Obi Wan and the Duchess

Chapter Thirteen: Revelations

The two lay helplessly on the ground, growing cold and hungry as time had gone on. Their captor, playing with their will to live as he further separated the rations he gave and the temperature of their seemingly endless cell.

"Obi Wan," Satine muttered quietly, unsure of whether she could be heard or not. "Are your senses still blocked?"

"I believe they are," he whispered, sitting unmoved in a meditative stasis. Wearily he opened his eyes to look at her, they both could tell there was something more.

"I cannot tell," he said in a horse whisper. Satine nodded and silence followed.

"I think it may be Death Watch, Satine," Kenobi whispered.

"After the incident on Coruscant, there has been no word or sightings of them," she said in a voice that displayed confidence. Obi Wan was able to tell that it was false.

"The power that was given to you angered the house of Vizsla, whose roots go back to the days of the old republic," Kenobi began.

"So therefore other ancient houses might have followed in their leadership," she finished. "Is that what you mean to assume?" He nodded slightly.

"I was there during the war, remember, it wouldn't surprise me if my assumptions were correct," he responded.

"There were a lot of people trying to kill us," she said, her voice filled with slight tones of amusement.

"Yes, it was quite the time," Kenobi said with a comforting smile on his lips.

"Still, I had the backing of the ancient houses, it's hard to imagine any of them would follow Vizsla," she followed. "They are the only clan that has the history." Before Kenobi could respond, their binders lit up with electricity and the two screamed in shock and agony.

"Now that I have your attention," his voice echoed maniacally in the largely empty room. "The storm on the surface has unfortunately knocked out the planet's eastern communication towers, therefore I will be unable to receive your ally's communications until they're fixed. I will extend my deadline until I have them operational again."

"How generous," Kenobi said nearly breathless.

"Generous," he said with a question. "Master Kenobi, I assure you that this is not generosity, this is simply the politics of war that I must play to."

"Whose war," Kenobi asked.

"I'm glad you're talkative now, Jedi," he laughed cynically. "Her war." Moments passed as the two prisoners remained silent, anxiety building up in both their blood.

"Who are you?" Satine asked, her voice shaky and horse.

He laughed, "You were young when you came to power. Yes,you pulled Mandalore out of its dirty war and built it beautifully, but you were just as naive now as you were back then."

"Who are you," she said again, harsher.

"Clan Vizsla wasn't the only one to prevail through the war," he began, "but they were the only ones pompous and prideful enough to not change their names as times changed. My ancestors foresaw this betrayal of culture generations before you instigated our banishment. Every generation we're given new names, as it has been since Mandalore had been a gem in the emptiness of space, since before the war destroyed us. We have no insignia, but we call ourselves Werda. There's no written record, just, what you'd call, orphans given names at random that mean nothing to ancestry and everything to who they will grow to become." He watched as the Duchess stared knowingly towards the sound of his voice, while Kenobi gave her a questioning look. He decided to step into the light that shone from the ray shield that he had ignited around the two.

"What? Still can't translate Mando'a, Jedi?" he teased. "You spent over a year with our people, yet never learned the language?"

"It's a hard, archaic language to learn," Kenobi started.

"It means 'shadow'," the Duchess interrupted.

"I'd say that's poetic, if you weren't a traitor, that is," Kenobi said.

"Oh no, no Master Jedi, I am no traitor, your precious Duchess here is," his voice became amused. "What was your first lesson in Mandalorian politics?"

"Verd ori'shya beskar'gam," she said quietly. "A warrior is more than his armor."

"You made Mandalore weak when you sent our warriors to die on your mining moon. War is in our blood, and you betrayed every drop of it!" Satine stared horrified at the man, his face felt familiar yet she could not put a name or memory to it.

"So you joined Deathwatch," Satine asked.

"No," he laughed. "I do not agree with Vizsla's radical approach, though he can be a good ally when there's a similar interest in mind."