No. 1
KESTRI, TOR VALUM
The Spear III struck across the skies over the frozen tundra, an endless sea of snowfields and mountainous terrain ahead of the vessel as it soared beside the clouds far overhead. It seemed to be a faint icon from the surface, the vessel, not to be mistaken for a creature and known to be a craft in the end. Yet not one seen in Mandalorian territories for some time now, once outlawed in them beside the owner - there had been a time defenses had no doubt taken aim by now, or even fired absent so much as a threat, and the same realisation had ensured some amount of caution in Fett as various systems had been sent to standby in the moment. But such times had since been over, the loss of Mandalore had ensured that as the names that once loathed the man had been lost to time, to the Sith.
Such hatred harboured towards them had not comforted Koda.
He continued to benefit from their contracts, and the Spear III itself had been a marvel of Sith creation; commissioned by the Dark Lord Carnifex himself. Beneath the T-visor, Fett considered if it had been all that was needed for a hatred for himself to remain, but such details need not be mentioned to those of the Enclave. Not a lie as much as it had been an omission of the truth, he decided, all too aware of the nature of said statement. Too much time in the underworld beside the scum and the worms of Nal Hutta had caused it, or so he told himself. Discomforted by his own lie, it seemed.
But all the once invasive ideas had vanished in an instant once Tor Valum had come into view, the vast centre of the Mandalorian Enclave had been far beyond the limited idea of it that once rested inside his mind. He circled overhead numerous times in a bid to examine it, and as traffic slowed his craft, Fett had been able to see the City Core, the Ravine, and in time the Sundari Memorial Spaceport. He descended next into the initial layers after a brief conversation with traffic control. His earlier concerns faded, then.
In his elsewhere noticeable armour, Fett left his rented bay into a sea of others that seemed so identical to himself; differentiated by the colours and the bruises of their armour. It discomforted the man somewhat, to say the least, but a vow had been made to an old man. Lie as much as he must to himself, but Koda could not do the same to Ijaat. He owed him for his services.
Bhullo Gred
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