"All things have an echo within the Force. Life, emotion, even thought. A Spirit is made when the echoes of those things grow strong enough to develop its own presence. A people, a place, even a belief can create a spirit. It takes millennia for a Greater Spirit to form. A lot of older texts refer to these beings as Deities or Gods. In essence they are a gathering of the Force, much like a Nexus. However, it is sentients that give those Spirits form and personality rather than a well of focused power."
Obi-wan sat, enraptured, as the ghost of Mandalore's last Speaker began their lecture. To learn from an accomplished master was one thing, but this was someone who had shared his gift and understood the hardships he'd gone through.
"All Jedi Temples will, inevitably, form their own Greater Spirits. That is because we, as Jedi, gather and concentrate the Force within us- which gives form to our thoughts and intentions. The same could be said of Sena-tuus, the Spirit of the Republic Senate. Millennia of millions of sentient beings all gathering with purpose, even if those purposes didn't always align. If the location of the Senate were to disappear tomorrow, so long as the idea of the Republic Senate were to remain then Sena-tuus will continue to exist."
"Can a Spirit's appearance change over time?" He asked, mind going back to his memories of Band'el Mire and Melidana.
"It can, yes, and they do. It can take hundreds of years or… or one devastating change in either the planet or the population of a planet." There was an aura of grief around the Master now and Obi-wan could feel an echo of old pain.
"Do you know why you were greeted by Manda themselves and yet the spirit of Manda'yaim has not appeared to you yet?"
Obi-wan blinked before frowning in thought. "I thought Manda was the spirit of both this planet and the people's belief system?"
Tarre shook their head. "Manda is the spirit of all Mando'ade, the fire within our souls. Yaim be'Manda was the spirit of this planet."
Obi-wan swallowed. "Was-?"
"When the Senate enacted the Dral'han, what the Republic history books like to call the Excision, Yaim be'Manda was heavily damaged. Not only due to the loss of life, but also the loss of belief that Yaim was a safe home for the Mandalorian people. The Dral'han did a lot of damage to the psyche of the Mando'ade, which resulted in the loss of Yaim's existence." Tarre said with a weary sigh Obi-wan could feel in his bones.
Dral'han. His newly acquired ability to understand Mando'a told him that the translation meant Great Annihilation.
"I-I'm so sorry." He said, hunching in on himself as shame and guilt began to pool in the back of his mind. The very idea that one of those brilliant age-old beings might just vanish… it left him with a deep sense of grief like a yawning dark maw.
"Do not apologize, young padawan. It was not your time nor your place, the decisions of the past are not ours to bear." Tarre said softly. "The Jedi are as much my people as the Mando'ade are, to see them on opposing sides once more saddens my heart. But I had already marched on by the time of the Dral'han, so there was nothing I could do but to endure and wait for the new Speaker to be born."
"Me." Obi-wan said in understanding.
"Yes, you. A shining beacon of Light in the Force, unpolished as all padawans are yet already showing a strength of will and character that would make any seasoned master proud to have you in their lineage."
Obi-wan felt heat creep up his face and cursed his pale skin for making it so easy to tell when he was blushing.
"Speaking of, if you would permit me I would like to include you in my own Lineage as well. It would give you credibility here on Manda'yaim, though those who rule my Clan currently are doing their best to have our name mean less than a handful of sand in the desert."
Obi-wan's breath hitched in his throat. "Y-you want me in your Lineage?" The Ghost of a famous Jedi Master, Mand'alor, and Speaker wanted him in their Lineage?
"You would remain with your own Master, of course, we would only be sharing in your teaching. It was common in my day to allow a padawan to train under a second Master if their first did not have the knowledge to teach a particular gift. It was also common to have more than one padawan at that time."
"I… I'll have to think about it. I want to ask Master Jinn his opinion before I agree to anything."
Tarre smiled and gave him an approving nod. "Of course. Now, where was I?" They went quiet for a moment. "Ah, yes- as all Greater Spirits are a part of the Force you can sense their wellbeing so long as you have a connection to them. Now that Manda has claimed you as their Speaker you will be able to communicate with them no matter where you are in the galaxy. You will also be able to tell if something has happened to them or if they require your attention. I will warn you that Manda is very demanding, they can show up at the most inopportune moments. Like the time I finally asked my beloved if they would do me the honor of swearing the Riduurok with me. I had never seen Parjana so incensed before that moment." They chuckled.
Obi-wan snickered in response, feeling the giddiness, amusement, and love Tarre had for the memory of their spouse. Wait… spouse? "You were married? The texts in the Temple don't say anything about you being married."
Tarre sighed. "A lot was lost when my descendants foolishly broke into the Temple and stole my lightsaber for themselves. If I had been able to leave this sanctuary I would have had a lot to say to my great-grandchild for their selfishness." They shook their head. "Yes, child, I was married. I also had five children with my spouse, three of blood and two of heart. Not counting the fact that one of them was also a padawan of mine whose parent had been killed on a mission."
"Did… any of your children share your gift?"
Tarre shook their head. "No, it takes a rare soul to be able to Speak with the Greater Spirits. It is not something that can be engineered or taught. One must have the ability at birth."
"If it can't be taught, then why did you-"
"Remain behind to teach you?" Tarre chuckled. "The ability to Speak may not be taught, but the accumulated knowledge of countless Speakers can be passed down. Along with a warning." Tarre became stern, sitting at their full height and stare becoming more intense. "There are some Greater Spirits you must never, never, deal with. Let alone speak to or acknowledge. Sithari Kor'ban, Dromari Kaasa, Tarisius, and Mother Dathir. They are spirits that have been corrupted by the Sith or steeped in the Darkside so long that they are a danger to any outsider, but especially a Speaker. There are others that are dangerous, but if you know how to Speak with them respectfully they will be neutral towards your presence. Tus'kat'ul'diin, the spirit of the planet Tatooine and patron of the Tusken people, is very reclusive. If you ever see them out in the desert they can be fiercely defensive, unless you know the ways to honor them. This is the kind of knowledge I will impart to you. Starting with how to act as Manda's Chosen."
Obi-wan sat up straighter, shoulders back. "I am ready to learn, Speaker Vizsla."
"Good."
Outside the Inner Sanctuary where he had been sequestered for far longer than he realized, time flew by. Unbeknownst to him the Mandalorians had finally caught up with a certain spice freighter run by a gang of slavers.
It was there that they found their Mand'alor- drugged, collared, emaciated, and beaten. But not broken.
After killing the slave captain he'd sworn vengeance on himself Jango helped to free the others slaves, offering them freedom and refuge in Mandalorian space.
Not a single slaver survived the attack, and the ship was destroyed after the slicers were finished scouring the computers for every possible scrap of information.
For the next three days the medics on board kept the man in a state of unconsciousness as he suffered the worst effects of the detoxification and emergency surgeries. When they arrived on Manda'yaim he was not healthy, not by any stretch, but his mind was clear for the first time in years.
When his comm went off with a message from his Master, reminding him he had to return to the palace before dark, Obi-wan realized he'd spent the majority of the day just listening to Speaker Vizsla and asking questions.
They chuckled when he made a face at his comm. "This is your home as much as it is my resting place. You are welcome here at any time, for any reason." Standing they wandered over to an alcove in the wall he hadn't noticed earlier, too distracted by the ghost of a former Mand'alor to really take a look around. They reached into a box and pulled something out before turning back to him.
Obi-wan marveled at the fact that, once again, a literal ghost was affecting the world as if they were still alive.
Tarre held out their hand and Obi-wan took what was offered. It was a skull pendant on a thin metal chain. The pendant itself sang in the force like a beautiful choir, many voices raised in song together as one.
Tarre's hand brushed a tear from his face- he hadn't even realized he'd begun to cry.
"That is the song of every Speaker who has been Chosen by Manda, all the way back to the First. The chain is made of beskar attuned so as not to interfere with the Force. The pendant itself is carved from the tusk of a Mythosaur, and shares its likeness. With this everyone will be able to recognize you as the rightful Speaker, for no one would be able to touch it besides Manda's Chosen. It will protect you." They cocked their head to the side, as if listening to something, and nodded to themselves. "It is time for you to go. You will return tomorrow and I shall continue my instruction. We have little time before the Mand'alor returns- you must be ready."
Obi-wan bowed out of habit but Tarre didn't chide him for it.
After making his way out of the Inner Sanctum, one of the servants happy to show him the way back, he was surprised to find Ruusan still waiting.
"It is my duty, Speaker Kenobi. I only relinquished it to the Temple Guards until it was time to return to Sundari."
He smiled, grateful that he would not have to try and make the trip back alone. "Did you have a nice visit with your cousin?"
Ruusan grinned. "I did. He's doing much better than the last time. The news about Mand'alor Fett raised his spirits considerably."
"Oh, that's good news!" Obi-wan smiled as the woman began to regale him with stories of her cousin's exploits and accomplishments.
As he was leaving the Temple he had a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that Myles was going to be important. He wasn't sure why, but the Force had never steered him wrong before.
This was it. His first meeting with Mand'alor Fett. The man had been brought home five days ago but the medical staff had refused to release him until he'd had a long dip in bacta and had enough nutrition that he no longer looked on the brink of death.
He had asked Master Jinn if the Council had anything to say about their extended stay in the Mandalore Sector but the man just waved him off, mentioning that the initial plan had been to stay for at least a month regardless.
Taking Ba'ji Vizsla's advice Obi-wan chose to wear a more traditional set of Mandalorian styled tunics to the meeting. But he refused to remove his padawan braid- stating that both of his masters would be very cross if anyone tried to force the issue.
Before the Mand'alor's arrival he'd spoken to Master Jinn about Tarre's offer, and was surprised when the man readily accepted. Apparently the fact that Tarre was a ghost meant that the rules no longer really applied to them anyway. So in a way they weren't breaking any of the Order's tenets or laws.
Wearing the Speaker's Pendant openly he walked with a set of guards and his master to the makeshift throne room Fett had decided to commandeer. Apparently the open space and wide glass windows, regardless of what they were made of, made Mand'alor Fett anxious. Coming up to the doors he spied the Temple Guard that had insisted on being present for the meeting and gave them a polite nod in greeting.
The Guard placed their hand against their chest plate in response.
Master Jinn placed a hand warmly on his shoulder and smiled. "This is where I must leave you, Padawan." He said softly. "May the Force be with you, Obi-wan. I'll see you the moment you're finished."
He nodded and turned to face the door. Taking a deep breath he pulled the Force around him before exhaling all of his anxieties. Opening the door he walked inside with a confident stride.
'You are Manda's voice, there is nowhere in the Mandalore Sector that you do not belong. Speakers are humbled only by the Greater Spirits we serve.' These were the words his Ba'ji had imparted to him the day before, in preparation of this meeting.
As he entered the room the Temple Guard followed, two steps behind and one to the right. It was when they came closer that Obi-wan realized who the Temple Guard was and a small smile crossed his face.
Sitting on a large chair piled with cushions, being glowered at by a medic, sat a man not much older than he was. Just like in his dream-vision they had tanned skin littered with scars, dark curly hair, and sharp amber eyes filled with inner fire.
The man obviously noticed his approach, there was only one way in or out of the room after all, and watched him warily. When he was perhaps ten feet away Obi-wan stopped. Raising his right hand he placed his four fingers against his forehead in greeting before placing his open palmed hand against his chest near his heart. "Mand'alor, it is an honor to meet a fellow Chosen of Manda. I am Obi-wan Kenobi, the one who Speaks with Manda's voice."
The Mand'alor grit their teeth, eyes narrowed on the braid behind his ear. "You're a Jetii." They accused as they stood from their chair, much to the consternation of the medic nearby.
"I am a student of the Jetii, yes. A child of Corus'canta Jedai specifically." His voice never wavered, even as the man across from him pulled a pistol and aimed it at his head.
"Then you are my enemy!" The man declared, disdain dripping from his voice.
"Jango, no!" The Temple Guard behind him slipped off their helmet, revealing dark gray eyes in a tawny face beneath dark locks. "I know what you're thinking, but Speaker Kenobi isn't your enemy. Please but the blaster down."
At the sound of the man's voice the Mand'alor's head snapped toward them, face paling and lips trembling. "M-Myles-?"
"Yeah, kid, it's me." Setting down their pike and helmet Myles took slow steps towards Fett, hands held in front of them where the man could see he had no weapons. "I know how things looked back there, but it's okay. We survived." He said softly. "Some of us didn't make it, but most of us were able to limp our way back to the ships and escape when the Jetiise captured you. We-we've been looking for you for years, kid, but we had no leads. It was Speaker Kenobi that told us you were even alive and where to find you."
As the man spoke the Mand'alor slowly lowered their weapon, their arm trembling though they were clearly trying to hide it. "Kriff, Myles, you were… I thought they- they cut you in half!" Their words came out in a choked off sob.
"I know, kid, but that wasn't me. It was Devrim. They… they shoved me out of the way at the last minute." A strong pang of grief echoed between the two of them at the mention of the other Mandalorian.
Obi-wan had no idea who Devrim had been but it was obvious that the Mand'alor understood.
"They are not gone, merely marching far away… fuck!"
Myles chuckled as they finally stopped, directly in front of the Mand'alor. "C'mere, kid."
One moment the man was standing there, trying to look strong, and the next they and Myles were kneeling together on the floor, Fett sobbing uncontrollably into their armor.
Obi-wan looked toward the Medic, who seemed uncertain what to do, and shook his head. He motioned to the corner of the room and the two of them quietly left the two crying men alone.
"I can see that the Mand'alor is still healing and is not yet able to have official company. I will take my leave for now. I suggest you find them a mind healer as quickly as possible." Although he was certain that knowing not all their companions had died would help ease the pain at least a little.
"I'll look into it. What are you going to do now?" The medic asked, looking him over as if they could judge his health without the use of a scanner. Or… maybe their helmet did have a scanner.
"I will return to my quarters and meditate. If the Mand'alor is feeling up to trying this again today then please feel free to contact me."
"Understood."
And with that he was no longer the medic's concern as they quietly made their way back over to where Myles and the Mand'alor were still holding one another and pouring out their grief.
Obi-wan quietly slipped back out into the hall, where his Master was waiting.
"Finished already?" His tone and the raised brow implied that he thought it was far too soon to be over.
"I'm afraid the Mand'alor has had to reschedule. He has just been reacquainted with a friend he thought long dead and the two were… having a moment."
"I understand. Well then, Padawan mine, it seems we have some free time. Meditation?"
"Yes please."
A week flew by and his life continued as it had been the previous week.
He woke up in Sundari, got ready for the day, sparred with his Master before meditation, then had breakfast. Then he would take a speeder to the Temple to learn more about being a Speaker from Ba'ji Vizsla.
Only this day was different.
About an hour into his lessons with the ghost of a former Mand'alor, there was a knock at the door. Looking at Tarre in confusion his Ba'ji just smiled. "I will be observing, but I won't interfere. You are the Speaker now." With that said his Ba'ji vanished into thin air.
Obi-wan rolled his eyes and felt something rustle his hair in retaliation. He chuckled as he made his way to the entrance of the apartment.
Opening the door he expected to see one of the servants with an urgent message, they did that quite often when he'd forgotten to turn on his comm again. But instead he was met with a fully armored Mand'alor, save for the helmet which was held under their arm.
They looked at him quietly for a moment but Obi-wan didn't budge. Tarre had been insistent that the Inner Sanctuary belonged to him, and that as such no one was allowed inside without his express permission. Although the Mand'alor was allowed to be in the space, they had to be the one to ask to enter. Just as Obi-wan would have to ask permission to venture into the royal suite of the Mand'alor's fortress.
"Speaker Kenobi, may I come inside?" Now that their voice wasn't filled with exhaustion, rage, or grief he was surprised at the smoothness of it.
"You are welcome within my sanctuary, Mand'alor Fett." The words came before he could really think about it and he found himself stepping back out of the way, allowing the man inside.
Fett hesitated for a moment before placing their hand against their chest plate and stepping inside.
"Boots off at the door." Obi-wan said, something he'd heard from Tarre every single time he'd stepped foot into the apartment. His mouth snapped shut and he flushed slightly in embarrassment but when he glanced over at Fett the man seemed contemplative, rather than offended.
Leaving the man to pull off their boots at the entryway Obi-wan made his way over to the small kitchen to put the kettle on.
He had been surprised to learn that Mandalorians were also quite fond of tea, although their definition was a little more lax than the Jedi's. It was considered rude to not offer a guest something to eat or drink, it was also considered rude not to accept the offer of food or drink. To refuse to offer food and drink meant you considered someone an enemy, and to refuse food freely given was to suggest you thought the one offering was attempting to poison you.
Poison, he had come to find out, was considered the peak of cowardice to a Mandalorian. Not that it was all that surprising with how much they valued honor, both personally and societally. On the other hand tranquilizers were considered fair game depending on circumstances.
As he waited for the kettle to finish boiling he could feel eyes on the back of his neck, watching him intently. He could tell it was the Mand'alor, but he could not sense the man's motives and it made him feel a little nervous. A sensation like a hug enveloped him and he relaxed into it, knowing that Tarre would step in should anything happen.
"Feel free to sit anywhere you like." He said over his shoulder. "My preference is the green cushion on the floor, but you may feel free to sit on one of the couches if you'd prefer."
Once the kettle clicked off he quickly poured the water into the two cups and waited the recommended thirty seconds for the tea to steep. Setting the cups on a tray he arranged some biscuits on a plate before grabbing some sweet and savory spreads, along with honey, uj'alayi, and cinnamon.
Carrying the tray over to the low table he was surprised to find the man sitting on a dark blue cushion across from his preferred green one. He set the tray on the table between them and made himself comfortable on the cushion.
"I hope you don't mind shig, I'm afraid I forgot to ask the staff for caf since I don't drink it myself." He said conversationally as he added a little bit of honey to his tea and stirred it before taking a sip. Setting it down he took one of the biscuits and slathered it in jogan fruit jam before taking a small bite.
As a Jedi he was taught never to eat before a guest, but Tarre had explicitly stated it was quite the opposite for a Mandalorian. It was considered respectful of a guest to wait for the homeowner, or Clan leader depending on the circumstances, to take the first bite. It was an indication to others in attendance that the meal had well and truly begun, which meant the oath of Peace had been invoked.
It basically amounted to a ceasefire while all those involved brought up an issue they would like to resolve without violence.
Once he'd taken a small bite of the biscuit the man across from him added cinnamon and a little uj'alayi to their own cup. Once they had the desired taste, which required quite a lot of cinnamon apparently, they slathered a biscuit in the chili jam and set it on their own plate.
"You're not what I expected." They said after a moment of silence.
Obi-wan smiled. "Do I want to know what you expected?"
The man let out a snort of amusement. "I expected you to be like that arrogant bastard Dooku."
Obi-wan inhaled some of the shig and promptly began to cough up a lung in surprise. A large hand thumped against his back and he looked up through teary eyes to see Fett grimacing as they attempted to help him clear his lungs.
"M-my apolo-gies." He said, waving the man off. "I'll be fine in a," he coughed once more, "a moment." Once he had enough wherewithal to use the Force to clear his lungs, rather than sit there hacking like a dummy.
"I also thought…" the man continued, "that you'd be older."
Obi-wan did not pout, and anyone who said so was a liar. "I'm legally considered an adult in this sector, I'll have you know. And my Ba'ji is arranging a verd'goten for me once my bracers are completed."
"Beskar?" Fett asked, the area around their eyes tight as they restrained themselves from saying more.
"Attuned beskar, yes. Beskar that came from the vault here in the Inner Sanctuary." Which meant that by all rights it belonged to him. "My Ba'ji insisted on them, reminding me that I am the voice of Manda and as such I should follow the Resol'nare as closely as I am able to." Rubbing the back of his neck he let out a sigh. "Listen, I know that you aren't happy with the fact that I am a Jetii, but there is nothing that can be done about it. I will not abandon my entire family over a small few who made a mistake."
Fett slammed his hand down on the table, bristling. "An attempted massacre is not a simple mistake!" They hissed through gritted teeth.
"No, it was a tragedy. But not one that I was personally part of. Would you really blame me for the crimes of someone I've never met?" He sat up straighter as the air began to swell with power around him.
His eyes went wide as Manda loomed over Fett, unseen by the man across from him.
"Tell me, my Mand'alor, would you kill a babe in their crib because a being who shared the same beliefs murdered your vode? If you continue down this path then it will no longer be vengeance- it will be madness." Once again he was unable to move as Manda spoke through his body.
Across from him Fett's eyes went wide as their face paled. Hands shaking they raised one to their chest and bowed their head. "Manda." They whispered.
"Hear me, Jango of Clan Fett, heir of Clan Mereel, true Mand'alor- if you do not cherish what you have now and instead chase what you have lost then you will doom our people. Listen to my Speaker, they are wise beyond their years. And know that you will always have my protection and blessing."
With a rush of power it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Gasping for breath he was surprised to find himself blinking up at Fett, who had rushed forward to grab him so he didn't hit his head on the table when he collapsed.
Staring up into a handsome face with intense amber eyes he flushed in embarrassment.
This was a terrible time to realize just how attractive he found the Mand'alor.
"I-I'm okay, thank you." Slowly sitting up on his own he cleared his throat and tried to calm his racing heart.
"No debt." Fett said, watching him carefully before letting out a heavy sigh, one hand coming up to scratch at dark curls. "Okay, okay. I get it. If Manda themselves has declared it then it will be so. Consider my vengeance against the Jetiise dropped." Their eyes flashed with a spark of fire. "But if I ever see Dooku in person then all bets are off."
Obi-wan swallowed hard and made a mental note to warn both the Council and his Grandmaster, in person if at all possible. "Understandable. I will relay your declaration to the Jetiise."
Letting out another sigh Fett sat back, crossing their legs in front of them. "There's other things we have to talk about. Like what to do about the false Mand'alor, Vizsla."
"Ah, yes, about that. I think I may have a solution, but you may not like it much." He said hesitantly.
Fett stared at him. "What kind of solution?"
"The kind where my Heir declares them all oathbreakers and exiles them from the Clan." Tarre said as they materialized nearby.
"What the fuck!?"
"Ah, Mand'alor Fett, might I introduce the ghost of Mand'alor Tarre Vizsla- Manda's previous Speaker?"
"I must still be tripping on spice." The man said amongst a slew of very creative curses.
"Fortunately for our people you are not." Tarre said with some amusement. "Now, shall we talk, Alor to Alor?"
Fett eyed them both before letting out a near hysterical laugh. "Yeah, why the fuck not?"