Private A Cold Glass

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Adelle Bastiel
Following: Maleficent​

A dull thunk echoed through the dimly lit corner of the cantina as another dart found its mark. Lorn watched the feathered quiver against the board before taking a slow, long pull from his glass. Theed was a city built on grand architecture and sweeping idealistic vistas, but it was also a place that could suffocate a man with its noise. This back-alley bar offered the only thing he truly valued after a day like this: a quiet corner and a drink that didn't taste like politics.

Hours had bled away while the sun dipped below the Naboo horizon. Night brought a different crowd, a swirling mix of embassy staff and travelers from every corner of the galaxy. Lorn moved toward the bar to refill his glass, his eyes scanning the room by habit. One presence in the crowd acted like a tether, pulling his attention away from his own brooding thoughts.

Standing near the counter was a figure he recognized from the afternoon's debacle at the embassy. It was the Mandalorian with the peculiar, disciplined light in the Force. Even now, the man wasn't masking his signature. It was a rare thing to find such a steady, luminous presence within a culture so defined by military tradition. He felt like a kindred spirit in the wrong uniform.

Lorn stepped up to the bar, signaling the barkeep for another round as he settled into the space beside the warrior. He kept his posture relaxed, leaning one elbow on the wood as he looked over.

"Where are you from, sir?" Lorn asked. He kept his voice low and conversational, genuinely unsure of the specific titles the Mandalorians used for their own.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Theed, Naboo
Tags: Lorn Reingard

There were many cures for the sort of headaches politics and diplomacy caused. Adelle’s favored remedy was unfeasible at the moment, so she settled for her second favorite: a Corellian ale in some tucked away bar. Those sorts of places were quieter, situated off the beaten path as they were. One of the Mandalorians at the Embassy had recommended the one she now approached. Inside, it was as advertised and much quieter than many of the more popular bar closer to the Embassy.

She headed straight for the bar counter, ignoring the looks her beskar’gam earned. There had been too much to do after everything was all said and done for her to change back into the normal clothes she wore at the Embassy. Besides, the bar was close enough that most patrons here should have been used to armored Mandalorians. She had, however, opted to leave behind the wolf pelt cloak. It had been useful when she’d needed to make a point but it was too much fabric to wear on the daily or in a fight. Honestly, how everyone else fought with flowing cloaks on baffled her.

No sooner had she sat down than a presence of Light drew closer. It was familiar in the way of having sensed that particular presence before. Adelle glanced at the Jedi out of the corner of her eye, the impassive helm hiding the gesture.

"Where are you from, sir?" Lorn asked.

An amused smile slid across her face as she tilted her head slightly. ‘Sir’ was a new one. Although she supposed if you weren’t used to hearing modulated voices, it could be very easy to mischaracterize someone’s gender.

“That depends on what you mean,” she said, not bothering to hide the amusement in her voice. “Do you mean where I was born, where I lived the longest, or where I live currently?”

“Or—” She reached up to pull the buy’ce off, seals hissing as she lifted it from her head. Adelle ran a hand through her short dark hair and turned to face the Jedi. “Do you perhaps mean the gentleman behind me?”

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Adelle Bastiel​

A sheepish grunt escaped him as he took a slow sip of the fresh ale. He considered the complexity of her answer. Born on Naboo but raised on Mirater, made a man there, Lorn often wondered if he truly belonged to the world beneath his feet. The question of origin was rarely as simple as a single name on a star chart.

Correcting his posture, he turned to offer a proper greeting just as the helmet seals hissed. The sudden reveal of the woman beneath the armor caught him off guard. "Well, shit," he muttered, the bluntness of the remark slipping out. A faint flush of embarrassment warmed his neck as he shook his head. "My apologies. I should know better."

Lorn signaled the barkeep, pointing toward her glass to indicate the next round was on him. A peace offering for the earlier intrusion and his current lack of grace. "I suppose the easy assumption would be Mandalore for all three, but my assumptions haven't exactly served me well tonight. Best to stop while I'm behind."

The Jedi extended a hand across the scarred wooden surface, his grip relaxed but steady. "Lorn Reingard. Jedi Knight." He offered a tired, genuine smile, knowing the title carried a heavy weight after their disastrous meeting at the embassy. "Though I imagine you knew that."

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Lorn Reingard

His reaction was everything she hoped it would be, language included. Still greatly amused, Adelle picked up her glass of Corellian ale and drank while the Jedi Knight mused on the possible answer to her three clarifications. He was correct that it would have been an easy assumption and he was also correct that the assumption was wrong.

“Wise,” she said, still in good humor.

"Lorn Reingard. Jedi Knight." He offered a tired, genuine smile, knowing the title carried a heavy weight after their disastrous meeting at the embassy. "Though I imagine you knew that."

Adelle nodded her head towards him, taking his offered hand in the warrior’s grip common among Mandalorians. “I prefer actual introductions, face-to-face. Adelle Bastiel, Iron Lord.”

She didn’t feel the need to add her title of Ambassador: her name with that title was publicly available and he’d already remembered her from the Embassy.

“Your guess that Mandalore was wrong for all three is right,” she said, deciding not to think about work anymore. She’d done what she could for the day and tomorrow she’d finish the rest, including composing and filing a report to Aether. “Corellian born, lived in the Karka system for a long while, and now splitting my time between Mandalore and Naboo.”

Adelle sat the glass down and looked at Reingard with a playful twist to her grin. “Your turn. Same question.”

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Adelle Bastiel​

A low grunt of acknowledgement followed her answer. A Corellian-born Mandalorian with a tangible connection to the Force was a rare combination, yet her demeanor felt light enough. Warriors had a way of recognizing one another, regardless of the crest on their chest or the color of their blade.

"Naboo born," Lorn answered, staring into the amber depths of his glass. "Lived on Mirater for most of my life. Now, as you saw today, I'm back here." He took a slow sip, the bitterness of the drink matching his mood. If the choice had been his, he would have remained on Mirater, leaving the lush, ornate halls of his homeworld to the poets and the politicians.

Fate had other plans.

"How are you finding the planet so far? Is it everything you expected?" A wry, knowing smile touched his lips. Beautiful, polished places like Theed never quite sat right with him; they felt like a thin coat of paint over a galaxy that was falling apart. He was curious if a woman raised in the Karka system felt the same friction in the air.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Lorn Reingard

Nabooian and lived on Mirater for most of his life. It wasn’t a planet she knew but the weight behind it, the emotions bleeding from the Jedi when he said its name, said a lot about its importance. A thread of nostalgia was there but so were darker emotions. Despair. Guilt. Isolation. Emotions she was far too familiar with in her own life. Adelle took a drink from her Corellian ale and decided not to ask about Mirater. If she really wanted to know about the planet, she could scour the holonet later.

"How are you finding the planet so far? Is it everything you expected?" A wry, knowing smile touched his lips.

Adelle huffed a laugh. “Call me naive but I’d hoped there’d have been less teeth hiding behind the scenery. It’s a beautiful planet and more peaceful than many, but I’m using weapons and strategies I never thought I’d have to.”

She took another drink, thinking. Naboo had its spots of rot but there were far worse in the galaxy. “Better than fething Coruscant. That veneer falls apart almost as soon as you set foot on it.”

It was too late in the day and too much had happened for her to hide the immense disdain she had for that stupid planet. Adelle set her glass carefully on the bartop, folding away the emotions Coruscant always brought up. She wanted to relax, not relive old memories.

“Was your return to Naboo recent or has it been awhile?”

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Adelle Bastiel​

A low hum of agreement came from the back of his throat. Naboo possessed a unique, polite cruelty that was often invisible to outsiders until the trap sprung.

Her blunt disdain for Coruscant coaxed a rare, genuine chuckle out of him. "Sometimes I think I prefer the thinly veiled filth of Coruscant over all this," Lorn said, a vague gesture of his hand encompassing the ornate, polished tavern. "In the lower levels, you know exactly when you are in the weeds. On Naboo, people smile right before they slide the dagger between your ribs."

Swallowing the last of his drink, he let her question about his return linger for a beat. The truth was a heavy thing, tied to a world that no longer existed and a duty he could not abandon. "It's been a while now. I wouldn't have stayed if the choice were entirely mine, but there isn't another home left for me on the star charts." A stubborn sense of obligation kept him anchored to this system, even when every instinct urged him to fly out to the deep black.

Raising two fingers to the barkeep for a fresh round, he leaned his weight against the counter and turned his focus back to the Iron Lord. The bright pulse in her Force signature was still impossible to ignore. "My turn to ask. How does someone so naturally attuned to the Light end up wearing beskar?"

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Lorn Reingard

He preferred the ‘thinly veiled filth,’ the supposed honesty of up-front cruelty. Adelle stared at the bartop before taking another drink. The problem with that sort of life is that you forgot about normal people. She had forgotten that for every self-serving nerf herder on that planet, there was someone else just trying to make it through. And that there were others that were good. Until a Caamasi beggar broke that mental cage. It was a way of thinking she didn’t want to live in again.

She nodded when Lorn spoke of not having a home beyond the current one. That was a shared reality. Dantooine, Karka, the ways she knew to those homes had been erased and changed by the Planeshift. And Corellia no longer had anyone she needed to return to.

"My turn to ask. How does someone so naturally attuned to the Light end up wearing beskar?"

“Same way a man returns to a planet for a while, I guess. Well, only a little differently. I… couldn’t stay in my Order. Left it with a couple friends. Planeshift happened while I was away and I ran out of creds in Mando space trying to find my way back to them. Mandalorians are big on adoption so it was only a matter of time.” Adelle shrugged. It didn’t make sense to many people, but the choice to stay had been made easier the longer she’d been among them. First Aether, then Ruusan, then Ca’tra. And now so many more. The absence of Na’an’s presence, of communication from either Na’an or Leigh, hurt less now than it did a couple of years ago.

“And somehow,” she said with a wry grin, lifting her glass again, “I’ve become their ambassador.”

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Adelle Bastiel​

"An ambassador, huh?" Lorn smirked, accepting the fresh drink from the barkeep. "I always heard Mandalorians didn't do politics." He could only imagine the jarring transition from living among hardened warriors to navigating a room full of preening aristocrats.

Nodding slowly, a rare flash of warmth softened his features. "It's good you found your people." He had the Order, technically, but it didn't feel like a family anymore. "In another life, I probably would've made an excellent Mandalorian. Alas, I'm too old and stuck in my ways."

A self-deprecating laugh rumbled in his chest. Survival had never been part of his long-term plan, and living past his expected expiration date left him feeling strangely rudderless in a shifting galaxy. He tapped his knuckles against the scarred wood of the bar, gesturing vaguely toward her heavy beskar. "The armor is definitely a perk, though. Cuts down on the backstabbing."

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Lorn Reingard

She huffed a laugh at the backstabbing remark. Most Mandalorians would never—the culture was too direct and there was too much emphasis on courage and handling your own problems. The only thing they prized more was survival: if direct confrontation was suicide, then you did the smart thing. Mandalorians even had an insult for the stupidly reckless: jare.

“Only if they don’t know where to strike,” she said. “But Mandalorian politics are a bit more direct.” Adelle gestured with a finger, still holding the glass. “They do have politics, it just looks different. Like, think large family dynamics.”

In spite of her larger thoughts on Mandalorian politics, his comment about finding her people had lodged in her brain. He was the second person inside the Republic to say that, specifically. Sometimes she wondered if she actually had—there were still times she felt like an outsider. She didn’t share in their history before the riots on Taris, shared none of the scars that marked the culture. But Aether believed she represented an old facet of Mandalorian culture well, and he was the gods-damned Mand’alor. Monroe seemed to think she belonged and Monroe had been the Mand'alor three fething times.

“Wait a minute, did you say you were too old? Please.” Adelle set her now empty glass on the bar, a fresh one appearing as soon as she did. “You can’t be much older than I am.”

Any thoughts about his professed inability to change or learn new things stayed locked away, and they were many. Working as a doctor and default therapist on a small farm, she’d had to stay up to date on the latest in both medical and psychological fields. And she knew that psychological or cognitive inflexibility had nothing to do with age.

If Reingard truly was stuck in his ways, that was all on him. A shame, if that really was the case. In another life, she could see being friends.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Adelle Bastiel​

Understanding dawned on him as she described the family dynamics. Mirater had operated on a similar clan system, where political gridlock was usually settled with a swift right hook rather than a filibuster, and respect followed the bruising. That raw, honest friction was exactly what he missed most since returning to Naboo. The modern Jedi Order lacked that tight-knit brotherhood, leaving him feeling like an outsider among his own peers. Belonging was a luxury he had not felt in years, and he often wondered if he was doomed to just chase the ghosts of the good old days.

"Three and a half decades in this galaxy, but I've lived enough lifetimes for a dozen men," Lorn admitted, staring down at his calloused knuckles. The mileage on his body outweighed the actual years. A lifetime of fighting and losses had left him heavily scarred, draining the spirit that seemed to fuel the Mandalorian war machine. He wondered if they kept going simply because they had each other to lean on, a stark contrast to his own solitary path.

A competitive spark flared through his weariness, cutting through the fog of the ale. "Surely you are much younger than that," he said, a more familiar warrior's grin touching his face. "But if you claim to be just as experienced, maybe we should find a ring and test our mettle. A proper spar, as you Mandalorians do." He remembered a brief, intense clash against the Mand'alor himself in the past. Testing his reflexes against one of the leader's own inner circle sounded like the perfect way to see where his own experience was against that of the galaxies premier warriors.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Lorn Reingard

Three and a half decades but enough experience for twelve. Adelle nodded and took a drink from her glass. It was a feeling she could understand. The year working for Krayt felt like an eternity and had been soul-killing. She’d been lucky enough that something had pulled her out of the pit she’d gotten herself into and got out of Coruscant’s lower levels entirely.

"Surely you are much younger than that," he said, a more familiar warrior's grin touching his face. "But if you claim to be just as experienced, maybe we should find a ring and test our mettle. A proper spar, as you Mandalorians do."

“I’ll admit you have me beat,” she said with a knowing smile, “by a couple years. But a ring for a proper spar? I'm afraid I don’t know where to find one of those. Most Mandalorians would suggest an empty patch of duracrete outside the bar, but Naboo, I think, frowns upon that kind of arrangement.”

She tapped gauntleted fingers on the bartop, racking her brain for an accessible place. The Mandalorian Embassy had two training halls: one for the Echani delegates and one for everyone else. But bringing any Jedi there, much less this one, was out of the question. Travelling to the outskirts of the city was also out. A Mandalorian leaving town with a Jedi looked… odd and that was under normal circumstances. Today had been anything but normal.

“Sorry, I’m drawing blanks it seems.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “You know any place that’s not likely to land us in trouble?”

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Adelle Bastiel​

A dry chuckle escaped him as he considered her point. "Fighting on the duracrete outside would definitely land us both in a cell by midnight. I don't think my Council or your Mand'alor would be too thrilled to bail us out." Lorn took another slow sip of his drink, picturing the absolute horror on the faces of the local Theed nobility if two heavily armed warriors started throwing hands in the middle of their pristine, manicured streets. The thought brought a faint, amused twitch to the corner of his mouth.

He ran a hand through his hair, his mind scanning the layout of the city and its surrounding countryside. Unless they wanted to trek out into the swamps or break into a private gym, Naboo offered remarkably few places for a quiet, unsanctioned beatdown. Every option that came to mind either required too much clearance or risked drawing a crowd of local authorities.

"We could always just start a bar brawl right here," Lorn suggested, deadpan as he glanced around the dimly lit room. "Save us the walk outside. Though I suppose the barkeep might object, and we'd still end up in the exact same cell."

He set his empty glass back down on the wood, the competitive itch fading back into a quiet acceptance. "Looks like we'll have to settle for a rain check. With the way the galaxy moves, one of these grand festivals between the Republic and the Mandalorians is bound to throw a competition together sooner or later." He looked over at her. "Or maybe the next time we cross paths, we'll be standing side-by-side fighting something else entirely. I'd settle for either."

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Lorn Reingard

He mentioned a bar fight and Adelle had to laugh.

“With my luck in bars, I’m surprised one hasn’t started already,” she said. As he continued on, following the cold, unfeeling logic of reality until its logical conclusion, Adelle savored her ale. It had been a while since the High Republic and the Mandalorian Empire had done anything to strengthen good relations. Maybe she should float the idea to Aether and then Sibylla. She knew from the HoloNet that Corellia was still struggling after the Galactic Empire’s invasion and occupation. Perhaps there was something there.

Although if she were to be honest, she wanted nothing more than to wipe all Imperal remnants and influence from the system.

“Festival or battle, I hope you can keep up, Master I’m-so-old,” she teased, pulling her mind back away from work. There were more pressing matters she had to deal with first, anyways. “Mandalorians wait for no one.”