"Still reading that journal?" Tobi asked, peering over Dax's shoulder as the Ordo clan member remained absorbed in the ancient text.
Fennec was sitting beside him, and both warriors had already read through it several times.
They had long since returned to their homeworld of Concord Dawn. Although their mission to Tatooine had concluded without securing Boba Fett's commitment, Spar remained optimistic that Jango Fett's son would eventually join them. They simply had to be patient.
Currently, the trio was gathered in the largest tent, which Spar used as their primary operations and briefing center.
"This is fascinating," Dax admitted. "This is my ancestor Canderous's personal journal. We can learn so much from this single volume."
"How did this survive so long?" Fennec muttered in wonder. "I examined the cover—everything appears metallic, but even so, the pages seem impossibly preserved."
"Well, the ancient Canons of Honor were written on some type of specialized fabric and reportedly lasted for millennia until they were lost," Dax pointed out. "Though by then, most people had memorized them or copied them into other texts."
Dax's fingertips traced across the pages, his expression deeply focused. "Actually, even the pages feel unusual. Like some kind of metal composite."
"Composite?"
"Yeah, here, feel this." Dax offered the journal to Fennec, who took it and immediately looked surprised, testing the texture.
"See what I mean?"
"What is this material?" Fennec asked, handing it to Tobi, who examined it with the same confused expression.
"It's like... a fusion of paper and metal, if that makes any sense," Tobi speculated, returning it to Dax.
"Spar said the same thing when he examined it. Claimed it reminded him of beskar," Dax noted.
"Beskar?" Fennec murmured. "So... this paper contains beskar?"
Dax shrugged and placed the journal on the table where he and Fennec were seated.
"Some textiles have certain metals woven into the fabric for durability. So it wouldn't be surprising if other materials, like paper, incorporated metals for preservation," Tobi reasoned.
"Have you discovered anything else in that journal?" Tobi asked.
"Actually, yes." Fennec took the book and opened to the second half of Canderous's journal. "Look at this."
Tobi stared at an intricate array of symbols and codes—some resembling Mandalorian script, others completely foreign to him.
"What is this supposed to represent?"
"We're not certain," Dax shook his head.
"It could be a cipher Canderous created that requires decoding, or it might be some ancient language he encountered."
"Did you show this to Spar?" Tobi asked, squinting at the symbols he tried unsuccessfully to decipher.
Fennec nodded. "He recognized some of the symbols and phrases. See this shape that resembles a helmet?" Tobi nodded. "That's the symbol representing initiates after foundling training concludes, and this crescent pattern is the emblem of Dxun's moon."
"Dxun..." Tobi muttered. "Do we know that location?"
"Long ago, that world served as a training ground for our people," Dax explained. "The planet was abandoned centuries ago."
Tobi pondered this revelation. It seemed that whatever symbols and codes Canderous Ordo had recorded were attempting to communicate something significant.
Whatever that might be.
The three warriors turned toward the tent entrance as it opened and Spar entered.
"Good, you're all here," Spar said. "I was told you three were examining the journal."
"Apologies, Spar. We couldn't resist," Fennec admitted.
"Keep it with you," Spar said dismissively. "Come on, you three. It's time for the ceremony."
"Today?" Dax said with surprise.
"You're all needed," Spar explained. "Let's not keep them waiting."
"Understood."
The three followed their leader to the Protectors' training grounds, where they observed dozens of Mandalorians either sparring or instructing the foundlings in their care.
"Mand'alor," a nearby Mandalorian called out, and many turned to acknowledge their leader, either calling his title or bowing slightly in respect.
Spar simply waved and approached the group of foundlings being instructed by several Mandalorians, including Ursa Wren, who wore practical training attire with a small but visible bump indicating her pregnancy.
"Mandalorians," he nodded respectfully to the instructors, standing before a large group of foundlings—approximately forty children of various species besides humans, all under twelve years of age.
He studied them all with a careful eye.
"Foundlings," he said quietly, removing his helmet as he addressed them. "You are the future of our people, our culture, our way of life."
He gestured for the group to follow, and the instructors led them to the front of the training grounds where he sat on a natural rock formation. Spar raised his hand, and the children all sat down, with several Mandalorians standing beside him while others surrounded the foundlings in an almost protective circle.
"I know some of you were born into this life. Others chose it, and some had no choice and nowhere else to go," Spar began gently. "I know this is something you've all heard before, but I'm telling you now: We are Mandalorians. We are your family. Everyone in this camp is your brother or sister. We fight and die for each other until the end."
The children stared at their Mand'alor with wide eyes, captivated by his words.
"If you are struggling, someone will be there to help you. For example, if you need shelter or sustenance, your clan-mates are expected to provide assistance, and in turn, you will do the same—whether you become a warrior or a farmer."
At this point, Fennec, Tobi, and Dax were all standing beside their fellow Mandalorians, with Fennec being the first to speak.
"Unlike other societies and cultures, we are meritocratic—valuing actions and achievements over birthright and status. We generally distrust hierarchies and have little interest in them unless they are earned. Only then do we respect those positions."
"Consider the legendary Mand'alor known as the Uniter," Dax added. "He was merely the son of a common weaver, yet he earned his title and secured his place in our people's history."
"As you can see, the title of Mand'alor can be held by anyone," Spar continued. "Though achieving such a position is never easily accomplished."
A young girl at the front of the foundling group raised her hand, and Spar acknowledged her.
"Who was the first Mand'alor?" she asked curiously, and many other foundlings leaned forward with the same question.
"Ah, now this touches upon our people's history," Spar said with a slight smile. "Our heritage spans thousands of years. We were once a single species, then evolved into a culture. We began as a religious warrior society under ancient rulers, with complex laws and customs that later became a code of honor—known as the spirit of the Mandalorians."
Fennec continued, "These six acts comprised the Canons of Honor. These six principles defined what it meant to be Mandalorian in ancient times, and anyone who wished to be considered Mandalorian was expected to follow them."
"One: Wear beskar armor. Two: Speak Mando'a. Three: Defend yourself and your family. Four: Contribute to your clan's welfare. Five: Raise your children as Mandalorians. Six: Answer the Mand'alor's call to battle."
"This was in ancient times—a different era," Spar clarified.
"There was a period when we achieved true unity compared to the rest of the galaxy," Fennec addressed the other Mandalorians respectfully, and they understood his reference.
"Mandalore the Ultimate," a Mandalorian in red armor with a dark ponytail, green eyes, and olive skin spoke proudly. "The great unification of our people. He orchestrated the event known as the Return during a dark period in galactic history. During that time, the Mandalorians were undisputed and unbreakable."
"Are we united now?" a young Twi'lek boy asked, raising his hand.
Many of the Mandalorians tensed or appeared crestfallen.
"No," Spar said stoically. "Unfortunately, we are not as unified as we once were."
"Why not?" asked another child.
"It's... a complicated answer," Spar admitted. "After the Republic's devastation of our homeworld Mandalore, we became divided. Many clans have emerged, hoping to gain power and reunite our people." Spar then spat on the ground. "But they have lost their way. Many have used their names and positions for personal gain, forgetting the ancient Mandalorian spirit—the true ways of our people. You must earn your place among the clans, not buy it."
Spar stood from his position and regarded all the foundlings.
"The Mandalorian way of life involves conflict—embracing it for the betterment of our clans and ourselves," Spar emphasized. "We are warriors, but not savages. Mand'alor Jaster Mereel created the Supercommando Codex, which we still follow today. Those known as Death Watch and the New Mandalorians are merely pretenders. The former seeks to continue our barbaric past, which will lead to our destruction. The New Mandalorians are cowards who have abandoned their warrior heritage and become nothing more than Republic puppets, even as they claim neutrality."
Spar surveyed them all.
"It is time for you to begin proper training," Spar announced, as many foundlings looked around excitedly, the older Mandalorians smiling at their enthusiasm.
"We'll begin with the war chant that every Mandalorian learns when introduced to our way of life."
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