Translation guide from Mando'a:

aliit = "clan"
aruetii = "traitor" or "foreigner"
beskar'gam = "armor" (don't worry I won't use this every time)
The Beskar'gam and the Bes'uliik = "The Armor and the Basilisk Droid"
Beskaryc'gi = "Armored Fish"
Cabur'alor = "Regent." Literally means "guardian leader."
Ja'hailid = "Watcher." A ceremonial and specialized role within Clan Saxon to tend to the Hall of Tyrants
Kyr'tsad = "Death Watch" (will only used when a character is speaking Mando'a)
Laamyc'buir = "Patriarch" or "High Father." The head of the clan if they were male.
Mand'alor = "sole ruler"
ori'ramikad = "supercommando." Both an official and unofficial title, signifying the best of the best
Ruug'verda = "Ancestors." Literally means "old warriors" but is more commonly used for the former
Solus'alor = "Councilor." Literally means "united leader."
Taakuir'tsad = "Horned Watch" (will only used when a character is speaking Mando'a)
verd/e = "warrior." "e" suffix indicates plural form.
vod = "sibling" or "brother" or "sister." Used affectionately, especially for younger siblings.

XXX

Gar Saxon

XXX

The days were spent pouring over potential questions, which had the benefit of giving his entire political platform a concrete shape. Tiber's initial respect when he'd first come by after seeing the "billboard" had quickly evaporated on seeing how little a platform existed, but he had come around since then. Arcadius, too, even seemed to be enjoying himself.

It was finally taking shape, and only a day before the questions would be asked for real.

"Your opinion on the restriction of construction materials from Celanon?"

Behind the makeshift box tilted on its axis to serve as his podium, he cleared his throat. "Moff Verina's policies is unacceptable and damaging to the planet. Despite the best efforts of our Cabur'alor, have stomached them long enough. One of my first acts as viceroy will be to personally journey to Celanon to speak with Verina and settle the issue once and for all."

Arcadius nodded, but it was Tiber who modestly spoke from his leisurely seat on the bed. "A summary, an attack, and action-solution all in one. Big improvement."

Gar shot him a wistful smile, then beckoned to Arcadius for another one.

The huge Mandalorian nodded and scrolled down his datapad, the device almost ridiculously small in his hands. It was still bizarre to Gar how such a physical specimen had wound up diving into advertising and now politics, which he had usually affiliated with slim and unsuspecting figures like Satine Kryze and Almec.

But then again, the Duchess definitely knew her way around a blaster, and Almec held his own against Bo-Katan for a while. He did an almost invisible shrug for his own benefit. Must be a Mandalorian thing, though I never would have thought of someone like Arcadius going the other direction.

His lips pursed. Just another product of the perverse few years the people have gone through, I guess.

Arcadius snapped his fingers and Gar blinked. "Ah… what?"

"Focus!" the muscled man commanded. "You can't stumble your words up there, nor can you ask for repeats of a question! The slightest misstep of your vernacular and the press will extrapolate on it to no end. They'll crush you underfoot."

Gar winced. "Right, sorry. Again, please."

Arcadius nodded smartly then spoke. "The loss of the tri-annual food imports from Vorpa'ya to first pirate activity and then Imperial miscalculations have forced all of Mandalore into a ration program until the next shipment can be delivered, which has absolved absolute starvation but nonetheless been unhappily felt. Should this measure be repeated if this were to happen again?"

Gar the Politician paused in thought, but only briefly. Embrace the perverse few years… "Historically, I would say yes. But our times are different now. The Empire's fault in the loss of our food cannot be dismissed, but to allow a few Imperials to dictate our entire opinion of the Empire is a disservice. While we starve, a few parsecs away hundreds of trade ships are on the Hydian Way carrying food to and from the Core. Why should we not turn to another Imperial system and purchase food to solve our needs?"

There was another pause, this time as Arcadius thought up of his own response instead of a pre-planned question. "Some would challenge that added taxes that would cost?"

"And one would be right to do so. But is it better to have credits in your pocket or food in your belly?" He imagined himself sweeping the audience, eyes narrowed. He decided to train his focus on Tiber, who was looking to him with a new curiosity. "We have always been an isolationist people, and yet our distant Ruug'verda had no issue founding the Mandalorian Road that connects to the Hydian Way. Never have we been physically stopped from joining galactic politics, and with the Empire as an overseeing uniter, now more than ever is it easier to interact with those beyond our sector."

"Others would say that level of dependency defies the traditions laid by those same Ruug'verda." As naturally as Gar's reply had come now, so did Arcadius sound fairly genuine. Tiber shot Arcadius a quick glance, then turned back to Gar with a slight smile. He tilted his chin up, inviting his brother's response.

"Our way of life has been upheld for countless generations," Gar said slowly, the cogs turning with great care. It wasn't just replying to the potential question now, but he could feel his own genuine investment, just as he knew Arcadius did as well. He licked his lips before continuing. "Our warrior way can coexist with an extended hand to the outside. But… I also wonder for those who might be offended by that line of thinking. Would our Ruug'verda want us to stick so firmly to the ways they developed thousands of years ago to the point our relevance disappears entirely from the galactic stage? Or would they want us to adapt to the changing galaxy around us to maintain our potency, as they did when the first suits of beskar'gam were crafted to combat the Jedi?"

He finally craned his neck to Arcadius. The other's brown eyes were narrowed, his frown creased to an almost invisible line. Silence stretched between them.

"Not bad." Tiber broke the ice with a blunt hammer. "Interesting to see you being pro-Imperial. I was starting to guess that from some of your other answers, but that was hardly vague. I like it."

"You do?" Gar started, surprised.

His brother shrugged. "Dealing with Moore, Hark, and Verideon so often, I'm used to the Empire. Its grown on me to the extent I don't have any ill feelings."

Gar nodded, then flicked his eyes back to Arcadius. Still the uncomfortable stare…

"It was well handled," he reluctantly said. "I hate the Empire. I hate that Mandalore's independence has been compromised and we now have to account for that in our own politics." A hand brushed over his face, to sweep over the curly brown hair on his head. As it did so, it was as if the cool resentment was swept away with it. "But maybe you're right, it's time our people do with some change. If only to prevent Kryze or someone else from messing things up more."

"Now, Arcadius," Tiber crowed. "Don't tell me Gar is starting to convince you on his politics?"

A sheepish but noticeably still unwilling smile came over the other. "I suppose you're right. Good going, Gar."

Gar felt some color rush to his cheeks. Had he really just been able to convince even a clearly die-hard traditionalist like Arcadius to his side? If it were true, what could it mean for the First Primary?

I could win it.

"Don't get cocky, though." Arcadius aimed a warning finger. "Few of the questions here are neutral. The Laamyc'buire will try to trap you to get you to say something self-destructive. They're there to get their desired candidates to look good and make all the others look bad, and you have no Laamyc'buire on your side. They'll all be gunning for you."

Some confidence came out with his exhale. The First Primary would host the thirteen most influential heads of the aliit to represent the general inquiries of the people. All had thrown their lot behind certain candidates to show support. It was hoped that the presence of a live holofeed and sizable audience of citizens would prevent the procedure from becoming too biased, but the three had early on decided the wily elders would find a way around the informal barriers. Open-floor questions were going to the norm, and by definition they were going to be neutral so the Laamyc'buir did not accidentally damage their candidate. But the clan heads could also ask a direct question of a candidate, and therein lied the danger.

Rubbing his temple, Gar leaned upon the "podium" to take some strain off his back; the bottom of the foamy plastic crumpled inward a little. "I won't let it get to me," he promised. "But let's make sure. Shoot off another hard one, we still have an hour till sunfall…"

He trailed off, and all three heads turned to the door. The walls were cheap and thin; one could hear footsteps every time someone went past.

Only this time, the sounds had not gone past the door. A moment after they had all turned, a gentle three-step knock came at the door.

Tiber picked up on the rythym first. "Clan Saxon cordiality," he murmured quietly enough for them all to here, then more loudly: "Who is it?"

"Tiber?" came Sarri's quizzical voice. "What are you doing here?"

Gar waved a vibrant hand at Arcadius to get his attention, then drew a line across his neck. Arcadius quickly stuffed the datapad under his rear; Gar meanwhile knocked over the box and tossed it to a side.

As they did so, Tiber replied. "Can you really not believe I wanted to visit Gar?"

"Not really no," she replied sardonically through the door.

"We're just… hanging out and eating some frizzlers with a friend," Gar invented haphazardly, spotting a small bag of the half-eaten salty treats near Tiber. "Hang on, I'll get the door."

He opened it, and sure enough Sarri was there and alone. She wore a civilian tunic of light purple that blended artfully with the tips of her hair. Her lower half bore a neutral tan workman's pants, slightly stained with an oil or other dark substance near the left pocket.

Casual, not business. "You didn't say you were stopping by, little vod," he said.

"I just wanted to surprise you." Peering over his form taking up the hallway. She waved to Tiber but frowned at Arcadius. "Is that your friend?"

"Yes, this is Arcadius." The big man gave a kindly wave and smile, then turned to Tiber to demand some frizzlers.

Sarri looked at him a moment longer, then leaned up straight before Gar again. "I was wondering if we could grab some dinner. I was thinking about you… I know tomorrow is a big day for you."

Gar winced. "I didn't want you thinking about it. I'll be okay."

To that, she raised an eyebrow. "Your eyes are dilated and your forehead is sweaty."

"I was… err…"

She laughed. "Come on, you could do with a good meal."

Gar looked sheepishly over his shoulder. Tiber shrugged. "I was looking for an excuse to head home anyway. I'll get my things and then Arcadius and I—" He slapped the bag of frizzlers out from the other's face. "—can get going."

Right, because Sarri didn't know Arcadius was rooming with him. Nor was she meant to know anything about his campaign, lest she inadvertently leak it to Bo-Katan. Gar nodded then looked back to Sarri, letting himself relax into some genuine warmth. "You know I'm always happy to spend some time with you." He cracked a grin. "Provided you're paying, of course."

XXX

Sarri had chosen one of Sundari's finer eateries, the Beskaryc'gi, whose high placement had once offered a spectacular view of the Peace Park. Though some of that greenery and elegance had been put back into place, most recognized that the park had lost its vibrance and few frequented it now. Still, with the Royal Palace straight-backed in the distance, the establishment still supported a healthy clientele.

Gar was almost put off by the wealth, but Sarri had insisted on treating him before the First Primary. This was a moment to celebrate her older brother, as well as to apologize for not having been able to see him as often as she'd wanted to.

"You're fine, really," he insisted, which was mostly true. He did miss her company, but having her out of his business had enabled the rapid growth of his platform. An emotional loss for a practical gain, and one he was willing to pay. There would be more time afterwards for her, anyway.

That didn't make her own sadness any less upsetting. "It's not right for me to leave you in the dark," she said softly, leaning back despondently in the elegant chair. "Especially when I just… couldn't bring myself to see you when you were in prison. That I've only been able to see you just a handful of times since you were released just feels wrong. I'm sorry."

"Please, I don't hold you in any hatred for it. I did wrong, and I paid the price." He hesitated in his words. "I don't think I would've wanted you to see me in that state, anyway."

She nodded somberly. "What's done is done. That's why it's important to fix things in the now."

Gar put an effort into a knowing smile. "Been reading the old myths again, it seems. What was that one, The Beskar'gam and the Bes'uliik, right?"

A touch of amusement on her face. "No, that one was about never forgetting to watch your surroundings or forgetting your protection. This one was Zerva the Petrified."

He nodded slowly in remembrance. "Maybe its time I reread them, then."

"It's been a while since we did together." Her smile became wistful. "Mother always encouraged us all to read. Tiber wanted nothing to do with it, and I know you didn't either; you wanted to be out training or throwing rocks. And I…"

"You were scared of being alone in the library with the Ja'hailid," he said with playful mockery only a sibling could inflict. "So you begged me to go with you."

"But you liked it!" she teased. "And don't lie—the Ja'hailid scared you a bit, too."

"Do you think he knows all the younglings are absolutely terrified of him?" he asked conspiratorially, leaning over the table."

"Oh, he revels in it." They laughed and he leaned back. A moment after their server arrived with the ordered drinks: a spiced Tsiraki for himself and an orange Sunfruit Paradise for her, both moderate liquors.

Some of the happiness on her face faded as the drinks were delivered. "But now that we're adults, I guess we have other occupations besides fantasizing over myths like that."

Gar nodded soberly. "The price of aging."

A hand raised the Sunfruit into the air. "To the end of our innocence." The glasses clinked and he sipped the top of his drink for the opening kick it provided. His throat burned with an alluring pain and he closed his eyes.

I wish it were different.

"I was expecting you to turn me down back there," she said after a few moments, bringing him down to the table again. "At your apartment. Arcadius, how long have you known him?"

"We met a few weeks ago."

"Mhm." She sipped her drink again. "And that's long enough for him to become your campaign manager?"

He had almost taken another sip, one he would've certainly choked on. He carefully sat it down and appraised her. "How did you guess that?" he pondered uneasily.

She mimed knocking on a wall. "You can hear everything in the hall. You're lucky you couldn't hear what that couple were getting up to three rooms down, ergh." Her nose wrinkled. "You can smell everything, too, did you know your neighbor—"

"Believe me, I do," he said, disgruntled. So much for keeping everything a secret.

"You really rose through the polls with that stunt you pulled on the Magister Building," Sarri said. "I couldn't believe you did it. Was that your idea or his? Or Tiber's?"

"Mine, and Tiber isn't involved," he added quickly, hoping the first truth would disguise the lie. "He wanted to see how my platform was coming along after he saw the billboard, didn't think I could actually put together an election campaign."

"He's always doubting."

"Always."

Her blue eyes pierced him and he shifted a little uncomfortably in his chair, despite how he felt he would never experience such a cushioning feel again. Now that the conversation had taken such an unhelpful turn, would she press for more information? He didn't want to think Sarri was purely an agent of Kryze, but…

These are perverse times, after all.

"Gar, please stop."

"I'm sorry?"

"Your campaign." She leaned forward, narrowly avoiding toppling her drink. "Please, just put an end to it."

Flabbergasted, Gar could not find his tongue for a moment. "Why? Sarri, you just said I'm up in the polls—and from nowhere! To drop out now would be the stupidest stunt of my life."

"Almost stupidest."

His eyebrow twitched in anger. If she was really going to bring up the Horned Watch now—

"You're a good person, Gar. Don't look at me that way, you are. Even after the terrible things you did in Kyr'tsad and Taakuir'tsad, I can't say I would've done any different in your place. They were the actions of a Mandalorian, ordered by a Mand'alor. By definition, them being terrible doesn't mean they weren't right."

She swallowed. "But that's why you can't run. All these terrorist attacks, this coming election… Mandalore needs good people on the ground, too. Or if you're gone…"

At first, he had the unbelievable notion she was threatening him. But he made the correct conclusion a moment after. "You think the terrorists are going to assassinate me."

"The signs point to it. They're after political incumbents."

"That's not confirmed," he said blandly, idly aware that he himself genuinely believed she was correct. What is it with the women in my life getting in the way?

"Gar." She stretched a hand across the table to grip his wrist, which was folded on the table just before him. "Please. If something were to happen to you, I'd never be able to forgive myself. Mother is already gone, and Father and Tiber keep me so distant and belligerent that sometimes I can't think of them anymore than strangers I regularly see." Her hand tightened with surprising strength. "Please, drop out."

"You didn't speak against me when I wanted to leave for Kyr'tsad." He didn't remove her hand, but he didn't let himself react to it, either. "You were all in favor of that, despite all of us knowing we could die at any moment. That if we failed, all of Mandalore would excise us as aruetii. Your good man would be dead in one way or another, then."

"I was so much younger and naïve then, and Vizsla was—"

"A good man? A good leader?" He shook his head. "He was a Mandalorian in the strictest sense, but we're both mature enough to know that doesn't equate to 'good.' We followed him because he was sincere in his love for the Ways, and we wanted to be part of something like that."

His gray eyes locked with hers, which seemed to be bordering on tears. He forged on. "I'm sincere in what I want to do, and you seem to know it. I can bring a lot of good to Mandalore, good it needs when the effects of the Siege still hang over us. I can do what Vizsla wanted, without the bloodshed."

"You don't mean that." She was holding his gaze firmly enough, the tears held at bay my formidable resolve. He vaguely wondered if she had practiced this moment in preparation. "Gar, you're a good man, yes, but you also have… are…"

"A what?" he challenged.

She exhaled. "Do you remember when Verceli asked you to go out with her after her Phoenix Trial?"

"I do." The beautiful girl he had bedded multiple times had been brimming with confidence and hope from her successful usage of her jetpack, landing down before him in the crowd to ask her daring question.

"You said no. Why did you tell that wonderful girl no?"

He waved a hand dismissively. What was the point of this sudden change of topic? "I don't know, she wasn't my type!"

Sarri shook her head. "Her father was a failed verd from the Great Clan War. He had brought shame upon himself, which became inexplicably tied to his future betrothed and then his children. They were all stigmatized."

"So?"

"So you didn't want your name to be dragged down by being associated with hers," she said softly, sadly. "Even though she later became one of the best verde of the aliit. Even though the family you both would have raised, incredible verde each, would have been leaders of the next generation of ori'ramikade."

"I didn't want to deal with the rebuke Father would give me if I wedded her—"

"There it is!" She pointed across the table at him, her face inexplicably emotional. "There it is."

"There what is, Sarri? What the devil are you trying to shame me for here?"

Hurt and pain became dominant on her face, but Gar was by now so annoyed he only felt a small twinge of guilt. He finally shook her hand from his wrist, but she did not let that throw her off. "You didn't care about what Father had to say by that age. You barely talked about how much he bothered you then, as you were nearly a man. You only talked about how much you wanted to bring honor to Mandalore."

"Is that a crime, now? To seek prestige?"

"Are you trying to convince me, or are have you been spinning the lie so much you've truly deluded yourself?"

Gar Saxon froze. "What?"

"Hiding behind saying Father wouldn't have approved. Hiding behind saying you want to bring the glory to Mandalore." She blinked, quickly wiping away the tear that escaped. "Hiding behind saying you want to do good for Mandalore. What about you?"

He put a hand around his drink, but only for the support the cold glass provided him. "What about me?" he said quietly.

"You didn't accept Verceli's proposal because you wanted to keep sleeping with her despite her poor status, because you knew she thought if she kept doing it you'd change your mind. You said you'd bring honor to Mandalore, when in reality you wanted to claim credit for bringing Clan Saxon to the Kyr'tsad, and so that you could then fight like a verd without impunity." The tears began to fall, as if to say the very words pained her. "You're so selfish, Gar. You can't become viceroy."

So, there it was, out in the open. He had not known how he would feel when presented with the accusation, but he was surprised to feel he did not… feel.

"Your point?"

"M-my point? Gar—"

"All beings are selfish. The Mandalorian code insist that verde should seek honor. You're singling me out, and for what? Or maybe I should ask, 'for who?'"

Sarri had clearly not expected such a glacial counterattack; even her tears seemed to freeze. "I… Gar, you're not meant to be the leader of our planet!"

A new realization hit him with the same unemotional sensation. His newfound apathy unnerved him, but right now it was also being the beskar shield against Sarri's iron spear. "So when it became obvious the risk of my dying wouldn't affect me, you want on a philosophical dissection of my personality to try and dissuade me from running?"

"No! No, that was real, I don't want—"

"Just tell me why you don't want me to run, Sarri. Is it because Bo-Katan put you up to this, to have me removed from her competition?"

"Because you can't!"

"Why not?!" he demanded.

"You'll die," she whispered. "Gar, you're my brother—my o-only brother. Please, I—I don't care if you're selfish. I said that so you could b-be honest with yourself, why you're doing this. B-but I don't want to lose you."

Gar thought with dark amusement what Tiber would have thought to hear that. He probably wouldn't have cared. "I won't be killed. Just because I'll be Viceroy doesn't mean I'm losing my warrior's edge, sister. Please, calm yourself."

"You can't run!" It was almost a wail.

Gar stood from his chair, aware of the eyes of nearby tables upon them. He hoped none of them would take this incident to the press, the damage right before the First Primary would be—

Shouldn't you be comforting your sister?

The thought nagged him in a youthful version of his tone, when the younger version of himself would have taken Sarri in a hug without hesitation and produced a datapad from which he could read the comforting stories of old to her.

But I'm selfish, aren't I?

"I'm sorry we didn't get the chance to eat anything," he said coldly as Sarri made enormous, independent efforts to collect herself. "But it saves you and Kryze a hefty bill. Thank you for the drink."

"Gar!"

He said nothing. A few strident steps and he was gone.