Chapter 7: Maturing

Planet Kalevala:

Jarek stepped out of the dwelling into the brisk mountain air. Spring was fast approaching as indicated by the melting and dripping snow. The first of the green chutes were also beginning to sprout. Everything around the dwelling was just as it should be. The animals milled about in their pens and the hydroponic garden hummed with activity. But there was one thing that wasn't where it should be.

"Buir?" Jarek called but received no answer. Though he already knew the man wasn't there Jarek peaked back inside just the same. Looking around the enclosure he still saw no sign of his father. Where was he? Two days before the Verd'goten and he goes off without him? Myler wouldn't do that. Not without a good reason.

"Buir!" Jarek called out, louder this time. The young man waited, listening intently. After a moment he heard a whistle, its melody carried on the wind. He made out the distinct rhythm and knew it was from Myler. It was a simple tune they developed during his childhood to signal one another over a distance without shouting. Ideal when attempting to corner or drive game.

Jarek determined the direction that it came from. There was a ridge near the house that he was sure the whistle originated from. Leaping off the front porch Jarek took off at a sprint. In moments, the ridge came into view, and standing atop an outcropping was his father. He didn't move or give any indication he knew his son was approaching.

Questions ran through Jarek's head. What was he doing on the ledge? Why was he just standing there? What was going on with him?

Only when Jarek ascended the cliff and stood next to him did the older warrior turn to face him. "Jarek," he greeted almost sounding surprised, "You're here." In the last few cycles, it seemed the years had finally caught up with the man. Gray-streaked his hair and wrinkles were starting to form around his mouth and eyes. He seemed to be cloaked in an air of reluctance, resignation, and deep contemplation.

"Did you want to be alone?" Jarek asked. He was torn between not wanting to interrupt his father amidst turbulent thoughts and a desire to help him in any way he could.

"No," he stated quickly, "We must speak." He briefly glanced back out over the valley below before staring back at Jarek, "I've been thinking about your training...and you've learned to hunt, and you've learned to survive. But there is a lesson I fear I have failed to teach you. Would you learn it now?"

To hear those words, words that hinted at any lack of confidence in his father's abilities chilled Jarek to the core. It was true he had learned much in the last eight cycles. Ever since he felled the grazer the training had shifted from survival to aggression. Along with tracking and stalking, Myler taught him how to kill cleanly and neatly. Taught him how to fight as if his life depended on it. The training had been demanding and very thorough. Jarek wasn't sure what else there was to learn. He remained calm and patient.

"Of course, My'buir," he said inclining his head towards his father and mentor, "I will always learn what you have to teach."

Myler nodded and gestured out towards the valley. "There has been some...trouble recently. It affords the opportunity to learn this lesson, but it will be dangerous. You must come prepared...or you will die." Jarek refrained from showing any sign of nervousness at his father's grave tone. "Collect your armor and weapons and descend into the Embrace."

"My armor?" Jarek questioned a little confused, "What kind of trouble are we talking about?" On most hunts, Myler had insisted on stealth which meant leaving his newly crafted beskar'gam back at the dwelling. The only time he wore it was when they sparred, ran drills...or pursued some particularly aggressive predator.

Myler continued his instruction regaining the young man's attention. "Once you have your gear, you will meet me there," he pointed towards the north, "at the gate beyond the settlement of Kart'a'Buir."

"The north gate? That's at the edge of the Valley." A place he had never been to nor allowed to venture near.

"Yes," Myler stated, "Now be on your way."

Before turning away Jarek couldn't help but voice his concern. "Is something else bothering you?"

"No. I'm fine," Myler said in a flat tone, his gaze already returned to the view of the valley.

Undaunted Jarek pressed on. "Are you worried what will happen after the Verd'Goten?"

"What happens is clear," he replied without looking at him, "You will be a part of the clan, and I will still be Dar'Manda." His tone was flat; emotionless, "To be shunned."

"My'buir, even if the clan accepts me I won't-" he said attempting to console him.

"There is much to do, Jarek," Myler said sharply, cutting him off, "We can discuss this later."

There was no more point in continuing the discussion. Myler's tone was quite clear in that the matter was closed. "Okay...I'll gather my gear." He was about to leave when he remembered something, "I'm going to go pay Karst a visit first."

Myler growled at that. "Jarek, that man breaks the law every time he speaks to you."

"And I'm glad he does," the young man replied, "I want to buy a grapple attachment for my gauntlet and he's the only one who'll sell to Dar'Manda."

Myler sighed before saying, "Very well. You may find a use for it tonight."

"That sounds...ominous," Jarek murmured. When Myler didn't respond, Jarek bade him goodbye, "I'll see you at the North Gate." Myler didn't reply, but rather kept on staring out at the valley. He stared without actually focusing on anything, mind lost in thought.

No point in trying to coax the truth out of him, Jarek hurried back to the dwelling. He knew something important must've been bothering Myler. He had to be thinking about the Verd'Goten and what might happen afterward. Jarek would become a part of the Mando'ade. Though it would mean he'd no longer be an Outcast, it also meant he could never have contact with any Dar'Manda, not even the man who raised him. If Myler thought Jarek would abandon him after the Verd'goten, he was wrong.

Back at the dwelling, Jarek donned his armor. The amount of Beskar they had traded for hadn't been enough to forge a complete set of armor like Myler's. Rather only a pair of chest plates, and a simple set of gauntlets and greaves. No helmet like that of his father's. Despite it being a minimalist set, he loved it for what it was. An act of love from a man who didn't have to be his father but rather chose to be. A gift from someone who not only raised Jarek but taught him to be more than just an Outcast, more than just a survivor. They had forged that armor together and Jarek would wear it in honor of the relationship.

After gathering what he needed he took the now all too familiar path down to the outskirts of the village. He passed the place where the boy Gaegan had hit him with the rock. The memory brought back ghostly emotions of anger. That anger would transform into a drive to prove himself worthy of answers.

The path continued passed Kart'a'Buir. It seemed surreal that in only two more days he'll know what it's like within. Glancing over at the walled settlement, he wondered that with so many beings crammed into one place, no one must ever get lonely. It was an amusing and strangely comforting thought. He continued traveling through to a smaller settlement near Kart'a'Buir where Karst kept his small trading post. As he passed through, many residents cast him dirty looks or just simply ignored him. "Yep it's the motherless Outcast again," he thought bitterly to himself, "Go ahead and stare."

Karst was a Mandalorian well past his prime. While he still wore his armor, he seldom donned the helmet or carried more than a blaster pistol. As usual upon Jarek's approach, Karst glanced left then right before greeting him. "Well, well, well, a Dar'Manda on my doorstep," he raised his hands in mock terror, "Ancestors protect me."

"Smart mouth chakaar," Jarek mused affectionately. It was refreshing to deal with a member of the Mando'ade who didn't react like he was a plague or something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of their boot. "Surprised you saw me when you look every other direction to make sure no one is watching," Jarek replied sarcastically, "Careful, you don't strain your neck."

"It's always a pain in the neck when you show up, boy," Karst replied with a smirk, "One way or another."

"There a reason you're acting so cranky today?"

Karst shook his head, but then looked thoughtful before shrugging. "Once you run the Verd'Goten and join the clan you'll deal with traders in Kart'a'Buir. Maybe I don't like losing customers."

"Traders who don't break the law and sell to Outcasts you mean?" Jarek retorted making the elder Mandalorian snicker.

"That's right, our days of crime will be behind us," he gave a hard look, "so long as you keep quiet."

"Are you worried I'm going to tell someone that you traded with Dar'Manda?"

"I don't think you're the kind who talks," Karst replied nonchalantly, "But you never know."

"You can stop worrying," Jarek remarked reassuringly, "Your secret's safe with me."

"That's what I figured. But I don't mind hearing it."

Jarek liked Karst. The man had always treated him like an equal. He figured Karst deserved to know the whole truth. "The only person I told about our trades is Myler."

The older man shrugged not too concerned about the idea of Myler knowing anything about him. "Yeah, well not like he can turn me in even if he wanted to. Honor and duty the sorta man your father is." He made a mock disgusted expression. "I don't know how you stand it."

Wanting to avoid any dissenting talk about his father Jarek changed the subject. He liked Karst, but he respected his father more. "Why do you take the risks selling to outcasts?" He asked genuinely curious.

"Every time you ask," Karst groaned and shook his head. "If a big meaningful talk is what you're after, move along."

"Is it because you used to be one?" Jarek pressed undeterred.

If Karst was surprised that Jarek knew, he didn't show it. "Yeah, for five years," as if he wasn't revealing anything more interesting than the weather, "After my shunning, I tried living back in Kart'a'Buir, but everyone I'd known had moved on and there just seemed to be too many people." He gestured to the sparsely populated settlement and the wilderness beyond. "I like it better out here."

Sensing the end of the discussion, Jarek turned his attention back to his reason for being there. "Last time I visited you had a grappling hook attachment for trade. Still got it?"

A glint of excitement twinkled in the merchant's eye. "Still do." He gave Jarek a once over, his gaze settling on his full satchel. "You have the means to trade?

"I can pay." Jarek stated and pulled out a tightly bound bundle of rolled scaly skins, "Three well-tanned Grazer skins with quills and claws. As agreed."

Karst took the skins without so much as a second glance before producing a small squared-off device from within his booth. Jarek took the attachment eagerly. He was unsure whether it was he or Karst who made out better in the deal. After all, it wasn't Karst who had to track three Grazers across dozens of miles of rough terrain. Plus, he had a feeling that off-world traders paid a pretty sum for the exotic skins.

"Now that you have the launcher," Karst stated indicating the exit, "I suggest you go play with it someplace else, eh." He was being good-natured, but Jarek could sense he was eager to have them part ways before they were seen together. It was nothing personal, simply good business.

"I guess that concludes our dealings then," Jarek stated with a smile as he attached the grabbling hook assembly to his gauntlet.

"I guess it does," Karst stated and held out his hand. Jarek took it and shook once. "Good luck in the Verd'goten, boy. Blessings of the ancestors and all that." Without another word, Jarek exited the trading post and headed for the North Gate.

Traveling the well-used road cut down on the travel time and he made it to the North Gate well before nightfall. The barrier that separated the Embrace from the world beyond was made of large steel plates and a gate that looked as if it was a massive blast door salvaged from a starship. Add the dozen or so Clan warriors in full kit and it was a very imposing sight. Yet that wasn't what drew his attention. Beyond the wall, he saw a couple of plumes of black smoke and what sounded like distant sporadic blaster fire. What was going on out there?

"Jarek, you made it." Myler's voice nearly made him jump but he managed to shrug off the surprise. Looking around he saw his father sitting next to a roaring fire just off the road under the cover of some trees. "You have your gear as well," he stated at his approach, "Good."

Jarek took a seat next to the fire and held out his gauntlet, "I got the grappler from Karst."

Myler leaned forward and examined the mechanism with a critical eye. He had a similar attachment on his gauntlet along with a handful of others. Most Mandalorians outfitted their gauntlets with extra features to give them an edge in a fight. After a moment he nodded saying, "I hate to think what that outlaw trader charged for a tool of that make."

Jarek shrugged. "It wasn't cheap, but it will definitely be worth it."

"Perhaps," Myler stated, "You'll know it's worth soon enough."

His words caused Jarek to look out towards the walls, eyeballing the plumes he'd seen earlier. "The smoke beyond the Embrace-" he looked back at his father, "is that the trouble you were talking about?"

"You will know soon enough," he stated flatly prodding the fire with a stick, stoking the flames, "For now we wait till dark."

"Wait for Dark?" Jarek asked confused and a little curious, "I don't understand all that smoke coming from outside the Embrace. What can we do from here?"

Myler stabbed the stick into the ashes. Jarek could feel the weight of his stare even through the tinted visor of his helmet. "The lesson will be taught in due time, Jarek," he said curtly, "Until then, we wait."

Jarek knew he should let it go and try and get some rest but the level of uneasiness he sensed rolling off his father was nearly palpable. He had to assure him that everything would be okay. He sat up and looked at Myler. "Look, Buir," the older man looked up at him, "I've thought it through, and I won't shun you after the Verd'goten. I'm just...I won't do it. I won't pretend that you never raised me. That you weren't a father to me when you didn't have to be."

"Jarek..." Myler sighed before tossing the stick into the fire. His next words were straight no-nonsense. "The law forbids all contact. It has been my wish that you would one day be a part of the clan and to be a part of the clan you must obey the law."

The younger man clenched his fists in frustration. He wondered what it would take to make the man see sense. "I know...and I don't care," he stated sharply, "I know what duty means to you, but all the laws have ever done was set me apart and take things away." He slammed a fist on his knee for emphasis, "That's not going to happen again."

"Jarek...I must obey the law."

"And so, you will," Jarek replied with a slightly confident smile, "I knew you'd say that...So here's what we'll do." Lowering his tone to an almost conspiratorial whisper he said, "I'll come to you in secret. I'll sneak out so no one will see me so I can't get in trouble." He held up a hand to forestall his comment and continued, "And I know you won't talk to me because it's against the law, so I'll talk to you. It'll be my crime, not yours...you'll just listen. And that's how we'll handle this."

Myler was silent for a long while. So long Jarek feared he might've overstepped. The older man finally gave a halfhearted chuckled and slowly shook his head in bewilderment, "You've put a lot of thought into this."

"I have," he said proudly, "So don't worry. It's been handled."

Myler sighed in what sounded like defeat. "So, it has..."

Sensing the conversation had reached its end and his own conscious assuaged, Jarek decided to take his father's earlier advice. "Still a while to go before dark," he said stretching, "Guess I'll get some rest."

"Wise," Myler agreed as if he hadn't just made a similar suggestion earlier. Just before he nodded off Jarek caught his father's final few words. "There will be no time for sleep tonight."