Delusion

[Laira Darkhold]

Wayland​

House Vizsla, or at least those still loyal to the long time Alor gathered at the home to see the warriors who were lost at the Palace off to the Manda. Pyres for the bodies that had been recovered were prepared and bodies lay upon wood and stones. For those that could not be returned, helmets with T-Visors sat on stakes with the names or heraldry of those warriors.

Somber warriors and children stood around the funeral proceedings, tears staining the ground as wind stirred around the vale it was held in. Rows of men and women waiting to hear what their chieftain would do about these transgressions. It was all a very formal way to declare the obvious.

The Alor was expected to make a short speech at the ceremony and commit their bodies to the fire and their souls to the Manda in a few moments, and Kode sat in the far back waiting to see off his grandfather.

Kode was the son of Kahde, grandson of Rach Vizla and the only known descendent of the old fang. The Old man had been alone his whole life, never finding love beyond a few women in his early twenties that was nothing more than flings, with only one bearing him a son. Kahde died years ago on Junction leaving Kode with just the spiteful old bastard for company. Kode hated the old man, they'd always hated each other. But he was still family.

The spirits whispered to him quietly, paying their quiet respects for the loss and the louder ones suppressed by his presence while the young man watched. Fire danced in his eyes as the torches were lowered into the pyres and the Alor took to the rocks to speak.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Kode Vizla"]

Ronan was not a talker.

But somehow it felt like he had talked more in the past week than in the last decade. This was not something he could avoid or delegate though. These people were loyal to him and only to him. Not to Ra, not to Yasha.

Him.

It meant he had a responsibility to them. "Mandalore is ruled by the weak and the greedy." His voice rang across the fields and the bannermen stilled. Just the echo of his voice, the creaking of leather, the pitch crack of the fires already lit. Metal humming too and adding to the background sound. "We went to the old palace to put a stop to it."

A pause.

He watched the fires for a moment.

"We failed." Plain and simple. Just the truth and nothing more. "It expanded further than any of us had assumed."

He frowned against the heat of the pyres. Even now Ronan had a difficult time imagining anyone following that child. Why would anyone bend their knee to her? What did they see in her that he missed? No, they had lost their minds. "Grieve. Remember. Within a week we leave this place behind." Those eyes swept back to the crowds now.

"She will fall. I will make sure of that."

The thumps of their fists against chestplates, the oyas, they all accompanied his departure from the stones.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Shorter than Vizla had expected of his cousin clan, many of whom were known for pontificating about themselves and their goals at length. Kode could respect that, the accepting of responsibility and the acceptance that they would be called to fight. However Kode also suspected there was a reason he was leading the charge so to speak.

Men were ambitious by nature. Certain titles meant a the world to certain people.

Kode never cared much about titles, in honesty he cared very little for the Resol'nare and the Mandalorian way. In his experience half of Mandalore's problems originated from pettiness and pride, but one could respect a warrior-king with the right vision even if Kode didn't follow them. So far that king had not been found on Mandlore for decades. Ronan was not that going to be that king, he was destined for something else.

Nevertheless, Kode made his way through the crowd to pay his last respects to the Old Man. His armor was peculiar compared to standard or traditional Mandalorian gear, wearing light-weight brigandine and chainmail over an armor weave jumpsuit. The most striking difference was the lack of the iconic T-Visor practically everyone on Mandalore possessed. Instead his face was exposed. As he pulled through the ranks of those that were arrayed he was the one person who approached the helm that represented Rach Vizla, all the others formed around the pyres and helms of their lost ones.

"Goodbye old man. You won't be missed." Kode said with a grin, remembering a life time of cold disdain directed at him for his Force affinities and a decade of physical and emotional abuse. Rach was an old bastard set in his ways, incapable of liking anyone after his son had died. But he had been family, and that had been enough for Rach to feed the young boy, give him shelter, and defend him from those that would have done him harm. It had been enough to send him away when Ra Vizsla had begun administering his cure.

Ice blue eyes glared into the expressionless T-Visor. "Hopefully. But maybe you will be avenged." He hadn't decided to be angry with the old man's death or grateful, whether to praise the people that finished the Old Fang or hate them for the slight on the old and dying Clan. The spirits hadn't told him what to expect from this gathering or how he should react, only that it held a great importance and that many cruxes of fate rested on the gathering. As many as had rested upon Rach's shoulders when he entered the palace that day.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Kode Vizla"]

Someone else stepped up next to Kode.

The same man who had been talking only a few moments ago.

His helmet in hand now, rather than locked tight and engaged into his armor, Ronan was studying Rach's old helmet without clear expression. But his face was streaked with ash and blood, signifying the sacrifices made by their people and the promise for vengeance. "Missed? No." Ronan rumbled softly as his thumb ran a trace up and down his own helmet. Up and down, up and down. "Remembered. Paid tribute to. Held up as fearless surrounded by cowards and weakness."

"That's all a man can aspire to."

Nobody would miss him when his time would come. Tamara... she would have, if she hadn't died. But now Ronan was alone in a sea of would-be family. Blood had always meant more to him than the slippery bonds of clanhood and oaths.

So many betrayed Vizsla, betrayed him.

In favor of a little girl.

The line of his jaw was set at that thought again. "Kode Vizsla. Why are you here?"

 

[Laira Darkhold]

"Don't stroke his ego too much." Kode snickered, looking at the helm on the stake one last time as his attention turned back to the Alor. Chieftain. Warlord. Any could be applied to Ronan at this point as he began his resistance. What was the first step to slaying one bigger than yourself? "The last time the clans deified one of their own, Ra Vizsla came back from the dead."

"I am paying respects to the last of my kin." The young man smiled to himself, he might have the occasional other kin but no one had ever come forward other than his own grandmother. The irony that the honor of one family lead by one of the most prideful men fell to a disavowed and disowned bastard or a bastard.

But none of that was why Ronan was speaking to him. Clan Vizsla was splintered and speaking allies, if half of what had been said was true Munin, Shysa, and Fett would be open to talks but that wasn't enough to bring down a dynasty that was quickly replacing all the older generation with young blood rabidly loyal to the new face. In hindsight the raid on Utapau had been brilliant, removing most of the upper tier leadership and driving the rest out so that Kid Mantis was alone for the throne. Either the careful planning of a violent and patient sociopath or the blundering of a rage-filled eight year old who spent too much time in Netherworld while the rest of the galaxy grew up.

"So, what are you here for?" Kode asked as he began walking away, his tone aloof and his eyes distracted, glancing to his side on occasion and his presence suppressing further.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Kode Vizla"]

Kode was known to him.

In an abstract way.

The boy had been a forcer and while that had not been a problem for the Mandalorians before Ra's second rising, it had been a problem for Rash. Ronan had been more acceptive of it in those days. A tool was a tool, even if it was invisible and ever-consuming, but blood spoke louder than oaths. "Honoring and worship are close, but they are not equal." It should have spoken to him back then.

But it hadn't.

Here they were.

"To burn the dead, bury them." A shrug followed, because he knew that wasn't what Kode was asking. "To begin a war." It seemed easy to say. Almost as if he was talking about taking a walk down the park.

But even for Ronan it wasn't that simple.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

"Of course you are, Alor. You are a Mandalorian after all." Kode smiled, war and Mandalorians were always together hand-in-hand. The last time they had known any semblance of lasting peace was during the Four Hundred Year Darkness.

Wars with the Sith Empire and the states that rose shortly after its first fall had paved the way for the modern Mandalorians, always fighting. The One Sith, the Republic, the Silver Jedi, all while each faction of their own rose to fight one another. Constant war within and without. Always chaos.

Ronan was at least pragmatic in his ways, quiet and well-meaning. Short-spoken to a fault it seemed, a healthy and beneficial change of pace from the whispering and visions Kode experienced often when his guard was lowered. Given the rumors and stories being told about the events of the Throne Room, pragmatism was likely to wind up winning even if his opposition had more resources.

How did one kill a foe bigger than themselves? First you got it alone, then you limited its mobility, then you hit it wherever it left itself exposed. If Ronan was gathering allies then it wouldn't be long before he started taking out Kid Mantis's allies.

The young man stopped to look Ronan in the face with bright blue eyes. "But I meant, what are you doing here talking to me?"

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Kode Vizla"]

He looked away from the fires as they walked and to the young man next to him.

It was an earnest question.

Suggested things, but it only made Ronan wonder himself. The easiest answer was the one that came to mind immediately- Rash's last issue, the last connection to a past filled with bloodshed and grump. But that wasn't the truth, he hadn't ever been dreamy enough to pay much heed to that. "I was wondering if I wanted you for this war I will wage."

No.

He would not attempt to pull Fett and Shysa and the others into this thing. This was personal. This was Vizsla. But no matter how far away this boy stood from their heritage, he was Vizsla.

Forcer, too.

Brave enough to wander into Empire space as well.

It meant that if Kode wanted a part in it, that Ronan would accept him, perhaps even invite him. Whilst he wouldn't attempt to recruit outsiders, he would pull in those with their own personal stake in this thing. There was no love between Rash and this one, never had been, but the Mandalorians knew little of love. All they knew was war, of promises honored and names made.

Maybe that meant something.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

If he was going to be honest with the Alor, he was already going to fight the so called Mand'alor in some very personal fashion. Probably in a way involving her first born or husband well before the child herself. But the Alor didn't know that, and Kode didn't know if he wanted to hitch himself to the revenant of House Vizsla just to see another claim for a title which only meant something to those who followed it.

"Perhaps." Kode mused to himself, further withdrawing himself from the Force. No one here could likely tell but by now he had become a void.

"And what happens when you win? When Mantis is dead or running back to Netherworld to hide for another decade? What is in it for you other than retribution?" It was a round about way of asking a simple question. Was Ronan after the mantle of Mand'alor she claimed? Was it his goal, like so many of Clan Vizsla before him, to claim the mantle and lead the Mandalorians for the next conquest?

None of that mattered much to Kode, but he had no intention of being front and center on the dais for the next coronation battle. He had a stake in this upcoming war, bad blood is still blood. Family stands together no matter how frayed the strands between them may be.

And the chance for glory and fame weren't unattractive to the young warrior.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Kode Vizla"]

It was the first time someone asked him that.

All that surprised Ronan was that nobody had tried to do that earlier. After all, it only made sense for a Vizsla to hunt for that mythical title, to want to be the Mand'alor of all the Clans, to be able to call the Clans for one crusade. Then another. A third. A lifetime of war only ending once every world in their wake was either ashes or converted, their souls saved.

"Only retribution." Ronan said firmly as they walked. "I am not Mand'alor... material." A snort followed as he tried to imagine that. Ronan Vizsla, Mand'alor the... Ashen? All he knew how to do was wage war.

How to kill.

Destroy.

Oh, Mand'alor needed to be a great warrior, but equally important was someone with vision, who could build, who could unite. None of that was in Ronan's reach and he was comfortable with that. "Vengeance against Mantis. Rip their weakness out of our people's heart or die trying. Either a worthy Mand'alor will rise in its wake or our people move on without one." He spoke calmly of It, of his death, because it was not something that worried him any longer.

Part of him had.

When Vizsla still needed to protect someone.

But that was over.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

That answer actually pleased Kode. Self-awareness was a sorely lacking component in Mandalorians for far too long. If there was one thing Rach had taught the young man, it was that the first step to forming a plan was knowing what assets you had at your disposal and how to use them. Being aware of one's own short-comings made any man a better general than someone who did not.

If you knew your own weaknesses, you could plan and scheme so that your opponent could not properly exploit them.

"Hmm, I suppose a new one will rise eventually but better it not be one of us." Kode was a young man barely out of his teens with no deeds to his name, no better than the current claimant in standing and without the luxury of being one of the previous demagogue's favorite toys. And he had no desire to rule a people he honestly cared nothing for.

Power and strength came from one's self. One could not be truly strong while relying on another for anything.

It worked like that for individuals, for families, for the clans, and for Nations. If they relied on aid from without, they would crumble. "So, what is the first step of your plan?"

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Kode Vizla"]

Whereas the first answer might have pleased Kode, the second might not.

"Burn the dead, bury them, grieve." A shrug followed soon after. Ronan had been known for many things, but being a keen strategic talent was not one of them. This did not meant that he was incapable of it. Simply that it hadn't been necessary until now. "Ensure that those that cannot fight have a safe place out of the child and her advisors' reach." No, they would not remain on Wayland, that was out of the question. He didn't trust Yasha, didn't trust the sycophants that surrounded her. They were weak, fragile and proud of themselves.

They would not accept threats to said pride.

"Then I will start with those she leans on."

To start with.

She was a child and cutting her out would not have the desired effect. This much Ronan had realized during the events on Mandalore. The weakness had grown more and farther than he first had thought.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Simple and straightforward, but not a terrible start.

Every war needed a build up and preparation before it could be joined with fervor. The better preparations that were made, the more secure one's own influx of resources, the more likely one could strike without worry.

"You should look into Rekali's worldcraft. Stick them out anywhere resources are and put those that can't fight to work supplying those that will." He knew of a few other types of colony ship, which would be safer than building up long term bunkers. Space had the benefit of being massive, while unmapped habitable planets were few in number.

A handful of allies with the right resources and set up would be all they needed to get started. They wouldn't be the first underground movement in the galaxy.

"But once again, we misunderstand one another. What is the first step of your plan for me?"

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Kode Vizla"]

Rekali.

Only a week ago that name would have been synonymous to enemy for Vizsla. Not out of any sense of animosity or anything, much like the rebels they were forcers and fought against Ra's rule. But everything was different now and Ronan was no longer obliged to fight them.

"Possible. Maybe." But how much trust did he want to put in Rekali? They were tricky and whilst Ronan had not slaughtered his way through Dathomir... [member="Ember Rekali"] was not a natural ally.

Caution was advised there.

"You? You I will put to work. A beskad in your hand, beskar'gam on you, then see what you remember of Rach's training." A shrug. If Kode wanted it anyway. This was his fight and he wouldn't force people to fight it with him.

"Go, get to know your family. We will talk more tomorrow."

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Kode had little to his name and being that he did not carry, but a few things here and there could be gathered up for a mission. "Very well, Alor Vizsla." Kode answered, turning his attention back to the wood line. Vizsla ships hunkered in nearby clearings and in underground air bases around the Clan's holdings.

His own ship didn't exist. Vizla was not known for his skill with a fighter, mostly because the Fang had not given him one since being exiled, but he was a skilled pilot and a vicious warrior. Once alone in the trees, the Force flooded back into the young man almost instantly dragging him backwards through the flow of time.

Battle surrounded him, above ships took to each other like strill fighting for dominance. Forces engaged one another all over the battlefield. The Dominion, which had stood for a time and almost laid claim to Mandalore and its traditional holdings once long ago. Instead the Mandalorians had for a short few hours put aside their differences in their time of need and rallied together to defend themselves.

"Watch." The spirit said, gesturing out to the battlefield. These were mostly Vizsla warriors, but among them Shysa and Vereen forces backed them in small numbers, spatterings of other clans helping defend Wayland from the foreign invaders. Above, Rach Vizsla engaged the fleet of Dominion ships at the head of a Star Destroyer in low orbit, droid pirates coming to his aid.

What was the lesson this vision brought him? Bright blue eyes fell upon the specter alongside him, "Only in chaos comes unity." The being was of some gaunt vaguely humanoid figure, one of a handful that plagued his dreams and whispered into his ears if he did not suppress himself. They guided him on occasion, giving him hours of peace and minutes of exasperation.

"In unity, comes weakness." The spirit muttered, time shifting around the anchor Kode represented. After defeating the Dominion, the clans broke apart and their leaders disappeared, splintering once more and the culture became weak once more. Disjointed.

It was their unity that allowed a demagogue like Ra, as prolific and powerful as he had been, to gain control and tear out his dissenters. He aimed and tore out the strong that could oppose him, leaving behind a shell he could use to his own ends.

And when he was gone, he left only a young girl behind. Only a young girl. She brought unity as well, further removing by accident or by design any that threatened the throne she wanted. And they became weaker and weaker.

"Those that are strong, are strongest alone." The spirit became angered, turning upon him and roaring. "STRENGTH IS ALL THERE IS!"

Kode smiled, unfazed by this point in his life by the sudden mood shifts of his haunters. "The strong are at their weakest on the throne." Everything flooded back the present the dim light of the rising sun peering over the jungles.

[member="Ronan Vizsla"]

 

[Ronan Vizsla]

[member="Kode Vizla"]

It was the following morning and Kode had been asked to join the Alor of House Vizsla at the barracks.

He'd find him there.

Alone.

Sharpening the edge of his beskad with his helmet resting on the ground. Even when Kode entered Ronan wouldn't look up, instead preferring the coarse rasp of the blade against the whetstone. It went on and on, each pull and push making the edge sharper while taking away the weakness. The brittle points. The flakes of beskar old and worn away. It spoke to him, because it was a parallel to his aim with Mandalore.

"Kode." He gestured towards the bench next to him with the tip of the beskad. "Our people leave today. You are free to join us."