
"You've taken a great burden from my shoulders, vod," she breathes. After a few more seconds she steps back, a look of feral glee on her face. "I see a way ahead now, when all I had before was doubt. Now I am sure, sure, we will succeed."
"Agreed," says Master Miriam. She has risen from her seat as well. Her withered features are more reserved, but there is a look of satisfaction at this outcome.
"Now, with that business settled, Amarinthe has told me you have a magnificent ship." The Conciliator straightens her robes.
"I must see it for myself."
Author's notes:
I know I say this every chapter now but sorry for the long wait. I just don't get that many opportunities to write and I did revise this chapter quite a bit because this is a critical juncture and I wanted to get it right. We're finally getting close to the main event! Despite Revan's resistance, he will finally make his way to the Triumph and that will be the main meat of this story. It did take awhile to set up all the pieces but I think the context is important to show how things will unfold moving forward. I know the story updates are glacial but I'm in no rush to finish it but I'm going to keep at it when I can.
Anyways, thanks to the readers for their patience. I'm going to try and keep at it whenever I get a chance. Special thanks to readers who provide constructive feedback and hope to get more of it in the future.
Responses to reviews:
Guest chapter 24. August 24, 2021
Yep, still going. Just very slowly. Slow and steady I guess.
Pont1ac-Band1t chapter 24. February 12, 2021
You're welcome!
baud001 chapter 24. February 4, 2021
Thanks! Yeah, I think it's interesting to show the different aspects of the Jedi Order and how they can have different specialisms.
electr0 chapter 24. January 24, 2021
Thanks for all the feedback! Hope you found this chapter interesting as well!