What a bizarre weapon, Din thought as he handled the peculiarly-shaped saber (with its blade turned off, of course).
The Darksaber, as it was called, represented leadership over all Mandalorians across the galaxy. An odd choice for a symbol of their culture, given energy sabers were the ancestral weapon of their longtime enemies, the Jedi.
Then again, what does he know? He wasn't even born a Mandalorian.
Din had heard tales of it, but not often. Perhaps the Mandalorians who raised him didn't want him to know the saber had fallen into the hands of an imperial.
If this weapon could speak to him, there's no doubt it would have plenty of stories to tell. Certainly, it would be an easy way to figure out the answers to all the questions its mere existence poses.
For one thing, how does a Mandalorian end up forging a lightsaber, anyway?
It was time. The Force had guided him here. Now all that was left was to put all the pieces together.
He had been so frustrated when his lightsaber was sliced in half during the Chiss footsoldiers' ambush. Ever since they threw their lot in with the Sith, their stratagems have before far more unpredictable.
He believed he had simply been careless then – but now he realizes that mistake hid a lesson. For now, Tarre Vizsla is about to forge a lightsaber that cannot be broken.
"I take it your idea is going well?"
The voice came from behind him, but Vizsla does not turn, as he recognized it as the voice of his master, not an enemy. Besides, he wasn't about to shift his focus at such a critical juncture.
Tarre nods, and hopes that the curt gesture suffices as a response for his rather strict master, who was never all that happy about having to train a Mandalorian pupil, given their two groups' history.
The black crystal slots in perfectly into the beskar framework he had devised, as though it came into being precisely for that purpose. Of course, he knew that was the case – he had been led to it by a force vision, after all.
He lets his new lightsaber fall to the ground. "A bit reckless today, aren't you?" The wizened Mon Calamari chides.
"It will not break, master. It is made of the purest beskar."
Tarre picks it up from where it fell and unsheathes the blade, proceeding to do a few katas with it to test it out. "Impressive… truly impressive!"
His master tsks from behind him. "Its shape reminds me of a broadsaber. I doubt that device will let you take full advantage of your force powers."
"The advantages far outweigh the drawbacks, master! Here, feel it in your hands."
The master takes the newly-formed lightsaber, and immediately her eyes widen. "Ggh-"
"Master? What is it?"
"Something within this saber… rejecting me, as though I'm not meant to hold it… Like it has a mind of its own."
Vizsla watches as his master does several traditional lightsaber moves while the saber gets heavier and heavier in her hands. Eventually, she hands it back.
"In all my years, I have never seen a lightsaber such as this. Could it be that you've truly created something unique this day?"
"More than that", Tarre replies with pride. "This weapon is my legacy. The perfect synthesis of my Mandalorian ancestry and my role as a Jedi. It shall intertwine the destinies of our two peoples forevermore."
"Hrm", Tarre's master grunted. "Be careful what you wish for, my padawan. Our destinies crossing paths has not always turned out well for either of us."
"Us included?" Tarre asks wryly.
His master grins. "Obviously, I pray that you will be an exception."
"So do I, master. But… what shall I name this new weapon?"
"Well, we have been calling it a lightsaber", the master begins. "But considering its coloring, the name 'Darksaber' might be more appropriate."
Aside from the name of its (supposed) creator, all that is known of the Darksaber's history is simply that it was found and stolen from a Jedi Temple by the Vizsla clan. It isn't that hard to imagine the story of Tarre Vizsla's construction of it was fabricated at some point to give legitimacy to their rule.
Din Djarin does not consider himself a fool. He knows all too well that there are few stories over a thousand years old that aren't in some way twisted by the whims of the people who live in the present. In this galaxy, even events of decades prior fade into myth.
But nonetheless, he trusts in the Mandalorian Way of life. If the Darksaber is part of it, then who is he to question it?
Admittedly, however, theirs is only one of many 'ways of life' that the Mandalorians have adopted, and the Darksaber, much like the rest of their people, appeared to lose its way for a long time…
The days of Death Watch are over. The once-proud organization was split in twain alongside Pre Vizsla's head. But Gar Saxon has no misgivings about his decision to follow Maul, the 'outsider', as Bo-Katan had dubbed him.
Regrets, perhaps. Some members of his clan remained with Bo-Katan and her newly-formed Mandalore resistance. He would no doubt end up facing some or all of them at this rate. But not misgivings. Misgivings imply second-guessing, and that is not what Mandalorians do. Mandalorians follow without question.
Does Maul not carry the proof of Mandalore's leadership? Did he not win the Darksaber in pitched battle against its previous wielder, who himself was their former leader?
To defy him would no doubt be the most foolish of acts. Gar would never even consider it, himself. And that's why he's following the captured Maul into the Spire, the so-called 'impregnable' prison, with designs to rescue him from his fate.
If Maul is left to languish there, the Mandalorian people will rot with him. Not unless two brave Mandalorians risk their lives for their leader. The odds are low, but that's never stopped any of them from following through with orders.
Sometimes, Gar thinks he's one of the few mandos who remembers what they should be like. The mere fact that so many of them deserted their new commander simply because he was an outsider is telling. It's like his people have forgotten the old ways.
The name 'Vizsla' never meant anything. They didn't listen to Pre Vizsla because he was part of one of Mandalore's most honored families, or because he was an excellent warrior, though both were true.
No. For a thousand years, the Mandalorians have followed a sword. And that sword is what Gar Saxon and Rook Kast are going to fight tooth and nail to retrieve.
Thinking about it now, it seems like staking the entire future of their culture on a simple sword, no matter how special its properties or history, was a foolish decision.
Din idly wonders if other Mandalorians out in space will see him as a leader due to his being the current owner of the saber. He doesn't want to lead, but then, most of the things he's been doing lately have been done begrudgingly. And even though he's been expelled from the order, that didn't seem to be an issue for Maul, who never was a Mandalorian to begin with.
The one who wielded the Darksaber after him, however, was. A girl named Sabine Wren who managed to take it by sheer luck and after a series of misfortunutes suffered by Maul. That was when the mistake that would cost most of the Mandalorians' lives began. Wren had not earned the Darksaber through battle.
Did she know the repercussions that her actions in giving the Darksaber over to Bo-Katan without either of them having earned it would have? Did she even believe in that superstition? Din wasn't sure he himself did, if he was being honest.
Fate, destiny, curses – those are things Jedi and Sith deal in, not Mandalorians. And that's how it should be, he thinks.
"…How could all of this have happened after we left?"
Ahsoka remained silent as she let her friend process the enormity of what she's seeing.
"The empire is ruthless, Sabine. Once your planet showed it wouldn't submit to them without a fight, it became a target."
"But all of this… they didn't even leave bodies for us to bury!" Sabine shouted, tearing up.
Her and Ahsoka were still busy trying to locate Ezra, but when Sabine had heard about the attack on Mandalore, they both made sure to divert course there. Unfortunately, they arrived too late.
Sabine punches the ground in frustration. "Those bastards razed our planet to the ground and then pillaged the remains. And this is what's happening to the entire rest of the galaxy, too! I realized that before, but having it happen to my family… everything I cared about…"
"You don't know for sure that they're gone", Ahsoka pointed out. "They could have escaped and gone into hiding. That's what us Jedi did after the clones tried to wipe us out."
"Yeah, well, I don't know if you noticed this, Ahsoka, but Jedi and Mandalorians are different", Sabine remarked a little more snidely than she had intended. "If the Empire was coming to our planet, we would stand and fight, and die – to the last. I know that for a fact."
"Was that what you did when your family disowned you and cast you aside? Did you stand and fight against that injustice, too?"
"That's-" Sabine paused. "That's different!"
"All I'm trying to say, Sabine, is that, Jedi, Mandalorian or otherwise, the creatures of this galaxy place value on life above all else. You can't expect everyone in an entire civilization to die for their beliefs. Some of them might want to preserve those beliefs."
Sabine looked down at her destroyed home. "…I hope you're right, Ahsoka. I really do. Because somehow, a part of me is thinking that this is my fault."
"How do you figure?"
"I was supposed to help lead my people and use the Darksaber to reunify Mandalore", Sabine recalls. "But I just gave those responsibilities away. Do you think that, if I stayed… things would have turned out differently?"
Ahsoka shakes her head. "The Force works through all of us, Sabine. I believe that your relinquishing of the Darksaber to Bo-Katan was, itself, a part of some greater destiny. But one we cannot see right now.
Then, she grimaces. "Especially when the sounds of millions of souls crying out and being silenced cloud our judgment."
Sabine lifts her head up again, resigned. "I guess you're right. There's always something important to be done. Like finding Ezra, or taking revenge against the empire."
"Revenge isn't the Jedi way, you know" Ahsoka chides light-heartedly.
"But it's the Mandalorian one", Sabine retorts with a wink. "Thanks for the pep talk, 'Soka."
"Well, that's what I'm here for. Take it from someone who also dealt with a similar situation: Life goes on. You have to keep living for the sake of those who cared about you."
"Right. Now let's get back to our ship…" Sabine suggests, and they do.
But before she closes the door of their ship, Sabine looks back over the ravaged landscape of her planet one last time. "…and leave all these bad memories behind."
That was when Moff Gideon took the Darksaber, though whether he won it through rightful combat or thievery, Din was not sure. So much had happened…
It hadn't been his intention to earn the right to wield the Darksaber. He only wanted to save Grogu. That was all that he was thinking about.
Twice, he tried to give it back to the woman who had wielded it prior to Gideon, once by simply handing it over, as Sabine Wren had apparently done, and again by yielding during their combat. She accepted neither; Bo-Katan was too proud of a woman, and knew the consequences of wielding the weapon undeservedly.
So now, Din Djarin is charged with the responsibility of holding the unusual blade. It feels heavy in his hands… as heavy as the burden of leading thousands of Mandalorians must feel. Not even Paz Vizsla managed to win it from him. It must have left him furious.
Din presses the Darksaber's trigger and unsheathes its blade. The first time he tried to use it, it left a gash on his leg. The second time, he barely managed to keep a hold of it. Can he really master such a weapon?
Well, he thinks. If he fails, someone else will simply take it from him. All he has to worry about is making sure he fights with it as fiercely and valorously as possible, so that whoever is its next wielder will have won it through rightful combat.
This is the Way.
"Mmm?"
Din turns his head around in the direction of the mewling noise. A small green child is looking at him.
"You're hungry again, aren't you?" He asks rhetorically. "Come with me. I'm sure we can probably find a few frogs for you to eat… or preferably something less gross."
Grogu coos in response, and Din turns off the Darksaber again. No more pondering the past or fretting about the future for now. He has more important things to care for.