"You did well, son. I'm proud of you," Varn said, placing his hand on Rayden's shoulder. A big smile stretched across his face, his eyes gleaming with pride as he regarded his son, who had shown tremendous spirit and determination throughout the challenges.
"Good job, baby," Elyse added, her voice softening as she bent down to kiss her son's forehead. The warmth of her affection radiated through her gentle touch, and she couldn't help but beam at how much Rayden had grown.
"Thanks, Mom and Dad," Rayden replied, a mixture of humility and joy lighting up his face. He felt grateful for the support of his parents, which fueled his desire to push further.
Off to the side, Veyra could be seen congratulating and consoling Lexi, who had displayed her own remarkable talents during the competition. Her supportive words wrapped around Lexi like a comforting blanket.
"You kids must be tired from all the excitement. Good thing you can rest for a bit before the cooking challenge. Though, if you're feeling overwhelmed, you can sit that one out," Varn suggested, his tone laced with concern for their well-being.
Rayden and Lexi exchanged glances, both shaking their heads with determination. They explained that they wanted to compete in the upcoming challenge. Lexi mentioned she would opt out of the forging competition; she had neither the skill nor the interest in forging.
"Don't push yourself too hard, dear. Remember, you're only five," Elyse cautioned, her motherly worry evident in her voice. She brushed a stray hair out of Lexi's face, her loving gaze full of concern.
"I'm fine. A short rest is enough for me. Don't you remember how often I train? My endurance is pretty high," Rayden responded confidently, recalling the countless hours he'd spent honing his skills. His voice carried conviction and determination, shaped by a year filled with rigorous training.
Elyse smiled, ruffling Rayden's hair affectionately. She chuckled at his slightly grimaced face as he tried to straighten it out, knowing that underneath his bravado, he was still her little boy.
"Listen, son, all the clan leaders and I have been discussing the schedule for the rest of the competition," Varn said, his tone shifting to something more serious.
A flicker of surprise crossed Rayden's face as he tilted his head to the side, quietly ready for his father's words. Varn continued after seeing that Rayden and Lexi were paying attention.
"Today's schedule remains the same, with the cook-off, the forging event, and ending the day with a marathon. We finalized how the rest of the competition will unfold. In the morning, there'll be another team competition. This time, it will be a normal team elimination match: 5 v 5. If you win, you advance; if you lose, you're out. The losers from each round will square off to determine their final spot," Varn explained, detailing the straightforward yet intense nature of the competition.
"In the afternoon, there will be a speeder bike race. A race track is being designed right now, which will take you through Kweving Heights and the surrounding areas, filled with twists, turns, and some obstacles," Varn added.
Based on how he described it, Rayden imagined the pod races on Tatooine or the riot racing on Serolonis.
"In the evening, the survival challenge begins," he continued, a serious tone settling over the room. "Based on where each team places in the morning, the supplies provided for the challenge will vary. If you land in first place, each member will receive the best supplies: food, water, tools, and sleeping gear, enough to last you two whole days. As the ranking decreases, the quality of the supplies diminishes exponentially, until the team in last place receives only a meal before they leave and a single knife."
Rayden's heart skipped a beat. 'That sounds really harsh,' he thought in his mind, surprised at the scant provisions for those who would end up last. Lexi looked shocked as well, with he exclaiming when she heard what Varn said.
"The survival challenge will meld individual efforts with team dynamics. You'll each be dropped into a designated area to survive for the initial two nights, and then you'll make your way to your clan's specific area for another two nights as a cohesive group. Ultimately, you must reach the exfiltration location in time. Miss that, and you fail," Varn stated gravely, his voice a reminder of the stakes involved.
"Each member's actions will be evaluated based on how well they not only survive but also thrive in the wild. For each member who reaches the exfiltration point, the clan's score will be multiplied: 35 kids equal 35 times the combined points from the entire competition," he elaborated, emphasizing the impact of teamwork and individual worth.
"Wow, that's a lot of points!" Lexi exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise and excitement. "The points we earn in the wild are added to the clan points before being multiplied, right?" she asked, wanting to understand the intricacies of the scoring system.
"Correct, dear. So, while you're out there in the wild, keep in mind the importance of helping your fellow clan mates. You don't want to leave points on the table," Veyra responded warmly, her nurturing nature evident in the way she guided her daughter's understanding.
Rayden pondered momentarily, contemplating a strategy that could impact their success. "Can we eliminate other clans' members?" he asked, curious about the competitive edge.
Varn smiled knowingly. "Good question, son. To answer you, no, you cannot eliminate anyone. But there are animals and plants in the area that can and will pose threats to you kids. So be aware of your surroundings and stay vigilant," he advised, the gravity of his words sinking in as he looked into Rayden's eyes.
"Understood, dad." Rayden nodded in response to Varn's advice.
"Ok that is enough explaining for now. It just about lunch time so the cook off should be starting soon." Elyse brought the conversation
The group made their way to the area where the cook-off and subsequently the forging event would take place.
As they were on their way, Elyse felt a pull in the Force, sensing that she needed to follow where it led. She approached Varn and informed him of her feelings. After a brief conversation, she kissed him and returned to their house.
Once inside, she retrieved her lightsaber and the Mandalorian armor that Varn had commissioned for her when they got married. She then made her way to the airfield, where a Gauntlet starfighter was waiting for her, along with twelve members of her clan. They were all ready and waiting, thanks to her husband's thoughtfulness. She smiled at the gesture.
"Let's go. Our destination is Sundari." She told them as she walked up the ramp.
"Yes maam." The twelve respond. Following her up.
=================
Back with Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, they watched as the speeder glided through the vibrant yet somewhat blocky city of Sundari, the capital of Mandalore. The intricate blend of architectural styles stood in stark contrast to the looming, barren landscapes that surrounded them, creating a juxtaposition of civilization against desolation.
As the speeder made its way to the royal palace, the steward's voice broke the spell of silence. "A very unique sight, isn't it, young Jedi?" he remarked, catching Obi-Wan's gaze fixated on the sprawling metropolis below.
"Yes, it is. Your architecture is indeed unique, to say the least," Obi-Wan responded, nodding appreciatively at the aesthetics shaped by necessity and tradition.
"Haha, yes. We had to make do with the space the dome afforded us," the steward explained. "It's a shame most of Mandalore is barren. The north is the only area that still has a somewhat normal environment. The rest... It's been devastated by years of conflict and neglect." His expression darkened, revealing a deep sorrow for his homeland.
"Why don't you move the capital there, then?" Obi-Wan ventured, seeking a solution to Mandalore's predicament.
"Two reasons, young Jedi. One, this city has been our capital for so long that most citizens are resistant to change. It has long been a symbol of our resilience." The steward's voice wavered slightly with nostalgia. "The second reason is more complex. The clans residing in the north do not wish to relinquish their lands, most notably Clan Knight and a few others. That land has been theirs for generations, and they are fiercely protective of it."
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and asked, "Could you not just force them to leave? Your forces are larger, right?"
"We have the troops, yes, but we are talking about warrior clans here," the steward cautioned. "Each clan boasts an arsenal of skilled fighters, starfighters, and heavy weaponry that they would readily deploy if threatened."
He paused for a moment. "Engaging them would require significant time, manpower, and resources. Fighting them is not worth it at this time, as it would likely escalate tensions. We already face more than enough problems with Death Watch and traditionalists who uphold old ways."
As the steward finished speaking, the speeder glided to a halt at the grand entrance of the royal palace. "Master Jedi, if you both follow me, I'll take you to see the Duke," he instructed, leading them into the vast and ornate palace.
Walking through the corridors adorned with flickering lights and intricate carvings, they marveled at the portraits of past rulers of Mandalore, each one telling tales of glory and hardship. The hall echoed with the whispers of a proud lineage.
As Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan entered the vast throne room, they noticed it was filled with royal guards stationed along the sides, their eyes scanning the room with a practiced vigilance. A middle-aged man in his late 40s, dressed in richly embroidered robes, sat regally on the throne, engaged in discussion with a group of advisors.
When the Duke caught sight of the steward bringing in the two Jedi, he paused, gesturing for the advisors to grant him some privacy. "Welcome, Jedi. I thank you and your Order for answering our call," Duke Adonai said, rising from his throne to shake Qui-Gon's hand firmly.
"You are in need, Duke, and it is a Jedi's responsibility to help the people," Qui-Gon replied, his voice steady.
"Yes, help... I am indeed in need of assistance," Duke Adonai said, his expression heavy with concern as he turned to look out the window, surveying the city of Sundari, a bittersweet vision of his domain.
"What do you think of our current situation, Master..?"
"Qui-Gon, and this is my apprentice, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon introduced himself and his padawan.
"What do you think of our current situation, Master Qui-Gon?" the Duke repeated the question.
"From what I have observed and heard on the way to the palace, it seems that a civil war is about to start," Qui-Gon replied, gauging the atmosphere in the room.
"Yes, and it is a complicated civil war," the Duke added reluctantly.
"Could you explain the situation so we may be able to help?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice urging the Duke to elaborate.
"Of course," the Duke said as he returned to sit on his throne, his brow furrowed with the weight of his words. "This civil war pits my faction, House Kryze, and its allied clans who advocate for a more pacifist direction against two separate factions bent on conflict. One of those factions is Death Watch, a radical group that seeks to resurrect Mandalore's aggressive past, plunging our people into a neo-crusade that aims to conquer and pillage like our ancestors."
Obi-Wan interjected, "So they want to ravage, pillage, and destroy as the Mandalorians of old?"
"Correct. They are a coalition of power-hungry fools who believe might makes right," Duke Adonai replied firmly, his demeanor grave. "The other faction consists of clans resistant to change. They are not as extreme as Death Watch, but they still cling to a warrior tradition that has wrought destruction upon our world."
Qui-Gon asked thoughtfully, "Is that all who would participate in this civil war?"
The Duke looked at him, shaking his head slowly. "There are also neutral clans. These clans are a toss-up; some support our pacifist vision, while others are staunch traditionalists but refuse to engage in battle. They are caught in a web of indecision, torn between the past and a grim future. Or just don't wish to deal with either side."
He sighed, visibly burdened by the weight of his responsibilities. "Their opinions could swing the tide of this conflict, but convincing them to choose a side will prove challenging. The scars of our past run deep."