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Mia Monroe
The Warmaster’s response made Adelle raise her eyebrows. Yes, she had noted the irony of giving a weapon of Light to a master of the Dark. She also thought it hadn’t mattered to Mandalorians, least of all the Warmaster. Adelle had to bite her tongue
hard. The scathingly sarcastic remark about Monroe not wanting to make things easier
could not be uttered. Not now. As much as she wanted to. She was tired, mentally and emotionally, and she’d bet good credits that Monroe was too. It would only rehash old lessons Heren had beaten into her.
She took another sip of the tea, the strong lavender scent making her nose wrinkle. Monroe opened her mouth to say something then immediately shut it again. The older woman rubbed her face before setting her mug down and rising. Adelle looked sharply at the Warmaster and her sudden acceptance.
There was usually a trap behind that kind of ground given.
Even as Monroe came back with the sheathed
beskad, Adelle still expected some kind of cruel trick or joke. She took it cautiously, one eye on Monroe’s movements. But nothing happened as she moved from sitting on the log to sitting cross-legged on the ground. Adelle drew the blade from the sheath, trying to be quiet out of consideration for the other Iron Wolves still sleeping. From what little she’d learned since swearing the
Resol’nare, it was a nice blade. Adelle set it lengthwise across her lap, edge facing away from her, and placed the fingertips of each hand on the
beskad, one near the tip and one at the pommel.
The crackle of the fire dulled and the drone of nocturnal insects faded as Adelle closed her eyes and dove into the Force. The Force moved and lived in all things, and through it all things were connected. The fire. Monroe. The blade. She followed the current that ran through and around the weapon, and through it, she felt every hammer blow that had forged it, the files that had shaped the tang, the care that had been put into the hilt.
Her hands shifted and the blade hovered in the air inches above her lap. She now held one arm over the blade and one below, the
beskad firmly in her control in the Force. The Light came to her easily and she bound it to the current in the sword, wrapping it in and through the
beskad’s essence.
Eventually, the blade settled along her bottom arm as Adelle brought her top hand down to secure the blade and make sure it didn’t accidentally fall and cut herself. She wasn’t sure how long it had been when she finished and she couldn’t tell if that disorientation came from her exhaustion or from diving deeply into the Force. Pale bluish light rippled over the blade’s surface faintly, like the patterns created by water refracting light. A side effect of her particular efforts with imbuing. It wouldn’t be enough to give off light so it wouldn’t affect Monroe in the mines positively or negatively.
Adelle quietly sheathed the blade again and offered it back to the Warmaster.
“You might find it hits harder than normal now,” she said.
“Although you already hit like a freighter, so you might not even notice.”