Chapter Text
"Have you ever removed your helmet?" Asked the Armorer, her voice cold and judging. Din froze, knowing he lost his opportunity to lie and now he had to face his mentor. "I have," He croaked, guilt present in his whispery voice. A disappointed head tilt from the female Mandalorian was enough to signify that he screwed up. Thoughts rushed through his armoured head. He now regretted showing his face to Grogu, and by extension, to the Jedi who had saved him. He now wished he'd slain Mayfield to atone but it was too late for that, wasn't it? "If it were not for that weapon, I'd have banished you." The Armorer informed, a slight sense of relief resonating as she spoke. Paz forced himself from Din's hold and look at the woman with distaste. "You'd allow this... this... apostate to dwell with us? After he's broken our creed?" He questioned, he had every right to do so, both Din and the Armorer were aware.
"We hide our faces to hide our shame. As Mand'alor, he has no such shame." She said blankly, staring down the beskar warrior who was now more confused than worried. Paz was willing to accept that answer, he was willing to follow the creed even if he didn't particularly like it. He turned to the shorter warrior, processing the last of the woman's statements. With a nod he chanted, "This is the way."
"This is the way." The repeated.
Paz reclaimed his knife and jettisoned off as he was no longer needed. This left both Din and the Armorer to their own devices. Djarin hadn't fully understood that he is now Mand'alor, the leader of a scattered and vulnerable people. If he played his cards right, he could become a legend as grand as Tar Vizla. Even now he began theorizing who to find, who to eliminate but was interrupted as the Armorer had snuck her way to his front. "Again you are distracted." She acknowledged, whacking him in the helmet. "I feel I've betrayed you and the creed." He admitted honestly. Walking to his side and reclaiming his noble weapon, the Armorer reassured, "No. Creed before emotions." Din sighed softly, arms going limp and his head to the ground. Walking back over to him, she thrust the hilt against his chest, an angry stare burning into his visor. Mandalorians had a unique ability to guess another's emotions.
"May I speak freely, my liege?" She inquired politely. Din was stunned, taken aback even. The tone of her voice completely changed from a neutral monotone to an almost submissive subservience. It was somewhat satisfying to the Mand'alor but uncomfortable for the man. He was the one who used to lower his voice in subjection or out of respect to another, but she is the one treading lightly- so to speak. Din nodded. "I feel... disappointed. All these years of loyal adherence, only for you to..." Her voice began climbing, soft anger breaching from her heart only to be silenced by her new leader. "The creed saw that I complete my mission. It was necessary for the first occurrence. Only one survivor knows my face and he is an ally." Din argued, strapping his blessed blade to its proper place. The Armorer took a step back. "You speak as if there was another altercation." Noted the female. Din breathed in stale air, remnants of bated breath. "Yes. After the completion of my mission. But by then, I'd already obtained the dark sabre." He spoke as if to dare her to find fault. She stared silently, only her heavy breathing filling the atmosphere. "Then... I have no grievances."
Din now realized how much power he truly had, how much control he had over those who followed the way or their own version of the Mandalorian creed. "Then I'd wish to continue my training. I cannot afford to be disarmed while in combat." Din sidestepped the beskar-clad lady. As she watched her kinsman ascend a short flight of stairs, the Armorer couldn't help but feel uncomfortably confused. She's just around 10 years older than him, already a fully-fledged Mando by the time he was brought to the Covert. She watched his struggle, preserve and grow as not only a warrior, but now as a person. Months ago, Din was confident in his abilities, consistent in his aspirations and dedicated to the cause. Now, he's doubting himself, not completely sure of what to do next and has broken his creed, only to be saved by raw power and a clause in the law which he'd never known of.
The way has spoken, the way has given its decree. Adherence is survival, rebellion only leads to destruction. She knows that.
**1 Standard Week Later**
It only took 7 days but Din had gained some skill with the Darksaber. If he could subdue his enemy in a minute or sooner, the blade would permit him to use its power. It'd have to do.
Mando and the Armorer sat across from one another, legs folded under their bodies. Din stared just behind her, in the abyss while she held her gaze firmly in line with his visor. "There are certain matters of importance I wish to discuss, my liege." She spoke softly. Din didn't think he'd ever get used to such a title, especially from the leader of his tribe. "What is it?" He acknowledged. The woman reached behind her and pulled out a small device, a tracking fob. "Firstly, I asked Paz to search for leads. It would seem another group of our own have lost their headship and are willing to join us. I'd be happy to take them in before they perish from The Way." She explained with a sense of urgency lingering in her voice. Din was heard the worry, the nurturing disposition she held her fellow brothers and sisters. She handed him the fob. "Please. Find them. Bring them to me."
In the past, she'd have demanded he located the clan, but it would seem her newfound respect has altered her choice of words. Din fitted the fob in his belt and uttered, "I'll look into it." The Armorer seemed happy, a cautious motion akin to a nod was enough for Mando to understood her elation. "Secondly, Bo-Katan wishes to have an audience with, and I quote, 'my illustrious leader whose strength inspires the few who witness it.' Coordinates have been attached." She spat in a sour tone, evidently offended by the childless Matriarch's use of sarcasm and subtle insult. She's implying that only a few have seen him in action, making his inherent strength less than credible. Din knew it was a test of grit and wit, he had more of the former than the latter but he couldn't allow for her to... undermine his authority. "Tell her: To my obedient servant, whose charisma inspired the flock and ravaged sacred ground, prepare for my arrival." He dictated, earning a strangled giggle from his kinsman.
"At once, my liege."
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Posted 5/2/2022