"As for me? Heh..."
Max Vizsla laughed.
When he had first arrived in this galaxy, he had once longed for the kind of love that bound two hearts together until old age. On certain nights, when darker impulses stirred restlessly within him, he had even fantasized about building a living museum of beauties—a vast galactic harem.
After becoming the leader of a faction, Max had tried to condition himself in another direction: A ruler has no private affairs. Romance could not be indulged for its own sake; marriage should serve politics, and politics should serve the greatest possible advantage for the cause.
Then, after his moment of enlightenment in the Coruscant night market, his outlook shifted again.
"You mean you simply haven't met the right person yet?" Christopher Wren asked.
"Mm." Max nodded. "If I meet someone who truly stirs my heart, then I'll marry her. Or if I meet someone whose dowry is enough to stir my heart, I could marry her too. Once the heart is moved, act on it. Don't try to have everything at once. That's what it means to follow your heart without overstepping the line."
"You don't care for Master Aayla Secura?" Christopher Wren asked, puzzled.
"I do have designs on Aayla, but I've been viewing her as a political marriage prospect. After the Jedi Order falls, the title of Aayla's husband could help me draw surviving Jedi to my banner. But..." Max shook his head. "That idea may not be workable. Her faith is too firm. I'm not sure I could win her over."
"You're worried that after the Jedi Order falls, Master Aayla Secura might choose to help rebuild a new Jedi Order?"
"Very likely." Max nodded. "My theoretical grounding still isn't strong enough. The last time I debated doctrine with Aayla, I couldn't beat her."
"Do you have any other candidates?"
"Do you?" Max lifted a brow. "Feel free to recommend one."
"Bo-Katan Kryze?"
"No need." Max waved that off. "Bo-Katan's influence within Death Watch is fairly limited, and the two thousand people she brings with her can be absorbed without much trouble."
"What about her sister?" Christopher Wren pressed.
"Well now." Max leaned back. "You really do think boldly."
"You think the Duchess is too old?"
"No, no, no. Age isn't the issue." Max explained to his captain, "If it's a political marriage, those things don't matter. If it really came down to it, each side could simply live their own life. A few years from now, Satine would actually be an excellent match politically. But not now."
"Huh?" Christopher Wren looked baffled. "A few years from now, won't the Duchess just be older?"
"I already said age doesn't matter. In the eyes of many old Mandalorians, Duchess Satine is a traitor to Mandalore—a lapdog of the Republic. If I marry her now, it will provoke backlash among the old Mandalorian factions. That would hurt our efforts to win them over, and it might even drive them into the arms of Death Watch."
"Then why would it become acceptable a few years later?"
"Because by then, once we've restored Mandalore, if I marry Duchess Satine, it becomes the victor taking the defeated as wife. There's an element of conquest to it. The old Mandalorians would resent it far less. And for the New Mandalorians, such a marriage would ease their fears and help stabilize society."
"Would the Duchess agree?"
"Circumstances shape people. By that point, I think she probably would. Though," Max said with a slight curl of the lip, "she may not do so very willingly."
"Haa..." Christopher Wren let out a sigh. "Politics really is complicated."
At that remark, Max laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, though there was a note of helplessness in it.
He had always hoped to groom Christopher Wren into a leader of stature—someone he could one day send out to govern distant territories once the realm expanded. But while Christopher learned the arts of war with remarkable speed, politics never seemed to sink in. That was a constant frustration for Max.
At present, under Max's banner, the only one truly capable of independent regional command was probably Michael Saxon. Bo-Katan Kryze and Asajj Ventress had potential; given enough tempering, they ought to be able to grow into the role as well, Max thought.
Woo—woo—
A red light flashed, and the alarm sounded, cutting off the conversation between the two Mandalorians.
"It's hyperspace turbulence. I'll take manual control. Go to the aft compartment and bring Ralkai up here—don't let the boy get frightened."
"Yes, Chief." Christopher Wren rose and went at once.
When Ralkai returned to the cockpit, there was not the slightest trace of fear on his face. Instead, he bounced with excitement and asked, "Is it a combat alert? Did we run into pirates?"
Max turned, met Christopher Wren's eyes, and the two men exchanged a smile.
The boy had steady nerves. He had promise.
On October 21, Year 6 of the Galactic Standard Calendar, after three days of hyperspace travel through the Unknown Regions—a region thick with high-velocity celestial bodies and massive electromagnetic currents—the Kom'rk dropped out of hyperspace near Ilum.
"Are communications and active sensor systems all shut down?"
"All shut down."
"Begin descent. Keep your eyes open—don't come down anywhere near the Jedi Temple on Ilum."
"Yes, Chief."
Guided by the Force, the Mandalorians piloted the stealth-modified Kom'rk-class Mark I starfighter/transport silently into Ilum's atmosphere, heading for a kyber crystal cave.
On October 22, the Kom'rk rose once more into the sky, lifting out of Ilum's atmosphere and climbing free of the planet's gravity well, carrying over twenty tons of kyber crystal ore.
"Ralkai, can you sing the song the temple sings?"
"I can hum the tune."
"That's enough." Max waved a hand. "Go to the aft compartment and hum it there. Maybe one of the crystals will sing back to you."
"It's really that magical?"
"Mm." Max nodded. "The crystal that sings with you will become a companion for your whole life."
On October 26, the Kom'rk emerged from hyperspace near a planet.
"We're off course." Max's expression turned grave. "This doesn't look like Csilla."
"There's a familiar kind of discomfort here," Christopher Wren said, frowning as well. "A bit like Dathomir."
That sense of unease... like Dathomir...
Something struck Max all at once.
"Exegol," he said. "We've reached Exegol."
"Exegol?" Ralkai scratched his head. "What kind of place is Exegol?"
"One of the sacred worlds of the Sith."
"Should we avoid it?" Christopher Wren asked.
"No need. The Sith are on Coruscant right now." Max made his decision. "We're landing."
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STAR WARS: THE RISE OF MANDALORE
🛡️🔥 STAR WARS: THE RISE OF MANDALORE 🔥🛡️
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📢 FOR MANDALORE! 📢
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Witness the resurgence of Mandalorian power before the public release.
In a galaxy filled with war, betrayal, ancient grudges, and rising factions…
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If you want Mandalorian honor, galactic conflict, brutal battles, and the return of a legendary people…
This is the way.
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