Private The Weight of the Hammer

[Mia Monroe]

Smoke caught in the wind obscuring the now still battlefield for a breath, the ringing of a hammer striking nails through flesh was loud, jarring through the quiet aftermath of a fight. Somov Rit had fallen, not just to the Mandalorian Empire, but they had fallen prey to something much worse.

Mia picked her way towards it, pausing as she passed soldiers, checking in offering quiet words of encouragement, pulling them to their feet and sending them on their way, towards quickly erected medial tents. The battle had been short, but it had been bloody. The insurgent lightsiders that had bent Somov Rit’s ears had taken more than their share of mandalorians with them.

The ring of the hammer stopped as she stepped up behind Aether, her black and gold armour dulled and pockmarked from the fight, blood smears shimmering in the fading afternoon light.

For a moment, she said nothing, not wanting to intrude on Aether. She knew the weight that rested on his shoulders better than anyone who followed him.

“The outlying settlements have fallen in line.” she said finally “Casualties are low and most of the wounded will be back on their feet within a few weeks at worst.”

She let her words settle before moving to stand beside him, her eyes scanning the faces of those hanging before her. There was no disgust or regret about their position. They had made their choice, and Aether had made his.

“Are you alright?” those words were softer, not of a Warmaster reporting to her Mand’alor, but of an aunt, checking in on her nephew.

Aether Verd

 

[Aether Verd]

Wearing:
Armor - Darksaber - Mask of Mandalore
.​

SOMOV RIT

The Mand'alor's gaze was upon the cross.

With helm tucked under his arm, Aether looked upon the broken form of a Jedi. Her arms were outstretched upon a plank of wood. Spikes had been savagely driven through her flesh. Yet, in a fact that would surprise those unaware, life yet clung to her. The weight of her body pulled her down, pressing the air from her lungs.

To rest meant to suffocate.

To rest meant to die.

Thus, she pulled against the spikes, forcing her form upward until the weight was finally extinguished. The agony fell from her lips as fresh air kissed her lungs. Only then did her strength falter. Only then did she lower once more and that hard-fought breath perish immediately. Over and over she would fight. Until, at last, her strength would give out and death would claim her.

This was a fitting consequence for the Lightbearers who forced Mandalore's hand. A fitting consequence for all who denied the Mandalorians their birthright. The cross was a physical manifestation of the futility of their struggle. They would fight for each breath - and maybe even secure a mouthful of air...but in the end, it was futile. In the end, there was only death.

The Mand'alor eventually turned when his Warmaster arrived. His eyes were focused and angry, yet softened at the sight of her. He nodded as the report was made...then pondered the answer to her question.

"I knew this day would come, I just...thought we had more time." came his admission. There was a weariness there, a sadness laced between each syllable. "What we must do...what I must do...Mandalore will make an enemy of the Light for generations. It will bloody. It will hurt. But it must be done."

Mia Monroe

 

[Mia Monroe]

Mia exhaled a sigh at his answer, sadness settling in her own chest. He didn’t have the luxury of choice, when she had first come to him when he’d taken the mantle, she had asked him why.

“I want this Empire to outlive me. My kids. Their kids. Not for my glory. Not for statues. Just so our people have something stable. Something real. Mandalore deserves that much.”

For a moment she said nothing, she let Aether’s words settle between them before reaching to lift her own helmet from her head and settling it under her arm. Sapphire eyes studied Aether, weariness was showing beneath his eyes and for a moment Mia cursed herself for not seeing it before.

But they had been busy. Things did not fall silent just because Mandalore’s enemies collapsed, there had been remnants to chase ever since Yaga Minor, Imperial Lords that had hammered supply lines and then there was this.

“That is our curse.” she replied finally “There is never enough time, there is always another fight.”

She paused.

“Whatever decision you are thinking of making, you do not have to make it alone, Aether. It doesn’t have to be you who swings the hammer. I am not just here to command your armies, I am here for you.”

Aether Verd