Chapter Text
In 960 ARR, a great change began overtaking the Galaxy. It did not, in the way of such things, do so swiftly, or dramatically, but with a few small events that would grow in size to change the face of history. For one Obi-Wan Kenobi, he barely noticed them starting, despite his connection to the Unifying Force that might have given him warning.
That, in all honesty, tried to give him warning.
However, he was 17 and had recently left Mandalore after a short stint as a guard to the daughter of one of the leaders of the Republic-approved but less popular New Mandalorian faction. He had fallen in love with the land he saw there with a startling swiftness, and barely avoided letting those feelings be confused with feelings for his charge. He did not want to risk his place among the Jedi by paying too much attention to news of Mandalore, so when alerts came up about the leading Haat’Mando’ad faction….
He ignored it.
<^>
Jango Fett did not intend to become a warlord, a conqueror, or an Empire-builder.
He just hated politics.
Well, he hated most politicians.
Especially the corrupt ones, although at least when he realized the people they ruled didn’t like them either, he felt better about shooting and or stabbing them. Except someone had to be in charge, so he usually cast about for the least corrupt person with any degree of administrative skill, and put them in charge. It worked out pretty well, until he returned home from a campaign circuit of the space just outside the Mandalorian space and was met by his Buir, the Mand’alor, with a severe frown on his face.
“Jango… why did tribute arrive from three different planets we don’t own?”
"UM," Jango said eloquently. "Well, you see, what happened was…."
"I'm no longer sure I want to know," Jaster told him. "Three isn’t that bad. Don't let it happen again."
<^>
It happened again.
<^>
By 968 ARR, the Mandalorian Empire was established and expanding, albeit much slower than the previous version. The Republic historians theorized that the Mandalorians had learned from past mistakes and were taking their time to shore up defenses and ensure that no war meant to crush them back down would succeed. In fact, what little the spies sent could retrieve indicated that Mandalore was carefully building their home resources and medical and food supply lines constantly, but only adding a handful of planets to their ranks each year. The military strategists surmised that the lack of any more detailed intelligence emerging from Mandalorian space was a sign of tight operational security and meant the Expansion was being driven by a highly intelligent and ruthless Warlord. Attempts to learn more led only to firm but polite statements that the planets conquered now owed allegiance to one Jango Fett. The politicians looked at the patterns, at the words of the historians and the strategists, and decided they must make an ally of this new Empire. A Senator suggested they send a tribute, a sign of good faith.
But what to send?
It was in fact the brand new Chancellor who eventually took their decision to the Jedi Council.
Mandalore's ancient enemy the Jedi, a fixture of Republic justice, had to be a sore spot for them, he explained, ever so gently, ever so sadly. To show the Republic meant no ill will, it would only be suiting to send them a Jedi as a sign of the Republic's peaceful intent.
A hostage, he said, but the Council knew he meant sacrifice.
Who then to choose?
"Well," the Chancellor said slowly, "Do any Jedi speak the language of the Mandalorians?"
There was but one.
Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Many protested. Knight Kenobi was fresh from battle with a Sith, where his own master had been gravely wounded and not woken yet from his medical coma. He was newly knighted, not ready for such a dangerous assignment.
"If he can withstand a Sith Lord," the Chancellor said, "surely he can withstand a Mandalorian Warlord."
And so it was decided.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was a sacrifice on the altar of peace, sent away to Mandalore and the Warlord Jango Fett.