Note: I've had people saying that I'm going too fast with character relationships in my stories. Especially with the harems. To that I would say… All Harem Anime! I'm trying to add a little something with the characters as I go, but I'm far from the first to just let relationships happen cause I like the pairings.

Note: In terms of reviews, please stop with the hate. I don't need to hear how I've ruined one of my stories for you, or how much you hate characters or ships. It is depressing and makes me not want to write. Now, if you have corrections for things I've missed, I'm happy to hear it. If you have 'constructive' criticism, then awesome, bring it on. And if you just have general comments or opinions then I'd love to see those too. All I'm asking as an audience is respectful discourse. That is all.

Note: I've had some people suggest that I hate Anakin Skywalker. That is not true. I hate what the Jedi turned him into. This is a story of what he becomes without them.

Part Six - A War On Two Fronts Begins

The click of Bo's beskar coated boots rang through the halls of the ducal palace, following the lighter stomps of her new leader's leather boot heels. Before her were the Sith and his apprentice. Quiet rage seemed to be roiling off of them into the air. Bo had thought Pre Vizsla had a presence of power, and a bearing that inspired all around him to fall into line, but he was nothing compared to the man that had conquered her. This was a man of drive and purpose if she had ever seen one.

Her musings were interrupted as a reinforced door opened ahead of them, revealing the form of her hated sister, and her guards.

"Mr. Rache," She began, "What has happene-" she stopped as she noticed the armored woman behind him.

Bo saw the moment her elder sibling recognized the crest on her helmet, and thus her. Her eyes grew wide, a hand came up to her mouth, and she took a step back.

"Bo? What are you-?" the duchess swallowed, "You tried to-"

"Please address all questions regarding my bound warrior to me, Duchess." Harry said, not stopping his stride as he walked past her. "And if you wish to speak with me, then do keep up. I have a planet to rescue for you."

Not seeing another option, the blond haired woman gripped her skirts, and ran to come up level with him as she matched his stride. "What do you mean she's your bound warrior? I banned the practice of life debts and blood oaths three years ago."

"And the current docility of your sister should show how well your people have received that proclamation. She's mine now, deal with it."

"You can't expect me to accept that. Bo-Katan committed an act of treason, and needs to be arrested for trial." Satine felt sick at the thought of sentencing her own sibling, but the law was the law.

For his part, Harry was giving the woman an icy glare. The elevator to the lower hanger bay was only a few feet away now. "What I expect you to accept, Satine, is that your edicts and proclamations are so unpopular, and against the will of your people, that even your own blood is willing to fight you, rather than accept the changes."

By then, they had reached the elevator, and the Sith, his apprentice, and new bodyguard, had stepped inside. A hard shove from Bo sent her sister tumbling to the floor, keeping her from joining them on the lift.

"I'm going to put a stop to Death Watch for you, Duchess. Seeing as how you're so squeamish about blood and all, it's probably best that you stay here."

He turned his gaze to Sirius then. "There's always the possibility that while I'm gone, another squad will be sent here to finish what the last one started. See to Satine's defense would you? I know she's annoying, but Kenobi will never drink with me again if she dies on our watch."

Sirius chuckled lightly as he freed the blaster holstered on his thigh. "No problem, godson of mine. She'll be sound as a pound when you return."

"Good." The closing of the lift doors prevented any further discussion with the man.

"So," Sirius draped a lazy arm over the blond woman's shoulders, "What do you say to opening a bottle of wine and giving me all the dirt you have on good old Obi-Wan?"

Satine wanted to be angry about the way she had just been manhandled in her own home, but by the gods she adored gossip! "That sounds like an excellent plan. I have a twenty year old vintage in the cellar with our names on it." She could always deport the villains when they returned.

Meanwhile:

"Tell me everything I need to know about the leader of Deathwatch." Harry instructed his Mandalorian.

Without missing a beat, the red head stood ramrod straight and spoke, as if giving a briefing to her general. "Death Watch is led by a man named Pre Vizsla. Officially he's been supporting my sister's political agenda, but in reality he's turned almost every noble on the planet against her. His main camp is set up one hundred kilometers north of here."

"What are his combat capabilities? If I challenge him for leadership of Death Watch, will he agree?"

Bo took a moment to think over her answer. "Pre is a true believer of the Mandalorian Creed. He believes in the right of the strongest to rule. If you approach him with the respect of a fellow warrior, he will accept. As for capabilities, he has a full set of beskar armor, a jetpack, flame thrower, retractable cables, twin blaster pistols, and the darksaber."

Ventress raised a thin eyebrow, "Darksaber? What is that?"

"It's a black bladed lightsaber that the Vizsla patriarch stole from the Jedi Temple. Legend says that its wielder has the right to rule Mandalore. For now, however, it serves as a sign of leadership for Death Watch."

Harry was intrigued. "So if I take the darksaber from Pre Vizslas cold, dead, hands, then his army will fall in line?"

Bo nodded her helmed head. "Without question."

The lift dinged as they arrived in the hanger bay. The Sith Lord communicated his plan and soon enough, the three warriors were flying over the land on speeder bikes. It took an hour, but when they arrived at the heavily manned fortifications, Bo-Katan's presence proved invaluable. The guards didn't even question the presence of her guests until after they were inside.

The sight that greeted them was one that made Harry smile in dark anticipation. Everywhere he looked there were soldiers. Thousands upon thousands. If this was only one of many bases, then the standing army of Deathwatch must be over a million strong. There were also guns, supplies, ships, and stalls holding enough provisions for a siege. These Mandalorians would serve his purposes nicely.

The trio worked on, treading through throngs of brawling brutes, dueling pairs, and exercising commandos. Eventually reaching a tall, circular fortification, with a tight beam disrupter mounted on the roof. That at least explained why the planetary radar hadn't been able to find this place.

For the first time, however, the group was stopped by the guards at the doors. "Halt. State your name and purpose." The taller of the two declared.

Bo stepped forward and gestured to the crest on her helm. "Bo-Katan of clan Kryze. Reporting to Pre Vizsla on the outcome of my raid. He's expecting me."

The second guard pulled out a tablet and checked what Harry assumed was a list of appointments and approved personnel. "You're cleared. Glory to the Mandalore." The guards slammed their fists to their chests. An action that Bo repeated before leading her guests into the building.

"What's 'the Mandalore'?" Harry asked his helmeted companion.

"That's the historic title given to the overlord of Mandalore. Since he leads the people he literally is the people. Since the planet now has a senate headed by the Ducal family, Death Watch has taken it to name its current leader."

The interior of the building was dim, lit only by torches instead of artificial lights. Wide pelts hung on the walls, and a rich carpet coated in depictions of family glory covered the floor. At the head of the room, sat on a stone bench, was the man they'd come to see, Pre Vizsla. The sides of his head were shaved, while the center held a tuft of braided blonde hair. He wore his armor, minus the helm that sat at his side.

Eight seats sat beside his own, each with a tapestry hanging behind, depicting family crests. It wasn't too far of a stretch to imagine that those sitting in them were the other clan heads supporting Death Watch.

"Bo-Katan." Vizsla greeted his second in command. "How went the mission? Did your sister stand and fight, or did she run in terror once more?"

Instead of answering, the warrior woman turned, and fell to a knee before Her Sith master, as he stepped up to the man in the highest chair, spreading his arms wide in confidence.

"Pre Vizsla. Leader of the Death Watch clan. I am Darth Rache, Lord of the Sith, and I come to you now with honor, and challenge you for leadership of this army."

To his credit, Vizsla did not panic, gawk, or bargain. He simply gazed upon his clan leaders, taking in their nods of agreement with quiet stoicism. Then he turned back to the interlopers. "You are truly a Sith?"

In answer, Harry slowly withdrew, and ignited, his saberstaff. Grinning wickedly in the red glow of his blade.

Vizsla nodded at the sight and descended his chair to stand across from his new adversary. "A Sith is a truly worthy foe. You honor me with this challenge."

Harry acknowledged those words with a slight tilt of his head, and took a ready position. His blade held in a loose low guard. Behind him, Ventress and Bo had retreated to a safe distance along the wall with the other clan heads.

All at once, it began. Vizsla snapped his arm up, and sent out a torrent of flames from his wrist as his jetpack sent him into the air. Harry ducked under the blaze, rolled to the side and tossed his weapon at his foe, curving its arc with the force.

Vizsla tried to dodge out of the way of the crimson wheel of death, and mostly succeeded. Just not enough to save his flamethrower from being sliced. With that attack option gone, he drew his pistols and opened fire, swerving back and forth through the air as he attempted to confuse the Sith before him.

Harry however, did not panic. He'd strengthened his mind and body with the force before even entering the building. To his sight, those blaster bolts appeared to be moving in slow motion. He flicked his blade left, right, over and under. With each swing a bolt was deflected back at the shooter, slamming into the beskar steel of his armor. Though the bolts couldn't penetrate, the impact still stung.

Eventually the Sith got bored with the practice and deflected two final blasts back at the weapons themselves. The barrels exploded on impact, and Vizsla was quick to drop them before his hands were destroyed by the superheated grips.

With no other options, the leader of deathwatch, dropped back to the ground, reached behind his head, and drew a weapon that had to be the darksaber. Unlike the other lightsaber's the former wizard had seen, this one was thin, angular, and jagged. It's black blade almost seemed… angry.

The Sith acknowledged this challenge by deactivating one of his blades. Setting a firm stance, the younger man took a two handed grip on his weapon, and raised it up in a high guard. For several moments no one moved, each combatant just watching the other, taking stock of potential weaknesses.

Suddenly, Vizsla screamed, and jumped the distance between them, swinging high. Harry blocked it, visualizing the moves to come in his mind, as he swept low to force the strike to his legs wide, then swung his own blade up, out, and down before the other man could reorient himself. Silence fell once more. No one moved, no one breathed, and then the older man fell to the floor, with Harry swiftly moving to cushion his fall. The darksaber rolled from his now limp hold.

Harry had won. The lower half of the nobleman's body had been cleanly severed, causing inevitable death, but he hadn't yet breathed his last.

Vizsla coughed, blood trickling along his lip, "I-I see that the stronger warrior truly will rule my people." He coughed again, and the Sith lord took his hand in a strong grip, granting him honor in defeat.

"P-Promise me, my people will have a purpose."

"I promise that your army will be led against a grand foe." Harry's voice was soft as he spoke, feeling the fall of a noble warrior in the flow of the force. "Rest now, noble Pre Vizsla. There is no fault in falling to the hands of a stronger foe. You will meet your ancestors with honor."

With a final, shaking, breath, The head of clan Vizsla closed his eyes, and knew no more.

Harry sighed, released the limp hand from his grip, and retrieved the darksaber as he stood.

"I claim this sword, and my rightful place as leader of Death Watch! Who here would dispute my claim?"

No voices were raised in dissent. Instead, every Mandalorian present approached his form, and knelt before him. All chanting, "Hail the Mandalore!"

The Sith let it stand for a few moments, basking in the glory of a good fight, before indicating that his new generals should rise.

He singled out a dark haired woman and asked, "What is your name, General?"

The woman stood tall and said, "I am Ursa Wren. Head of Clan Wren, Mandalore."

"Good to know. How long would it take to mobilize all of my forces to leave the planet?"

The woman seemed understandably perplexed by the question, but nevertheless answered the inquiry. "Twelve hours at the most. Many of our forces lie imbedded among the populace and will need to be recalled."

"Make it ten hours, General Wren."

Ursa slammed a fist to her chest, "It will be done Mandalore. May I ask where we are going?"

As he answered, Harry began to pace before his clan head generals, forcing their eyes to follow him. "Taking control of the planet Mandalore, is no longer the goal of Death Watch. The Mandalorian way is not confined to a planet that does not appreciate its values, no it travels with its people. I have a purpose, a grand vision that the warriors of this army will win great honor in achieving."

By that point, Ursa Wren had become the de-facto speaker of the clan heads, and could not keep silent at that proclamation. "You are saying that instead of focusing our efforts here, trying to subjugate our world, we should be expanding out, and spreading our culture to other worlds?"

The Sith smiled at the speaker. He was growing to like this woman. "In a way. You see, I am Sith, General Wren. That means I love and embrace freedom. Freedom in every moment and breath. As such the one thing I despise more than any other, is someone that would take freedom away from someone else."

He let the silence reign for several moments after that statement, waiting to see who would start to understand first. It didn't surprise him that it was Ursa Wren.

"You are speaking of slavers? Mandalore?"

"Good catch, General. Slavery is by far, the single most sickening, disgusting, and vile organized entity I have discovered since arriving in this galaxy. It is an evil that I have experienced first hand, and I cannot abide its existence when I have the means to stop it. Slavers have been allowed to flourish, and profit, from the misery of others for too long." With every word, Harry's form seemed to grow brighter, his voice became stronger, and his tone drew the full focus of all present. His passion was literally drawing forth the awe of his listeners.

"This is my vision for Death Watch. We shall leave this planet in force and travel the cosmos to face our one true foe, Slavery! Every slaver we meet shall die, every government that allows slavery shall fall, and every planet that sanctions it will feel our wrath! They'll be crushed before our blades, our blasters, and our boots! We will rend them! Tear them! And make them scream for their mothers as we burn the lives they have created to ash!"

At his impassioned proclamation, every clan head before him shot to their feet and screamed, "HAIL THE MANDALORE! HAIL THE MANDALORE! HAIL THE MANDALORE!"

Once more, Harry let the chants continue before raising his hands for silence. "I must inform the Duchess Satine of our departure, but when I return I expect my ships ready for takeoff."

Ursa Wren nodded her head in understanding. "It will be done, Mandalore. What should I have the pilots place in the navcomputers as our first destination?"

The Sith smirked at the stoic woman. "Where else should we begin our crusade against slavery, then with a planet that uses it as its primary export. Ladies and gentlemen, our war begins with the planet, Zygerria."

Tatooine

The last several weeks were an adjustment to say the least. Anakin had needed to meet and get used to his new stepfather and stepbrother, learn the ins and outs of water farming, and catch up on several years of history with his mother.

It had been an… adventure. But happily enough, he and his mother had never been closer. He was getting along well with his older stepbrother, by two years, and he was at least on cordial terms with his stepfather.

He was about twenty yards off the main house, adjusting some measurements on the water filtration unit, when the runner came. He sped in on a battered speeder, and practically tumbled off in exhaustion.

With a burst of force enhanced speed, Anakin made it to him in seconds, then ran him inside to escape the heat.

"Mom!" He yelled as he stumbled into the home. "Mom! Someone's hurt!"

At the sound of raised voices, Shmi exited the kitchen, and upon seeing the exhausted man, hurriedly pulled out a seat. "Here, Anie, set him down here while I grab a glass of water and a nutrient package."

Ten minutes later, the mystery man was finally lucid enough to speak, and Cliegg Lars was rushing down the stairs. He'd been in the field when he was alerted by his wife that the stranger arrived, and seeing him now, he was glad she'd sent for him. "Paul? Paul Ruthe? What are you doing here man?"

"You know this guy? Anakin asked.

Cliegg nodded to his stepson. "He runs a homestead like ours two settlements over." He turned back to the newly cognizant man. "What brought you here?"

"Sand people." The man gasped. Even after the water and nutrients, his throat was still parched. "Our scanners caught them moving our way this morning. They're going slow, but they'll still arrive by nightfall. We don't have the men to hold them off, so I went out looking for help."

Cliegg was silent for several moments. "How many others agreed to go your way?"

"Three other homesteads are sending men." Paul answered.

Cliegg grumbled at that. "Even with those numbers, it'll be close. They know how to keep out of sight in a melee. They'll duck and weave to cover before you know they're gone, and then they'll jump out of nowhere."

A thought occurred to Anakin at those words. "I can find them, Cliegg." The boy hadn't yet figured out the best way to refer to the older man, so he just called him by name. "If I'm close enough I'll be able to sense them, and I can fight." For emphasis he held up the unlit lightsaber he habitually kept clipped to his belt.

"Is that what I think it is?" Paul gasped, but was unheeded.

Shmi tried to cut off this possibility. "Anakin, it's too dangerous to fight the sand people."

"Mom, I was trained by the Jedi. I've been fighting opponents stronger than me since the day I left home. I daresay I'll fare better than anyone else that shows up, and if I can save even one life that would be lost without me, then I'll have done the right thing."

He looked at Cliegg and Paul. "Take me with you. You'll need me."

His stepfather took a moment to look the teenager in the eyes, then nodded, as if he'd seen something there he approved of. "Your boy is a man Shmi. If he wants to fight to defend his neighbors, then I think that's an honorable goal. Besides, we are going to need every man we can get. Too bad Owen went into town to grab some parts. He's a good shot with a rifle."

The big man stepped forward and placed a strong hand on the boy's shoulder, communicating his approval. "Pack what you'll need. We leave in fifteen minutes."

That Night

"Aw! A, A, A, A, Ah!" the wails of the sand people echoed off the shadowed dunes. Just as Cliegg had said, they were hiding in the abundant cover. Choosing the best places to strike.

When Anakin and his stepfather had arrived at the Ruthe farmstead, they'd found forty other men, and ten women, setting up a barricade around the house. They'd jumped in to help, and now the wall stood a good ten feet high. It wouldn't stop a bantha charge, but the homesteader's would at least be safe from blaster bolts as long as they ducked down.

As the howling faded into the night, the former padawan focused, drawing on the ever present feeling of power in the air. His senses expanded, drawing out and around himself and the dunes surrounding him. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for.

Surprisingly enough, the raiding party that had found them was only thirty five men strong. Of course, even with less numbers, the sand people would still normally win, if only from a combination of shock-and-awe and surprise attack tactics. That wouldn't work tonight though.

The teenager grabbed Cliegg's arm, and palmed his lightsaber. "They've split into three groups. One to the north, another to the east, and the last in the south. You guys focus on the north and east. I deal with the southern group so they can't hit us on both sides."

"I can't let you go off alone kid. Your mother would kill me."

Anakin smirked. "What part of Jedi trained, did you not get? I'll be fine. Trust me."

"Ugh. Fine, but you better not die Anakin. I don't want to see your mother cry."

"Neither do I."

Without another word, the unknowing chosen one dashed away into the sands. Following his senses, he quickly came up behind the last group. There were ten of them, all standing in a line to hide their numbers in the tracks. That just made things easier.

Anakin started running, and just as he reached his foes, he activated his lightsaber. Before the raiders even knew he was there, he'd killed four of them. Then he was in the thick of it. He ducked, he weaved, and he slashed at every opportunity. avoiding wildly fired blaster bolts, and sand staff swings. The stillness of the air was broken now by the screams of the maimed and dying as he laid into them.

The silence was what finally told the boy that the fight was over for him. He was still swinging about wildly when he realized that no one was trying to kill him anymore. With a start, he realized he'd gone into a battle trance. Obi-Wan had never taught him that, so it must have been instinct.

More blaster fire and screams let him know that battle must have been joined back at the homestead so he took off running. A quick pulse in the force gave him surprising news. There were only ten attackers left. It seemed that they'd been relying on the group to the south to use their assault as a decoy to completely decimate the defenders from the rear. As such, they'd forgone cover more readily than usual. By the time Anakin made it back, six of the ten were dead, and the other four had run off into the sand sea.

The homesteaders were all set to start celebrating, but the former padawan raised a hand to stop them. "There's something else out there. I can feel it."

Without pausing to explain, the boy ran off in the direction the sand people had come from, Cliegg and the others rushing to catch up. When the boy found the source of his confusion, he also found rage. It was a train of banthas, and chained to their harnesses were men and women with collars wrapped around their necks. There had to be over a hundred of them. The sand people hadn't been raiding for food or resources. They'd been capturing slaves.

Anakin rushed to the first beast, activated his lightsaber, and moved to cut the people free, but an exclaimed shout from Paul stopped him.

The homesteader ran up to his side and said in a hurried voice, "You can't free them, Anakin. The Hutt's laws are very clear. Once a collar is placed on someone's neck then they are the property of the slaving clans. They can be bought and sold by other parties, but until they are registered with the Hutts they cannot be freed."

"It's true, Anakin." Cliegg had made his way up to them at that point. "I had to go through the same process when I freed your mother. I bought her, yes, but I had to petition Jabba to free her."

"And you think that is just and right?" Anakin sneered at the man, causing him to look to the sand in shame.

"It doesn't matter what I think, boy. It's just the way things are. It's illegal to cut those chains."

Any further words were broken by a young boy at the front of the slave line. He was staring at the blue lightsaber in Anakin's hands, and clapping happily. "We're saved mama!" He looked to a taller woman behind him, "He's got a laser sword, that must mean he's a Jedi! No Jedi would let us be enslaved right?"

As the woman tried to calm the boy down, Anakin stared at his blade. 'This weapon is your life' Obi-Wan had told him once. 'The way you use it will define who you are, and who you will become.'

Anakin hadn't understood what the older man had meant then, but he thought he was starting to now. He could deactivate the blade like Paul wanted him to, and in so doing, use it to follow the law of the land, and hand these people over to the Hutts. They'd be enslaved, but the proverbial boat would not be rocked, and greater violence could be avoided.

Or he could do as he wished to, cut the people loose, and use his sword to fight for a better future for people that had suffered as he had for the first eight years of his life.

He swung his blade down, and the chain came free.

The people behind him gasped in horror, but those ahead of him cheered with joy, as they snaked the loose chain off of the links in their collars.

"What have you done boy?" Cliegg gasped.

"I've done what's right." Anakin smiled tiredly at the older man. He knew he was going to have a hard time explaining this to Shmi. "Go home, be with my mother, and tell her, that her son is doing what that Jedi, Qui Gon, should have done all those years ago."

Without pausing to hear his reply, Anakin approached the grouping of recently freed slaves. "I won't lie to you" He began, "For now, you are free, but there are those who would see you chained once more. The sand people will remember your faces, these homesteaders could accidentally let something loose in conversation at the bar, The Hutts might even hear that some collared people escaped and come looking for you."

He cleared his throat and stood tall, trying to project the confidence of Mace Windu. "I intend to stand against this system of injustice, to fight for the freedoms of all slaves on Tatooine. Are there any here who will fight with me?"

Silence reigned for several moments, and then people began to stand. One by one they stood up, approached their savior, and bowed their heads, proclaiming that, yes, they would fight with him. When all was said and done, sixty men and women had moved to his side. The rest, were either too old, or had small children to care for.

Glancing around at the smiling faces that looked up to him, Anakin couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. These people trusted him, believed in him, and were willing to fight by his side. They weren't a proper army yet, but they were a start.