"The purest path is to do no wrong,
say the Masters in their chamber high.
But blind are they from their grand seat,
I think,
to the the path of doing right."
from "The Jedi and the Merc: A Clone Wars Romance", Act IV, Scene 3, Lines 36-40
Pale, Fossra
One month after the Shadow Box's Destruction
"I have admit, I didn't expect this skill set from you." Zej said as Hylt took the dimension of her in-seam with a flexible tape measure.
"Never know when you need a good disguise for an infiltration. I kind of miss this part, honestly. Too bad I won't get to do any sewing." Hylt said. She stood up. "Arms out for me."
The two of them were in the common room. The others were out and about, making other preparations for the job ahead.
Zej did so. "Maybe the Galaxy could use a Mandalorian fashion designer?"
"Hah. Maybe someday." Hylt said with a chuckle. "Green or gold?"
"What?" Zej asked as Hylt measured along her left arm.
"Which color do you prefer; green or gold?" Hylt repeated.
"Oh. Uhm. Gold, I suppose." Zej answered.
"Good idea. That'll go with your eyes." Hylt said, moving to the other arm. "We'll all be in our armor, but I'll make sure you're in something you can move in."
"You're wearing your armor to a fete?" Zej asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Freshly scrubbed and painted, of course." Hylt assured her with a wink. "Trust me. At an event like this, we'll fit right in. Might even see other Mandos there. And you? You'll be far from the most standout there, trust me. What I have in mind will have you fitting right in."
"Oh. Alright." Zej said. She may have been the child of nobility, but that didn't mean she had ever been exposed to the luxury that normally entailed. She didn't mind that fact by itself. It was everything else that went with it she could have done without. "And why, exactly, can't this exchange happen elsewhere?"
"Politics, Zej." Hylt replied, stepping back and looking at her with an analytical eye. "All sorts of scum from across the Outer Rim are going to be there. It may not be obvious, but the Kath Hound has something of a reputation; a good one, mind. Jodihan was building it long before any of us set foot on this ship. Anyhow, Baron Anomander wants to leverage that. The other attendees are going to see him not only making some kind of exchange and closing a deal with Mandalorians, but with the Mandos crewing the Kath Hound."
"And his friends and rivals will take notice." Zej conjectured.
"Exactly. It's not a power play. Not really. Even if we have a reputation, we're small fish in the grand scheme of things. But we're still a piece Anomander can play to keep his people guessing. Are we on his payroll for good? Will we fight for him if called? Can they come to us for information about him, or will we try to keep a good relationship with the Baron a priority?" Hylt waved it all off. "All of that doesn't affect us very much. The part where we're seen successfully turning in a job in front of everyone at the fete, though? That's something else."
Zej nodded. The Pale Palace Fete was known to her. Her brother, Zan, had always dreamt of receiving a direct invitation. It was, in short, a gathering of powerful individuals from across the Outer Rim. Nobility, crime bosses, trade barons, and anyone else of significance might find themselves with a personal invitation from the Grand Princess of Fossra, Prosper of Pale. Each of these invitations came with various conditions attached to each one depending on the individual receiving them, detailing how many bodyguards and hangers on each attendee could bring, among other things; just one more method of politicking. Zan had once been brought along in the entourage of their father, but never of his own merit.
"You're going to be right in your element, aren't you?" Zej asked Hylt
"Stars, if I ever have to go to another gala full of Imperial officers, it'll be far too soon." Hylt groaned. She scribbled some things into a datapad. "I had to go on the arm of this one guy, uhm…Colonel Reizz, that's it. I was undercover as a journalist with the Imperial News Network back then. Anyhow, the speeder showed up, I got in, everything was pretty much fine, but I noticed things were starting to smell kind of bad in there."
Zej felt her eyes widen. "What was it?"
"I had no idea at first. I thought maybe he'd eaten some bad fish or something. Nope, turns out he imported this cologne from some barely colonized jungle world I can't even remember the name of. Came to find out later it was from the musk glands of three different megafauna from that world all blended together. It was supposed to", Hylt trailed off to snicker, "'seduce the object of your desire with pure, animalistic instinct', according to the HoloNet site."
"That is…so many different kinds of awful." Zej said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
"Well, don't worry. Reizz died in the speeder. Turns out something in the cologne caused intense allergic reactions in more than half of the people using it. So, basically, I was watching an Imperial Army colonel's organs shut down in real time. It was quite nice, honestly." Hylt laughed again. "At least I didn't have to go to the gala that night."
Zej laughed, too. She found she was laughing and smiling more and more lately, even if she was looking over her shoulder of Zan's people. That paranoia had already been part and parcel to her life before joining the Kath Hound's crew, before beginning down the path of joining the Mandalorians.
And she could say that with certainty now. That was her path. She was already conversational in Mando'a, but continued to study and practice. When Zej wasn't studying the language, she was learning the history and culture. Cazur was her primary link to this. The two of them had spent many long hours discussing the Mando'ade, what it used to mean to be one, what it meant now. The zabrak had great pride in his people and his Clan. He got passionate when he spoke of these things. Zej liked that about him, seeing that the battlefield was not the only place he could bring that fire.
"Coming back down from orbit anytime soon, Zej?" Hylt asked.
"Hm?" Zej breathed. She realized she had been focused elsewhere. Her cheeks colored. "Yes. Sorry."
Hylt smirked at her. "Wonder what you were thinking about?"
"Nothing!" Zej said far too quickly.
"Of course. My mistake." Hylt said, looking back down to her datapad. "You're good to go. I'll get your measurements sent off."
"Vor entye, Hylt." Zej thanked her.
"Here's looking forward to the day you'll be showing up in armor with the rest of us, eh?" Hylt said, nudging Zej's arm with her elbow as she walked by.
Zej smiled at Hylt and nodded in agreement, waiting for the human to leave the room before allowing her eyes to well up. She blinked back the tears, unable to stop smiling. More and more, the other members of the Kath Hound's crew were talking that way, even Stroyh. All Zej had to do was continue proving that she was worthy of their expectations.
Zej left the common room, deciding she would get her daily exercise in now that she had some time. As she walked up the spinal hallway, she looked to the mural of the cloaked Mandalorians, all the way to the front where the figure of the Manda'lor stood triumphant. Would Zej get the chance to join them before a new Mandalore arose, she wondered? Would she get the chance to make her name among the people that had taken her in without question or expectation? Zej hoped so.
The door to the workshop opened and Cazur walked out. The zabrak looked her way, blinked, and grinned. The burn scarring made it a somewhat lopsided expression now. Zej still loved to see it.
"You have a second, Zej?" Cazur asked her.
"Of course. What is it?" Zej asked in return.
Cazur motioned for her to follow him into the workshop, and she did so. Zej stopped by the holo-table while Cazur entered the armory cage, coming back out with something in his hands. It was a sheathed blade, two feet in length, slightly curved. Zej immediately recognized it as a beskad.
"It's not made a of beskar. You won't be able to carry one of those until your brought into the Clan fully." Cazur said, offering her the sheathed blade.
Zej accepted the beskad reverently and drew it out. The blade was a dark, matte grey.
"Phrik-weave durasteel." Zej noted, testing the saber's weight. It was perfectly balanced.
"My first beskad." Cazur said. "And Kavala's. Now it's yours."
Zej tilted her head and looked at him, mouth opening slightly, her lekku dangling off to the side. "Mine?"
"Of course." Cazur assured her.
"I'm…guessing this has more meaning to it than a simple gift." Zej said, sheathing the beskad.
"You'd be correct. Most people won't know anything about it, of course, but to those in the know, this will tell them that you're committed to joining the Clan." Cazur said. "You're pretty much where Kavala and I were before we came of age, now. Granted, your quite a bit older than we were, but no two foundlings have the same experience." The zabrak shrugged. "So, the question is, do you accept? The final choice is, as always, yours and yours alone."
Zej looked down at the sheathed blade, still clutched in both hands. It probably should have felt momentous. It should have been overawing, should have left her speechless. But, no. It did none of those things.
"I accept." Zej said, standing stock straight. "It would be my honor."
"Then that's that." Cazur said, offering her his arm.
They gripped each others' forearms in the warrior's way.
"It's my honor to be the first to greet you, Zej'vod." Cazur said, his smile still firmly in place.
Zej felt her heart leap with joy. "The honor's mine, Cazu-...Caz'vod." She said.
They stood there for several long seconds, still holding each other by the forearm, looking into each others' eyes. Zej decided she wouldn't mind this moment lasting a little while longer.
"The Clan will be lucky to have you, Zej." Cazur said softly.
"Just the Clan, Caz?" Zej asked before she had the good sense to stop herself. She had been too caught up in the moment and immediately started feeling the heat rise to her face.
Cazur's brow furrowed, then he coughed as understanding struck him.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-...", Zej began frantically.
Cazur released her, holding up a hand. "No. No, it's alright." He looked around the room. "Zej, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't…", he took a deep breath in, then exhaled it slowly, "...attracted to you.
Zej could practically feel her pupils widening. Her heart skipped a beat or two.
"But…", all the fingers on the upraised hand clenched but the index. "Zej, like it or not, there's a certain dynamic between us. I just want you to think about this and be sure that it's not out of some kind of obligation or something like that." That smile of his became soft, an expression that was not helping matters. "And it's not one way. I need to think on it as well. Need to make sure this isn't just me taking being protective or thinking of you as my Muse too far. I'm not saying 'no.' I'm just saying…let's both take some time and make certain we're…certain. A few days, at least, now that it's out there." He nodded once, as if to himself. "Does that make sense? I'm sorry if this is awkward. You've probably figured out I'm not very good at this kind of thing."
"Yes. That makes sense. And I think it's a good idea, too." Zej said. It wasn't something she had even considered until he brought it up, but Cazur was right. This was not the sort of thing to be rushed into, unless one was in a vid-drama, which Zej sincerely hoped she was not.
"Alright. Good. I'm…glad, then." Cazur said. He cleared his throat. "I, uh…should go message Jodihan that you accepted the beskad, then." Cazur departed
Zej was left alone. For a few moments, she allowed herself to simply bask in what had just transpired. None of it had been bad. It was good that Cazur was so thoughtful, in her mind.
"Zej'vod." She repeated to herself. "Zej'vod. Zejephone Mharal." The latter name was not yet hers. She would not be able to claim the Clan name until she was fully brought in by Jodihan. But, Zej didn't think it did any harm to try it out. She liked how it sounded.
Zej took a few steps towards the door, preparing to head for the training room, when she stopped in place.
"Wait…did he just call me his Muse?" Zej realized.
The twi'lek blushed fiercely.
Pale, Fossra
One Week Later
Cazur looked at himself in the mirror. Facial tattoos were a tradition among the zabrak, one he had never partaken in himself. There were some of his ancestry that chose patterns in face paint and other cosmetics instead, so they did not have to be married to a single layout. Patterns following the natural grooves all zabrak had in their faces were the most common, and Cazur had applied them in this fashion, following the grooves that trailed down from the spikes upon his head with black paint. The pattern he had chosen was specific to the zabrak colony his biological parents hailed from, Darujubakis. That was the only thing he knew about his birth family.
Pleased with the adornment, Cazur looked down at his armor. The orange and white had been cleaned, touched up, and polished to an almost mirror sheen. He had trimmed his beard, oiled his horns, and all in all, done his best to look presentable. This wasn't a battlefield he was familiar with, but that didn't mean he could go in prepared. His beskad and one of his trusty blaster pistols were at his sides. Cazur considered trying to bring the plasma pistol he had taken from Kroeth, but had a feeling that wouldn't be accepted as a sidearm.
"Go in, hand off the data, eat and drink on someone else's credits, leave. Easy." Cazur told himself. With a sharp breath out he left his quarters, preparing to go down into the lower hold where Hylt, Stroyh, and Zej would be waiting.
Cazur stepped out of his billet and into the living quarters hallway. As he did, the door to Zej's billet opened and the twi'lek emerged.
It was a play off of a pseudo-militaristic style, a long and heavily starched coat of gold fabric with ivory detailing, with brass buttons, along with indigo epaulets and frogging that matched Zej's skin. She wore pale breeches and tall, black boots. The coat was open, completely unbuttoned, drawing attention to the fact that the only thing Zej wore beneath it was a lace bustier. Her usual headdress had been replaced by one of the same black leather as her boots, while both lekku were draped in nets of brass chain. Zej's lips and around her eyes were painted gold. She had even dry brushed her prosthetic with gold, giving it the appearance that black paint was being worn away over time to reveal the precious metal.
Cazur knew he was failing to hide his stare and so wrenched his attention to the nearby wall between his own billet and Hylt's.
"Good evening, Zej'vod." Cazur said.
"Is it that bad?" Zej asked, suddenly sounding uncertain.
"What? Stars, no, you're fucking gorgeous." Cazur exclaimed, then realized what he had said and cringed. "I mean, no, it's not bad." It was suddenly incredibly warm in that hallway. "Sh-Shall we get going?"
"Of course." Zej said. "I like your…paint?" She closed her eyes and turned on her heel. Cazur heard a quiet, "haar'chak", under her breath.
They proceeded down to the lower hold where Stroyh, Hylt, and Kavala were waiting. The former two were in pristine armor just as Cazur was. Hylt had cordoned her hair into a series of long brains that were close to her scalp and applied light makeup. As for Stroyh, he had done the bare minimum, which was all that could be expected. Their old landspeeder had been cleaned and buffed, but there was only so much one could do to a thirty year-old speeder.
Kavala looked a bit grumpy, but someone who could fly the ship needed to stay behind.
"Don't be glum, Kav'vod. You finally get some peace and quiet around here." Cazur said.
"I can handle being there, you know." Kavala argued.
"But Stroyh has more experience and we only have four invitations. You'll have to sit out sometimes. That's as much a part of it as the firefights. Do you think Jodihan enjoys having to stay around the covert all day now?" Cazur asked.
Kavala let out a quiet, "hmph", and crossed her arms, but said, "no."
"But she does so for the good of the Clan. That's the main reason any of us do most of what we do." Cazur said. It was easy to forget that just because Kavala was an adult now didn't mean she was done needing guidance.
"Chin up, Kav'vod. We'll be back before you know it." Zej said reassuringly.
The zygerrian's disappointment seemed to soften upon hearing Zej refer to her as "Kav'vod." Kavala felt pride in Zej taking steps into joining the Clan, and rightly so. It was Kavala's willingness to teach Zej the language that put the twi'lek on the path.
"I'd stay behind if I could." Stroyh grumbled.
"In the speeder. All of you. We're going to be late." Hylt chided them all. "Kav'vod, keep ready in case we need to get out of there quickly. The Pale Palace Fete is neutral ground, but that hasn't stopped things from getting out of hand in past years, if the stories are to be believed."
"Will do." Kavala said as she watched them board the speeder, Stroyh taking the driver's seat. The boarding ramp lowered and Stroyh guided the craft down onto the tarmac of Pale's spaceport.
Pale was often considered a jewel of the Outer Rim. It was a ten-tiered city, built onto progressively rising cliffs that rose like the stairs of some giant. As tended to be the case with such things, the higher one went up, the nicer things became. The bottom tier was as rough as the most dangerous back alleys of Nar Shaddaa, while the top, where the Pale Palace sat, would be fit for most planetary governors.
Pale's architecture had a distinctive shape and tradition. Even the most run down hovel fit the mold. The structures were built on an upward curve, presenting their concave inner faces towards the nearest cliff, while their convex sides faced outward. Only the Palace bucked this trend, just one bit of symbolism among many. Its most noteworthy point was a round, fluted tower, which stuck up from the Palace's main body; a thick crescent of dark stone with dozens of stained glass windows. The arms of the crescent wrapped around a lush garden that was a kaleidoscope of colors, and it was there the Pale Palace Fete was held.
Stroyh guided the landspeeder up one of the primary highways that cut a straight path up the cliffs. The Palace tier, as well as the two below it, required passing through security checkpoints. Luckily, Anomander's fete invitations got them through to the top.
Ancient stone walls surrounded the Pale Palace. The gate that allowed access through them was fronted by a large circular drive. Palace attendants were taking the speeders of attendees off to be parked underground as they reached the front of a waiting line of vehicles and disgorged those within. Stroyh driving and also attending the fete rather than joining the other drivers and servants in the waiting area would be an anomaly, but not one that would cause any trouble.
Hylt, who was in the front passenger seat, turned to everyone else. "Remember; if you're asked to dance, it's polite to say no, but only if you say, 'I'll gladly do so next time.' Stro'vod, chew with your mouth closed, no ogling people, and no cussing. Caz'vod, try not to loom. A smile will go a hundred parsecs. Zej'vod…I have nothing, you look fantastic."
Zej smiled. At the mention of dancing, she looked over at Cazur. He remembered the aftermath of the Liberation of Xenophon and his statement that he would have danced with her if he could. Perhaps that could be rectified this evening.
"Calm down, Hy'vod. You're worrying too much." Stroyh retorted.
"Look, this may be a bunch of robber barons and scumbags playing at being who's-who, but the Pale Palace Fete makes and breaks careers in the Outer Rim. Not even Jod'buir has gotten to come here. We're representing the entire Clan." Hylt said, hands gently checking her hair.
"And what if we see someone we've screwed over? Like the Pykes?" Cazur asked.
"Avoid them if you can. Politely disengage if you can't. If someone's going to disrupt the fete, make sure it's them and not us." Hylt advised.
The speeder reached the front of the line shortly thereafter. A Palace servant in a long, sky blue kaftan took it away. As the Mandos stepped out, all but Zej pulled on their helms, the twi'lek donning a rebreather mask with a T-visor. The four of them were encouraged to pass through the Pale Palace gates, where the party was beginning to get its feet under it, so to speak. The moment they passed through the gate into the garden, they removed their headgear even though they had just put it on. It was a symbolic gesture, theoretically asserting to their host they trusted the promise of neutrality and safety. It was probably unnecessary, but just like the pre-battle ritual, Cazur knew it was important to keep such traditions alive.
Cazur immediately struggled to comprehend the sheer variance of color and fashion he was seeing. Everything was so bright and gaudy. To attempt to assign a specific trend to the fashions on display would have been a practice in futility. So, too, was the variety of the sapient species in attendance. Humans may have been the largest in number, but they were an easy minority of the overall population of the gardens.
The gardens were a series of winding paths and open courtyards that picked their way through flowers, vines, and trees of every color and shape. Bulbous pitcher flowers of vibrant pink grew next to the shredding bark of a Felucia razor tree. Kshyy vines from Kashyyyk wound not around their native wroshyr trees, but a white trellis, mingling with sweet smelling, yellow grassland blooms from far Naboo.
The majority of guests were gathered in the largest courtyard in the center of the gardens. More liveried servants offered drinks and finger foods to those milling about the place. Maybe it was his own anxiety over this unfamiliar environment, but Cazur felt like there was tension in the air. He saw a devonarian woman speaking to an old human man, both of them wearing smiles that could not have looked more face if they were literal masks. A long-haired zabrak let out an overblown, strained laugh at something a sullustan had just said. There were already so many people at the party, and yet more were arriving. Cazur didn't even want to begin to guess how much this fete cost.
"Everyone looks like they have a blade to their throats" Cazur said out of the corner of his mouth.
"Pretty much everyone here sees everyone else as competition at best, enemies at worst." Hylt said.
Stroyh used two of his hands to snag food from a passing servant. He pulled the cubes of unknown meat from the sticks with his teeth, chewing thoughtfully. He swallowed and said, "have to hand it to the hostess, I could get used to eating like this. Wonder what this is."
"When should we find Anomander?" Cazur asked.
"After Grand Princess Prosper joins us and gives her opening greeting." Hylt explained.
"That crest, I see. Have Mharins pulled their noses out of their poetry books long enough to be worthy of an invitation?" Someone new asked.
All four of the Kath Hound's Mandos turned. Three other Mandalorians were approaching them. One was a short, stocky human with tan skin and a bionic lower jaw. The other two were near-Human; a pink theelin with eye-wateringly red hair, and another sapient Cazur didn't recognize. This third individual had pale blue skin and white feathers upon their head instead of hair.
Since the comment had sounded like it was more in jest than insulting, Cazur kept his face neutral as he watched the three armored Mandalorians approach. It was the one with feathers on his head that had spoken before, and spoke more still.
"Valt is my name, ner vod. Valt Jyttan." The feathered one offered a hand.
Cazur gripped his forearm. "Cazur Mharal. Su cuy'gar, Valt'vod. I'm joined by Stroyh, Hyltea, and Zejephone."
Valt returned the gesture. "Su cuy'gar. My companions are Oussoth", he indicated the theelin, "and Nram", then the human. "I can see the confusion in your eyes, so I'll help you along. I get it a lot. I am omwati. There aren't many of my kind left."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Cazur said, unsure of what else to say.
"It's the nature of the Galaxy." Valt said with a shrug. "Unlike the omwati, I trust the Mandalorians to rise again one day. What brings you here, ner vode, kin of those who have marched on?" This latter addition was a rarely used sentiment, referring to the fact that Clan Mharal was an offshoot of Jyttan.
"Completing a job. Our employer decided this was the best place to do so." Cazur said, not bothering to hide his disapproving frown. "And you?"
"Grand Princess Prosper hired us. We're supposed to be, uh, 'covert security', acting like we're in attendance but actually monitoring for threats." Valt shrugged, his face saying it was obvious to all what their purpose was. "Adrift on the waves of the Outer Rim's whims, aren't we? Especially nowadays." He sighed. "Well, glad to see Mando'ade here. At least now we know if someone tries to storm the place, there will be a few others who know how to handle a blaster properly." He pointed his chin at Zej, eyes falling to her beskad. "Foundling?"
"Su cuy'gar, Valt'vod." Zej confirmed with a nod.
"Good. Foundlings are our future." Valt said, and for a moment Cazur saw the pain of loss behind his eyes that all Mandos, no matter their Clan or creed, now shared. "Here's hoping it's as boring as last year's, eh?"
"How many times have you been here?" Cazur asked.
"This is the third time. Our first year things almost went off the rails, but a duel got agreed on instead. Watching two idiots who've never touched steel try to run each other through was pretty funny. In the end, they both got kicked out by the Grand Princess." Valt chortled just as a hush fell over the garden. "Speaking of."
Cazur had no preconceptions about what the Grand Princess of Pale would look like. She turned out to be an azure waluna, standing somewhere between nine to ten feet tall, walking on four stout legs. She had lekku like Zej, though Prosper's were far longer. Her attire for the evening was a high-necked gown of bright orange, red, and yellow that caught the lights of the garden and shimmered like fire. Golden torcs were wrapped around all four of her ankles, both wrists, and just above the collar of her dress.
Prosper was a warrior. Her bare arms were thick with muscle and criss-crossed with scars. Black eyes, small in relation to her broad face, scanned the crowd. Prosper smiled, raising her hands at the polite applause. She was flanked by a half-dozen guards in garishly painted armor. Like the others scattered through the garden, they were the only ones allowed to be fully armed.
"Hello, one and all. Thank you for flattering me with your attendance." She said, clasping her hands before herself. "For this evening, you are all under the protection of the Grand Princess of Pale. Eat, drink, dance, be merry, and do so fearing no blaster at your back." Her tone carried an implied threat directed at any who would be foolish enough to break the peace.
Another round of applause. Cazur could see why this place would be a tempting target. There was a lot of power concentrated in that garden, and in the Outer Rim, gathering power never came without shedding blood. Considering what he knew about history, Cazur corrected himself. That was a Galactic fact, not just the Outer Rim.
"Now, my throat is already dry and I need a drink. Carry on!" Prosper called, the festivities now officially open. Guests laughed and cheered at those words.
Music began playing, lively and upbeat. Conversation began in earnest as groups started forming.
"Well, better get to it." Valt said, grasping forearms with the four Mharal Mandos. "Heads on a swivel."
They Jyttan Mandos split apart, leaving the Mharal.
"Baron Anomander said he'll be in the 'Scarlet Square'", Hylt said. "Not sure what that means."
"Looking for the color red sounds reliable." Stroyh suggested rather flippantly.
Hylt shot him a glare. "Di'kut." She muttered.
Cazur, being the tallest among them, peered around until he spotted a stand of bright red trees gathered around carmine hedges deeper into the garden. He pointed in that direction.
"Bicker all you want, I want the deal done so I can start drinking." Cazur said, picking his way through the crowd of attendees. Zej, Hylt, and Stroyh followed close behind.
Cazur was, frankly, amazed at some of the things he saw. One attendee was wearing had long sticks through their hair, upon which tiny, bird-like droids were perched. Another was essentially nude, wearing only a sheer sheathe of a gown with nothing beneath, which was apparently not a breach of protocol or etiquette. Yet another guest was swathed in an endless wrapping of fabric strips of many colors, each one only about an inch wide and tied off behind them, which caused the tied ends to billow and flap as they walked.
It was difficult not to notice the daggers behind the smiles. Cazur watched a human woman greet a zabrak with loud, boisterous enthusiasm, the zabrak putting a clenched, shaking fist behind his back as he responded with, apparently, the exact same energy. There were countless suspicious glances and muttered comments as people witnessed who was speaking to whom, how closely they stood, whether the observed appeared agreeable or guarded.
"Must be exhausting to live like this." Cazur said.
"It is." Zej said with certainty.
Cazur looked over at her. "Lucky you don't have to anymore, then."
Zej smiled at him. "Luckier than I could ever put into words."
Cazur smiled back.
"Anyone else notice the lack of Pykes?" Stroyh asked.
Cazur furrowed his brow. Now that his Clan-brother mentioned it, it was strange that one of the biggest crime syndicates in the Outer Rim didn't have representation here. The Hutt Cartels certainly had their share of attendees.
"They must be on Prosper's bad side. Not sending an invitation though? That's bold of her." Hylt said.
They reached the Scarlet Square, surrounded by vegetation that profusely extruded the color red in its various shades. Cazur snagged a skewer from a passing servant and ate the pickled vegetables impaled upon it while he looked around for Baron Anomander. Sure enough, he was seated on a high-backed, cushioned bench, surrounded by a gaggle of hangers on and supplicants.
Anomander was a zeltron; bright red, with short, wavy black hair. He wore a flatteringly tailored, dark suit that stood out for its nondescriptness in his visually loud company. He was a skinny man with an unerring projection of confidence and swagger. Extensive surgeries kept him looking far younger than he really was.
"Ah! Capital! Captain Cazur of the Kath Hound and his courageous crew. Come and convalesce in my company, please."
With some shooing motions, Anomander cleared those that were seated across from him. Cazur sat, the others standing behind him. The zabrak hoped the alliteration was not going to continue. A nearby servant furnished the Mandalorians with small glasses of a pungent, herbal smelling spirit.
"To your good health." Anomander bid.
"And yours, sir." Cazur replied.
They all drank. The empty glasses veritably disappeared. Anomander lit up a cigarette that unmistakably smelled of ganch leaf.
"Now, business." Anomander said.
Cazur motioned to Hylt. She approached Anomander, handing a datachip to a human woman sitting beside the Baron, who inserted it into a datapad. The human's eyes flicked across the screen for several moments, then she nodded.
"The data. As promised." Cazur said.
"As promised." Anomander repeated. "It truly is a delight to see work ethic in the next generation. Most of you started going soft with the Empire gone, I say. Far easier to get things done without the bucket heads liable to bust your door down at any moment." The zeltron shook his head. "But not the Kath Hound. You know I gave Jodihan Mharal her first job on that ship, back when it was shiny and new."
This was a blatant lie, but Cazur saw no need to contradict it.
"She was lucky to have such a generous patron after making a big investment like that." Cazur replied. He didn't mind playing the game. "She sends her well wishes and regrets that her role as Clan leader keeps her busy." A lie in return. Jodihan hated Anomander. Cazur was nowhere near the actor as Hylt was, but he didn't need to be here. The steps this discussion was going though were all but choreographed. Rote, even.
"Such is life, eh?" The zeltron said with a dramatic shrug. "I only wish I had more work for you, but I'm afraid I've got nothing worthy of your skills." He pulled from his cigarette. "I'll send a case of a good vintage by way of apology."
Anomander would already know, of course. Behind him, Cazur heard the ding of Hylt's datapad as the payment went through.
"Not necessary, sir. We'd hate to put you out." Cazur insisted with the expected false courtesy.
"Nonsense! Baron Anomander is generous to those that do good work for him. Think nothing of it." The zeltron said, said a few quiet words to his human assistant, who made a note in her datapad.
"Your reputation for generosity is well-deserved." Cazur said, as if he wasn't speaking to a man that got his start as a literal child that was bleeding people for pocketfuls of credits in the dark alleys of Nar Shaddaa.
Anomander waved him off and laughed heartily, standing up from his bench. Cazur stood up, too.
"Of course, of course. Well, don't let me keep you any longer, Captain. There's a great deal of party left to enjoy for us all." Anomander took a step forward and shook Cazur's hand.
"You as well, sir. Thank you again." The zabrak said.
In a surprising move, Anomander leaned in, still holding onto Cazur's hand.
"Do be sure not to miss anything, Captain. It's my understanding that tonight's party is supposed to be…particularly eventful. Remember the universal truth; prosperity is a zero sum game." Anomander said, for the ears of Cazur and his fellow Mandos only.
With that, he released Cazur and went on his way with his people in tow.
Cazur was dumbfounded, watching the Baron walk away.
"What was that supposed to mean?" Cazur asked, turning to his crew.
"I think we're beginning to see the real reason Anomander invited us here." Hylt said. "It's well known he has close connections to the Grand Princess. His fortunes are closely tied to Prosper's."
Cazur nodded. That made sense. "Alright. Stro'vod, Hy'vod, let's split up by pairs and take a good look around."
Stroyh, who had skewers of various hors d'oeuvres in three hands and a drink in the fourth, affixed Cazur with a quartet of angry eyes. "Can't we go one night without deciding to make things our problem?"
"You chose to be a Mharin, di'kut. Making it our problem so others don't have to is part of the job." Cazur said, snatching one of the skewers from Stroyh and eating the pickled root vegetables that were on it.
"I really was a dumbass back then, wasn't I? Ah well. Can't be helped." Stroyh hurriedly chowed down on his remaining food as he and Hylt went off to explore the garden and search for anything suspicious.
Cazur looked to Zej. The twi'lek cocked her head to one side.
"Do you think we should warn the Grand Princess?" Zej asked.
"I feel like if Anomander knows, so does Prosper." Cazur reasoned. "Though, there's always the chance she doesn't know, and Anomander's hoping that he, or someone associated with him at this party like us, will stop the threat, giving him a boost in Prosper's eyes." Cazur rubbed his forehead. He had to agree with Stroyh on this one. Was it too much to ask for a night on-world anywhere that didn't become a problem that needed solving?
"'Prosperity is a zero sum game.'" Zej repeated, looking around suspiciously. "The Baron was telling us the Grand Princess is the target of whatever's going on. If I had to guess, someone is looking to take Prosper out, thereby opening up all of what she has for acquisition."
"How do you figure that?" Cazur asked her.
Zej gave him a pointed look. "I have a passing familiarity with assassination."
"Huh. Good point." Cazur said quietly. "Alright, while Hylt and Stroyh are making the rounds, we should get eyes on Prosper."
The two of them set out, though Zej put a hand on Cazur's arm to keep him from walking too quickly. On an impulse, Cazur held his arm out away from his body, an invitation in his eyes. Zej pursed her lips thoughtfully, then understanding dawned in her expression. Though she blushed, she threaded her arm through his.
"If you're so worried about us looking like we're just here for the party…", Cazur said.
"Of course." Zej replied.
They strolled a bit further, coming around a bend in the garden that led to the main area where Prosper was holding court, so to speak. The waluna was lounging upon a great, cushioned throne atop a dais, her booming laughter carrying across the garden as a weequay attendee said something to her.
"Does…this mean you've thought about it? About…us?" Her last word was barely audible.
The twi'lek indicated their interlocked arms. Cazur felt as though his gut was swooping like a Dantooine brith.
"I have. Have you?" Cazur asked. In truth, it had been just about the only thing on his mind for the past week since having that conversation with Zej.
"Yes." Zej said.
"And?" Cazur queried further.
"I asked you first." Zej said with a teasing smile.
"Well, when you put it that way, I guess I…", Cazur started to say, but he trailed off as he looked ahead at a group that was coming in their direction.
There were almost a dozen of them in total. Most were just background static that didn't matter. An indigo twi'lek man led them, a sapient of average height and middling build wearing flamboyant and feather bedecked ceremonial armor that belonged in a stage play. Walking beside this armored figure was Doal, who wore robes that were sewn with small, glittering gems.
On the indigo twi'lek's other side was Kroeth Skirr. He had acquired a new beskar breastplate from somewhere. His helmet was clipped to his belt, revealing a remarkably unremarkable countenance for one who was the subject of so much ire. Kroeth was pale, his brown hair kept short. The only standout thing were his eyes. They were not unique in color, but in the vengeful malice that practically bubbled behind them.
Searing adrenaline surged through Cazur, and he would have immediately drawn and fired if not for the death grip that suddenly clutched his arm, accompanied by what Zej said next.
"Z-...Zan?" She gasped.
Cazur blanched. Zanebos Alacra. The Duke of Dawn. The one responsible for Zej's suffering.
The twi'lek crime boss approached with his hands behind his back, plainly showing the bejeweled grip of an ornate blaster pistol.
"My blessings are infinite today." Zan declared, raising his hands as if to some watching deity. "At long, long last, I am reunited with my long, lost sister." Zan smiled, revealing teeth that had been filed to fangs, an aesthetic choice by some twi'leks.
Zej took an involuntary step back. "What are you doing here?" Her question was an accusation.
"A generous inclusion from Bynna the Hutt." Zan said dismissively. His voice was high and somewhat nasally. "And you must be Cazur. My new friend Kroeth has told me so much about you."
"Quite the coincidence that you two ended up on the same team." Cazur said, fighting himself with every passing moment. He was faster than Kroeth, he knew it. He could take the dar'manda out. But what would that mean for his kin? For Zej?
"No coincidence. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all. Kroeth saw his, ah, business venture on Pyth Prime thwarted with the help of the Bloody Dusk. Asked around. His trail led to me just a few scant weeks ago." Zan said. There was no mirth or cordiality in his firaxa's smile.
"You're lucky this is neutral ground, Caz'vod." Kroeth growled.
"Why? Lucky I don't have to waste ammo making you run away again, dar'manda?" Cazur retorted.
Kroeth took a seething inhale, hand reaching for a blaster. Zan hand stopped him. Cazur didn't miss the parallel.
"Your actions here come back on me, my new friend. You'll have your revenge. Just not here." Zan said, smirking at Cazur. "What kind of man are you, I wonder, to turn my sister against her own family? Judging from what I've heard from Kroeth, it seems you're all about family betrayals."
Cazur actually laughed at that, shaking his head. "Yes, and then you talked to Emperor Palpatine to find out what the Rebel Alliance was all about, I'm guessing."
Zan laughed as well, and to anyone watching, it probably seemed nothing was amiss.
"How…quaint." Zan said, making a show of wiping away a nonexistent tear. "My dear little sister, why won't you look me in the eye? Are you that ashamed of what you've done? It's alright. You know me. My mercy is endless. All will be forgiven in time."
Zej seemed locked up, paralyzed by fear, moving only to flinch whenever Zan spoke. She held onto Cazur even still.
"Why don't we part ways? This is an evening for enjoying ourselves, isn't it?" Cazur suggested.
Zan ignored that. "You refused Doal's offer of returning my sister to me on Dethu. Normally, I would never allow such an affront to pass. However, the Pale Palace Fete is a place for making deals, forging new bonds, and burying old hatchets. In my boundless generosity, allow me to extend you a new offer personally; hand Zej over, and I will forget everything."
"She's not mine to 'hand over' or keep." Cazur retorted. "It's obvious she doesn't want to go with you, which means I'll do everything in my power to keep that from happening."
Zan's manic smile remained. It was the smile a rancor gave to the bantha it was about to devour. The Duke of Dawn leaned in slightly.
"Let's be clear. No one, and I mean no one, takes what is mine." Zan's voice shook with barely contained fury. "You fuck with my family, I return the favor. Not just you. Not just your ship. Your entire fucking Clan. And thanks to my new friend Kroeth, I'll have a pretty damn good start on figuring out how to do that, won't I?"
Cazur inhaled to respond, but stopped as Zej's arm slipped away from his. The twi'lek suddenly took a step forward, putting her face barely a foot from Zan's. Fire blazed in her eyes and her teeth were clenched.
"You listen to me, you slaving piece of shit." Zej snarled, her entire body coiled with violent potential. "If you so much as look at anyone in Clan Mharal the wrong way, I swear on the name of our ancestors that I'll paint the stars red with your blood. There won't be a place in the Galaxy far enough for you to flee. No matter where you go, I will find you, and I. Will. End. You."
Zan drew in a sharp breath, actually stepping back from the verbal assault, a shocked hand going to his chest. Doal and Kroeth interposed themselves between Zej and Zan. Things might have escalated from there, but Cazur noticed some of Prospers guards sidling in around them. The argument was beginning to get out of hand.
The Duke of Dawn looked back and forth, seeing the new arrivals, then made a quiet, guttural sound. He shot one last glare at Cazur and Zej, then walked away, composing himself as he walked.
"This isn't over, Caz'vod." Kroeth muttered.
"I certainly hope not." Cazur replied.
When they were alone and the Palace guards turning their attention elsewhere once more, Zej noticeably sagged.
"Are you alright?" Cazur asked, putting a hand in the small of her back.
"Yes. I am. Honestly? I've never felt better." Zej replied, looking up at him. There was still a fire in her eyes. "Less than a year ago, I never would have dreamed of doing that. But you saw. He was afraid of me."
"Absolutely. I'm proud of you, Zej." Cazur said.
Zej beamed. "Are you alright, Caz?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. Thank you." He assured her, and it was mostly true. Unbeknownst to Zej, Zan, Kroeth, or anyone else, something important had just occurred. That would have to wait until after the fete.
Cazur heard a beeping sound coming from his comm unit in his helmet. He held up a finger to Zej, then pulled his helmet on. It was from Hylt
"I'm here, Hy'vod. What is it?" Cazur asked.
"Stroyh found something half-buried in a flower bed." Hylt said. "A canister of some kind. We can't get close without drawing suspicion, but it looks like it might be some kind of…"
A hissing sound suddenly filled the air. The music abruptly cut off as columns of blue particulates started filling the air.
"Mask on, Zej!" Cazur commanded, but the twi'lek was already in the process of putting it on.
Guests began crying out an panicking. Those nearest to the gas began to collapse to the ground. Cazur couldn't believe what he was seeing. The chaos that would come to the Outer Rim with the deaths of so many would benefit no one. One of the canisters had been planted right next to Grand Princess Prosper's high seat, and even her tough physiology was overcome after a few moments. Prosper fell from her throne and thudded down the dais, coming to rest in a heap at the bottom of the steps.
Zej went to the nearest fallen attendee, kneeling beside them.
"Still alive. This is a knockout gas, not a poison." Zej informed Cazur, looking up at him from where she knelt, face hidden by her mask. "Someone wants to make sure they're not making too many enemies."
Something clicked in Cazur's mind, but he didn't have a chance to give it voice as blaster fire erupted somewhere else in the garden.
"Contact, west side of the garden. Looks like pirates, maybe. Or mercs. Hard to say." Hylt's voice was calm, even as the sounds of a firefight filtered through the comm. "Stroyh and I will be fine. Keep the Grand Princess alive. We'll fight our way there."
"Understood." Cazur said. Dearly missing his jetack, Cazur drew his blaster pistol and ran for where Prosper lay. Just in time, too. A group of armed individuals burst out from the Palace itself, shockingly enough, running down the brick-paved path toward the garden. The path stopped at Prosper's throne.
Zej leapt onto the throne, using it as cover. Cazur leaned around it. The two of them fired into the incoming assailants. Their gear was distinctly nondescript, bereft of markings and colored an unremarkable slate blue. Three of them were felled in rapid succession before they fully realized what was happening, causing the invaders to scatter behind the shrubs that lined the path.
Just as Cazur had hoped. He drew his beskad.
"Zej…!" The zabrak began.
"I have you covered." The twi'lek replied at once.
Cazur smiled within his helm. She already understood him so well.
Coming out from the front of the throne, Cazur dove over the hedges, firing as he was horizontal in the air and tagging one of the attackers in an elbow, which severed their arm. He hit the ground, rolling up to his feet. Seeing someone so willing to engage in melee combat was not a common sight in the Galaxy, nor was someone who could take a blaster bolt to the chest and keep going, but Cazur did both of those things, his beskad biting through flesh and bone a moment later. As Cazur cut and blasted his way through a small group of the invaders, shots from the other side of the path whizzed over his head, only for the shooters to be either taken down or forced to duck by Zej's careful shots.
Cazur's sword plunged up through the chin of the final foe within reach. He threw the body aside.
"Clear, but not for long!" Zej informed him.
Cazur turned back, hurrying to rejoin her at the throne. The knockout gas was beginning to be scattered by the wind. He saw Zej and Stroyh approaching, apparently having linked up with the Jyttan Mandos. They reached the dais, getting right into the process of forming a protective semicircle around Prosper by dragging furniture. Throughout the garden were scattered firefights in places where Prosper's guards managed to don their own helms.
"Not to put too fine a point on it, but we're currently in a maze of a garden, at night dark, with dozens of people lying on the ground to make it easy to blend in if no cover is available…", Zej said pointedly, her mask turning to Cazur.
He didn't like the idea of sending her off by herself with Zan around, but without any armor, she would be in more immediate danger protecting Prosper with the other Mandos. The mission went before personal feelings, always. Zej was a good shot, but her true skill, and thus best contribution to the mission, lay elsewhere.
"It's been a while since that blade's tasted blood. Let us know on the comms the moment you're in trouble." Cazur said.
"I'm not the one about to be in trouble." Zej said. She shed her gaudy coat, tossing it up onto the Grand Princess's throne, and set off into the garden, fading into the shadows in almost uncanny fashion.
"You sure that's a good idea?" Valt asked Cazur.
"I am. You should've seen the body count she racked up on Pyth Prime doing just that." Cazur said, trying not to sound defensive.
Further discussion ended as the shooting began. Cazur ducked behind another high-backed stone bench, then popped up to return the favor. More of the unknown attackers came running in, picking their way through the fallen party-goers, many of their bodies joining the slumbering attendees. It was a lucky thing they weren't using heavy weapons or explosives, or the Mandos' cover would have meant very little.
In spite of himself, Cazur couldn't help but feel a grand surge of purpose and Mharal stood beside Jyttan. It was as things should be, no division of Clan keeping Mando'ade from standing together.
The staunch resistance caused the enemy to falter, themselves seeking cover or seeking other paths through the garden. Occasionally, an attacker would disappear behind cover only to never emerge, or there would be a sudden shout deeper in the garden joined by wild shots into the air that would be almost immediately silenced.
The battle, such as it was, was short-lived. Reinforcements arrived from the outer defenses, and the city, arrived on foot and via airspeeder. Already, attackers were seeing what was happening and trying to flee. None of them were throwing down their weapons to surrender, however. They all knew that to fall into the hand of Grand Princess Prosper after this attack would mean a long, agonizing interrogation followed by gruesome death. The didn't stop Prosper's people from taking the wounded alive.
As the fighting finished, Cazur holstered his pistol. The gas was almost fully gone from the air now, and those members of Prosper's guard not dealing with prisoners were trying to wake up the fete's attendees, namely the Grand Princess herself.
"And here I thought tonight wasn't going to be eventful." Stroyh said. "You think the food that was still out is tainted by the sleep gas?"
"Eat some and let us know." Hylt suggested.
Cazur ignored them, passing by the groggy Grand Princess and ascending the dais to take Zej's coat.
"Zej? Where are you? Are you alright" Cazur asked.
"By a fountain on the east side of the garden." Came the twi'lek's calm reply.
Cazur headed that way.
After several minutes he found Zej seated on the rim of said fountain, the water of which glowed from light fixtures in the bottom of it. The twi'lek was dipping purloined cloth napkins into the water and wiping the blood from her skin. The Palace guards were leaving her be. In fact, they seemed to be giving her a wide berth.
"Well, this outfit's ruined." Zej sighed as she dropped a cloth on the stone rim beside her. Her breeches and bustier were both stained with crimson, but her skin was clean. Her mask was between her feet. Cazur couldn't help but imagine the tongue lashing Jodihan would have given him had she seen Cazur send Zej into battle wearing so little.
"After what we just did, I'm sure the Grand Princess will be glad to replace it." Cazur said, draping the coat around her shoulders. He sat down beside her, removing his helmet.
The two of them looked across the path as a cluster of flowering vines that coiled up a stone statue depicting another waluna, likely some ancestor of Prosper's, at ease and reading a book.
"We're really going to have to watch our backs now. And we'll have to warn the Clan." Zej said softly, pulling the coat a little more tightly around her like it was a cloak.
"You think so?" Cazur asked.
"I know you're used to being in danger out there, but I'm serious, Caz. Zan is going to be a lot more proactive in hunting us than you think." Zej warned, serious as a speeder crash.
When Cazur merely smiled, the twi'lek looked positively baffled.
"I've already got something in mind for that." Cazur said with confidence.
"What…do you mean?" Zej prompted.
"I'm going to call Jod'buir on the Holo later. You'll learn everything from everyone else then, I promise." Cazur assured her.
"Alright. I trust you." Zej said.
"May I put an arm around your shoulders?" Cazur asked on a lark.
Zej blinked at the suddenness of the question, but gave him a nod.
Cazur pulled Zej close. The twi'lek laid her head upon his shoulder and let out a long breath that contained notes of something approaching contentment.
"Are you going to answer my question now?" Zej asked at length
Cazur wasn't sure what she meant at first, but then he recalled. Does this mean you've thought about it? About…us?
"I have." Cazur said.
"And?" Zej asked further.
Cazur thought for a few moments, trying to think of something witty or romantic.
"I'd like more of this if you would." He said simply.
Zej snuggled into him a bit more.
"I would, too." Zej said.
They remained there for a long time.
The good news was the Grand Princess was indeed grateful. The bad news was that it was mostly towards Baron Anomander for having the incredible judgement and foresight to bring the Kath Hound's crew along. Cazur and his fellow Mandalorians received a respectable amount of credits for their deeds, but the praise was reserved mostly for Anomander. That was Outer Rim politics, alright.
Surprisingly, as everyone awoke from their induced slumber and the raider corpses were taken away, many of the attendees continued the party, and with abandon. The most common topic of conversation was pondering on who exactly had been behind the attack. The common consensus was the Pyke Syndicate. Perhaps they were. Perhaps they weren't. If any of the raiders knew, Prosper's thugs would certainly get that information out of the survivors.
Whatever the case, Cazur decided it was time for his people to take their leave. Before that, however, Valt stopped him.
"Whatever the Grand Princess says, you helped us uphold our honor and reputation here tonight." The omwati said. He grasped forearms with Cazur. "We owe you a debt. Should Mharal ever need the aid of Jyttan, call for us, and I will bring as many as will follow me."
Valt seemed surprised to watch a smile cross Cazur's lips.
"You know, ner vod, you may be in luck. I think there's a way you can repay that debt much sooner than you think." Cazur said. He explained what he had in mind to Valt. The omwati gave his oath that he would see it through, should Cazur call.
They returned to the Kath Hound in short order after that. After everyone who attended the party got cleaned up, Stroyh got the ship into orbit, then hyperspace. They gathered around the holo-table in the workshop.
"Are we ready?" Cazur asked.
"How can we say yes or no when we have no idea what we're getting ready for?" Stroyh grumped.
"Have to agree with Stro'vod. Not like you to keep things so close to the chest, Caz'vod." Hylt concurred with the volpai.
Cazur nodded. "Of course. Well, best get to it, then."
The zabrak typed a few commands into the holo-table. They waited for a little over ten seconds.
The head and upper torso of a figure appeared in white-blue, projected by the table. At first glance, one might have though her a zygerrian like Kavala, but this was not so. Her features were even more feline, broader, more predatory. Swatches of the fur fur would not grow thanks to extensive scarring. Indeed, the figure was togorian rather than zygerrian.
"Caz'ika. So good to hear from you." Said Jodihan Mharal, current head of Clan Mharal. "Is everything alright?"
"Of course, ner buir. We're all alive and well. In fact, we're on our way to you right now." Cazur said.
"Are you? Wonderful. It's been so long since you've visited. But, I hear it in your voice. This isn't just a social call, is it?" Jodihan noted.
"No. It isn't." Cazur confessed. "I think you should send out the word and bring everyone back. Everyone."
"Really? That's a grave suggestion. Why would you say that?" Jodihan asked.
Cazur looked around the holo-table. Every member of the Kath Hound's crew was watching him expectantly.
"Because it's time, ner buir…", Cazur said, feeling the full weight of what he was about to suggest, "...time for Clan Mharal to go to war."