Concordia had long been tied to Mandalorian history, producing some of their greatest warriors and leaders across the centuries.
Now, it served the people of Mandalore once more as the headquarters for the Protectors.
In the main training compound, more than fifty children gathered on the practice field. They ranged in age from nine to twelve, their faces carrying the weight of experiences no child should bear. On the sidelines, a dozen adults in full Mandalorian armor stood watching, their attention fixed on a single figure.
Spar, better known as the Mandalorian Resurrectionist, stood before the assembled group. His gaze was sharp as he studied each child briefly, seeing not what they were, but what they could become. His eyes revealed expectation and determination, as if he could already glimpse these younglings transforming into hope for the future.
Spar carried a troubled past. He'd once attempted to become a pilot and serve in the Grand Army of the Republic.
But when the war erupted, his life changed irrevocably. During his creation in Kamino's cloning facilities, he'd become something unique. For reasons no one fully understood, he'd retained Jango Fett's memories. This made him feel fundamentally different as he matured, trapped in a dilemma he couldn't escape.
That existential crisis drove him to leave Kamino. He began traveling to places Jango Fett had been. Concordia. Mandalore. Tatooine. Following footsteps that were simultaneously his and not his.
There, he met three like-minded Mandalorians. Fenn Rau, Tobbi Dala, and Dax Odo became his friends, his companions. With them, he found purpose. He inherited the knowledge his predecessor possessed and took up the mantle that came with it.
Drawing on Jango Fett's memories and expertise, Spar made a decision. He would become Mandalore during this galactic war, a time when his people desperately needed leadership. The Mandalorians existed in a turbulent period, requiring someone to guide them forward and reclaim their lost glory. Spar would undertake that task alongside his closest allies.
Becoming Mandalore was a complex experience for Spar. He held a title that Jango had possessed before imprisonment and the loss of his army years ago.
Taking on this mantle now, during these trying times, was something he wasn't entirely certain he could handle properly.
But he'd be damned if he didn't try.
"Mandalorians," Spar's voice rang out across the compound, immediately silencing the whispered conversations.
"We are not a single race or nation, but a powerful culture and an enduring creed." He began pacing before the group of displaced children, recounting their history with the gravity it deserved.
"Our history traces back to the early days of the galaxy. We were once a unified species. But as time passed, our ancestors recognized the strength of unity through diversity. They began accepting and respecting different interpretations of what it meant to be Mandalorian. Anyone who embraced our creed could become one of us. Since then, the fire of our culture has never been extinguished."
The Mandalorian adults watched intently as Spar continued. "To be Mandalorian is to accept that life will be filled with challenges. This isn't merely about combat or bounty hunting. It's about internal struggles and external trials that shape you into someone stronger. Mandalorians serve their clans, their families, their people unconditionally."
The children watched the Resurrectionist with rapt attention.
"Glory belongs to those who dare to fight for what they believe in. Who take risks and prove their worth to the galaxy. They earn respect and inspire fear." Spar's voice carried conviction. "For thousands of years, the name Mandalorian has meant two things across this galaxy. Fear and respect."
Among the sea of young faces, Spar noticed a Togruta girl whose eyes reflected deep fear and anxiety. He crossed to her slowly, crouching to her level.
"Tell me, little one," he asked gently. "Are you afraid?"
She trembled slightly but nodded.
After a moment's hesitation, she began to speak, words tumbling out uncertainly. "Being a Mandalorian sounds scary."
Understanding flickered across Spar's scarred features, accompanied by a wry smile.
"Why are you scared?" he asked softly, genuinely trying to understand her perspective.
The girl drew a deep breath, speaking more clearly now. "Because you said we have to fight. I don't want to fight. I don't want to hurt anyone."
Compassion stirred in Spar's chest. He extended his hand slowly, palm up. "Come. I won't hurt you."
The Togruta girl hesitated, then slowly placed her small hand in his much larger one. He took it gently, his grip careful despite the calluses and scars covering his fingers.
"What's your name, little one?"
"Belo," she replied quietly.
Spar repeated her name with a warm chuckle. "That's a beautiful name."
His praise eased some of her visible tension.
"Tell me, Belo. Where were you found?"
The Togruta girl tilted her head, momentarily confused by the question. But she answered anyway. "I saw men in helmets hurt my family. Then some other people took me away..." Her voice broke, tears welling in her eyes.
Spar immediately pulled her into a careful embrace, offering what comfort he could. His heart ached with sympathy. These children had endured things no one should experience, especially not at their age. He had to protect them now. Make them feel safe and valued.
She leaned against his shoulder, tears falling freely. The gathered Mandalorians and children watched in silence, the only sound Belo's quiet sobs. After several minutes, the child began calming. Spar took a cloth from his belt and gently wiped the tears from her face.
When he spoke again, his voice carried both softness and seriousness. "Young one, you need to understand why you were brought here. You may never see your birth family again. I'm deeply sorry for that truth. But this is also your chance to begin anew. Here, you can find a new family and become someone stronger. Find strength within yourself and in those around you. Learn to protect what matters most."
Uncertainty and confusion filled Belo's eyes.
Spar continued, "You have a good heart. I can see it as clearly as anyone here. We'll help you turn that goodness into strength. Help you guide Mandalore's future toward something better. You need us to keep you safe, don't you? Well, one day, we'll look to you knowing you can do the same. You can protect others. You can at least try. Not only for me, but for the brothers and sisters standing beside you."
Belo rubbed her eyes and looked around. She studied the other children's faces. Some frowned. Others offered tentative smiles of encouragement. But regardless of their expressions, she saw the same thing in all their eyes.
Loneliness.
This was a gathering of the lost. Most had experienced war's horrors, criminal violence, or other terrible circumstances. They were all orphans. But they'd been saved by the Protectors and brought here together.
Looking at the children surrounding her, Belo felt an unexpected desire to find her place among them. She didn't know what happened to her family, but she understood she wasn't alone anymore. Here, she would begin a new life and become someone stronger. Together with these children, they would support and encourage each other while facing whatever the future held.
Spar didn't need her to speak. The determination and fortitude emerging in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.
His mouth widened in his own unique expression of approval. He touched her cheek lightly with his knuckles, gently guiding her to look at him directly. "Atta girl," he said with genuine pride, then patted her head gently. "Little one, your journey is about to begin."
Belo blinked, drew a deep breath, quickly wiped away any remaining tears, and smiled back at Spar. He rose and returned to his original position before the orphans, turning to address them all.
"Education, armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language, our leaders. These are the pillars of our survival," he declared firmly. "You will learn all of this here. You will strengthen your bodies, sharpen your minds, fortify your wills. You will practice combat skills, forge your own armor and weapons, and learn the language and songs that bind us together."
His tone carried weight as he concluded, "Listen carefully to your instructors and never hesitate to ask questions. Challenging yourself is as important as challenging others. That's how you grow."
Spar glanced up, spotting a ship approaching the compound. He recognized it immediately, the corner of his mouth rising slightly. He turned to the nearest Mandalorian and nodded, indicating she should take over. She nodded back, donned her helmet, and stepped into his place.
"So, younglings," the Mandalorian instructor began, her voice carrying through her helmet's vocoder. "Let's start with the basics."