It was finally time. I was heading to Mandalore. Technically, I corrected myself as I stared out the viewport of the Jedi star cruiser, we're all heading to Mandalore. Me, Anakin, Seris, and our masters.
The blue-white tunnel of hyperspace streamed past, beautiful and hypnotic. Normally, I found the sight calming. Today, it just gave me more time to think.
And thinking was dangerous right now. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious. Too many things were about to happen. Too many variables I couldn't fully control, too many pieces moving on a board where one wrong step could cascade into disaster.
The mission was formally labeled: Jedi Diplomatic Advisory: Sundari Peace Coalition: Clan Relations and Internal Threat Assessments.
A real mouthful of bureaucratic language that translated to: The Jedi Council is worried about Mandalore's stability and wants eyes on the ground.
But what they didn't know, or what they couldn't know, was that this mission was the culmination of years of careful work and planning. Years of building my influence as Noctis, establishing connections with political leaders across the Inner, Mid, and Outer Rim. Years of planting the right seeds that were finally ready to bear fruit.
Thanks to Noctis, I thought, I can make the first move. I can change the direction of the clone army before it's even created. But that required several things to go right, and the margin for error was razor-thin.
First, I needed to establish direct contact with Duchess Satine Kryze. I would be posing as a follower of Noctis, an agent acting on his behalf. My words and actions would be an extension of his network. The only thing she knew was that Noctis had followers within the Jedi Order, which had probably surprised her when she'd first learned it.
Good. Surprise is useful. It keeps people off-balance, makes them more receptive to new information.
Along with that, I wanted to get her and Obi-Wan back in contact sooner. That was partly strategic, their relationship could be leveraged for diplomatic purposes, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't also personal.
I was a hardcore shipper of those two from The Clone Wars series. They were the only possible couple I'd actually liked, and I wanted them to find some happiness in this life. The galaxy was going to get dark enough. If I could give them a chance at something real, something good, I would.
Even if it means bending the rules. Even if it means manipulating events. After Satine, I had to make contact with Death Watch. More specifically with, Bo-Katan.
Compared to Pre Vizsla, she was the slightly more trustworthy person. Slightly because at this point in her life she was a devoted follower of his. Pre was a fanatic, driven by ideology and a romanticized vision of Mandalore's warrior past. Bo-Katan was a warrior, yes, but she was also pragmatic. She cared about her people more than she cared about abstract ideals.
If I can convince her to side with me, I might be able to take over the cloning facility on Kamino. Or at least influence its direction.
It would be hard, though. She was almost fanatically loyal to Pre Vizsla and deeply committed to Mandalorian traditionalism. Convincing her to break from that would require something powerful, something that appealed to her warrior nature while also giving her a cause she could believe in.
Maybe I could appeal to her sense of honor. The destruction of slavery in the galaxy, that would give traditionalist Mandalorians a righteous battle to fight.
The Hutts. The Zygerrians. The Pyke Syndicate. They were powerful organizations and empires built on the suffering of billions. Taking them down would require military strength, strategic coordination, and warriors willing to fight for something beyond personal glory.
Mandalorians could be those warriors. If they were united. If they had a cause worth fighting for. But that was a long-term plan. For now, I just needed to plant the seeds.
Worst case, I fight Pre Vizsla for the right to wield the Darksaber and take control of Death Watch myself.
The thought sent a chill down my spine. I was thirteen years old. Pre Vizsla was a seasoned warrior with decades of combat experience. Even with all my training, and even with my shatterpoint ability and my growing mastery of the Force, it would be a brutal fight. I think he would still beat me more times than I like to admit.
But I'd do it if I had to. I've come too far to back down now.
Lastly, there was my family history. The black Krayt dragon pearl necklace and the Taung Iron ingot with faded Mando'a inscriptions.
I wasn't obsessed with it, not really. But I didn't like unknowns in a galaxy like this. I could be related to someone with power and influence, or a descendant of someone important. Or I could be a straight-up nobody, an alien orphan with no connections to anything.
It doesn't matter if I'm nobody, I told myself. But I'd like to use any advantage I have for my future plans. Knowledge was power. And in a galaxy where bloodlines and clan affiliations could open doors or close them, knowing where I came from might be the difference between success and failure.
"Hey, Cain, you're making that face again. You okay?"
Anakin's voice cut through my thoughts like a lightsaber through durasteel.
I blinked and opened my eyes. I hadn't even realized I'd closed them.
Anakin sat across from me in the passenger compartment of the Jedi star cruiser, his blue eyes sharp with concern. Seris sat beside him, her silver hair catching the light from the viewport, her gray eyes studying me with that quiet intensity she'd perfected over the years.
I was so deep in thought my face reflected it.
"I'm fine, Anakin," I said, forcing a smile. "Just thinking."
"Yeah, I don't buy that." Anakin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You made that face again."
"What face? I don't make a face."
Seris shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yes, you do, Cain. Whenever you're deep in thought, you make a face like you're inspecting a flawless gem looking for literal flaws."
"She's right," Anakin agreed. "Are you okay? Is it because of the mission we're on?"
Look at these two. I felt a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the Force. I know at this point I can't get anything past Seris. I've known her for nine years now. Anakin a lot less, but that doesn't mean anything at this point.
They knew me. They cared. And they weren't going to let me retreat into my own head without at least trying to pull me out.
"Yeah," I admitted, letting some of the tension show in my voice. "I'd be lying if I didn't say I was anxious about going to Mandalore."
Not completely for the reasons you know about, though.
"You need not worry yourself, Padawan Cain."
Obi-Wan's voice came from the front of the compartment, where he sat reviewing mission briefings on a datapad. He didn't look up, but I could feel his attention shift toward me.
"I'm sure we will find something about your necklace and the ingot," he continued. "But if not, you shouldn't let this pursuit consume you. I would say the Council has been very generous with you, allowing you to pursue this personal matter during an official diplomatic mission."
Oh, Obi-Wan. You stick in the mud.
I suppressed a smile. I guess because of my influence, Anakin's shenanigans were more tamed—or at least less visible to the Council. That meant Obi-Wan had more mental bandwidth to focus on other things.
Like lecturing me about proper Jedi detachment. But since we were on the subject of personal pursuits, I couldn't resist having a little fun.
"You're right, Knight Kenobi," I said, keeping my tone respectful. "I shouldn't let this personal pursuit consume me."
I paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough to be noticeable. "Speaking of which, I heard you have a history with the Duchess of Mandalore?"
The effect was immediate.
Anakin's eyes widened with interest. Seris's expression shifted from concerned to intrigued. And Obi-Wan....
Obi-Wan's fingers froze on his datapad. His shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly, and I felt a spike of emotion through the Force before he clamped down on it with practiced discipline.
"Master, you know the Duchess?" Anakin asked, leaning forward with obvious curiosity.
Obi-Wan set down his datapad with deliberate care. When he spoke, his voice was measured and controlled, the voice of a Jedi Knight known as the negotiator discussing a routine mission detail.
"Yes. Back when I was a Padawan with Master Qui-Gon, I was sent to protect her from assassination attempts. The situation became quite dangerous, we were on the run for months. It was touch and go for a while. We had to survive hand to mouth sometimes."
He paused, and I saw something flicker in his eyes. A memory, perhaps. Or a feeling he'd buried so deep he'd almost convinced himself it didn't exist.
"But we made it through," he continued. "And through that, we became close friends. After it was safe for her to return, she went back to Sundari, and I returned to the Jedi Order. Besides that, there's not much else to say."
Oh, Obi-Wan. Such a bad liar.
I could feel the truth beneath his words like a shatterpoint waiting to fracture. The careful way he said "close friends." The slight emphasis on "returned to the Jedi Order," as if reminding himself of a choice he'd made.
He's lying. Not just to us, but to himself.
"So you and the Duchess never developed feelings for one another?" I asked, keeping my tone innocent and curious. "After all those months together, besides just being good friends?"
"No, we did not." Obi-Wan's voice took on a dismissive tone, but I could feel the lie in his words through the Force. "And it would be against the Jedi Code to form romantic attachments."
Now's a good time to push him just a little harder.
"Knight Kenobi," I said, letting a note of challenge enter my voice, "the Jedi Code doesn't forbid attachments. That's the Jedi Council's interpretation. You are allowed to have attachments in a sense, but you cannot allow them to consume you. We are all living, breathing people with emotions. From the mission logs I read, you were both teenagers. I can understand if something happened."
The compartment fell silent.
Obi-Wan turned to face me fully, his blue-gray eyes sharp. "What are you trying to say, Padawan? I told you nothing happened. And even if something did, it wouldn't have worked."
"Why do you say that, Master?" Anakin asked, his voice softer now, genuinely curious rather than teasing.
Obi-Wan was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice carried a weight I hadn't heard before, something raw and honest beneath the Jedi composure.
"She's Mandalorian nobility. I was a Jedi Padawan. It wouldn't have worked out." He looked away, staring at something beyond the viewport. "She dedicated herself to the ideals of peace and the betterment of her people. I would have had to detach myself from all things for the Order and the Force."
The sadness in his voice was almost palpable.
"Would you have left?" I asked quietly.
Obi-Wan's eyes widened slightly. "Excuse me?"
"If she had asked you to leave the Order and stay with her, would you have?"
The silence that followed was heavy, charged with unspoken emotion. Obi-Wan stared down at his hands, his expression unreadable. I could feel the conflict in him through the Force, duty warring with desire, loyalty to the Order clashing with something deeper and more personal.
"I...."
"Everyone, get yourselves ready." Master Plo Koon's voice came from the cockpit, cutting through the tension like a blade. "We are about to touch down in Sundari within five minutes."
The moment had shattered. Anakin opened his mouth as if to say something, but Seris placed a gentle hand on his arm, shaking her head slightly. Not now. Let it go.
Obi-Wan stood and moved toward the front of the compartment, his posture rigid and controlled. He didn't look back.
I felt a pang of guilt. I'd pushed him, deliberately, strategically, because I needed him emotionally open when we met Satine. I needed their connection to be raw and present, not buried under years of Jedi discipline.
But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt him. This is what Noctis does, I thought. This is what I do. I manipulate. I push. I use people's emotions as tools to achieve my goals.
Just like Palpatine.
The thought made my stomach turn. It's just like what that future version of myself said in my trial.
No. I'm not like Palpatine. I'm doing this to save lives. To prevent a war. To give people a chance at happiness.
But does the end justify the means?
I didn't have an answer.
Minutes later, our shuttle descended through Mandalore's atmosphere, breaking through wispy clouds to reveal the planet below.
Sundari rose from the desert like a jewel, a massive dome city of gleaming white and silver, its architecture a blend of ancient Mandalorian design and modern engineering. The dome itself was a marvel, a transparent shield that protected the city from the harsh desert environment while allowing natural light to flood the streets.
As we descended toward the landing platform, I could see the city sprawling beneath us. Wide boulevards lined with trees and gardens. Elegant buildings with sweeping curves and geometric patterns. Citizens moving through the streets in colorful clothing, their faces turned upward to watch our arrival.
It's beautiful, I thought. Just like in The Clone Wars series. Maybe even more so. But beneath the beauty, I could sense something else. My shatterpoint sight showed me the cracks, the fragile points where pressure could cause everything to collapse. Not just physically, but also in the Force where tensions would destroy this society.
The peace here was real, but it was also brittle. Built on compromise and exhaustion rather than genuine unity. One strong push, one charismatic leader with a different vision, and it could all come crashing down.
That's why I'm here. To make sure when it does crack, it breaks in the right direction.
The shuttle touched down with barely a whisper of repulsor engines. The boarding ramp extended, and the six of us, Masters Plo Koon and Shaak Ti, Knight Obi-Wan, and Padawans Anakin, Seris, and myself, prepared to disembark.
I adjusted my robes and touched the friendship star beneath my tunic, feeling its reassuring weight.
Here we go.
Duchess Satine Kryze awaited us at the base of the ramp, flanked by her royal guards and several advisors. She wore elegant robes in shades of blue and silver, her blonde hair styled in an elaborate updo that somehow managed to look both regal and practical. Her expression was composed, diplomatic, but I could see the tension in her shoulders.
She's nervous. Not about us specifically, but about what our presence represents. The Jedi don't come to Mandalore unless something is wrong.
When her eyes landed on Obi-Wan, her expression faltered, just for a moment, just a fraction of a second. But I saw it. The flash of recognition, of memory, of something deeper than mere acquaintance.
There it is. The connection and it's still alive after all these years.
Obi-Wan descended the ramp first, moving with that characteristic grace and control. He stopped a respectful distance from Satine and bowed formally.
"Duchess Kryze. It's been... some time."
"Yes." Satine's voice was formal but brittle, like ice over deep water. "And yet, here you are again, sent by the Jedi Council. How nostalgic."
The words were polite, but I could hear the edge beneath them. You left. You chose the Order over me. And now you're back because duty demands it, not because you wanted to see me.
Anakin, Seris, and I exchanged glances. This was going to be interesting.
Master Plo Koon stepped forward, his presence commanding without being aggressive. "Duchess, it is an honor to meet you. We are ready to begin the meetings whenever you are. The Jedi are at your service."
Satine's expression softened slightly as she turned to address Plo. "Thank you, Master Jedi. Welcome to Sundari. Please, allow me to show you our city."
She gestured toward a waiting speeder convoy, and we began to move.
As we walked through Sundari's streets, I found myself genuinely impressed.
The city was a masterpiece of urban planning. Wide boulevards allowed for easy movement while still feeling intimate and human-scaled. Parks and gardens were integrated throughout, providing green spaces where citizens could gather and relax. The architecture blended traditional Mandalorian aesthetics, strong lines, geometric patterns, warrior motifs, with modern materials and sustainable design.
It's beautiful, I thought. A vision of what Mandalore could be. Peaceful and prosperous. But completely unsustainable without fundamental change.
I could see it with my shatterpoint sight, the fragility beneath the beauty. The city relied on trade with the Republic for food and resources. The pacifist government had dismantled most of Mandalore's military infrastructure, leaving them vulnerable to external threats. The warrior clans were restless, their traditions suppressed in the name of peace.
One crisis. One food shortage. One charismatic leader promising a return to glory. That's all it would take.
"So, I hear you are a Jedi Knight now, Obi-Wan," Satine said as we walked. Her tone was conversational, but I could hear the undercurrent of something more. "You also have your own Padawan."
"Yes, I do." Obi-Wan gestured toward Anakin. "This is Anakin Skywalker."
Anakin bowed respectfully. "It's an honor to meet you, Duchess."
"The honor is mine, young Padawan." Satine smiled, but her attention quickly returned to Obi-Wan. "Are you keeping tabs on me, Duchess?"
Satine laughed, a genuine sound that seemed to surprise even her. "No, but when my security team did background checks on the Jedi delegation, that information happened to come up."
Her expression sobered. "I am also sorry for the loss of Master Qui-Gon Jinn. He was a great man. I know how much you cared for him and looked up to him."
Obi-Wan's composure cracked, just for a moment. "Thank you. That's... kind of you to say."
The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words. Then Satine shifted gears, her tone becoming lighter. "Tell me, do any of you read the holobook Dune?"
Master Plo and Master Shaak Ti shook their heads.
"I have not read the series," Obi-Wan said, "but I hear some in the Order recommend it. At least the first book."
Anakin nodded enthusiastically. "I only read the first book. Seris loves that series, though. But Cain, he...."
I shot Anakin a stern look that clearly said shut up. Don't tell her I wrote it, you idiot.
Anakin shrugged in a sorry gesture.
Satine noticed the exchange but didn't comment. Instead, she continued, "Good. I've been reading the series and was hoping to discuss some ideas or theories."
She turned to address the three of us Padawans directly. "So tell me, in your opinion, who was stronger, the Sardaukar or the Fremen?"
Anakin smirked. "Fremen. Especially after they learned the Weirding Way."
Seris nodded. "I agree. Maybe if their fight wasn't on Arrakis, it would be a closer contest. But on their home ground, with their knowledge of the desert, the Fremen had every advantage."
Satine's expression remained neutral, but I could sense her attention sharpening.
"Both armies were strong," I said carefully. "But what mattered most was who led them. Their leaders would find the best ways to lead them to victory. The Sardaukar had discipline and training, but they'd grown complacent. The Fremen had desperation and purpose. In the end, purpose won."
Satine turned to me, her blank expression shifting to one of surprise. She was trying to hide it, but I could see the recognition in her eyes.
She knows. Good.
"Well said, Padawan...?"
"My name is Cain." I bowed with practiced ease. "I look forward to observing your people's strength and wisdom. Your leadership is inspirational to some within the Temple."
That earned a genuine smile from Satine. "You said 'some,' but what about you? Do you believe in Mandalore's pacifism?"
I need to be careful. This is a test. I needed to be honest, or at least, honest enough to be believable, without revealing too much of my true position.
Honestly I don't care for Satine's leadership of Mandalore. I never cared for pacifism to begin with. But I don't condone senseless violence and bloodshed either.
The Mandalorians shouldn't go back to their old world-conquering ways. Even though back then, they were at their most united. But Satine had it wrong with her approach to leadership, and that's why her people were divided.
Pacifism only works when you're one of the strongest and you're choosing to restrain yourself. When you're able to fight off opposing sides and choose not to, then you can say you're truly neutral. But the Mandalorians haven't been that strong in a very long time.
They were only truly strong when they were united under a Mandalore. A leader who could command the loyalty of all the clans, who could give them a purpose worth fighting for.
"Duchess," I said carefully, "why don't we save this conversation for later? I believe you have bigger matters to attend to than the viewpoint of a nobody Padawan such as myself."
Satine studied me for a long moment, her blue eyes sharp and assessing. Then she nodded.
"Perhaps you're right. Come, let me show you more of our city."
We spent the rest of the day touring Sundari and the nearby city of Ronion. Satine was an excellent guide, pointing out the reconstruction efforts still occurring in some areas, explaining the civil structure and governance systems that kept Mandalore's peace intact. She spoke with genuine pride about what her people had accomplished, the transition from a warrior culture to a peaceful society, the economic growth, the cultural renaissance.
And all the while, my shatterpoint sight showed me how fragile it all was. I could see the stress points in the government, the factions that disagreed with Satine's policies, the clans that felt their traditions were being erased, the economic dependencies that made Mandalore vulnerable to external pressure.
I knew in the future this place would go through hard times. When the Republic cut off trade due to Mandalore's declared neutrality in the Clone Wars, the people would experience severe food shortages. Starvation. Desperation.
If my plans go correctly, Mandalore won't ever rely on the Republic for another thing. But that required tonight's meeting to go well.
The formal advisory meetings began that evening in the Duchess's palace.
Masters Plo Koon and Shaak Ti represented the Jedi Council's interests, discussing security concerns, trade relations, and the growing instability in the Outer Rim. Obi-Wan provided tactical assessments and answered questions about Republic military capabilities.
Satine listened carefully, her advisors taking notes and occasionally interjecting with questions or concerns. She was every inch the diplomat, poised, intelligent, and asking the right questions and giving nothing away.
But I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes occasionally flicked toward Obi-Wan when she thought no one was looking. She still cares about him. After all these years, she still cares.
And Obi-Wan....
Obi-Wan was a study in Jedi composure. He spoke clearly and professionally, never letting his personal feelings interfere with his duties. But I could sense the conflict beneath the surface, the way his attention lingered on Satine just a fraction too long, the slight hesitation before he spoke her name.
They're both lying to themselves. Pretending they don't feel what they feel. Good. That will make them easier to manipulate. The thought made me feel sick, but I pushed the feeling aside. But I had a job to do.
That night, after the meetings had concluded and everyone had retired to their quarters, I made my move.
I waited until the palace was quiet, until the guards had settled into their patrol patterns and the hallways were empty. Then I wrapped myself in the Force, suppressing my presence until I was little more than a shadow, I had learn a bit from what Derren showed me about Force Cloak, but it was still flawed. But it was perfect enough to pull a Batman. I made my way to Satine's private chambers.
The door was locked, of course. But locks were just mechanisms, and mechanisms could be manipulated with the Force.
Click.
I slipped inside, moving silently across the darkened room. Satine's chambers were elegant but not ostentatious, a large bed with simple linens, a desk covered in datapads and documents, a sitting area with comfortable chairs.
I positioned myself in the corner, hidden in the shadows, and waited.
It didn't take long.
Satine entered her chambers a few minutes later, looking exhausted. She removed her formal robes and changed into simpler sleeping clothes, then sat at her desk and began reviewing documents. I watched her for a moment, studying the way she moved, the tension in her shoulders, the slight furrow in her brow as she read.
She's worried. About Mandalore and the Jedi's presence. And what it all means. Good. Worry makes people receptive to solutions.
I let my presence become known, just a flicker, just enough for her to sense something was wrong. Satine's body went rigid. Her hand moved toward the nightstand, where I knew she kept a comm device to call for guards.
But I was already beside her, my hand covering her mouth before she could make a sound.
"Hello, Duchess," I said softly, letting my voice carry the weight of authority. "It's me. Noctis's servant."
Satine froze, her eyes wide with shock and, was that recognition?
"Now, when I remove my hand, we're going to talk. Just talk. Okay?"
Satine nodded slowly.
I removed my hand and stepped back, positioning myself against the adjacent wall. In the darkness, only my golden-yellow eyes were visible, a deliberate choice to maintain the mystique of Noctis's network.
"So you're Noctis's servant?" Satine's voice was steady, but I could hear the undercurrent of tension. "I thought the Jedi stayed out of politics or taking specific sides."
I leaned against the wall, keeping my posture relaxed but alert. "Duchess, we both know that stopped being true a long time ago. Especially with how slavery and crime are rampant in the Outer to Mid Rim. The Jedi believe they're following the will of the Force by siding with the Republic and democracy, but it's all a load of bantha fodder."
Satine eyed me with a curious expression. "You talk as if you know the dealings of politics."
I ignored the comment. "Good job on remembering the introduction phrase. Have you read Noctis's notes on why I'm here?"
"I have." Satine's voice took on a harder edge. "And I don't agree with some of his views and ideas. I know over the years he has helped me and many other political leaders take down and stop some bad people. That doesn't mean I will allow him to drag my people into another conflict. We finally gained peace, and you would drag us back into another war."
Oh here we go. I sighed with frustration, letting some of my genuine feelings show. "You are a stupid and ignorant woman."
"Excuse me?"
I looked at Satine with a penetrating stare, letting my golden eyes burn in the darkness.
"Your people are already part of a war. Death Watch may be one of the few outliers, but many others agree with them, just not their methods. A conflict is coming to the galaxy very soon, and Noctis wants to get ahead of it. Your people are only truly powerful when you are united, and that hasn't happened in a very long time."
"Then what do you call the peace from the pacifist movement?" Satine's voice was sharp, defensive.
"Your peace is a lie." I let the words hang in the air, harsh and uncompromising. "Yes, some agree with you because they lost loved ones and are tired of losing loved ones to civil conflict. And yes, your people's crusades were almost never for good. That's why Noctis wants to truly unite your people for good, to fight for the galaxy and the people in it. That way, the Mandalorian people can do what they were meant to do."
I pulled out a small data drive and held it out to her.
"What is this?" Satine asked, not taking it yet.
"It's Noctis's draft plans for the future. It shows some of the things going on behind the scenes of your world. He wanted to make this the last offering to get you to work with him. Either work with him, or he will do it without you, Duchess. That's not a threat, it's a fact."
Satine took the drive slowly, her expression unreadable. "What makes you think I won't tell the Jedi about your dealings? You could be expelled from the Order."
I smirked. "Duchess, I don't care if you do. I have my own plans for the future, and I made peace with leaving the Order a long time ago. So you have no power over me. But good try, though. I highly recommend never trying that again. This is your one and only warning."
The threat was implicit but clear. I'm not afraid of consequences. That makes me dangerous.
I reached beneath my robes and pulled out the black Krayt dragon pearl necklace and the Taung Iron ingot, holding them up so she could see them in the dim light.
"I have one more request. Do you recognize this necklace? And can you make out the inscription on the ingot?"
Satine leaned forward, studying both items carefully. Her expression shifted, curiosity mixed with something else. Concern, maybe. Or recognition.
"No, I cannot make out the ingot inscription," she said finally. "And no, I don't recognize the necklace. Why do you ask?"
I shook my head, tucking the items back beneath my robes. "It doesn't matter if you can't. Thank you for your time, Duchess."
I bowed, a gesture of respect that I could tell she felt strange about coming from someone who'd just called her stupid and ignorant, as I moved toward the window.
"Wait," Satine said, her voice stopping me. "This Noctis... what does he really want?"
I paused, considering my answer.
"He wants to save the galaxy," I said simply. "Even if the galaxy doesn't want to be saved. Even if it means making hard choices and doing things that others would call wrong. He wants to prevent a war that will kill billions and destroy everything the Republic has built."
"And you believe him?"
"I believe in what he's trying to do. Whether he succeeds or not..." I shrugged. "That depends on people like you, Duchess. People who have the power to make a difference but are too afraid to use it."
I didn't wait for her response. I slipped out the window and into the night, leaving Satine alone with her thoughts and the data drive that would change everything.
Over the next few days, I explored Sundari and Ronion with Master Plo and Seris, while Master Shaak Ti conducted her own investigations.
The cities were beautiful, the people were friendly, and the culture was rich with history and tradition. But everywhere I looked, I saw the cracks. The fragility. The unsustainable nature of Satine's peace.
This can't last. It won't last. And when it breaks, I need to make sure it breaks in the right direction.
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan and Satine began to grow closer.
It started with small moments, a shared glance during a meeting, a brief conversation in the palace gardens, a walk through the city where they talked about old times. Nothing inappropriate, nothing that violated the Jedi Code. But the connection was there, undeniable and growing stronger.
Anakin and Seris noticed, of course. They watched with barely concealed interest, occasionally exchanging knowing looks.
"Should we say something?" Anakin whispered to me during one particularly charged moment between Obi-Wan and Satine.
"No," I said firmly. "Give them space to breathe. If it happens, it happens. They're adults. They can figure it out."
But I was watching too. Calculating. Planning.
This connection could be useful. If Obi-Wan has a personal stake in Mandalore's future, he'll be more willing to support my plans. And if Satine has someone she trusts within the Jedi Order, she'll be more likely to work with Noctis.
I'm using them. Just like I'm using everyone else. The thought made me feel sick, but I pushed it aside. I had a job to do.
On the final evening of our official visit, during a formal advisory meeting, I made my move.
I caught Anakin's eye and gave him a subtle nod. Then I did the same with Seris.
It's time.
We waited until the meeting was in full swing, with all the adults focused on discussing trade agreements and security protocols. Then, one by one, we slipped out of the room. No one noticed. Or if they did, they assumed we were just bored Padawans looking for something more interesting to do.
We met in a side corridor, where I'd arranged for a contact, one of the expensive mercenaries I'd hired through Noctis's network, to provide us with transportation.
"Where are we going, Cain?" Seris asked, her voice low and urgent. "You just said you needed us for a secret mission, but you didn't say what for."
She's right. I should start including them in my plans. If I'm going to start making changes in the Order, now is the perfect time.
"I've been keeping tabs on certain powerful people and organizations," I said, leading them toward a private hangar where a stealth ship was waiting. "Thanks to my money from writing the books, I've been researching ways to improve the galaxy. And I want to start with Mandalore."
"Why?" Seris asked, her gray eyes searching my face.
"Because I had a vision. I didn't tell the Council, but it was bad."
Anakin and Seris exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from curious to concerned.
"How bad?" Anakin asked quietly.
"War after war, and the Jedi were involved. We were dying, turning on each other. Jedi young and old being wiped out by those we trusted."
The silence that followed was heavy.
"But Cain," Seris said carefully, "you know how careful we must be with visions and their meanings. The future is always in motion."
She was right, of course. But right now, I needed to focus on building my allies and gathering power while I still could.
"You're right," I said. "But for right now, I need you to trust me and save all the questions until later. I promise I will tell you everything eventually."
Anakin and Seris were quiet for a long moment, their eyes locked on mine.
Then Seris nodded slowly. "Okay, Cain. We trust you."
The weight of those words hit me like a physical blow. They trust me. Even knowing I'm keeping secrets, even knowing I'm manipulating events, they trust me.
I can't let them down.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "Both of you."
We boarded the stealth ship, a sleek vessel provided by Satine herself, though she probably didn't know we were using it for this purpose. The ship's cloaking systems would keep us hidden from Death Watch's sensors, at least long enough to make contact.
As we lifted off and headed toward Concordia, I explained who we were searching for.
"Were going to make contact Death Watch," I said. "But specifically, Bo-Katan Kryze."
Seris's instincts kicked in immediately. "Kryze? Wait isn't that the Duchess's sister? We should report this."
I shook my head. "Not yet. We need to make contact first. And yes she is basically their number two, and I really need to get her on my side."
Anakin narrowed his eyes, his hand resting on his lightsaber hilt. " Well since she Mandalorian, maybe she'll listen if you beat her in a fight."
My eyes burned gold in the darkness of the ship's cockpit.
"That might be my only answer," I said. "But I'm hoping she can listen to reason. If possible, I want to give her a chance to be something more than just a terrorist leader's vision. Thinking it will bring their people back to their prime as warriors."
"And what if she doesn't listen?" Seris asked.
I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I stared out at the stars, watching Concordia grow larger in the viewport.
"Then I'll do what I have to do," I said finally. "Just like always."
One way or another, everything changes tonight.
The ship descended toward Concordia's surface, its cloaking systems hiding us from detection. Below, in the forests and mountains, Death Watch waited.