K I N G
HOUSE VERD ESTATE, MANDALORE
The fortress of House Verd breathed with the hum of power and purpose, each corridor alive with the rhythm of Mandalore itself. Within those walls, Aether Verd had become accustomed to the steady thrum of systems operating as they should, a quiet symphony that allowed him to focus on leading his people. It was why the silence where sound should have been caught his attention with such certainty.
The shield generator that protected the estate’s landing pads had gone dark. A simple fault, but one that threatened to become something far worse if left unattended. The forecast for the coming cycle promised a storm that would scour the plains, a rolling wave of dust and sand that would bury the landing platforms beneath a suffocating blanket if the shield remained inoperable. It would not bring down the fortress, but it would cost time, effort, and credits to clear away the damage once the skies settled again.
The easy choice would have been to issue a command to the Great Heathen Army’s engineers. They could have resolved the matter swiftly, and none would have questioned the wisdom in ensuring the fortress remained clear and operational. Yet Aether knew the difference between necessity and convenience, between duty and indulgence. This was not a matter for the Mandalorian Empire, nor was it a matter for the Great Heathen Army. This was a matter for House Verd, and so House Verd would resolve it.
It was for this reason that a single comm had been sent, its contents direct and its tone respectful, addressed to a name that had crossed his desk more than once in the quiet hours when he read the reports of those who kept Mandalore alive in the shadows. Kayte Toss, mechanic and hauler, a woman whose reputation was as steady as the work she completed. She was not a warrior of renown, nor did she claim to be, but she was reliable, and in the eyes of Aether Verd, there were few qualities more Mandalorian than that.
He waited on the landing pad as the sun dipped toward the horizon, its rays painting the durasteel and beskar structures in hues of gold and red. The fortress behind him stood strong, a testament to the legacy of his family and the promise of Mandalore’s future, but in this moment, he was not Mand’alor awaiting the arrival of one of his subjects. He was a Alor of House Verd awaiting the arrival of a woman who had been called not to serve an empire, but to help a family in need of her skills.
The shield generator would be repaired, the storm would pass, and the fortress would endure. That was the way of things. Yet for now, Aether Verd stood beneath the open sky, prepared to meet Kayte Toss not with the weight of command, but with the quiet respect due to those who showed up when it mattered most.
The shield generator that protected the estate’s landing pads had gone dark. A simple fault, but one that threatened to become something far worse if left unattended. The forecast for the coming cycle promised a storm that would scour the plains, a rolling wave of dust and sand that would bury the landing platforms beneath a suffocating blanket if the shield remained inoperable. It would not bring down the fortress, but it would cost time, effort, and credits to clear away the damage once the skies settled again.
The easy choice would have been to issue a command to the Great Heathen Army’s engineers. They could have resolved the matter swiftly, and none would have questioned the wisdom in ensuring the fortress remained clear and operational. Yet Aether knew the difference between necessity and convenience, between duty and indulgence. This was not a matter for the Mandalorian Empire, nor was it a matter for the Great Heathen Army. This was a matter for House Verd, and so House Verd would resolve it.
It was for this reason that a single comm had been sent, its contents direct and its tone respectful, addressed to a name that had crossed his desk more than once in the quiet hours when he read the reports of those who kept Mandalore alive in the shadows. Kayte Toss, mechanic and hauler, a woman whose reputation was as steady as the work she completed. She was not a warrior of renown, nor did she claim to be, but she was reliable, and in the eyes of Aether Verd, there were few qualities more Mandalorian than that.
He waited on the landing pad as the sun dipped toward the horizon, its rays painting the durasteel and beskar structures in hues of gold and red. The fortress behind him stood strong, a testament to the legacy of his family and the promise of Mandalore’s future, but in this moment, he was not Mand’alor awaiting the arrival of one of his subjects. He was a Alor of House Verd awaiting the arrival of a woman who had been called not to serve an empire, but to help a family in need of her skills.
The shield generator would be repaired, the storm would pass, and the fortress would endure. That was the way of things. Yet for now, Aether Verd stood beneath the open sky, prepared to meet Kayte Toss not with the weight of command, but with the quiet respect due to those who showed up when it mattered most.
