Chapter Text
The second they got back, Jocasta buried herself in research.
Yan could go and deal with whatever the Council wanted from them this time, she needed to get to the bottom of this mystery. Knight Izleze was helping her. The togruta, one of the very few Jedi who actually was decently versed in mando'a , had very quickly become an essential part of Jocasta's very haphazardly thrown-together research team.
Especially since most other mando'a speakers with Temple-affiliation were shadows and she wasn't keen on having to track down whoever was the current Master of Shadows. That would cost valuable time.
Time that was way better spent actually figuring out why that idiot of a Mand'alor had a whole kriffing lightsaber .
Or darksaber. Whatever.
And even more importantly: Why she hadn't EVER heard of that before.
The Mand'alor - Jaster , he had offered them first name basis way back when they had accidentally kidnapped him - had mentioned another mandalorian named Tarre Viszla. That seemed currently like their best bet to find something.
"How do you write Tarre in Basic?" Jocasta looked up from her pad. So far her searches in the archive-intern database had only produced irrelevant albeit interesting essays on the political situation on Mandalore from a few centuries ago. And the hits had all been for 'Viszla' and not 'Tarre Viszla'.
"T-A-", the Knight frowned and looked like she was counting something in her head, "R-R-E. I think." She glanced over and shrugged. "My written mando'a is only passable at best, maybe try some variations as well, Head Archivist."
Jocasta shook her head. "In that case I already have."
"And there was nothing?"
" Nothing ," she hissed, "Not a single mention."
The orange togruta let out a low whistle. "So that either means someone scrubbed the Archives of that name-"
"or this is really old stuff."
Jocasta sincerely hoped for the latter. Because if it weren't , this wouldn't stay a fun little research project. They'd have to roll up a full-blown internal inspection. And as much as she loved her Archives, there actually was a limit to how much time she wanted to spend going over every minute data transfer that had happened in the last few centuries. However if it just was really old and hadn't been integrated into the Archive database it would mean a few days in the Restricted Section on the Pre-Reformation floor trying to coax information out of damaged holocrons. Not her favorite pastime either, but definitely preferable. Especially if she could delegate Yan to it as well.
Speaking of which, where was her favorite research buddy?
Hopefully he hadn't been kidnapped by some enterprising Knight who wanted to improve their dueling skills.
Again.
That was another reason why she valued Knight Izleze so much. The woman had at some point in her later years as a Padawan discovered a very Jedi-atypical preference for hand-to-hand combat and only rarely used her blade for something other than a reading light. Honestly, perfect Archivist material, if Jocasta may say so.
Next to her, lekku twitched.
"I think I might have found something!" Excitedly the Knight pulled up what looked to be a scan of an old… children's nursery rhyme book. Jocasta couldn't read what was written on there but recognized the archaic mando'a for what it was.
"They didn't provide a translation, which isn't too surprising, but i can decipher about half of it and this part," she highlighted a small section of the text, "roughly translated this means 'sword' or 'saber' and this passage here indicates an 'absence of light'." The Knight looked up excitedly. "The Mand'alor called it a darksaber , did he not? This could be it!"
"Yes, it is possible." Jocasta looked at the roughly scribbled translations her assistant had provided so far. There were a lot of blank spaces, but it was better than nothing.
"You said it wasn't too surprising that there wasn't a translation provided?"
The younger woman nodded. "Yes, mando'a isn't usually taught to aru - to people outside of the Clans. Basically, the language is sacred." Her lekku took on an orange tint again.
Jocasta raised an eyebrow.
"I had an… interesting padawanship, Head Archivist." The togruta laughed awkwardly. "And mandalorians really like children it seems."
The second eyebrow followed.
Oh, well, that was interesting.
"But coming back to this… I assume it's a song of some kind? It also mentions a mask and… and either I am reading this completely wrong or this is some kind of mando'a joke that doesn't work out in basic, a fork?"
Jocasta grimaced. "A fork?"
The Knight shrugged. "It doesn't make sense, I know." She scratched her montrals. "I think it's basically a song about setting a table for a meal, but then the mask and the darksaber feel so out of place…"
With a sigh, Jocasta held up one hand. "We'll shelve it and come back to this later. Maybe the Pre-Reformation sections have some more context."
Knight Izleze made a half-assed sound of agreement, already staring back down on that text passage of hers. Jocasta sighed and steered the slight togruta towards the back parts of the Archives.
At some point, the younger woman muttered angrily something that sounded suspiciously much like "Why are they eating light ? That doesn't make sense ."
Jocasta had the vague inkling that the Force was snickering.
Shut up and be helpful . She projected out, to no one in particular.
That afternoon Masters all around the Temple found their Padawans to be extra focussed on their assigned tasks. The phenomenon was as sudden as it was short-lived.
….
" Alor ?" one of Jaster's verde peeked into his library, buic'e under their arm. "We got an inquiry from Clan Rook, one of their elders was contacted by some jetiise about historical resources on the dha'kad and Tarre Viszla."
"Already?" Jaster couldn't hide the glee in his voice. Taking the darksaber with him to that temple really had paid out, even if Jango had hackled him about it the whole flight back.
The two jetiise had ignored all of his previous invitations to his Library. That was why, when he was presented with the opportunity to draw their attention with an interesting artifact (which the dha'kad definitely was, he himself had been collecting lore surrounding it ever since he first became Mand'alor )
"Alor?" The verd looked slightly confused. "They are asking if you'd be okay with them sending some stuff. Apparently one of the jetii almost became a foundling to one of their junior goran'e ."
"Fascinating." Jaster heard of that for the first time.
It seemed like a visit to Clan Rook was in order. But first things first, gossip could wait.
He hummed. "Tell them to only send minimal information," he turned around and tipped something into his personal commlink. "And have them add this code to their message." He transmitted it to the verd .
They blinked.
"Your personal comm code, Alor?"
Jaster smiled blindingly. "I am very interested in the jetiise's research." And their shebs, but the verd didn't have to know that.
They didn't look too convinced.
"What? Can't I appreciate historical research?" He gestured widely over the scattered datapads and holorecords around him.
"I'll let the others know." They said with an eyeroll before slipping back out.
Jaster huffed. No respect for their Mand'alor in here anymore.
Though all was well if he got the two hot jetiise to come back here to Concord Dawn. They really had bonded over that last manuscript and he had just the thing lying around to keep them engaged even longer this time.
Proudly he patted the leather-bound copy of Tarre Viszla's training diary. He'd commissioned this one for the exact purpose of having something to show to Nu and Dooku. Strained relations between the Order and the mando'ade be damned, he was Mand'alor now and he got to decide what he was sharing with their mortal enemies.
Also, Tarre had been a jetii himself. So Jaster guessed this was only fair. As a fellow researcher he knew how shitty it was when records were lost or incomplete, and he personally would absolutely loathe not knowing a vital part of his own culture's history.
Even though these jetiise were thieving thieves who thieved.
Grinning, Jaster tossed the salvaged holocron up and down in his hand.
He couldn't wait for the jetiise's faces.
It would be glorious.
….
A muffled ping let the small gaggle of Jedi, vent over a multitude of records, holocrons and even the occasional stack of flimsi, jump.
"Is that a reply?" Master Yan Dooku, hair in disarray and wearing only a single, comfortable outer tunic over a tight shirt, stared dazedly over into the direction of a visibly dehydrated mon cala Knight.
They had been pulling all-nighters for the last few days, even requesting additional records from the other Temples, especially Bandomeer because of its proximity to Mandalorian space.
The Knight blinked a few times, his eyes red and itchy because he had been foregoing his normal daily hydration treatment. "I'm not su-"
"Wait!" at the same time Knight Izleze staggered over the piles of research material and dragged out a singular pad from beneath a stack of flimsi. The stack immediately tumbled over, spilling over Master Rem Xesshha's lap. The elderly cathar hissed in annoyance and half-heartedly floated the pages back into their neat arrangement.
Izleze's breath caught, letting the assembled Archivists and otherwise affiliated Jedi pause.
"Is it…?" Jocasta almost didn't dare hope.
Their obsessive search had produced more questions than answers so far. Some really old caches from Jedha had hinted at this Tarre Viszla actually being a Jedi , but that didn't make sense !
Or did it.
(Realistically, it made an astounding amount of sense, but that opened the question of why their two people had become the hereditary opponents they were and why that knowledge had been lost.)
(And Jocasta and her team were hellbent on figuring out exactly that.)
Knight Izleze's eyes flitted over her pad, her excitement spilling over in the Force. "Yes! I got an answer from my ori'vod !"
Some eyebrows - or equivalents thereof - raised at that very obvious use of mando'a . Yan shot her an inquiring look but Jocasta just shrugged and made a vague gesture that indicated 'later'.
He accepted it with a squint.
Meanwhile the remaining eyes were trained on the small togruta who was concentratedly flipping through whatever message she had recieved.
"Okay," she gnawed a bit on her lower lip, sitting back down again, "I've gotten an actual translation of the poem thingy, we were right, it was a nursery rhyme." Knight Izleze nodded towards Jocasta. "Apparently it is still in use, albeit in a slightly changed version, and is part of a popular children's skipping game? There's a video file attached. I will forward that to the groupchat."
Master Tyvokka, aiding them in his temporary assignment as a member of the Council of First Knowledge, leaned forward, his interest piqued.
The creches always were on the lookout for new ways to occupy the initiates. This definitely fell within his purview.
"Aside from that I did get some annotated research in regards to the metaphors used in the poem itself, but nothing more." She grimaced. "Well, apart from some… uh personal messages." The togruta flushed.
Then a frown fell over her.
"Wait, there is another message attached to it."
First curiosity, then confusion, annoyance and exasperation welled over in the Force.
"What does it say?" Yan, ever the inquisitive mind, demanded.
"Not much." The Knight looked slightly lost. "Just 'I would be thrilled to aid your endeavor.' With a smiley face. And a comm code?"
There was a sinking feeling in Jocasta's stomach.
"No signature, just an initial. J."
Jocasta groaned.
"Oh he didn't ," Yan said at the same time, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You know who this 'J' is?" Master Xesshha narrowed their piercing golden eyes.
"Regrettably," Jocasta said, "we kidnapped him once."
" What ?"
Yan waved the outrage away. "It was fine. We kidnapped him to his own home, so that doesn't count." There was a badly stifled snort from somewhere in the room. "Besides, I always suspected that buffoon enjoyed himself way too much."
"This is for sure payback for the holocrons. I can feel it." Jocasta had always known that mandalorians were fueled by spite.
"The holocrons ?" Knight Yoo, the mon calamari, asked.
Master Tyvokka rumbled in agreement, looking at Yan and Jocasta. The wookie was waiting for an explanation.
But before either of them could answer, Knight Izleze seemed to have a sudden epiphany. "Wait! Is this that mandalorian from the ruin? The one who had the darksaber in the first place?"
Yan nodded and gestured towards her in a 'there you have it' sort of motion.
"Mandalorians? Ruins? Holocrons?" Archivist Rosett, who had come all the way from the Corellian Temple with some ancient tomes to support their research, slammed her hand down on on a stack of pads. "What the fuck is going on!?"
" Language " Master Tyvokka rumbled in shyriiwook.
The short haired keshian ignored the wookie and pointed at Yan and Jocasta accusingly. "I sense bullshit, Head Archivist, Master, as a member of the Corellian Temple Council I demand the gossip!"
Yan grumbled. "No gossip there. We had a very friendly spontaneous research expedition to the Mand'alor's library and he hasn't let it live down ever since."
"We also kind of stole some holocrons he had excavated… and then he flew into a stone pillar and knocked himself out." Knight Izleze helpfully added.
"Those were two seperate incidents," Jocasta felt the need to clarify, "the kidnapping-visit and the holocron stealing."
Following that statement the room was quiet enough that everyone could hear the deep, controlled breath Master Xesshha took.
"You. Kidnapped . The. Mand'alor ." She said, hands folded in front of her. "And then, because for some force-forsaken reason that wasn't enough, you stole from him?"
The cathar looked at Jocasta and Yan like she regretted witnessing both their knightings.
"What's a 'Mandalor'?" Padawan Kotti, who had originally joined the team to get some extra homework-credit, whispered into the room.
"It's like a a pancake-," Rosett fake-whispered back, mischief glimmering in her large eyes before promptly being shut up by Knight Yoo's webbed hand over her mouth.
"The Mand'alor is basically the king of Mandalore. I am pretty sure the legitimacy of the title is highly debated in the current political climate, but especially Mand'alor Mereel seems to gather more and more support for himself."
With a loaded glance, Master Xesshha propped herself up on her walking stick. "You better figure this out on your own, Jocasta, Yan. These old bones of mine aren't fit to go on a crusade against the mando'ade anymore."
Jocasta's head snapped up at that.
"You speak mando'a too?!" Yan exclaimed indignantly.
The elderly Jedi grinned sharply. "Wouldn't you like to know, cub." Then, with a nod, they excused themselves from the party. "Call me when you figure this out, in the meantime I will be in my warm and very comfortable quarters not witnessing this major political incident growing legs."
Crossing his arms defiantly, Yan said, "I said it was fine. No one was hurt, look he even want's us to come visit him again." But the moment those words had left his mouth, he realized what that sounded like. The dark haired Master closed his eyes, clearly dissappointed in himself. "Okay, no, I see what you mean, Master. Have a great time. I will also stop talking now."
Jocasta didn't even try to bite back the massive snort that left her lungs at that.
Force , in moments like this Yan was utterly adorable.