Private Regicide

[Zark San Tekka]

ONDERON
Jenn Kryze Atin Tracinya

​

A lone T-6 shuttle launched from the Starhawk drifting in high orbit. Twin X-Wings fell into formation as the transport plummeted like a shooting star through Onderon's atmosphere. Her fighter escort broke off into steep climbs while the Jedi craft plunged ahead through black smoke from the capital's burning Sky Bridge. Vertical wings rotated ninety degrees into their landing position as she touched down outside a crumbled palace.

Landing jets covered the entry ramp in smoke from which emerged a faceless Jedi. Somewhat concealed beneath their white cloak gleamed a duraplast chest plate and gauntlets. Electrum filigree covered Master Zark San Tekka's ivory death mask in abstract designs. He surveyed the damage to Iziz caused by a raid of mandalorian fanatics before activating his handheld comlink.

"Mandalorian, I require your aid."

Somewhere out there the young mando he'd first met in battle still lived. Master Zark trusted in a bond old enough that he would sense if Atin had fallen. Perhaps had the Alliance reinforcements he symbolized arrived sooner then this world's royal line might too be spared. The queen was dead. Starbird flags waved in triumph over Iziz but the people were still in shock and mourning.

"I seek parley with the rally master of those clans who fought to defend the throne."

Council diplomacy was the Grandmaster's duty or her Shield but Master Valery was still investigating the neo-crusader presence in lunar orbit and sometimes he believed it was necessary to violate certain precepts of the Code when confronting mandalorians. They were a blunt people who nearly always favored the most direct approach. He'd learned this much at least from his time studying Atin to learn more about their culture.

 

[Atin Tracinya]

Smoke still billowed high into the air. Whatever surface that Minerva's napalm had touched was scorched black and still hot to the touch, if it hadn't melted away completely. Whatever men and woman had been caught in that blast had been reduced to little more than ash, blow away by the hot air as it rose. Morbidly, Atin thought it might've been them that fluttered down to cover his armor now as he did his best to help clear the rubble for vehicles bearing supplies for the wounded and food and sustenance for everyone else.

The screech of X-fighters flying by overhead drew Atin's eyes upwards, just in time for the man to watch a shuttle land outside the palace, some distance away. A vague flicker of recognition echoed like a distant bell in the back of Atin's mind, though the Mandalorian could not identify why. Turning back to his work, he hefted another large stone and began to move it to the side of the road when a familiar voice came through his helmet's comm-system. Master San Tekka.

There was a brief pause as Atin set down the stone before he responded. "You seek Jenn Kryze, the alor of House Kryze." A grunt came through the line as he pushed the stone further out of the road. "I will bring her to the palace," Atin then said, a slight pant in his voice before closing the comm-line. The Mandalorian took a brief moment to tell Anna he had something to attend to before his jetpack took him into the air.

---
​

It didn't take too long for Atin to figure out where the alor was. Tending to the wounded, just as he'd expected. He took no pleasure in depriving her from those who needed her now, but for Master San Tekka to arrive personally with the alor. It was important, and could not be ignored. "Alor," he greeted her, landing before her and bowing his head. "A Jetii sorcerer has come to speak to you," the man said. "Master Zark San Tekka. He sits the Council." Atin turned and pointed towards the palace. "He waits for you at the palace entrance. I'd accompany you, if you'd allow it."

Zark San Tekka | Jenn Kryze

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Iziz - Palace Steps
| Objective | To meet a Jetii

The air was filled with smoke and blood.​

​

The palace was left a smoking ruin, and so too had the rest of Iziz been ravaged by the spite and hatred of the Neo-Crusaders. Death hung heavily in the air, the fighting too fresh for the bodies to have been cleared out; the dead remained lying where they had fallen, and what little medical personnel remained were far too busy with the task of triage to order the bodies to be taken away. Aggrieved civilians cried out in anguish when they found their loved ones crushed under the rubble, whilst the sad remnants of the royal guard turned their eyes to the uncaring sky, damning themselves for their failure. ​

​

The Queen was dead. ​

​

In time, shame would sink its claws within Jenn's psyche. For now, the Alor buried herself in her work, commanding the House's efforts from a hastily assembled command post doubling as a triage center within the heart of the city. It would take many days before she could allow herself to return to the Clangrounds in the Highlands; for now, she was needed, and she rose up to the task with the same devotion as ever. ​

​

"Air activity detected, Duchess!" reported one of the last few royal guards hastily, carrying a datapad in his hands. The Mandalorian all but snatched it out of his hands, looking over the report in silence. Usually calm and composed, the circumstances she found herself in made it difficult for her to hold back a snarl. Had the Alliance reinforcements come earlier... then her House would still be combat effective. Holding back the Crusader scum had cost them dearly, leaving her with the same frustration she experienced after Echnos. What good was the Galactic Alliance, if her people were only ever used as meat shields?​

​

"Allied forces", answered the woman curtly as she all but shoved the datapad back in the man's hands. Just as she went to turn back and face the holo-projector detailing the city and the myriad matters demanding her attention, the unmistakable roar of a jetpack brought her attention to... one of her warriors. From what the initial reports had told her, Atin Tracinya and Anna Carden had proven themselves worthy of her trust, halting the advance of the dar'manda with fire and blood. There would be a need to reward them for such mighty deeds, and soon.​

​

For now, she would spare the young warrior with her time, increasingly agitated as she was by the interruptions disrupting her work. The mention of a Jetii asking for her made her blood boil, if for but a moment; entertaining the company of another pompous sage in a time like this would sorely test her patience. Although she personally maintained excellent relations with many among the Order, Jenn's was hardly in an agreeable mood at the moment. All the same, she proved herself worthy of her station, burying resentment and frustration beneath the weight of her duty. ​

​

"I shall allow it", answered the Duchess firmly, ere turning towards one of the Nite Owls nearby. "Karrys! You have command of the camp until my return."​

​

"What of the Neo-Crusaders left behind?"​

​

"Give them a chance to throw down their arms and surrender. If they do not, kill these treasonous dogs!"​

​

With such an imperious command, she activated her jetpack, soaring through the air with otherworldly grace. Although she yearned to let go of her burden and enjoy the simple, yet powerful feeling of liberty that came with senaar'sen, her helm turned downwards, observing the damage done to the city. First, the Dark Empire; now, the Neo-Crusaders. If another tragedy struck, the city may very well be destroyed.​

​

Setting down by the palace entrance, the Mandalorian brought her closed fist against her breastplate and over her heart, facing the Jedi as she did so. A warrior's salute; respectful, yet firm. ​

​

"Su cuy'gar, Master Jedi. I am Jenn, Alor of Aliit Kryze, Duchess of the New Mandalorians, and Knight-Commander of Onderon. What business have you with me?"​

​

Atin Tracinya Zark San Tekka ​

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Jenn Kryze Atin Tracinya

​

Master Zark kneeled before the ruined temple in solemn meditation. Beskar clad warriors descended on wings of fire and only when the mandalorians approached did he stand and turn around. He returned the rally master's salute with a formal bow but did not remove his death mask. Unblinking black slits gazed back giving an impression of something more machine than man.

"Glory to your clan, Duchess Jenn."

His voice echoed within the mask, distorting its sound not unlike a mandalorian or armored shock trooper.

"I am Zark of the San Tekka clan. Gatemaster of the Jedi Temple Guard. Your bondsman can verify my claim as a warrior."

He pointed at the younger mandalorian with a gloved hand.

"Seldom am I summoned beyond the galactic core until this new age of strife. Onderon's queen has been assassinated in her own palace. My business here is justice."

Something ineffable about the masked Jedi's scrutiny grew more intense. Atin in particular could feel a change in atmosphere as the Force moved around them. Phantom echoes of the battle murmured on the edge of conscious awareness.

"I sense the duchess was present during the attack. Can you identify the killer's clan?"

 

[Atin Tracinya]

With a nod and the alor's confirmation, the pair took to the skies, leaving behind a death-order for those who'd killed their own, their kinsman, and murdered the innocent of the city. Atin felt only cold indifference to their fates. Mandalorians were not the kind to surrender, after all.

The blaster fire was silenced his high up though. His helmet filtered out the howl of the wind as he and the alor made towards the temple. The smoking ruins looked different up here. Distant, like they were no longer Atin's concern. They might have been a planet away, were it not for the fact that the man had walked these streets, could recognize the fruit stand that lay shattered and splintered, or the blown out wall where an artist's mural once decorated it.

They lived in the Highlands, but Onderon was still their home.

They landed before the palace entrance, and gave their salute. Atin accompanied his with a small nod of acknowledgement as he took a place between the two parties. Owing a debt to the jetii, but still a Mandalorian, it had left the man caught between two worlds. And though a place with House Kryze, had been a nudge in the right direction, working alongside his people in the name of the Jedi and the Alliance, Atin could not stand beside either. He'd given up cursing his fate at least.

"I am Zark of the San Tekka clan. Gatemaster of the Jedi Temple Guard. Your bondsman can verify my claim as a warrior," the jetii introduced himself, gesturing towards Atin, who nodded and said to the alor: "He is a strong and skilled warrior. And a wise leader." High praise, given Atin's general disposition towards every Jedi.

The mask was new though. The last time Atin had seen the jetii the mask had not been present. And though he did not stare, the sense of unease began to grow around him. Haunted and- no. It was not the mask. Atin was not so easily intimidated. Something else?

Jenn Kryze Zark San Tekka

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Onderon - Palace steps
| Objective | To greet a Jedi

Jenn marked a pause when Atin introduced the Master Jedi to her, asserting his quality as a warrior. The Jetiise ever prided themselves on their station as peacekeepers, rejecting the mantle of a warrior - and, in doing so, earning themselves the ire of the Mando'ade. Although Jenn paid lip service to the virtues found in the Light, she retained a certain disdain for those who refused to make themselves warriors of a righteous cause... but if her kinsman's word was to be believed, then the masked figure may very well just be different. A welcome change of pace, at any rate; although a staunch supporter and friend of the Jedi, there would always remain a cultural rift between them. ​

​

"I was engaged in battle when the foe struck Her Majesty, rest her righteous soul. Many of my Nite Owls were present at the time, however, though rendered unable to assist as a result of the palace coming down; it is through careful reviewing of their visor footage that the culprit was identified. The honorless cur you seek answers to the name of Sig, Alor of Clan Dryggo - none other than the Queen's own nephew. My eyes and ears among the Crusaders tell me that he is something of a firebrand, even for their like."​

​

In truth, Jenn had little time to devote to the pursuit of justice, nor vengeance. Not when her people required her guidance, and the world she had come to regard as her own found itself so brutally wounded for the second time in recent history. Such was her lot as a leader; to devote her efforts to the betterment of the blades and helmets under her command, even though it sometimes cost her. ​

​

The death of her liege was no error, but a colossal mistake on her part. Had she simple snapped Yuri Maji 's neck with but a flick of her hand and moved on to another foe, perhaps her attention would have been drawn to the monarch in time... and her duty fulfilled. Shame dragged its hooks within her mind with every passing hour, and with it, darker emotions followed. ​

​

How typical of the Alliance, to arrive in force after Mandalorian lives were sacrificed in the defense of goodness. Letting them die, just as they had done on Echnos.​

​

Why should a wolf concern itself with the bleating of sheep? They called her Evar'alor; was she not a lion?​

​

Anger gave her power in battle, but so too could it be used against her, as Darth Carnifex had proved in their clash. To move beyond the storm gathering over her thoughts demanded more strength than she could muster at times, and that failure could only drag her House down with her into the depths. Threatening to lose themselves again. And yet...​

​

She loathed the alternative. ​

​

Atin Tracinya Zark San Tekka ​

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Jenn Kryze Atin Tracinya

​

Master Zark absorbed the clan chieftain's tale in silence. A single nod when she named the culprit at last broke his motionless spell. Eyes haunted by a lifetime of campaigns shone at each mandalorian visible only as twin points of faint light. Something else lurked behind the control. Something dangerous.

"It is a foul deed to spill your own bloodline. Clan Dryggo will bear this shame for generations."

His faceless death mask shifted between Jenn and the young warrior at her side.

"Atin has taught me a little of your people's ways and in return I have enlightened him of the darkside's perils. If you accept his deeds here in my name, I will absolve the life debt he once swore to me and restore his honor."

In truth Atin was already free as a Jedi Master had no need for an indentured servant. Through Atin he'd learned about mandalorian oaths and their power. It did not matter that Zark refused to command him. All that mattered was the oath sworn and the consequences for breaking it.

"You have contacts among the Crusaders," the mask's echo left it unclear whether that was a question or accusation, "Their movement seems to gain strength. Every attempt the Jedi make at diplomacy is taken as an insult or worse direct challenge. The Council fears they will give us only two options, surrender or victory. Can you see another path, duchess?"

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Onderon - Palace Steps
| Objective | The truth is but the purest of blades

Master San Tekka, she decided, was more than merely a fellow warrior. Many were the aruetiise who called her people's cultural ties to their obfuscating helms an example of cowardice, but this Jedi... he lived as they did. Not merely a mask to wear, but to become. A truer visage than what lay beneath. Difficult to read in body language as well as in the Force, though she largely blamed the latter on her lack of formal training.​

​

"Yours is a generous proposition, Master Jedi", came the Alor's polite, if prudent response, ere shifting her visored gaze towards the courageous young warrior once more. "Atin fought valiantly against those who were once his - our - kindred. Looked death in the face, and did not flinch. I thank you for the tutelage you brought him, and I accept your proposition."​

​

Then, the point of her eyes and ears among the Crusade was raised. An inevitability, in truth, for she hardly expected such a nugget of information to slip past the Jedi's attention. Their kind had ever been a focused lot, and, though not infallible, few things seemed to slip past their attention. The question laid before her, however... made her stop like nothing else in the Galaxy. In what felt like another lifetime, she had been ready to fight and die for the Mandalorian Enclave, no matter how uncomfortable the actions of her vode made her, convinced as she was of the solemn duty imparted upon each and every Mandalorian; to always side with their people, no matter the circumstances. For what were the Mandalorian people, but a large family of families? What manner of soulless betrayer would she be, to side against them?​

​

Even now, echoes of that sentiment remained within her soul. Although she had eventually found the courage within her to leave the Enclave behind as it descended into petty banditry and raiding, fighting against her own people remained a difficult proposition at times... to say nothing of how she felt when she looked to her allies. Had she been wrong all along? Did she not stand alongside the Jedi, ancient enemy of her people, who may very well just betray her and her House once their usefulness came to an end, or leave the Senate to do it for them? What would her ancestors think, if they saw her like this, fraternizing with the ancient foe, and giving them the resolve to crush her own siblings, lost as they were?​

​

Many were her doubts, though she always seemed to keep them hidden, out of sight. If she was to lead House Kryze along the path of redemption, then she would need to be stronger than beskar itself; if she faltered, then the light she carried aloft may be lost, and her people scattered once more. All tension bled from her form, then, as she armed herself with the spear of verity, as she had so many times before, and hoped that the heartfelt honesty of her words would convince the masked Jedi standing before her. ​

​

"No. The Crusaders will never stop their war of conquest. Not until you break them, as your ancestors did at the battle of Malachor V."​

​

Atin Tracinya Zark San Tekka ​

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Jenn Kryze Atin Tracinya

​

Waning sunlight reflected off the Jedi Master's death mask. His own breaths echoed loudly within. It drowned out every other physical sensation so that Zark was free to concentrate on his connection to the Force. He could feel Kryze's annoyance keenly as the sensory deprivation helmet thwarted her amateur gifts.

"Our triumph on Malachor V came at a terrible cost."

Something almost like emotion bled through the mechanical voice. Zark's head tilted up toward the firmament as if silently entreating ancient gods. More Alliance ships descended towards the burning capital like falling stars.

"There are those on the Council who scorn your traditions. They see only primitive barbarians who pray at the altar of violence."

Master San Tekka shook his head, "Mandalorians worship challenge. I cannot judge these crusaders harshly for seeking to test themselves against sorcerers when the old legends proclaim we cannot be killed. It is almost...flattering."

"Advise me then, Duchess. Conflict with Mandalore is inevitable. Is there some way to limit the suffering? Even a fanatic must have some twisted notion of honor."

He knew it was a faint hope. Kryze might have been more enlightened than most, but she was still mandalorian and that meant every problem was a nail waiting for her beskar hammer.

 

[Atin Tracinya]

Atin had been on the Skybridge, alongside Anna, Minerva, and countless other Mandalorian he did not know. Countless others who died or were wounded at the hands of the Crusaders. Kin. He had heard of the Queen's death but it was not until now that he'd learned that it was the Queen's own flesh and blood that had ended her life. It seemed today was a day to spill the blood of brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters.

It was a dark day for all Mandalorians, regardless of what they called themselves.

The melancholy of all that was lost, however, did not deter Atin from standing a little straighter, head held a little higher as he first heard Master San Tekka's words. Hidden behind his helmet, none could perceive the way his eyes narrowed intensely, boring into both the jetii and the alor. He waited with bated breath, his chest gone still.

And then it was done. He was free. His allegiance his own to give.

He gave what was warranted for now to Master San Tekka, a brief nod, but in his heart, though his life-debt was fulfilled, another debt took its place. One Atin was glad to bear. One of gratitude.

The two began to discuss a way of bringing the war to an end. To prevent more blood from being spilled. But the duchess only echoed Atin's own thought. The only way to defeat the Crusaders, or any Mandalorian, was to break them. To beat them so badly they could not recover. Exterminate them, if necessary.

Ironic, was it now?

Jenn Kryze Zark San Tekka

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Onderon - Palace Steps
| Objective | The Duchess' Wisdom

"There can be no victory without sacrifice, Master Jedi. We Mandalorians know this better than anyone."​

​

The Jedi had been strong, then. Through the victory they earned at Malachor V, the Mandalorian people as a whole had been shattered, their resolve broken. Each and every attempt to return to the supposed glory they achieved under Mandalore the Ultimate, unequalled even to this day... was more pitiful than the last. Centuries passed before they could pretend at greatness once more, and even then, the shadow of the past loomed over them, a memory they chased endlessly. The Neo-Crusaders could bark and scream and kill all they liked, they would never be the Galaxy-defining conquerors their forefathers were.​

​

They were dogs who thought themselves wolves. ​

​

"I know just of who you speak", answered the Alor curtly. She had met a fair few members of the Council by now; Master San Tekka was among the last acquaintance for her to make. "You can tell your peers to look at reality, for a change, instead of fanciful delusions held by pompous mystics. Mandalorian blood was shed in the defense of your temple during the Siege of Coruscant; if they cannot find in this a mark of their prejudiced outlook being erroneous, then perhaps I am wasting my time trying to bury the hatchet with your Order."​

​

Harsh, perhaps, though not entirely unfair. Just as the Sentinel of Harmony retained her distrust for her lover's culture, so too did the Duchess of the New Mandalorians look upon the warrior-sages with respect and wariness in equal measure. They were just as quick to prove themselves to her as they were to frustrate her to no end... and, for all of the wisdom held by the man before her, he seemed blind to the truth, just as they were. ​

​

"Honor?" questioned the ruler with a derisive snort. "They would certainly like to believe themselves capable of such, yes. Tell me, Master San Tekka; what honor do slavers and murderers truly possess? For that is precisely what the Neo-Crusaders are. They take whatever they please and burn what they cannot have - you need but look around you. You wish to limit the suffering? To prevent more children being orphaned, more lovers widowed, more families broken? Then join your forces to mine, and do not relent in your assault until the Crusader scum are smashed, their resolve broken and their survivors scattered to the four winds. Then, and only then, can there be peace. Leave these would-be wolves alive, and your flock will never be safe."​

​

Giving an upnod in Atin's direction, she brought a hand to rest against his shoulder, her visor turned to face him more properly.​

​

"Warriors who temper their strength with compassion are the future of our people. Warriors like Atin Tracinya, who faced what I am sure must have felt like his end on that bridge, for no other reason than the defense of our home, and the many people who look up to us as their protectors. That is honor."​

​

Atin Tracinya Zark San Tekka ​

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Jenn Kryze Atin Tracinya

​

"Would that it were so simple."

Master San Tekka at last broke his intense gaze with the duchess to look up at emerging stars. His faceless mask beheld the firmament while the Jedi Master underneath weighed the fate of billions of lives that each point of light represented. Even with spiritual guidance it was a heavy burden. Yet he did not flinch away from the dying of the light.

"I will bring your warning to the Council and use my influence to spread word of your deeds here, but we are as bound by our Code as you are by honor. It is not within the Jedi's authority to muster the forces necessary to strike back at Mandalore. Chancellor Organa is a wise man, yet this is not the only crisis he inherits."

Something in the atmosphere changed. Zark turned back toward the mandalorians and when he spoke again Atin could no longer understand what the Jedi said. The words felt too distorted as if his mask were malfunctioning.

"War against the Sith in the outer rim goes badly," Kryze found him just as comprehensible as ever, "Worse than is yet widely known. Only our enemies' mistrust of each other prevents a third hyperspace war. My Order has been able to manipulate this schism among the Dark Lords and provoke infighting within their ranks, but I fear the Alliance lacks enough resolve for another bloody campaign."

Whatever mental trick San Tekka employed to conceal such sensitive information faded like an echo.

"Onderon must not fall," his mask shifted between both of them, "I trust Atin will not fail in this duty, and he trusts you. I'm not asking you to forget your dead. Together we can vanquish our common enemy and restore honor to Mandalore."

 

[Atin Tracinya]

There was little for Atin to contribute by way of words. The greater matters of the galaxy were best left to the strategists and leaders, men and women like the two before him now. Wise masters, respected leaders. And he'd learned much from both. He'd learned to embrace his heritage through a different lens, how to weigh his own values against those of his people.

As the alor turned towards Atin and put her hand on his shoulder, Atin reached up and lifted his helmet, a quiet hiss cutting through the air as the seal broke. Sweat slicked, and battle-worn he nodded his appreciation to both the leaders in thanks for their faith in him. "I won't let you down, Master San Tekka," he affirmed, and then to the alor as well: "Or you."

The man paused for a moment, as if unsure if he had a place to speak. But then his jaw slackened slightly. "The galaxy needs the Republic and you jetii, as much as Onderon needs us now," the Atin said. "I do not know your Code well, but I now know jetii well enough to know you seek to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Perhaps...looking at the Code by another lens, as you taught me to look at Mandalorian honor, may provide inspiration in convincing your Council."

Jenn Kryze Zark San Tekka