Private Three Paths Across the Plains

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Aran'dyr
Courtyard

Ripples ran across the water's surface as rain fell through the recesses in the stone ceiling. The scent of a storm lingered on the wind as Adonis took a deep breath. Rain was easier to smell on Vaal than most worlds. The mountains carried it for miles, filling the air with the scent of wet stone and mineral-rich earth long before the clouds fully opened. He breathed out as he looked up at the view of the clouds. There was no thunder chasing after the rain just yet, so Adonis didn't see a reason to raise the shields. The rain helped cut the late afternoon heat as the sun started its descent down the horizon. The thunder would come, though. It always did this time of year. But hopefully it would clear by morning.

Adonis stood at the edge of the pool, his deep brown eyes staring into the water, watching as his reflection moved with the waves. His thoughts drifted to the title he now carried. Warden of Vaal. An honor, a responsibility, and increasingly a burden. Every decision seemed to ripple outward across the planet these days. He also reflected on his new relationship with Perseus, a mentorship that he took pride in, teaching the young warrior how to channel the intensity within him, and how to use his void in the Force to his advantage. Perseus was already dangerous. What he lacked was direction. A blade could be forged from the finest steel in the galaxy, but without a steady hand to guide it, it would never reach its full potential.

Perseus would be out any moment from his chambers. Adonis had been busy finishing some work, so the staff had shown the younger warrior to his guest suite after he arrived. He would have been greeted with his own wing of the estate built into the mountain itself. It would have been equipped with a refresher, a bed with silk sheets, and a place to store and repair his armor. Off of one of the rooms of the suite was a small balcony, wide enough to sit on and enjoy the view of the plains below, but small enough to blend into the mountain.

There were windows through the entire side of the compound as well, but exits were limited and far between. The view out the windows offered a sweeping look at the Skyspire Mountains as they wound through the plains of Vaal. Aran'dyr served many purposes. It was a command center, a compound, and the headquarters of everything Adonis was building on Vaal. Yet above all else, it was a home. Too many warriors spent their lives moving from battlefield to battlefield. Adonis wanted something different for himself and his future family.

Figuring the foundling would likely want to wash off, there were freshly laundered linens ready for him. He gave him as long as he wanted to relax and get ready. When he left his wing, it would be a simple path back toward the courtyard. The compound was big, but it was built to be easy to navigate without any outside indicators of location.

When he arrived at the courtyard, Perseus would see Adonis still standing at the edge of the reflecting pool, his armor and hair now slick with rain as he stared into the water below. His gaze would snap toward the foundling when he noticed his presence. "Perseus, I'm glad you came. I hope the suite was to your liking. If you need anything changed, please let my people know." He stepped forward, extending his forearm in the traditional Mandalorian greeting. Without his helmet on, Adonis was not as tall as he normally seemed, but he was still an imposing figure.

"Are you hungry, or would you like the tour first?" He smiled warmly toward the other Mandalorian, "We'll discuss business soon enough. For now, you're my guest." He left the decision up to the younger warrior as the rain started falling a little harder and the first rumble of thunder sounded quietly on the plains. He figured they had another hour or so before the storm really hit.

​

 

[Perseus]

The suite was larger than some buildings I had lived in.

That thought had occurred to me almost immediately after the staff showed me inside, and it never really left. Everything about the room felt excessive in a way I couldn't properly explain. The bed was large enough for multiple people. The linens were clean. The refresher actually worked without needing repairs. There was a balcony overlooking the plains below and enough storage space for equipment I didn't own. Nothing about it was unreasonable. Nothing about it was wasteful. Yet I found myself standing in the middle of the room for several minutes simply looking at everything, unsure what I was supposed to do with it.

The clothing left out for me drew my attention more than once. Fresh clothes. Comfortable clothes. Probably expensive clothes. Somebody had gone through the effort of preparing them before I arrived. Somebody had spent time washing them, folding them, and leaving them where I would find them. I stared at them for longer than I cared to admit before ultimately leaving them exactly where they were. The thought of wearing something I hadn't earned sat strangely with me. It wasn't rational. I knew that. Adonis had invited me here. The clothes were meant for me. Even knowing that, I couldn't bring myself to touch them.

Instead I found myself doing what I always did when I didn't know what else to do.

I worked.

The armor came apart piece by piece across the workbench. Dirt and dust from travel disappeared beneath cloth and solvent. Small scratches were inspected. Fasteners checked. Connections tested. None of it needed immediate attention, but the work gave my hands something familiar to focus on. There was comfort in maintenance. Equipment made sense. If something was damaged, you fixed it. If something was dirty, you cleaned it. The process was simple enough that it didn't ask difficult questions.

By the time I finished, the storm outside had moved closer.

Rain tapped against the windows while low clouds settled across the mountains beyond the estate. The room felt quieter afterward. Too quiet.

I tried the bed.

The attempt lasted less than ten minutes.

The mattress was too soft. Every movement caused me to sink further into it, and no matter how I positioned myself something felt wrong. My body never relaxed. Every instinct kept waiting for something. Waiting for noise. Waiting for a problem. Waiting for the need to get up and move. Eventually I stared at the ceiling long enough to become irritated with myself before climbing back out of bed entirely.

The floor was easier.

A blanket folded beneath me was enough.

Sleep came quickly after that.

When I woke, the room looked exactly the same as it had before. The bed remained untouched beyond the brief attempt. The clothing still sat folded neatly where it had been left. For a few moments I simply sat there, staring out at the rain sliding down the windows while the familiar feeling settled somewhere in my chest.

I didn't belong here.

Not because anyone had made me feel unwelcome. That was the problem. Everyone had been welcoming. The room was welcoming. The estate was welcoming. The thought sat heavier because I couldn't find anything wrong with it. Eventually I pushed myself to my feet and started putting the armor back on. The familiar weight settled across my shoulders piece by piece. Chestplate. Gauntlets. Belt. Weapons. The helmet came last.

I hesitated when I picked it up.

The discussion about helmets had followed me ever since joining the Mandalorians. Some removed them freely. Others treated them as sacred. Some considered them identity. Others considered them equipment. Every answer seemed to contradict the last. The longer I spent around Mandalorians, the less certain I became about where the lines actually existed.

I still didn't know the rules.

So I defaulted to the only thing that felt safe. The helmet remained on. The visor sealed with a familiar hiss, and immediately I felt more comfortable than I had at any point since arriving. Whatever uncertainty existed beneath it became easier to manage once the armor was complete. The armor made sense. The estate didn't.

The path back toward the courtyard was simple enough to follow. Large windows lined portions of the corridor, offering sweeping views of the mountains beyond while rain streaked across the glass. The entire place felt impossibly large. Not like a fortress. Not like a military installation. Something else.

A home.

The realization bothered me more than I expected.

Most of my life had been spent moving from one place to another. Temporary shelters. Barracks. Transports. Places that existed because they served a purpose. Aran'dyr felt different. Every hallway, every room, every detail seemed built with the expectation that people would stay here. Live here. Grow old here.

I wasn't sure what to do with that thought.

By the time I stepped into the courtyard, the rain had begun falling harder. Ripples spread across the surface of the reflecting pool while water dripped from the stone above. My eyes immediately found Adonis standing near the edge of the water. Unlike me, he wasn't wearing a helmet. The rain rolled freely through his hair and across his armor as though he belonged here as naturally as the mountains surrounding us.

Maybe he did.

His attention shifted toward me and I straightened slightly without realizing it. The invitation had been his. The estate had been his. Everything around us existed because he had built it. Standing there in full armor while he greeted me openly made me feel strangely out of place, as though I had shown up prepared for a battle everyone else already knew wasn't happening.

When he stepped forward and offered the traditional greeting, I returned it without hesitation. The gesture felt familiar enough to cut through some of the uncertainty.

"I appreciate the hospitality,"

I said, my voice filtered through the helmet.

"The suite was more than I needed."

The statement was probably an understatement. My gaze drifted briefly toward the surrounding courtyard before returning to him. The rain continued to fall between us while distant thunder rolled somewhere beyond the mountains. When he asked whether I was hungry or wanted the tour first, I found myself considering the question longer than I probably should have. Food sounded fine. The tour sounded useful. Neither felt particularly important compared to the thing I couldn't stop noticing.

This place. Everything about it. The mountains. The estate. The sense of permanence. My attention shifted briefly toward the windows overlooking the plains beyond before settling back on Adonis.

"I think I'd like the tour."

The answer came more honestly than I expected.

Because for the first time since arriving, I realized I wasn't curious about the estate itself.

I was curious why someone would build something like this at all.

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

"I had hoped you would say that." A smile spread across his face. Most people chose food first, and with the daily rotation of fresh cooked meats and toasted bread coming out of the kitchen, he couldn't blame them. Perseus didn't seem to be the type to be swayed by a meal. In truth, Perseus didn't seem particularly interested in any of the comforts Aran'dyr offered. He was fully armored already and looked ready for work rather than relaxation. Adonis motioned further down the hallway, opposite of where Perseus had come from.

The loud crack of thunder rolled over the mountainside again as they turned to leave the main courtyard behind. The rain quickly picked up over the reflecting pool, the sound of nature coming to life outside as bugs and mammals alike began celebrating the coming rain. As the two of them went to exit the courtyard, Adonis stopped short of the door. His gauntlet went to the wall and a recess appeared with a screen on it. The Warden clicked a few buttons and the familiar snap-hiss of the shield kicked on, silencing the falling rain and leaving the courtyard strangely silent as Aran'dyr settled in for the storm.

"Don't worry, storms are our specialty." He joked as they continued through the doors leading further into the compound.

The entire estate was alive and buzzing despite the rain. Recessed lighting in the walls cast soft shadows over the floors, but staff navigated them with ease. The walls and corridors of Aran'dyr were built with the flow of the stone in mind. Huge sections of raw stone lay scattered through the estate, flanked by metal beams reinforcing the already powerful walls. Art pieces hung carefully throughout the halls. Famous artists shared wall space with local Vaalan talent, a level of artistic restraint few people would have expected from a Mandalorian compound. "Believe it or not, some of them are real." He looked back at Perseus to gauge his reaction. So far it had seemed overwhelming to the foundling, even if Adonis couldn't see his face, he could sense the hesitation.

Adonis knew Aran'dyr was probably a shock to the younger warrior. Perseus seemed more comfortable preparing for a fight than accepting hospitality. There was a certain stubbornness in that, one Adonis recognized immediately. He understood the instinct to earn everything you were given. He had spent most of his life doing exactly that. Even so, there would come a point where Perseus had to learn the difference between entitlement and belonging. If he could survive overextending himself against the Imperials on Socorro's Belt, he could survive being treated like a welcome guest.

Adonis suspected the foundling was destined for greater things than he realized himself. Learning to accept a place among his people would be one of the easier challenges ahead.

"The kitchen is just through there." Adonis pointed down a hallway set with large windows inside, where staff and guests alike were sitting and eating together on beautiful long wooden benches made from Cinderglit Wood. If he didn't take his food in his personal chambers, he insisted on eating in the cafeteria. "You'll see more when we come back." As tempting as the scent of sweet bread and smoky, peppery meats were, dinner would wait. "There are always people around. If you need something, just ask." The estate seemed to be positively filled with workers running back and forth to make everything work behind the scenes. What most guests never saw was that Aran'dyr was a living thing, and each part of the whole kept it moving.

"Down that hall," Adonis now pointed the other way, down a similar hallway that ended in another glass wall that looked into a state of the art training facility set into the mountain, "is the guest training facility. You will find anything and everything you need to exercise. However," One eyebrow rose slightly, the closest Adonis usually came to mischief. "my personal facility is below, where we are headed, and you can feel free to use those as well. I'll have security make sure your clearance is good." He may have been laying it on thick, but he wanted Perseus to know he was welcome here, without scaring him off.

They soon reached a corridor that narrowed more than the others, stone accents turned into sleek steel, the lighting became more overhead and harsher on the eyes. It was clear this was was not the same welcoming courtyard they had just left behind. "For most people, the tour ends back there, the Courtyard is the face of Aran'dyr. Next I'm going to show you its heart." A crushgaunt hit the summon elevator button and a placard above lit up signaling it was on its way.

"Most warriors go from battlefield to battlefield, never putting down roots." Adonis looked at the elevator doors as he spoke. "They spend their entire lives fighting for places they never stay. For people they never see again." His reflection was strong against the brushed steel, the distant whir of machinery churning as the lift approached. "I wanted something different." He turned to Perseus as the tubolift doors opened with a ding. "Eventually I wanted something worth coming back to."

Adonis entered and waited for Peresus before pressing the button to head toward the Forge level.

"That's what Aran'dyr is."

​

 

[Perseus]

I leaned slightly as the shield settled over the courtyard. The sudden absence of rain felt strange after listening to it strike stone and water only moments before. The storm still existed beyond the shield, visible through the transparent barrier as droplets continued to ripple across the surface of the reflecting pool, yet everything inside had become unnaturally quiet. I found myself looking back toward it for another moment before following after Adonis.

The deeper we moved into the compound, the stranger the place became. I had expected a fortress. A command center. Something practical and severe, built around defense and efficiency. Instead there were lights set into the walls that softened the corridors rather than simply illuminating them. Large sections of stone remained exposed, as though the mountain had been invited inside instead of carved apart and replaced. Pieces of artwork hung throughout the halls between sections of steel and rock, each one framed carefully like it belonged there.

I slowed slightly in front of one of them. Adonis's voice pulled my attention away from it as he mentioned that some of them were real. I looked at the painting again and then back toward him. For a few moments I wasn't entirely sure how to respond.

"Why?"

The question left before I could stop it. I wasn't trying to be rude. I genuinely didn't understand. The painting wasn't tactical. It wasn't historical. It didn't seem to serve any practical purpose at all, and yet it occupied an entire section of wall like it was as important as the stone and steel holding the mountain above us. I looked away from it eventually and continued after him.

The estate itself seemed incapable of sitting still. People moved through the corridors carrying datapads, supplies, trays of food, and things I couldn't identify from a distance. Some wore uniforms while others didn't. None of them looked hurried in the way soldiers did. They looked busy. Comfortable. Like this was simply another day. The hallway widened enough for me to see into the dining area and I slowed again without meaning to. People were eating. Talking. Laughing. One of the workers said something that caused another to nearly spill his drink while the others around him smiled. I found myself staring at them longer than I should have.

There wasn't anything remarkable about what I was seeing.

That was what made it remarkable.

I wasn't looking at soldiers preparing for deployment or warriors between assignments. I was looking at people having dinner together. The thought felt strangely foreign. My attention followed the room for another few seconds before I finally looked away and continued after Adonis.

The training facility made considerably more sense. Equipment made sense. A place to exercise made sense. The workshops, security stations, and reinforced walls all fit neatly into places my mind understood. The rest of it didn't. I was still trying to understand the paintings and the dining hall when Adonis spoke again. Most warriors went from battlefield to battlefield. They fought for places they never stayed and for people they never saw again. I looked toward him. That sounded familiar.

The elevator arrived with a soft chime and the doors slid open. I stepped inside after him while he continued speaking. He said he wanted something different. Eventually he had wanted something worth coming back to. For several moments I said nothing. The rain still battered the mountain somewhere beyond the shield behind us. The elevator doors remained open and I found myself looking at the brushed steel instead of at him. I wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe because I didn't know what to do with the question that had suddenly appeared in my head.

What would I go back to?

The answer came quickly.

Nothing.

The thought settled strangely. I thought about the suite. The untouched clothes. The bed I couldn't sleep in. The people sitting together in the dining hall. The paintings hanging on stone walls. The workers moving through the estate like they belonged there. Then I looked at Adonis.I spoke slowly, voice filtered through the helmet.

"This... You built all of this because you wanted somewhere to return to?"

The question wasn't disbelief. If anything, it sounded closer to curiosity. My gaze drifted briefly toward the corridors we had just left behind.

"You planned for all of this."

The words came quieter this time because I wasn't sure I had ever planned that far ahead. Survive tomorrow. Survive next week. Get through the next fight. Those things I understood. Building a home because one day you wanted to come back to it felt almost like trying to describe another language. I looked at him again. Intently paying attention in a way I had not felt before.

"Did you always know?"

I asked after a long moment.

"That you wanted this?"

The question lingered between us as the storm continued outside and the doors remained open. Standing there in full armor inside a place built for living rather than fighting, I realized I couldn't answer the same question for myself.

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Standing tall in your own house was easy, every hallway memorized, every squeaky stair remembered, you knew who you were. More importantly, the people around you knew who you were. The lively hustle of Aran'dyr still served a purpose, it still met an end, no matter how happy they seemed, there was a power structure, and Adonis Angelis IV sat at the top of that power structure.

But when the doors to the elevator closed shut, when the buzz of the compound quieted, when Adonis and Perseus were just left with the question hanging in the air...it wasn't so easy. The Mandalorian sat for a moment, the question playing back in his head. Planned? Return? These were concepts that were foreign to Adonis when Aran'dyr was conceptualized. The young wardog hadn't a care in the world but burning a swath across the galaxy in Mandalore's name, crushing any opposition who stood to meet his blade.

He had planned for a redoubt command post nearby the mine to protect his investment, he had planned for a central meeting place for Mandalorian interests on Vaal, he had planned for a very comfortable place to lay his head.

He hadn't planned for a home in the sense it was now.

The air still hung between them, silent, but inside the older Mandalorian's head were hundreds of words and ways to answer Perseus's question, but none of them could truly capture what Adonis wanted to say. So the warrior, not one over complicate things, simply said,

"Not exactly."

His gaze remained forward, the drops of rain on his hair had dried and frizzed the ends of his curls. He looked into the reflection staring back at him, older than he had remembered, hardened around the eyes. Adonis, for a moment longer than he'd admit, collected himself before he continued.

"I had commissioned Aran'dyr to be a stronghold and a home." He cleared his throat, still facing forward, "Set up a trust to pay for it in installments. Contractors never met each other, never knew what the rest of the place would look like. Then-" His voice caught for a moment, "then I ...disappeared." The memories flashed back, chained to the wall, torture, starving. Suddenly the air in the elevator seemed to get sucked out, Adonis catching his breath before he continued.

"No one got the orders to stop, and the money kept coming." He pictured the teams tearing through rock and ore as Adonis sat on Crucival, enduring the one thing the fortress was built to prevent. During his captivity, he had wondered about the mountain where they now stood, whether it had been completed, or if the contractors had taken his money and ran.

"After my rescue, I came back to Vaal, I remember kissing the ground I was so happy." He finally turned back toward Perseus, addressing the foundling directly, a subtle smile now on his face. It wasn't one of happiness or celebration, but one in recognition of survival, like calling your family after an accident. "When I came here, it had been completed. Everything had been built, exactly to my specifications."

His words were stopped by the door chiming open, but instead of the Forge level, it opened to a metallic hallway flanked on both sides by Mandalorian warriors. Nothing else in the way of decoration betrayed their location. To the trained, however, it would be clear that this was the central security hub, and where all the Mandalorians on the Mandalorian base were staying. "I wanted to show you where your vode are staying." He put a crushgaunt against the elevator door so it wouldn't close. He didn't want to give Perseus a tour of the level, but he wanted him to know about it.

Adonis lowered his arm and let the elevator doors close once again, the carriage pausing a moment before taking off again.

"Before Crucival, before my capture, I thought a man needed something worth fighting for." The older Mandalorian turned to look at Perseus once again. In the tight confines of the elevator, Perseus's void felt more pronounced. Adonis found himself searching for emotions and instincts he normally sensed without effort, only to find empty space where they should have been. It was like trying to remember a song while one of the notes didn't exist.

"After Crucival, I realized a man needs something to come home to." He nodded his head as his words faded.

"So no," a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, "I didn't really know."

The door opened with another ding, this time the two were greeted by a heat that sucked the cool air from the elevator like a vacuum. Where the other floors, even the Core, felt alive, this floor felt personal. There were no guards stationed around the corners, nor were there staff who manned the level.

Even here Adonis refused most of the conveniences available to him. He did his own laundry, maintained his own equipment, and spent countless hours working at the forge. This wasn't simply another level of the compound. It was his respite, his little slice of normalcy amidst the chaos of the galaxy.

"This is the Forge, and my personal quarters." The armored giant extended a hand out, telling Perseus to take the lead.

​

 

[Perseus]

I remained quiet as the elevator doors closed again and the security level disappeared from view. The brief glimpse had been enough to understand what I was looking at. Warriors, barracks, security stations, equipment, people standing watch. There hadn't been any confusion when the doors opened there. No uncertainty. No need to figure out why any of it existed. Every piece of it fit together naturally because I had spent most of my life surrounded by things built for conflict. Training facilities made sense. Security hubs made sense. People standing watch made sense. Those were things I understood immediately.

The rest of Aran'dyr still didn't.

Adonis's answer lingered in the silence between us while the elevator continued its descent. Looking at everything he had built, it seemed impossible that it could have happened any other way. Every hallway felt intentional. Every room seemed as though it existed exactly where it belonged. The people moving through the estate looked comfortable there in a way that was difficult to ignore. They weren't simply working there. They belonged there. It was easy to look at something like that and assume it had always been the plan.

Except it hadn't.

That was the part I couldn't stop thinking about. He hadn't known what it would become. Not really. The fortress had been built for one purpose and become something else entirely. Somewhere between the plans, the years, the loss, and the survival, it had changed. Or maybe he had changed. I wasn't entirely sure where the difference existed anymore. The more I thought about it, the harder it became to separate one from the other.

My attention settled on the reflection staring back at me in the brushed steel of the elevator doors. The helmet hid most of it, reducing me to a dark silhouette outlined by the overhead lights. Familiar. Comfortable. Safe. I thought about the question I had asked and the answer he had given. I had expected certainty. Looking at Aran'dyr, certainty seemed like the only answer that made sense. Instead, Adonis had admitted that he didn't really know either.

The realization settled strangely.

For the first time since arriving, some of the tension in my shoulders eased. I had spent so much time lately turning questions over in my head looking for answers. The checkpoint. The civilians. The fear. The conversations with Alsin Vex . Every path seemed to end in uncertainty. I kept feeling as though there was something I was supposed to understand that everyone else had already figured out. Listening to Adonis now, I wasn't so sure anymore. Maybe people weren't handed answers. Maybe they didn't wake up one day knowing exactly who they were supposed to become. Maybe they became those people somewhere along the way while they were trying to survive something else.

The thought remained with me as the elevator doors opened again and warm air immediately rolled into the compartment. My attention shifted outward toward the forge and something inside me relaxed before I fully realized it. The heat, the smell of worked metal, the tools, the benches, the signs of constant use scattered throughout the room all felt familiar in a way the rest of the estate hadn't. For the first time since entering Aran'dyr, I wasn't trying to translate what I was seeing into something I understood. I already understood this. Maintenance made sense. Repair made sense. Building something with your own hands made sense. There was honesty in it. A piece of metal became whatever someone was willing to shape it into. The work could be difficult, but it was never complicated.

I stepped out of the elevator and let my gaze move across the room. There were no displays intended to impress visitors. No carefully arranged symbols of status. Everything looked used. Everything looked lived in. The realization came quietly that this wasn't simply another level of the compound. This was where Adonis came when he stopped being the Warden of Vaal. This was where he became himself.

My eyes drifted across the forge again before settling somewhere ahead of me.

"I think this makes more sense."

The words left before I had fully considered them. Not because there was anything wrong with the rest of Aran'dyr. If anything, the opposite was true. The estate was impressive. Comfortable. Alive in a way I wasn't used to. The forge simply felt familiar in a way the rest of it didn't.

For several moments I continued looking around the room while my thoughts drifted back toward the conversation in the elevator. Adonis had said that a man needed something to come home to, and the longer I thought about it, the more I realized how foreign that idea felt. Most of my plans had never extended much further than the next problem waiting in front of me. The next assignment. The next deployment. The next fight. Survival had a way of narrowing the future until tomorrow felt ambitious enough on its own. Looking years ahead had never seemed practical. The farther away something was, the easier it was to lose.

I found myself looking around the forge again, taking in the tools, the workbenches, and the signs of a life built over time. None of this existed because Adonis needed it tomorrow. It existed because he hoped he would still be here years from now.

That thought sat with me longer than I expected. Admitting quietly,

"I don't think I've ever planned that far ahead, The next deployment. The next contract. The next fight. Those always made sense."

My gaze lingered on the forge before shifting back toward him.

"Coming back somewhere never really did."

The admission felt strange once it was spoken aloud because it wasn't really an answer to anything he had asked. It was simply the truth. Standing there in the warmth of the forge, surrounded by evidence of a life built instead of merely endured, I realized that I had spent most of my life thinking about survival and almost none of it thinking about what came afterward.

For the first time since arriving at Aran'dyr, I found myself wondering if there was a difference between surviving somewhere and belonging there. The more I thought about it, the more I suspected there was. I just wasn't sure I knew what that difference looked like yet.

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Heat or not, the forge level seemed to bring a sense of comfort to both Mandalorians. For the first time, Perseus didn't seem like he was holding the weight of the entire Empire on his shoulders. White and gold beskar made way, past Perseus, and deeper into the personal level. A bead of sweat formed on the knight's brow, the forge's presence was always felt, though there were systems in place to placate the heat. The Mandalorian warrior tilted his gauntlet to his face, and with a few clicks, metal all along the ceiling came to life like a sleeping beast.

Within seconds, the temperature began to drop, and any trace of smoke or contaminants were quickly sucked out of the air. Adonis turned back around to face Perseus, his hand absentmindedly running along a workbench. "It's what made sense to me too." The admission came all too easy for the older warrior.

His eyes moved from the younger man to the recovery pool looking over the mountain. "I was only concerned about the next anything," He nodded, "next battle, next place, next war." His eyes held the pain of conflicts far in the past, still just behind the iris. "Planning any further than that felt arrogant." A pained smile creased his lips, he knew Perseus would understand. "Who was I to plan for the future? I was a grunt. Canon fodder." He focused on the view outside of the storm rolling in, flashes of lightning painting the mountainside in its cool tones.

Finally, beskar pauldrons moved in a shrug, "No one really knows what they want." Adonis wasn't one to pretend like he had all the answers. His gaze came back to Perseus now, his thoughts coming to the present with it. Whatever weight had lingered behind his eyes seemed to pass as his gaze drifted around the forge level. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Pride suited him better than reflection ever had.

"Just know you can always come back here." Adonis placed his hand on the other warrior's shoulder, "No invitation needed."

That same hand then motioned further into the level. Adonis would follow behind the foundling, but the older warrior wanted him to take the front. He wanted him to feel comfortable in Aran'dyr. The sound of the air system was getting louder as they continued, signaling they were getting closer to the forge. The temperature remained comfortable, no noticeable spikes in the air. Just a bit more arid than the humidity the storm season usually offers.

The typica; sounds of a forge, hammers, steel, and the steady percussion of work, were absent. Adonis had turned the forge on specifically to show Perseus, having the staff get it started while the foundling got settled. Instead it was the sound of maintenance, of the flames igniting when the temperature dipped too low.

The walkway would open up to an impressive forge, not like the great forges on Roon, but it good enough for Adonis. Weapons, finished and unfinished alike, hung as equals upon the walls. Hammers of varying sizes littered the tables surrounding the main forge. Nothing was tidy, but it wasn't dirty either. It was clear that Adonis knew where everything was, exactly how he liked it.

"Welcome to my home."

​

 

[Perseus]

The cool air flowing through the forge was a welcome change after the warmth that had greeted us when the elevator doors first opened. I hadn't realized how much of the tension I was still carrying until I felt my shoulders settle a little beneath the weight of my armor. The forge itself seemed quieter than I expected. It wasn't silent, but it lacked the constant movement that filled the rest of Aran'dyr. There were no workers passing through the halls, no conversations drifting in from nearby rooms, no reminders that this was the center of a great estate. It felt smaller somehow. More personal.

I listened as Adonis spoke, my attention shifting between him and the forge beyond. There was something oddly reassuring in hearing that he hadn't always known where he was going either. Looking at Aran'dyr, it was easy to believe every hallway, every room, and every decision had been part of some carefully laid plan. Standing here now, hearing him speak about battles, about only looking toward the next assignment, and about believing that planning too far ahead felt almost arrogant, I found more of myself in his words than I expected.

I understood that.

My own thoughts had rarely stretched beyond whatever waited in front of me. The next mission. The next contract. The next place I needed to be. Survival had a way of narrowing the future until tomorrow felt distant enough to be uncertain. Thinking years ahead had never seemed practical because there had never been any guarantee I would live long enough for those plans to matter. Hearing someone like Adonis admit that he had once lived the same way eased something I hadn't realized I had been carrying. It wasn't an answer, but it reminded me that maybe not having one yet wasn't failure.

When he told me I could always come back, my first instinct was to argue.

The words reached the edge of my thoughts before stopping there.

I hadn't earned that.

I wanted to say it. It felt like the natural response. Everything I had been given since arriving at Aran'dyr had felt too generous, too freely offered. The room. The food. Access to his training facilities. Now this. Every part of me wanted to explain why those things should belong to someone else before they belonged to me.

But I couldn't.

Not because I suddenly believed I deserved them, because Adonis hadn't spoken like someone making an obligation. He hadn't asked anything from me. There was no expectation hidden behind the offer. He had simply said it as though it were already true. I found myself giving a small nod instead.

"Thank you."

The words felt quieter than I intended.

"This still feels... strange."

I looked around the forge again, careful not to wander too far from where I stood. My eyes moved across the workbenches, the tools, the unfinished pieces resting where they had last been set down. Nothing looked arranged for display. Everything looked as though it existed because it was used. It wasn't polished into perfection or organized to impress visitors. It looked lived in.

"I'm still trying to understand why."

The admission came easier than I expected. Not why the forge existed. Why I was standing in it.

The silence settled comfortably between us while I continued taking in the room from where I stood. Somewhere during those thoughts, my hand had settled against one of the pouches on my belt without me noticing. My thumb slowly brushed across the worn fabric absentmindedly while my attention remained fixed on the forge itself. It wasn't until my eyes dipped slightly that I realized what I was doing.

Almost immediately I let my hand fall back to my side. The movement was small enough that I hoped it had gone unnoticed, as though I had simply been adjusting my belt instead of reaching for something I hadn't realized had become familiar. My attention shifted away from myself and back toward the forge.

It was then that something caught my eye.

Among the blades, tools, and unfinished pieces resting throughout the room sat the rough outline of a shield. It wasn't complete yet. Parts of it still looked unfinished, waiting for the next stage of work before they became whatever Adonis intended them to be. It stood apart from everything else, not because it demanded attention, but because it seemed almost out of place beside so many weapons.

My eyes lingered there longer than I expected. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen a Mandalorian making a shield. Blasters for ranged combat, Knives when necessary, Rifles for those long range punches of power, Beskads to be used as a main hand weapon against lightsaber jockeys. Those made sense. A shield felt... different. It wasn't the sort of thing people spoke about when they described great warriors. It wasn't made to strike first or overwhelm an opponent. It existed to endure. To stand between danger and someone who couldn't withstand it themselves. I wasn't entirely sure why my attention kept returning to it.

"A shield?"

The question left almost absentmindedly as I looked toward Adonis again.

"I don't think I've seen many Mandalorians carry one."

There wasn't judgment in my voice. Only curiosity. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I found myself wondering why, out of everything in the forge, that was the piece I couldn't seem to stop looking at.

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

A look of bemusement tickled his features- a smile forming over old concerns. Adonis looked toward Perseus as he spoke, even through the buy'ce, Adonis could hear the intent behind the foundlings words. Every one was preceded by intense thought and consideration. It was refreshing, a little bit of empathy and humility among the dark mire of galactic politicking.

Dark brown eyes followed from helm to gauntlets as Perseus moved about the Forge. Adonis could feel something shifting in the younger warrior, not through the Force, but through experience. He had seen it before in wary hunting hounds and skittish mounts brought in from the plains. There came a moment when they stopped looking for the nearest escape and simply allowed themselves to rest. Perhaps, in time, Perseus would stop looking for the exits.

The few words the younger Mandalorian did speak, Adonis listened with care. He understood the foundling's conusion, and what he meant when he said he didn't understand. It would take time for Perseus to find his footing, but the older Mandalorian was going to do everything in his power to make sure he did.

Perseus stuck close to Adonis, subconsciously or not. He took in the Forge from a safe distance, never straying too far. "Trust takes time. Every warrior understands that, you are no different." He nodded. As he did, he saw Perseus reach for a pouch on his belt. He couldn't tell if it was instinct or habit. It had almost been subtle enough to dismiss, but Adonis remembered Yaga Minor. He remembered the falcon, the young child, and he remembered Perseus taking pause over stitches and stuffing.

For the moment, Adonis kept the observation to himself. There was little sense in pointing it out now. The quickest way to make someone retreat behind old habits was to remind them they had finally lowered their guard.

Instead, the Warden followed Perseus , both his person and his train of thought.

When he asked about the shield Adonis chuckled slightly to himself. Out of every weapon lining the walls, some of which Adonis was admittedly proud of, he chose the half-finished shield that had been pestering the Warden for months.

"You haven't." He said wryly.

He reached for the unfinished shield with both hands. Despite its smaller size, it was quite dense. He turned it over in his hands a couple of times, studying the rough edges he still needed to finish and the pieces that had yet to be made.

"Though, I'm not making this for the Empire."

Just below the surface of his voice, a slight quiver betrayed him. He thought back to memories of his childhood, of his home. He remembered the warm seasons spent outside chasing glowmotes, or hot days training with his father.

"I'm making this for me."

Saying it out loud finally made it feel true.

"My father had a shield like this one. I remember thinking it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Even as a child I wanted to hold it. But he never let me touch it." His voice was lower this time, tempered with longing.

"Until the day I became an adult." He remembered the day vividly. Clear skies, a rare sight for the tail end of the storm season on Vaal. His father woke him up and brought him outside to the courtyard.

"He told me that one day, when he passed, it would become mine. That it had belonged to my grandfather before him, and one day it would belong to my son."

His thumb brushed against an unfinished edge.

"I learned how to use a shield that day. Now I want to make one of my own." There was a sense of pride in every word.

"The star on the shield," He pointed to the rough outline of an eight point star, "the one on my armor." his gauntlet patted against his chest and the polished and emblazoned star in the middle of it. "It's my family's crest."

The eight-pointed star had never stopped meaning something to Adonis, even if the people who bore it no longer claimed him.

"My family disowned me after I turned my back on the Alliance and joined the Mandalorians. I figured at least they were honest about what they wanted." Ironically, now Adonis found himself in politics on Vaal. "I swore the Resol'nare. Jonah took me in, and House Verd gave me a home. I quickly became Mand'alor's sword."

Outside, lightning scattered across the sky. The rain started picking up, hitting harder against the side of Aran'dyr. The storm was going to worsen, but that was no probem, most buildings on Vaal were built to survive strong storms. The spires in Karth's Landing could even use lightning to power the whole city.

He sighed, not out of frustration or anger. No, he was releasing the weight of responsibility. He had long since evolved in his identity from Adonis Angelis IV of Vaal, to Adonis Angelis IV, Warden of Vaal. He didn't care for his ancestral home, they could have it.

He had carved out his own home.

"I've been the sword my whole life, but recently I've been wanting to be the shield." He turned back to Perseus, handing him the shield to inspect.

"What about you?" He asked, "Who taught you how to survive?" Adonis knew what Perseus's file said, but he wanted to hear it from the warrior himself.

​

 

[Perseus]

I stood quietly while Adonis spoke, my attention lingering more on the unfinished shield in his hands than the weapons lining the walls around us. When I had first noticed it, I thought it was simply another project waiting to be finished. Now I understood it had never been just another piece of armor. As he spoke about his father, about his grandfather, about the promise that one day it would belong to his son, the shield slowly stopped looking like forged metal. It became history. It became family. It became something passed from one set of hands to another until it carried the weight of the people who had held it before. I had never thought of equipment that way. Every weapon I had ever owned had been measured by whether it worked. Every piece of armor had been judged by whether it kept me alive. Listening to him, I realized there were people who could look at the same piece of steel and see generations instead of survival.

When he placed the shield into my hands, I accepted it carefully. Not because I thought I would damage it, but because it no longer felt like something that belonged in an armory. My fingers settled beneath its unfinished edge, feeling the roughness where it still waited for the final shaping. It was heavier than I expected, dense without being cumbersome, and even unfinished it carried a balance that spoke of countless hours of careful work. My thumb traced along one unfinished edge before I caught myself lingering there longer than I intended. I lowered it again, returning the shield to him with the same care he had shown when he first lifted it from the workbench.

His question settled over the forge more heavily than the shield ever could.

For several moments I didn't answer. My eyes wandered across the room instead, taking in the hammers, the anvils, the tools laid out exactly where they belonged. Everything here had a purpose because someone had decided where it should be. It was a strange thought. I had spent so much of my life becoming whatever circumstance demanded that I had never considered who had shaped me in the first place.

"Everything taught me."

The words came quietly, almost as though I were testing them for the first time.

"No one taught me."

I drew a slow breath before continuing, finding it easier to look somewhere beyond the forge than directly at Adonis while I spoke.

"I grew up around others of my kindred. They taught survival by throwing you into the deep end. If you came out of it alive, they showed you where you had failed and expected you to do better the next time."

I paused, letting the memory settle without trying to soften it.

"But that was never done for me. I carried no sire name. I was claimed by none."

There wasn't anger in the admission. There hadn't been for a long time. It was simply the truth of where I had come from.

"There wasn't anyone waiting to tell me what I had done wrong. No one stayed behind to make sure I understood why I survived when someone else didn't. If I made a mistake and lived through it, then the mistake became the lesson. If I didn't..."

I gave a small shrug beneath the armor.

"Then it didn't matter anymore."

My eyes drifted toward the forge fires, watching them dance behind their protective housing while memories I rarely visited resurfaced without invitation.

"After... the culling... I wandered."

The words felt distant now, carrying none of the panic they once would have.

"My training kept me alive for a while, but eventually training wasn't enough. I learned whatever I had to. If something worked, I remembered it. If it didn't, I stopped doing it. My broken bones became teachers. So did hunger. So did the cold. Every bruise, every scar, every mistake I walked away from taught me something I couldn't afford to forget."

I fell quiet again, considering everything I had just said. It sounded strangely ordinary spoken aloud, stripped of the weight it had carried for so many years. They were simply facts. A life lived one lesson at a time because there had never been another choice. Only then did I look back toward Adonis.

"I don't think I ever learned survival from a person."

The corner of my mouth shifted into the faintest hint of a smile beneath the helmet, more thoughtful than amused.

"I learned it from consequences."

The words lingered between us before my attention returned briefly to the unfinished shield resting once more in his hands. Looking at it now, I understood why it had drawn my eye the moment I stepped into the forge. It wasn't because it was another weapon waiting to be completed. It was because it represented something I had never known. It had a past behind it and a future waiting for it. Someone had forged it knowing exactly whose hands it would one day protect.

Speaking after that quiet moment

"I think... that's why this still feels strange."

I glanced around the forge one last time before meeting his eyes again.

"I've spent most of my life learning after I failed. Here..."

I searched for the right words, finding they came more easily than I expected.

"You're trying to show me before I have to."

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

Adonis accepted the shield back into his grasp without a word. A gloved thumb found the unfinished edge again, tracing the rough steel where more metal would eventually be laid. Perseus had handled it carefully, more carefully than most people handled finished weapons. That by itself told Adonis everything he needed to know.

His eyes rested upon the shield as the younger warrior spoke. He tensed his grip around the edge, listening to how Perseus learned cast a light on the differences between them. Adonis had read up on the foundling's file, but he hadn't understood the weight behind the words.

A heavy silence settled over the Forge.

The hum of the ventilation system filled the room, broken every few moments by the soft roar of a burner reigniting somewhere in the workshop. Beyond the panoramic windows, lightning kicked across the Skyspire peaks, the storm painting the mountains in flashes of pale blue before disappearing into darkness once more.

"You shouldn't have had to."

The words came quietly.

Adonis wasn't speaking as the Warden of Vaal, nor as Mand'alor's sword. Just as another man who had spent too much of his life watching other people carry burdens they should never have been asked to bear.

"My father used to tell me that wisdom was the only thing worth stealing." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Learn from the victories of others, and you'll become a good warrior. Learn from their mistakes..." He gave a small shrug. "...and you might live long enough to become an old one." He let out a quiet laugh, more at the memory than the joke itself.

Then, he took his eyes from the shield to Perseus.

"I can't spare you from every mistake you'll make. Truth be told, I wouldn't want to. Some lessons have to be learned the painful way." Adonis nodded once, conviction steeped in his voice. "But if I can spare you from the ones I already made..." Another shrug settled beneath ivory-and-gold pauldrons. "Seems foolish not to."

For a moment longer, he stood in the warmth of the Forge.

Then a deafening crack of thunder rolled through the mountains.

The lights dimmed for the briefest instant before emergency strips along the floor flickered to life in light blue, only for the primary systems to recover a heartbeat later. Adonis barely looked like he registered it.

"Right on time." Another grin crossed his face as he placed the unfinished shield back on the table he had grabbed it from. Maybe next time he'd put a hammer in the foundling's hands.

"The mountain can take it. The spires on the summit collect most of the strikes. They dump the charge into the mountain before it can reach the compound." He motioned to the doorway at the end of the Forge. "Come on, the kitchen is still open, we should get dinner before they stop serving it. Then I'll finally tell you why I dragged you all the way out here."

As they exited the Forge directly, it was clear that there were preventive measures in place to keep Aran'dyr safe. The lights above were dimmed, and any hallway that wasn't in use was turned off. Even with generations of Vaalan records to study, Adonis had never managed to fully replicate the systems beneath Karth's Landing.

The elevator system was unaffected by the power conservation. "I'm using a replica of the technology they use in the capital, Karth's Landing." He paused, looking over at Perseus . "They use the lightning storms of the wet season to power the city. There are too many sensitive instruments here to be able to do that."

As he finished, the brushed metal doors opened to the Courtyard floor. The lights that greeted them were a dim, blue hue. All the recessed lighting had powered down. However, the level was still alive with people. Staff carried lanterns and datapads through the dim corridors without missing a step. The cafeteria remained open, cooks still worked over stoves, and conversation continued almost uninterrupted. The storm had changed the lighting, not the rhythm of Aran'dyr.

​

 

[Perseus]

I followed after Adonis without another word, letting the conversation settle where it had ended. The shield rested once more upon the workbench, unfinished, waiting patiently for the hands that intended to complete it. My own answer had already been given. There was nothing else to add. Yet one sentence refused to leave my thoughts. You shouldn't have had to. It lingered quietly, heavier than I expected. No one had ever said those words to me before. Survival had never been questioned. It simply was. There had never been another way, so there had never been reason to think differently. I didn't know what to do with those words, and for perhaps the first time in a long while, I found myself leaving a thought unanswered.

The mountain answered in my place. Thunder rolled through the stone with enough force that I felt it beneath my boots before the lights overhead dimmed. Blue emergency lighting flickered to life along the corridors, replacing the warmer glow that had filled the forge only moments earlier. My attention never lingered on the storm itself. Storms were familiar. Rain, snow, cold, lightning...they had all become companions long before I ever wore armor. You either learned to sleep through them or you didn't sleep. What caught my attention instead was everyone else. Nothing stopped. No one hurried. The workers continued walking. The lights changed, but the rhythm of the compound never did.

As we walked, Adonis explained how Aran'dyr managed the storms, how the mountain dispersed the lightning, and why the compound had been built differently than the great city above it. I listened, following every explanation until another thought quietly interrupted the rest. Why would he tell me? I didn't ask. The question stayed with me longer than I expected. Information had never simply been given. You asked because you needed it. You found it yourself because no one else would. Sometimes you earned it by surviving the mistake that taught it. Yet Adonis continued speaking as though I should know these things simply because I was here. I didn't understand it. Rather than force an answer, I let the question remain where it was. Perhaps it would make sense later.

Instead, my attention shifted toward what I could understand. None of this had happened by chance. They had studied the mountain before they built within it. They had prepared for storms before the first clouds gathered overhead. Every system existed because someone had expected the problem before it arrived. My own idea of preparation had always been much smaller. Sharpen the knife. Count the ammunition. Carry enough food to last another day. That was preparation for surviving the next moment. This was something different. They had learned the environment first, then built something that could exist alongside it. Quietly, I filed that lesson away. Preparation wasn't only about what I carried. It was understanding where I stood before I ever arrived.

The courtyard looked different beneath the blue emergency lighting, but it hadn't changed. Workers still crossed the halls carrying datapads and lanterns. The kitchens remained busy. People continued talking as though the storm outside had become little more than another evening. I found myself watching them longer than I meant to. They weren't surviving around the weather. They had simply accepted it as part of life. Somewhere during that walk, I realized something else. I had stopped looking toward every exit. The habit had disappeared without permission, quietly enough that I hadn't noticed until it was already gone.

The smell reached me before the dining hall did. Fresh bread. Roasted meat. Herbs I couldn't place. Vegetables cooked instead of scavenged. My eyes naturally moved across the serving tables, and the first thought arrived almost automatically. Too much. More food than any one person needed. Wasteful. I kept watching. One family served themselves while another stepped forward. Empty trays disappeared only to return filled again. Nothing sat untouched. Nothing spoiled where it rested. It hadn't been prepared for one person. It had been prepared for everyone. The thought quietly dissolved the first conclusion. This wasn't excess. It was provision. There was enough because enough had been expected.

I followed Adonis toward one of the tables without the hesitation that would have stopped me only days earlier. I didn't stop to question whether I belonged there. The meal had been prepared for everyone inside Aran'dyr, and tonight...that happened to include me.

As we settled into our seats, my attention drifted back toward something that had remained unanswered since we first met. The forge had answered questions I hadn't known to ask, but one still lingered. My eyes settled briefly on the weapon resting at Adonis's side before I looked back toward him.

"You're Mandalorian,"

I said after a moment, the thought carrying no accusation, only curiosity.

"Why do you carry a lightsaber?"

Adonis Angelis IV

 

[Adonis Angelis IV]

The older Mandalorian noticed before Perseus did.

The foundling no longer seemed to linger in doorways. Adonis figured his eyes still moved, still observed every corner of the room out of habit, but there was a difference between vigilance and expectation. It felt like Perseus wasn't searching for danger anymore. He was simply taking stock of his surroundings. It was a subtle change, one most people would have missed entirely. Adonis chose not to acknowledge it. Some victories were better left unnamed.

The kitchen staff greeted Adonis as soon as he walked through the door. Familiar nods and waving hands from everyone. Even Perseus got a warm greeting as he was standing next to the Warden. They may not have known his name, but anyone eating with the Warden was a guest indeed.

"We thought the Forge swallowed you again." One of the cooks said with a wink.

"It tried," Adonis answered with an easy grin, "I won."

A quiet chuckle rolled through the serving line before his tray was passed across the counter. No ceremony, no special treatment. The same meal everyone else was eating found its way onto Adonis's plate. Roasted nuna, fresh bread, vegetables gathered from the mountain greenhouses, and a bowl of thick root stew that still carried steam into the evening air.

The two of them made their way to their seats. No one was scared of Adonis here. No one moved out of the way for fear of the man behind the beskar, no, they made room out of respect. They knew he wasn't better than any of them, so they treated him like the best of them. He nodded his head as he passed, calling some out by name, but making sure anyone who noticed him was noticed back.

As the two of them settled, Persesus's question rested on the Warden's mind. He thought back to his youth, to the holos of the Jedi his father made him watch. Of the Alliance, and the Republic before that. Flashes of a young Adonis sitting at a table eating his breakfast while his father sat across reading reports and making calls. The sound of Jedi in the background, talking about serving the Senate and the Republic as a whole.

"When I was little I used to want to be a Jedi." He nodded between bites. He was raised better than to talk with his mouth full. "I thought the Republic, the Alliance, any of them, would save Vaal." He lightly scoffed, "I thought the Jedi would come down and take me away and I'd come back and everything would be better." A look of disappointment dropped over his features.

"Now, I know a lightsaber is a weapon. Nothing more." Then acceptance washed over his features.

"There are Jedi who wield them. Sith who wield them. Mercenaries, collectors. Hells, I've met people who carried one simply because they thought it looked scary." A small shrug followed. "The blade doesn't decide who you are. The hand holding it does."

His expression softened almost imperceptibly.

"I've carried beskads, vibroblades, spears, a shield." He gave a brief nod toward the Forge somewhere deeper within the mountain. "Every one of them asks something different of the person holding it."

His hand now rested subconsciously on the pommel of the hilt of his broadsaber. The memories of his youth were now replaced with the memories of war. The innocence of his childhood torn back to show the burdens of leadership. Still, he dreamed of saving Vaal. He just knew it wouldn't be the Jedi, the Sith, or any distant order that did it. If his people were going to have a future, Mandalorians would have to build it themselves.

"This one reminds me that strength is a gift." His thumb brushed the crossguard before falling away. "Discipline decides whether it becomes a virtue."

Silence settled between them again, though it lacked the weight it had carried in the Forge. Around them, conversations continued uninterrupted. Someone laughed across the hall. A pair of foundlings argued over whose turn it was to clear a table before an older warrior quietly settled the matter. The storm continued to drum against the mountain, little more than background noise to the people who called Aran'dyr home.

"Every warrior carries something that reminds them why they are doing it." He nodded toward Perseus and the pouch he resorted back to subconsciously when he thought no one would notice. "Why they are fighting." He took another bite of the vegetables and swallowed before it dawned on him.

"...Right."

A sheepish smile crossed his face as he put his utensils down.

"I invited you to dinner." His head tilted ever so slightly. "That was short sighted of me."

He motioned toward a door off to the side, by the kitchen. "There is a private dining room there if you would like," He looked back toward Perseus, "or I can have whatever you would like sent to your private quarters." He smiled, "Whatever is the most comfortable with you."

​