Chapter Text
Tor Vizsla jerked awake with a gasp, finding himself laying on the floor of his office with his baar’ur and second (his ad, Pre) kneeling next to him. His neck throbbed as if it remembered what it felt like to have a karking jetii’kad pass through it to remove his head.
“Alor, you suddenly collapsed, how are you feeling?” his ad asked, worriedly.
“Scans are normal but collapsing isn’t. It has me concerned.” the baar’ur said.
“I’m fine!” Tor snapped, pushing them away so that he could get up, absently rubbing at his neck as he looked around, one hand going to his belt, and—
It was gone. The Dha’kad was missing. His claim to Manda’yaim had been stolen by whatever Jettii osik had happened.
He must have said something because the two others in the office frowned at him.
“Buir, no one has been here but us.”
“The Jetii was here! He stole the Dha’kad and—and—” he trailed off, realizing claiming that the Jetii had beheaded him sounded like he was absolutely dini’la.
He growled in frustration before gesturing at the lack of his very important heirloom, “How else do you explain how it’s missing?”
“Did you leave it in your personal quarters this morning?” Pre asked.
“No, I didn’t leave it in my quarters.” he snarled as his comm blinked with an incoming transmission before flickering on to show none other than the false Mand’alor Fett and some di’kut wearing only a buy’ce.
“What the kriff are you calling for? How’d you get my comm code?” Tor snapped, only to get no reaction, and slowly he realized that it was a one-way transmission, and it wasn’t just him. The others in the office also had pulled out their comms and were looking at the same two figures.
“Mando’ade!” Fett’s voice finally carried out, “I am Mand’alor Jango Fett of House Mereel. Today is a day for all Mando’ade to celebrate no matter what kind of life you lead. Today the Manda itself has found our next Ridruni’alor. Obi-Wan Kenobi of House Gilamar.”
What the kriff was Fett doing, making such a claim. That osik’ika was—
His thought cut off when he spotted it. His dha’kad hanging from Fett’s belt. How the kriff did Fett get his hands on it? It only just disappeared and Fett was clearly on Manda’yaim and not Concordia. There was just no way for—it was simply impossible. He knew it was because if he had been out long enough for Fett or the Jetii he’d sent to travel from one planet to the other, he would have woken up in the medbay, not on his office floor.
Fett had been continuing to talk as Tor’s mind spun trying to figure things out, but now he and the other were reaching up to remove their buy’ce’e.
“Jetii.” he growled, seeing the face of the Jetii who had snuck into his office and had stolen the Dha’kad. He refused to think on how the Kih’jetii had managed to do what had clearly been done. And he was still claiming to be the ridruni’alor? Blasphemy! Fett had lost any honor he might have had to have teamed up with the jetii for such a lie!
He grabbed one of his tracy’uur’e and shot his comm to kill the transmission, then he shot the comms out of his ad’s and the baar’ur’s hands as well, not caring that his actions burnt their hands. “Karking liars.”
“Buir,” Pre frowned, “Fett wasn’t lying.”
“He was standing next to the jetii that stole from me! He had my Dha’kad on his belt! He’s faking it! That was no Ridruni’alor!”
“That’s not something that can be faked.” the baar’ur spoke up, not even with the Jetiise’s Force osik.”
“We can feel the truth in the Manda.” Pre, the insolent brat dared to claim.
“I am Mand’alor! Fett and his Jetii will die for their tricks!” Tor growled, moving towards the door, only to find the path blocked.
“We lost. The Manda has made its choice. It’s not you who will lead Mandalore.” the Baar’ur said firmly.
“Traitor!” Tor hissed, raising his blaster and shooting them in the face.
Before the body could hit the ground, Pre had pulled his own tracy’uur out and returned fire, a few bolts glancing off his hal'cabur before one finally landed, scorching its way through his neck that had still tingled unpleasantly from before.
He dropped to the floor.
Pre was left alone, breathing hard and taking a moment to mourn his buir—his dar’buir… A man who had been too blinded by selfishness to know when the battle was over.
He sighed, holstering his weapon before turning to walk out to where the rest of Kyr’tsad were gathering.
“The Manda has spoken.” he said in a loud, strong voice, “Tor Vizsla refused to accept it, but I’ll not forsake the Manda. Kyr’tsad’s vision for Mandalore is not what the Manda feels is best. From today on, we follow the Mand’alor the Manda has chosen. Anyone who disagrees will no longer be welcomed in our ranks.”
All of Kyr’tsad that he could see saluted his words, “Oya! Mhi ijaat Mand’alor Fett! Mhi ijaat Ridruni’alor Kenobi!”
“Pack up. We’re returning to Manda’yaim to rejoin our vode and swear to our Mand'alor.”
“Elek, Alor Vizsla!”
-1/3-