Chapter Text
*^* Takes place at the end of Chapter 6/Beginning of Chapter 7 of The Little Mand’alor
Saxon stalked up the ramp of his ship, only barely aware that Wren was behind him. Spinning as the ramp engaged he turned on his heel, ripping his helmet from his head, and growled angrily at the other.
Wren held up their hand as the ramp clicked into place and finished its locking sequence. Pulling a cylinder from their pocket and engaging the top button with a click. “It is safe to speak now,” they said simply before brushing past and heading down the corridor to the communications hub.
The sound of crashing followed from the cargo area for several moments as Wren reached over and punched in the sequence for a holo call. Rolling their eyes before reaching up, disengaging their seals to remove their helmet as the connecting indicator for the call blinked. With a slow steady inhale and exhale, Wren composed themselves, shifting into parade rest with their helmet tucked under their right arm.
“Report!” Vizsla comes onto the screen and barks out.
“ Mand’alor Vizsla,” Wren starts but is pushed away from the projector by Saxon.
“You need to check your security, Alor,” Saxon is red-faced and panting as he stands in front of the projector. “There has been a breach but someone from the Children of the Watch. They have stolen the Dha’kad Alor!” Saxon’s eyes are bulging as his words rush out of him.
“What? That is absurd,” Vizsla reaches down onto the console in front of him. Tapping out several command keys and the shock is clear on his face. Tapping more frantically, his eyebrows climb higher and higher on his face as he searches out information from a second screen. “This makes no sense!” He looks up and over Saxons’ shoulder to Wren. “What is going on?” He growled menacingly.
“There is a new contender to the throne, Alor Vizsla,” Goran be Wren calmly approaches, nudging Saxon sharply with her shoulder so that she may be in the coverage spot for the projector.
“The reason,” Saxon interrupts her. “For the Gathering apparently is a child that now possesses the ‘ Dha’kad’ and claims that he is from the Future. That he is not a child but a time traveler,” Saxon scoffs. “But that is not the concern Alor , the concern is that somehow the Children of the Watch have stolen your Saber and have the gall to stand before the entire Council and claim that the Ka’ra has blessed them with it,” his voice growing louder and louder with his agitation.
Pre Vizsla stares back thoughtfully for a moment. “A time traveler?” He says the words slowly as if testing them out to see if he heard them correctly. With a disgusted scoff from Saxon and the slow nod of confirmation from Wren, his face settled into a deep scowl. Looking off and down at another screen for a long moment he turns his attention back, “and the Children of the Watch brought this child forward?”
“Yes it was originally the foundling of Morut, the former Protector who forswore his name and position for his vod’s religious zealotry,” Wren stared hard at Vizsla. “What are you seeing Alor , was it Morut who broke into your private residence? With evidence, we can crush their plans right now and end this farce!”
Vizsla ignored that question for a moment, “and the Council has accepted this? Did they display the Dha’kad or simply hold something out and claim it the Darksaber?”
Wren looked surprised by the evasion but answered anyway, “yes. They ignited the Dha’kad and it rang out quite clearly for all who were able to hear it,” she gave a sly side-eyed look at Saxon before continuing. “It is accepted as the Dha’kad Alor. And the Council has now requested that all in attendance call on their Alore to tell them of this and to tell them it is time to make a choice.”
Saxon growled, “a choice! A choice that they should have made long before this and bowed down before you Alor .”
Vizsla nodded slowly, his face dark with anger, “what choice did they put before the others. Exactly Wren, what exactly is the choice?”
Gor’Wren stared directly into Pre Vizsla’s eyes, “they have been told to choose if we will set aside the past to make sure that we have a future. Will they accept this child as the next Mand’alor ?”
“What? They never said that!” Saxon cried out angrily. “They said we have to choose between the future this child claims is coming or the path we are on now, the Gor’Alor didn’t say anything about making the child the Mand’alor !?”
“As usual Saxon, you were still not listening. But then it's to be expected of one who does not bear the blessings of the Manda if you could even bring yourself to believe in it past your massive ego,” Wren sniffed in disgust. Looking over at Vizsla they give an inquisitive tilt of their head. “The child claims that there will be a galactic war that will see the end of the Republic and the rise of an Empire that will crush all mando’ade beneath its feet.”
Vizsla’s eyes went from cool indifference to a gradual widening of surprise as she spoke before he schooled his face and gave a shrug. “The Republic is a bloated carcass of corruption rotting from the inside, it would not surprise me if there were those who would see it torn down and rebuilt,” he paused a moment after saying that before giving a shake of his head and continuing. “That the child believes that all of mando’ade could be defeated,” he gave a scoffing laugh. “We are Kyr’stad , we will not be defeated!”
“ Oya ! Mand’alor ,” Saxon replies fervently. Wren however is reserved, giving only a thoughtful nod which has Vizsla’s eyes narrowing. Upon seeing that Saxon spun towards her, “you doubt our leader?”
Wren shook their head, “I wonder why you do not answer about the Dha’kad Alor. Nor do you answer the Council's question, why is that?”
“Treason!” Saxon barks, his hand shifting to his sidearm before a hand from Vizsla stops him.
“I do not know if it was Morut of The Tribe who stole the saber, it was stolen though.” He makes a motion with his left hand, bringing up a window into the ship's holo feed and sharing the stream of his residence security. The room, his private library, showed his polished armor on its stand with a table next to it. On the table was a simple pedestal that both Saxon and Wren had seen many times holding the Dha’kad . At this moment though it sat empty. “This is a live feed from my library,” Vizsla points to the window.
A twist of his fingers and the video began to rewind, faster and faster with no change to the empty pedestal until suddenly a jump and there it was. The silver rectangular hilt of ancient beskar and bone, nestled in a swath of blue Concordia Silk. Vizsla froze the image, highlighted the time stamp that showed that it was from two weeks prior, and then slowly began twisting his hand in the opposite direction.
They all watched with one eye to the timestamp as it inches forward second by second, then within the blink of one moment and the next the Saber vanished. The room around it never changed, it was empty and the sensors never showed anything either. “I will need to see how this was tampered with and I will set my slicers on it immediately.” He brought up a loop of the video, one moment there and the next gone, as he frowned at the vanishing hilt.
Looking up to meet Wren's eyes, who had been glued to the looping image in shock. “That is why I can not answer you or the Council Goran be Wren. There is something afoot, some malicious tampering, that has seen my rightful Saber stolen from me and tossed to a pretender, a child, with an impossible story,” Vizsla snarled as he slammed his fist against the holo console.
Goran Wren looked up slowly from the holofeed and into his eyes, “as you say, Alor Vizsla, it is an impossible story. What do we do about this then?”
Pre stared back at her a long moment before nodding decisively, “we will destroy the traitors to Mandalore of course.” Breaking contact he turned to the other, “Saxon, call your fighters, we must seize The Forge, burn it to the ground if necessary. Kill the traitors and thieves and bring me the child along with my saber.”
Wren blinked in surprise at his statement, “but The Forge is neutral ground! And it is our ancestral foundry, the history of our people lay within that sacred space.”
“I thought you the Goran were the bearers of all our history and ancestral knowledge, Wren? What do we need with a place when we have our Gorans to carry us through the ages with their knowledge and skills?” Vizsla leaned forward, staring her down as he calmly spoke.
Wren sucked in a breath, fighting to maintain her calm exterior before exhaling slowly and giving a bow of her head. “As you say, Alor . So it shall be done.”
Vizsla gave a cruel huff of laughter, “go! Call for Bo-Katan Kryze, she will lead this with our elite squad, your people will be the heavy artillery Saxon.” His voice is flat and cold, the imposition of his will like heavy beskar on their shoulders. “You will see this done before the next dawn breaks!”
“Yes Mand’alor ,” they both snap to attention bringing their fists to their chest with a ring of beskar on metal. Then begin to turn from the feed to fulfill their duties.
“Wren!” Vizsla stops her mid-turn. “You will send your ad along with Kryze. They make a good team,” he smirked. “ They have yet to fail me.”
Wren breathed in sharply but nodded her agreement before scurrying out. The two men watched as she fully left before turning to each other. “See she does not see the dawn either, Saxon.”
“As you wish it so it shall be Mand’alor ,” Saxon smiled coldly before closing the holo connection.