Private Sword & Iron

[Valery Noble]

Mandalore

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers
Shuttle: Shuttle link

The stars above Mandalore shimmered as Valery's shuttle dropped from hyperspace, the sleek frame of the Skywalker-class gliding forward on silent repulsors. Its hull gleamed beneath the system's sun — polished chrome and matte black designed less for stealth and more for simple transport. The shuttle's cockpit canopy offered a panoramic view of the world below: scorched reds, iron-clad greys, and the metallic sprawl of reconstructed cities reaching out like the fingers of a wounded titan trying to rise again. Mandalore was scarred, yes — but never broken. And Valery knew better than most what kind of strength it took to hold a place like this together.

She leaned forward slightly in her seat, eyes narrowed, expression unreadable as the planetary details filled her vision. Even now, the sight stirred something deep in her — memories that lingered like smoke. Battles fought. Oaths exchanged. Friendships lost and salvaged in the fire. Mandalorians had never been easy to deal with. But they were honest, in their own way. Loyal. And for a time, she had walked beside them as an ally. Even as a friend.

Then the Crusades came.

Her jaw tightened slightly at the thought. The scars those days left hadn't all been physical. She'd taken up arms against people she once shared the battlefield with — not for politics, not for vengeance, but because she'd had no choice. They forced her hand. But this wasn't about that anymore. This was about what came next, and she was hopeful.

A soft chime echoed through the cockpit — Mandalorian traffic control pinging her for identification. She transmitted the codes provided by the New Jedi Order and the Alliance delegation that would follow. She was just the vanguard — the Jedi emissary arriving ahead of diplomats and envoys. But her presence would speak volumes all the same. Valery keyed in the descent vector herself, fingers dancing across the console with familiar ease. As the shuttle angled downward, cutting through Mandalore's upper atmosphere, she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Let's see if there's still a bridge to rebuild," she murmured to herself.

Aether Verd ​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

COURT OF IRON, MANDALORE

The landing platform shimmered with heat as Valery's shuttle touched down, its sleek hull kissed by the scorched winds of Sundari. Above, the faint haze of a recovering atmosphere gave the sky a burnt-gold tint — as if even the heavens remembered fire.

Awaiting her were Supercommandos. Armor of black and crimson, helms polished and proud, they stood in perfect formation. When she stepped from the shuttle, they moved without a word, guiding her with deliberate pace toward the heart of Mandalore’s reclaimed capital.

Through winding corridors of alloy and stone, they led her — until at last the path opened wide into the Court of Iron.

It was not just a throne room. It was a reliquary of purpose.

Statues loomed tall and unblinking along either side of the entry hall, silent sentinels carved from stone and shadow. Mand’alor the Great. The Preserver. The Reclaimer. Some faces noble, some fearsome, others forgotten by all but stone — each one a Mand’alor who had, in their own way, dared to unite their people. No judgment adorned their likenesses. Only remembrance.

And then — the throne.

Forged of black iron and scorched durasteel, its frame twisted upward like the ribs of a great beast. Seated there, flanked by Supercommandos bearing spears of pure beskar, was Aether Verd — Mand’alor the Iron.

His armor gleamed a deep crimson, edged in the black of night. The T-shaped visor of his helm mirrored firelight, unreadable. Around him, silence reigned — not absence of sound, but the weight of expectation.

When Valery entered, he rendered a nod of acknowledgment. But in this place, from this man, it was no small gesture.

“Grandmaster Valery Noble,” came his voice, filtered through the helm’s vocoder, yet no less resonant. “Welcome to Mandalore.”​

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

Mandalore

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers
Shuttle: Shuttle link

The Court of Iron was colder than she remembered.

Valery walked with purpose, the sound of her boots a low echo over the obsidian floor, her black jumpsuit catching the gleam of firelight and steel in all the right places. Behind her, the last hiss of her shuttle's descent ramp still lingered in the air, a fading breath of heat and engines.

The Supercommandos had led her through Mandalore's rebuilt heart in total silence — not unkind, not hostile, just efficient. Like the world they served. Like the man she was about to meet.

As the chamber opened before her, she paused. Her gaze lifted to the throne at the far end, where Aether Verd sat encased in crimson and black, the latest soul to carry the weight of Mand'alor. The title wasn't just ceremonial — it was legacy made armor. And the pressure that came with it was something she understood all too well.

Still, Valery didn't falter.

She took a few steps forward, every line of her posture straight, confident. Her toned form moved with the grace of a warrior, the surety of a woman who had walked through war and still stood tall. Then, casually but with deliberate poise, she raised a gloved hand and ran it back through her tousled brown hair, smoothing strands loosened by the flight. A subtle gesture — one born of presence, not vanity.

When she came to a stop before him, she placed one hand over her heart and dipped her head in a sign of formal greeting. Not subservience — but respect. The kind earned, not demanded.

"It's an honor to meet you, Mand'alor."

Her voice was steady and rich, resonating beneath the stone archways around them. And when her eyes lifted to meet the T-shaped visor, there was no fear.

Only fire.

"And I'm grateful that you accepted my request to meet ahead of the Alliance delegation."

Aether Verd​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

MANDALORE

She did not wear the trappings of myth.

No brown, flowing robes. No air of distant serenity that so many Jedi seemed to drape themselves in like cloaks of detachment.

Instead — fire. Purpose. Control.

Aether watched as Valery moved through the Court with the bearing of a warrior, not a diplomat. Her steps were measured, her form composed. There was nothing uncertain in her gait, nothing meek in her voice. And when she raised her hand in respect — not submission — something in him shifted.

He had expected calm. He had prepared for careful, patient Jedi rhetoric. But this? This was someone who could lead.

Much akin the Grandmaster of Naboo’s Order.

Two Orders. Two lights in the dark — both expanding, both rising. The Shiraya grew their influence across the Mid Rim. The Alliance pushed ever outward through the Unknown Regions and beyond. And here stood one of the souls at the helm of that forward surge.

There is might behind their Light. What does that mean for Mandalore?

Aether shifted upon the throne, his helm tilting slightly.

“Then the honor is mutual,” he said simply, voice even beneath the helm’s vocoder. “The Court of Iron is open to all who would speak with Mandalore. It is our high goal to understand — and be understood.”

He rose slowly, the spears of the Supercommandos beside him angling but not lowering. Not yet. His voice carried with clarity, but never volume.

“And what of you, Grandmaster?” A pause. “In a perfect world, what would you see come of this meeting between the Alliance and Mandalore?”

His tone was not accusatory. It was curious. Measured.

Hopeful.​

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

Mandalore

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers
Shuttle: Shuttle link

Valery held his gaze — or rather, the unyielding black of the visor that masked it — as Aether rose from the throne. The spears shifted at his sides, but she didn't flinch. This room had once been a place of fear for many. For her, it was one of reckoning. She watched him move. Slow and measured. Not with arrogance, but with the kind of gravity that only came from hard-won authority. Strength tempered by restraint. The kind of leader Mandalore hadn't seen in a long time.

The kind of leader who might just hold this world together.

She didn't say that aloud — not yet. But the thought stirred quietly behind her amber eyes. When he asked his question, her smile came slowly. It was subtle, tilted at one corner, and carried just the faintest edge of something more. Admiration, perhaps. A spark of warmth in a room built of iron.

"In a perfect world?" she echoed, letting the words linger as she stepped forward a pace, careful but unafraid. "I'd see what was lost begin to mend." Her hand dropped from her heart, now resting at her side, but her posture remained as poised as ever.

"I once stood with Mandalorians on the battlefield — not across from them. We fought alongside each other. Protected the same people. Trusted one another." Her eyes swept the Court of Iron, its towering statues and firelit shadows. "Some were allies. A few became friends. One or two…" a pause, and her gaze flicked back to Aether, a quiet beat in her voice, "...felt like family."

She didn't say the names. Their loss still hurt.

"But the Crusades shattered that. War forces choices we don't always want to make. And when that line was crossed… I did what I had to do. We all did." There was no apology in her voice — only clarity. A truth laid bare, not to excuse, but to be understood. Now, another step forward — a breath closer. Her voice dipped lower, not in volume but in weight.

"I don't expect trust overnight. But I'm here now, before the diplomats. Because I believe it's still possible. I believe Mandalore can be more than a fortress — it can be a pillar." A flicker of something more playful touched her smile again. Just enough to shift the tension.

"And I believe you and I can make it work , Mand'alor." Something told her it would be so. She could feel it.

Aether Verd​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

MANDALORE

Aether stood still as her words settled between them.

He noticed the smile — subtle, warm. A strange thing to wear inside the Court of Iron. Stranger still that it came from a Jetii. He did not comment on it. But he saw it.

And he listened.

There was strength in her tone, yes. Duty. But beneath that, the ache of memory. Names unsaid. Loss unspoken but felt.

He nodded once. Not out of agreement — out of respect.

When he finally moved, it was to close the last few steps between them. Not with threat. Not with command. But with presence. The kind that carried weight long after the words were gone.

A breath passed. Then came his reply — steady, even.

“The history of Mandalore has been a cycle,” he said. “One soaked in blood and contradiction.”

His gaze turned to the statues behind her — the long line of stone faces carved from legend.

“At times, we honor the ancient ways and Crusade with the fury that runs through our veins. At times, we are friends of the Jedi, adversaries of the Sith. Then the tide shifts — and we stand beside the Sith, warring against the Jedi.”

His helm faced her once more.

“Generation after generation. Mand’alor after Mand’alor. And each time, no matter where we stand or who we trust… we bleed. We burn. And in the end, we rebuild what’s left.”

There was no anger in his voice. No bitterness. Just truth — as he had come to understand it.

“I seek an end to the cycle.”

His arms remained at his sides, but his words carried the conviction of armor.

“I will not apologize for the worship of war. That is a song our ancestors wrote in iron and flame. But I will say this — my path is a different one. I do not lead so Mandalore can serve as the secret weapon of one side in the eternal war between Light and Dark. I lead so Mandalore can stand — together, unbroken, for longer than a single lifetime.”

He paused. The faintest trace of a smile touched his voice, and a low chuckle followed.

“I like how you put it.”

He turned, just slightly, gaze drifting to the distant banners of Mandalore that swayed in the high stone arches.

“A pillar of the Galaxy.”

Another beat.

Then he looked to her again.

“Mandalore is open to that future. But in your eyes—what must happen to make it real?”​

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

Mandalore

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers
Shuttle: Shuttle link

Valery didn't move as Aether stepped closer. She stood where she was — steady, unshaken, the flickering firelight catching in the amber of her eyes. There was no tension in her shoulders, no wariness in her stance. Not because she was unaware of the power before her — but because she respected it. Trusted it. Even if just a little.

His presence held weight, but it didn't press her down. It lifted something in her instead.

Hope.

She listened in turn — to the low thunder of his voice, the cadence of history wound through his words. The cycle he named wasn't unfamiliar. Jedi knew it too well. Wars fought and refought across generations, each side rising and falling in turn, always bleeding, always rebuilding. Different flags. Same ruins. When he turned to the banners — then back to her — Valery let the silence stretch just a breath longer.

Then she smiled.

"A pillar's strong," she said, voice soft but sure. "But only when it doesn't stand alone." Her eyes flicked toward the massive statues behind them — relics of Mand'alors who'd tried to do it all themselves. Some had succeeded for a time. Most had not.

"What must happen?" she echoed, glancing back at him. "We find understanding. Between your people and mine. Not merely a treaty, not an alliance inked by senators who barely know what they're signing. Real understanding. Trust." She let that sit for a moment, her gaze never wavering.

"A reason to move forward together — and leave the past behind."

A beat.

"That's why I came ahead of the delegation," Valery added, a spark of sincerity coloring her words. "Because that kind of understanding doesn't start in a courtroom. It starts face to face. Leader to leader."

Her smile tilted, just a little — almost playful, and certainly personal.

"Maybe even… warrior to warrior."

Then she tipped her head slightly, just enough to acknowledge him not just as Mand'alor, but as Aether — the man who dared to stand against the weight of his own legacy.

"I think we've already taken the first step."

Aether Verd​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

MANDALORE

“A pillar’s strong, but only when it doesn’t stand alone.”

There may have been truth in it. But not a truth he shared. To him, strength was not defined by who stood beside you, but whether you could stand when none did. A pillar that required others to hold it up was not strong. It was dependent. Fragile beneath its surface.

No — Mandalore must be more than that.

It must endure when others falter. It must remain when temples collapse and kingdoms fall. Unmoving. Unshaken.

But he didn’t speak that thought aloud. Not now.

Instead, he inclined his head — a silent acknowledgment, a bridge unburned. She had come in good faith, and he would meet her in kind.

When he did speak, his voice was low — not cautious, but deliberate.

“Understanding is a worthy goal,” he said. “And you’re right — it starts here, not in a chamber full of titles and politics.”

A pause. He stepped once more, his posture no longer the iron-bound stance of Mand’alor, but the measured approach of a man seeking truth.

“But for Mandalore to understand… I must understand.”

His helm turned slightly.

“We are not a people of half-measures. If we step forward, we step with purpose — and with eyes open. And what concerns me… is time.”

He motioned subtly with a gauntleted hand, not toward her, but toward the wider galaxy beyond these walls.

“For us, should I live to see my golden years, my word — our path — may last decades. My judgment may shape Mandalore for a generation. But the Alliance… your path can change in a heartbeat.”

His gaze locked with hers, steady and searching.

“One vote. One election. One shift in public favor — and those who once called us allies may call us liabilities. That is not a foundation I know how to trust.”

Aether’s voice did not accuse. But it pressed, gently but firmly, for the answer he needed most.

“How does one place faith in a neighbor whose word may be gone by the next season?”​

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

Mandalore

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers
Shuttle: Shuttle link

Valery listened — not just to the words, but to the weight behind them. Aether spoke like a man who had carried burdens that outlasted names and titles. A man who knew how easily alliances crumbled under the pressure of time, of politics, of convenience. His question wasn't just practical. It was personal. And she felt the truth in it.

Her expression didn't harden in response. It softened — just slightly. Not with pity, but with understanding.

"You're right to be cautious," she said quietly. She turned her gaze briefly from him to the banners high above, the flicker of firelight tracing their edges. The past hung from those arches. But so did the future.

"The Alliance has changed even in my time," she continued, voice steady. "I've seen the Jedi called heroes one year, and questioned the next. Our role — our very presence — has been debated by people who've never stepped onto the battlefields we've bled on. So yes, I understand your concern."

Her eyes came back to his, sharp now, and certain.

"But what endures isn't just governments. It's people. The ones who are tired of endless wars. Who want to see their children grow surrounded by home and family. That's where trust begins — not with a Chancellor's promise or a Senator's speech. With the will of the people. And with the actions of those who lead them."

A step forward — close now, within reach if either had cause to raise a hand. But Valery didn't reach for her weapon or her title. She reached for truth.

"You've already shown them something different. You didn't pick up where the Crusaders left off. You didn't posture. You opened your doors to a Jedi. That matters more than you think." Her voice dropped slightly, intimate without losing its resolve. "You're not just laying a foundation for Mandalore. You're showing the Galaxy what leadership can look like."

She let that linger, then offered a small, wry smile.

"The Chancellor might draft policy. The Senate might draft treaties. But how the Alliance feels about Mandalore?" A faint tilt of her head, her voice warmer now.

"That starts here. With us."

A breath passed, and she added, "Let them follow our example."

Aether Verd​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

MANDALORE

Aether remained still as her words settled over the chamber.

They were well-chosen. Thoughtful. Spoken not just as a Jedi, but as someone who had lived through the shifts she described. He could hear it — not in what she said, but in what she didn’t. The weight of experience. The ache of disillusionment. The stubborn hope that rose in spite of it all.

He respected that.

But he did not trust it. Not yet.

His voice came quiet — not dismissive, not cold. Just measured.

“You speak well, Grandmaster. And I believe you mean every word.”

A pause.

“But I have buried warriors who trusted promises like those.”

His helm turned slightly, as if to look at something far beyond her. Something older. Blood-soaked and half-buried beneath the dust of Mandalore’s history.

“They stood beside Jedi on one battlefield… only to be hunted on another. They answered calls for unity, only to be declared dangerous when the winds changed.”

He looked to her again.

“So you’ll forgive me if I do not measure a man’s word by his hope — but by his resolve.”

There was no venom in it. No threat. Just truth, forged under pressure.

“I believe you mean what you say. But what happens when you're gone? When a new Grandmaster rises, or a new Chancellor takes office — one who sees Mandalore not as a partner, but as a threat to stability? Will the people you speak of speak loud enough to be heard?”

Another pause. Not a rhetorical beat — an opening. For her answer.

Still, he offered a sliver of something else — something real.

“Hope,” he said, his voice quieter now, “is not foreign to me. I wear iron, but I’m not made of it.”

A brief, almost reluctant smile touched the edge of his voice — a crack in the armor.

“So let’s keep speaking. You’ve taken the first step. I’ll match it.”

But then, the faintest edge returned.

“Just understand — if we build something together, I will test its walls. Again and again. Because if it’s meant to last, it should survive more than a few hopeful words between leaders.”​

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

Mandalore

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers
Shuttle: Shuttle link

Valery didn't retreat from his words.

There was no offense taken — only understanding. Aether's doubts weren't bitterness. They were the careful, necessary scars of a people who had learned the hard way that peace couldn't be built on sentiment alone.

And she agreed with him.

"You're right," she said softly, her voice echoing gently through the chamber. "This?" — she gestured lightly between them — "It's not peace. Not yet. It's the start of something that might become peace. If we want it to last, it has to grow beyond you and me. Beyond banners and titles. It has to take root in the hearts of our people. Or else it dies the second we're no longer standing to defend it."

Her eyes found his again — unwavering, but not unkind.

"That's what I believe in. Not just in the strength of this moment. But in what it can and should inspire." She let that hang for a breath, then added, "I know words aren't enough. And I know trust won't be given — it has to be earned. So I'll be here when your delegation meets with the Alliance in a few days. I'll speak plainly. I'll support this first step."

A pause.

"And until then," she continued, her tone shifting just slightly — more personal now, and respectful, "I'd like to remain on Mandalore. With your permission."

She didn't couch it in diplomacy or flattery.

"I want to meet with others. Walk your cities. Learn about your people. Not through reports or negotiations, but through presence. Through listening. If we're going to build something that lasts, then I need to understand more than the words of your leaders. I need to understand the people who would live under what we build."

Aether Verd​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

MANDALORE

Aether nodded. Once. Not out of courtesy. Not for show. It was the kind of nod that came with understanding. The kind earned between those who spoke plainly and listened when it mattered.

He said nothing at first. Let the silence stretch. Let her words settle. His visor did not waver from her face, unreadable behind the black of beskar, but the weight of his attention was evident.

When he did speak, his voice came low and thoughtful.

"I wonder," he said, "what the Alliance intends to offer."

There was no challenge in the question. Only curiosity.

"Not asking you to break confidence if it is required of you. But I am curious. Is the hope just to avoid open conflict? To look the other way when borders shift and fleets grow? Or does the Chancellor mean to ask more of Mandalore?"

He let the question breathe, then gave the faintest motion of his head.

"Something to think about."

His stance shifted slightly as he regarded her once more.

"You may stay. As my honored guest."

The words were simple, but not empty.

"You will be given accommodations worthy of your title. You may move through our cities and speak with who you please. I will not dictate how you learn. Only ask that you see clearly."

A pause. Then his tone softened.

"I have never been to the Core." He tilted his helm back slightly, gaze lifting toward the high banners above.

"I would like to see Coruscant. The levels below the lights. The monuments built on bones. To witness Tython. To see what balance looks like, not from words, but from presence."

His gaze lowered again. Steady. Measured.

"If we are to understand each other, then let it be more than words. Let it be action. You walk my world. One day, I will walk yours."​

Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

Mandalore

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers
Shuttle: Shuttle link

Valery's expression shifted as Aether finished. A flicker of approval. The kind one warrior gave another when words met action, and words alone had never been enough. She took a slow breath, letting the silence stretch just a little — enough to let her answer carry weight.

"You're welcome on Coruscant," she said, voice warm but measured. "Or Tython, if you prefer something quieter. The Temple there has stood for generations. Fewer senators, more silence. And trees." A small, knowing smile. "You might find it a nice change of pace."

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment — appraising, curious, thoughtful.

"And if you'd rather explore on your own?" she added with a nod. "That's earned too. I won't play tour guide unless you want one." Then she shifted her weight, just enough to draw herself up with a hint of old fire behind her eyes. Her smirk curled at the edge, and this time, it was distinctly more playful. More dangerous.

"Though if we're speaking of action…" she began, tilting her head slightly, "There is another way to understand each other. One I've found cuts through politics faster than any treaty."

A beat.

"Combat."

She didn't mean it as a threat — not even close. But her stance changed subtly, like muscle memory stirring just beneath the surface.

"A spar. Training. Whatever you'd call it. Just you, me, and the clarity of motion." She let her smirk deepen a touch, inviting, steady. "So, what do you say, Mand'alor? Care to show me more of your culture?"

Aether Verd​

 

[Aether Verd]

Assets: Beskar'gam | Basilisk
Darksaber | Resolute Dawn​

MANDALORE

Aether inclined his head once more, this time not as a warrior, but as a traveler-in-waiting.

"Then I will see them both," he said. "Coruscant, for its lights, its layers, and the cuisine I keep hearing whispers of. And Tython… for the silence."[/color]

His tone carried weight, but a rare hint of dry amusement crept in at the end.

"I suspect I’ll find more peace in the trees than in the Senate."

He looked at her again, visor steady. “I’ll walk Tython alone. That kind of stillness deserves solitude.”

But then...she spoke his language. And the world shifted.

Aether did not answer with words. The response came in motion.

His cloak slid from his shoulders with a single sweep, crimson fabric pooling like blood at the foot of the throne. It did not touch the stone, not fully. It lingered there, suspended by memory, authority, and challenge.

His right hand flexed. The air trembled.

The Darksaber snapped into his palm with a sharp, eager snap-hiss. The ancestral weapon came alive with its telltale, unstable hum. It was louder than a lightsaber, deeper than a vibroblade. Its edge pulsed with hunger.

Just like him.

Aether’s left hand rolled once at the wrist, and with a brief surge of light, the dueling shield mounted to his vambrace came online. It was a crackling oval of translucent energy shaped to deflect, absorb, and punish.

He dropped into stance.

Not elegant. Not polished. Aether didn’t fight like a Jedi. He didn’t need to.

His knees bent, weight centered. The shield-hand angled forward, guarding his core. The Darksaber remained back and low, poised for brutal counter-strikes. It was a stance rooted not in lightsaber forms, but in Mandalorian war technique: a synthesis of beskar’gam close combat and warrior's instinct.

No grand flourish. No speech. Just one warning, delivered in a calm, even voice:

“Don’t break the statues.”​

Valery Noble