Chapter 9: Leaving the Nest
The next morning.
By the time dawn had passed on the day of the Verd'Goten Jarek was already awake. Unable to sleep he had risen early to prepare himself. He checked and rechecked his weapons and equipment. He made sure his armor was in order, and because he couldn't keep himself still longer than three minutes, he set about doing the chores around the dwelling. To say he was nervous was an understatement and to describe himself as anxious would've been redundant. The young man had been preparing himself for that day for years. He'd trained for hours a day with Myler. Most nights he'd collapse onto his cot out of sheer exhaustion only to awaken mere hours later prepared to do it all over again.
"This will be your last day in the Embrace as Dar'Manda," Myler had said as they left the dwelling and headed towards the valley's main settlement. Jarek noted a hint of reluctance in his voice as he spoke. "Use this time to prepare your mind for the challenges before you."
The morning after his successful hunt of the nexu Jarek and Myler, after dragging the carcass to the gate, had returned home rested a few hours and went about their day. The guards had expressed surprise at the sight of the deadly predator, but the only indication of gratitude they had received was a few clipped nods.
Nothing had changed.
But Jarek felt something inside of him change. Like his body, his mind had not been idle in the time following the hunt. Playing Myler's words through his brain several times over, Jarek had given great care to the lessons his father had been trying to teach. Finally, en-route to Kart'a'Buir Jarek gave voice to his thoughts.
Drawing up next to older Mandalorian's shoulder he said, "I understand the final lesson, Buir."
"Do you?" Myler asked but still maintained the pace. He didn't turn to look at his son either and his tone seemed more accusatory than curious. He wanted to make sure Jarek understood.
Jarek nodded. It harkened back to one of the first things Myler had told him about hunting. A lone hunter could easily bring down smaller prey, but only together in a strong pack could it survive and bring down the largest of quarries. The strength of the hunter is the pack, and the strength of the pack is the hunter. Jarek knew Myler was following his thoughts. The man had raised him nearly since birth and knew his mind like no other.
"If I am going to stand for something," he explained, "Whether it be the clan or something else...It'll be something I believe in."
"Then I hope you find it, Jarek," Myler replied earnestly, "I hope you do."
Before long, the walls of Kart'a'Buir came into view. A large hill with a wide river running parallel to two-thirds of the length of ramparts. He'd seen them many times before, but never this close. The settlement butted up against the valley wall covering. It was a fortress; a place of refuge as much as it was a place to live.
They followed the river downstream until they came to a bridge. It was wide, spanning the width of the river, leading to the entrance to the city. There Myler brought them to a halt. He turned and looked at his son.
"This is where I must leave you." he said his voice flat and neutral, "As an outcast, I cannot enter the settlement." Jarek had known this, but some small part of him, the part that was still that little boy lost in the cave, had hoped his father would be by his side comforting him. "It is time." Myler said drawing his attention, "Are you ready?"
"Yes," Jarek said feeling his nerves jitter, "I guess." He looked over at the walled settlement. The festival within, celebrating the coming of age of the clan's next generation, was in full swing and the raucous was audible even over the rolling torrent of the river. "It's louder than I expected," he murmured doing his best to calm himself.
"You've never been so close before," Myler stated matter-of-factly.
"I guess everything is bigger up close," Jarek quipped attempting to lighten the mood a bit.
"Soon it'll all seem familiar," Myler stated, "Like home."
Jarek felt an odd chill at the word 'home.' Home to him was back at their dwelling just as it had been all his life. Always warm and welcoming after every hunt and trek. The idea that Kart'a'Buir might ever feel like that seemed...unfathomable. "I don't know about that," he murmured.
"Look for Chief Teersa," Myler said, "She will help you." Jarek knew whom he spoke of. Teersa was the chief of the whole Orion Clan. According to Myler, it was up to the clan chief to uphold the traditions and laws of the Mando'ade and that for Clan Orion there had been no better chief.
Before turning to leave and feeling a little reticent about taking the first step towards his new life, he asked, "Any final lessons before I head in?"
"No," Myler stated flatly, "You've learned every lesson the wilds have to teach."
Jarek shook his head and stared up at his father. "It was you who taught me, My'buir. Not the wilds." He sighed and looked nervously back towards the settlement, "Not sure my beskad and blaster will be of much use in there, though.
Myler placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. "It is with your mind that you'll succeed in obtaining what you have wanted all these years, Jarek."
"What should I expect once I'm inside?" he asked nodding towards the gates.
Following his gaze, he answered, his tone forlorn, "There will be people celebrating and feasting. More than you've ever seen in one place. No other settlement in the Embrace compares to Kart'a'Buir. It is the seat of the High Chief, the center of Clan Orion, and the jewel of the valley." They turned back to look at one another. "Give it time and you will grow fond of it...as I did, back when I was Mando'ade."
"Are you sure they're going to let me in?" he asked unable to keep the pessimistic doubt from entering his mind. Memories of the angry warriors in the gully, of children throwing rocks, and of a mother's disgusted scowl filled his mind.
"I've told you Jarek." Myler said his tone serious, "By clan law, any child of the Outcasts can participate in the Verd'Goten-"
"'-And any who pass are made members of the clan'" Jarek finished his tone slightly mocking. "I know this. But not everyone follows the law like you do, buir."
"Have faith, Jarek. The clan will honor your right." Myler hesitated a moment before saying, "I must tell you, the Verd'Goten is not a simple hunt or fight to prove your worth." He pressed a finger to Jarek's chest, "It is a test of your very soul and the strength of your commitment to the Mando'ade. And it will test you, Jarek."
"Whatever it is." he stated confidently, "I'll be ready."
Myler nodded, but then quickly drew Jarek into a tight embrace. It shocked him for only a moment before Jarek returned the gesture. "For what it's worth," Myler mumbled, his tone quivering, "good luck" He held Jarek at arm's length and stared intently at him, his voice deep with emotion, "I am so proud of you...my son. No matter what, you will always be my ad'ika.
Jarek was doing his best to hold back the tears threatening to spill over just as he knew his father was. "And I couldn't be prouder to call you father." They hugged once more before Myler urged him towards the bridge.
Steeling himself Jarek left his father and walked across the bridge up to the main gates of the city. It took much of his willpower to resist the urge to look back. Instead, he focused on what lay ahead.
The walls were an imposing sight at over 15 feet tall with the gatehouse an extra six. The massive gates made of a combination of steel and thick wooden timbers were guarded by a pair of fully armored Mandalorian warriors. They didn't give any indication they saw him, but he knew their eyes followed him from beneath their tinted visors. He couldn't see them, but he knew other warriors walked the ramparts.
He was nearly upon the gate when both warriors stepped forward blocking his path.
"You will turn back Dar'Manda," the one to his left declared, "Or bleed-your choice."
They didn't give Jarek a chance to respond before leveling their rifles. The young man hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The guards advanced, forcing him back. Jarek felt his panic rise and glanced over his shoulder hoping to see Myler running to his rescue but there was no one. He was on his own. Jarek didn't come to Kart'a'Buir looking for a fight. He came to join the clan as his father wanted and if he was lucky to gain answers. The two warriors were keeping him from those goals. Unacceptable. He started to reach for his weapon when a voice rang out from the city gate.
"Gar'nari shebs!" the voice cracked like a whip. Both men froze and turned. Standing in front of the now open gates was a Mandalorian woman bedecked in an elegant combination of beskar'gam and robes. Her long greying hair was heavily braided, and she clutched a staff in her hand. "Warriors, stand aside," she ordered and both men instantly stepped back coming to attention and saluting. The woman glared hard at either warrior as she approached. Then her face split into a wide smile. She rushed forward shocking Jarek by embracing him like a long-lost friend. "He is welcome here," she declared happily. Stepping back the woman looked him up and down, "Kart'a'Buir is open to you Verd'ika. Come." She steered him back through the gate waving a dismissive hand at the guards still standing at attention. "I assure you most of the clan aren't as rude as those di'kut'la."
Once inside, the woman stopped and released him, giving him a thorough once over. Given her commanding presence and ornate armor, Jarek had a good idea of whom this person was without any introduction. "You're...Chief Teersa?"
"Who else would I be, Jarek?" she replied jovially before gesturing him forward, "Come now. I've been waiting for this day for many years."
"You have?" he asked very confusedly. He didn't think the Chief of Clan Orion had known he existed, much less knew his name and face.
"Oh yes," she declared but upon glancing at the chronometer on her gauntlet sighed. "But for the moment I must leave you. I have some aruetii I must see to."
"You...what?" Jarek was so lost he wasn't even sure which way was north. Too many things were happening at once and he and no idea what was going on. Myler had told him to find Teersa, which not only had she found him, but she treated him like they'd known each other their entire lives.
"Envoys from Mandalore," she explained appearing to not relish the idea, "from the Empire-come to observe the Verd'goten. And have words of peace. Pfft." She waved yet another dismissive hand. "No self-respecting warrior would ever preach peace to clan Orion." Just as quickly as her ire rose it disappeared and she sighed in reluctance, "but alas they are guests and must be given the honor." She shook her head and smiled at him, "But that is my problem. I will see you later in the ceremony. In the meantime," she gestured grandly at their surroundings, "enjoy the festival." She started to leave when she turned having remembered something. "Oh! Down the path," she indicated the one she spoke of, "to the right you'll find an old friend who can't wait to see you."
Once more Jarek felt overwhelmed by his confusion. "But-I don't know anybody here."
"Ha! Try telling him that," she laughed as she continued to back away, "We'll talk later. Ret'urcye mhi!" and with that she was gone, disappearing into the throngs of people.
...what was going on...?
With no other obvious choices and still a bit overwhelmed, Jarek traveled down the path that Teersa directed him. Though dazed by the turn of events, he still managed to take in his surroundings.
The festival was in full swing. Mandalorians wearing everything from full beskar'gam to simple work attire were all over. Some danced around bonfires while others sang or played music. Some were involved in very lively conversations with friends and family. Some merely sat back and enjoyed the frivolity while downing tihaar; strong clear spirit made from fruit, like eau de vie.
The merrymaking was in such high spirits hardly anyone bothered to care whether he was dar'manda or not. They just slapped him on the shoulder and passed him a drink, praising the ancestors all the while. He'd returned their enthusiasm with polite smiles before passing the strong alcohol off to another. He needed to stay sharp for the Verd'goten after all.
The settlement and the festival, he had to admit, were quite a riotous spectacle of joy and color.
The structures around him also drew his eye. The buildings of the settlement were surprisingly uniform, made of a combination of duracrete mixed with pale glass panes. At first glance, they appeared to be similar in their Construction. Though all the buildings seem to conform to the same rigid blueprint, each dwelling was different. Upon closer inspection, Jarek could see that each building was unique to those that resided inside. Whether it was scroll-work along the trim, or knot-work around the doors, each home or shop reflected the individuals that resided. Jarek could also see the similarities in the shapes and angles of the windows and walls to those of the armor that he and other members of the clan wore. Reaching up he touched the diamond-shaped piece at the center of his chest plate and was surprised to see its likeness repeated in various forms throughout the settlement. Everything from the patterns of the helmet and curves of the weapons all seemed to blend and mix just as the culture of the Mandalorians seemed to ebb and flow throughout the Clan.
"Jarek!" At the sound of his name he looked in the direction, it came from, "It is you, isn't it? Over here!" He'd been so distracted by his surroundings, Jarek hadn't realized where he'd arrived. Turning Jarek saw a young man almost ten years his senior standing before an open workshop. He was smiling and waving excitedly. Still, a bit bewildered he approached the young man cautiously. "It is Jarek, isn't it? I'm remembering your name correctly?"
"Are you the 'old friend' Teersa mentioned?" Jarek asked. He took in the lad's features and while they seemed familiar nothing about him triggered a memory. "I don't know you."
"I see you don't recognize me." The young man didn't appear insulted or even the least bit put out. He just smiled and shrugged before saying, "Well it was more than a few cycles ago." He gave a small bow and greeted, "Tebb is my name and you were half my size when you saved me from those striders and hounds."
The memory of the events back in the gully quickly flooded his brain. He recalled sneaking through the grass and pulling an injured youth to safety. He recalled the older warrior shouting Tebb's name. He also recalled Myler's protective stance. It all came back to him as if it were only yesterday. "I remember," Jarek murmured and Tebb smiled, "You tried to thank me."
"I never forgot that day," Tebb responded. His tone serious but the young man maintained a smile warm, "All these years I hoped for a chance to see you again and repay the debt I owe you. When Teersa said you'd be in the Verd'goten I was thrilled." Jarek wondered how the clan chief had known he'd be there but filed the question away for later and continued listening to Tebb's story. "As you can see, I didn't make it as a hunter or warrior. So, I serve the clan as a stitcher-a maker of garments and armor." As he turned to enter the shop Tebb gestured for him to follow. Jarek hesitated before obeying. Tebb stood before a mannequin on which was displayed a suit of armor. "In honor of what you did for me, I crafted this beskar'gam for you."
Jarek blinked several times in shock as the young man presented him with a nearly full set of Mandalorian armor. It wasn't the prettiest set of iron skin that Jarek had ever seen but it was of exceptionally fine make. The individual plates were unpainted revealing the burnished gunmetal beneath. They were mounted on a simple brown leather flak vest. The helmet was also unadorned and unpainted and yet just by looking at it, Jared could see that it would serve its purpose well.
Ever the skeptic Jarek couldn't help but pose the question. "What's it cost?"
"Cost?" Tebb looked a little peeved at first but quickly shook it off when he recognized Jarek's reticence. "Nothing! Consider it the thanks I tried to give all those years ago, long overdue."
Jarek was admittedly overwhelmed by the generosity. So much so that he couldn't say anything even as he removed his original chest plate which seemed superfluous compared to the armor before him.
With Tebb's help, he donned the armor, each Plate locking into place with satisfying clicks. The cetar'bur on each foot. Tandun'bur and bes'lovik attached to the shin and knee respectfully. Then the ven'cabur slid into place over the important bits of his groin.
The armor-weave vest slid on like a glove, the straps adjusting to his size. Once again, the plates covering his abs (shar'tas) pectorals (hal'cabur) collar (ghet'bur) back (nor'cabur) and shoulders (bes'marbur) attached with ease. Then it was time for the kom'rk. The pair of armored gauntlets hugged his forearms securely. Jarek made a point of integrating the components that he and Myler made to continue to honor his father. Tebb appeared to respect and admire that.
Jarek took the last piece of equipment from the Tebb's hands. The Buc'ey. The helmet had a smooth dome with a T shaped visor. In its polarized surface, Jarek could see the weight of ages. It harkened back to a more brutal time in his people's history. He had to wonder how many beings had looked upon the same shape with fear and trepidation...many for the last time.
The moment he slid the helmet on, the heads-up display kicked on and data streamed across his vision. Jarek blinked cycling through the visor's light filters and other settings. Once his vision cleared, he turned to a tall mirror and examined his new outfit. He smiled though he couldn't see it through the helmet. The armor was an impressive work of craftsmanship. Not only was it a credit to Tebb's passion as a fabricator and stitcher but it also revealed that the Mandalorian people were more than just hunters and warriors. They were artists, creators of beautiful things.
"Kandosii!" Jarek declared. He removed the helmet and clipped it to his belt. He reached out and clasped forearms with the young man. "Thank you, Tebb. I've never owned anything this amazing before."
"Well, it's yours," he declared smiling happily, "No Mandalorian should be without his armor." He nodded towards his old chest piece which had integrated seamlessly with the rest of the beskar'gam. "I think you'll find this affords a bit more protection then what you were wearing."