Marshal, Journeyman Protector
Perhaps it was the casual dismissal earlier by the Fett Alor that had emboldened Arla, filling her with righteous indignation. Examining this emotion, the mando'ad found that she had grounds to feel righteous. She had striven to follow the Six actions. She had raised warriors, in her son Vaar, and daughter Tuur. She had learned the language, and had even begun to pick up some of the local dialects. She had been loyal to the Mand'alor and served at his call. In this, Arla recognized what Tuur had already concluded.
The Mandalorians would survive. The Carneia would be a good start.
But they had to do more than that.
"Do it." Tuur mouthed silently. Arla wanted to object, but the words of Kad, and then Arch and then Ijaat echoed in her head. 'Power bestowed breeds contempt.' Rule must be taken, it is among the most ancient of traditions. 'Kad'Harangir approves, we think, because things seem to go poorly when we don't do it this way.' Sometimes, it has to be your decision. 'No one will thank you for doing what needs doing.'
Maybe it was the Echani noble she had once been, that had taught that power was inherited, or bestowed. Maybe it was her humility, and lack of want for power that had kept her from seeing it until this moment. Those ways were not the Mandalorian way. Ijaat had been Sole Ruler because he had decided it be so. Maybe one did have to dare the galaxy to disagree.
Arla took a moment to remove her helmet.
Her face was a mess of cuts and bruises, her broken nose still healing. She didn't care. Let them all see. The hope in her daughter's eyes was all the inspiration and push that she needed.
"I am no Alor." Arla began, her voice strident and clear.
She approached this as if she were addressing her soldiers before a battle. She was speaking to warriors, who were practical.
"Until now I have served our people to the best of my ability. I've fought and killed Sith here on Mandalore, and taken the fight to their land. I have worked every day of my life to help to restore the world and the sector.
Until now, i was content to serve.
But.
I also recognize that our people's most ancient tradition is not one of silence, or humility. I recognize now, that is not our Mandalorian way.
So, not seeing a better way, I have to step forward now."
Arla stepped into the center of the gathering and spoke as loudly as she could, every word an expression of violence, a promise of death to their enemies. She wanted them all to hear her anger, her passion, her defiance to all who would try to wipe out the Mando'ade. She felt like drawing her sword, but decided to allow her words to be her blade. They might be the most important, or the most foolish words she had ever spoken.
"I claim the mantle of Sole Ruler. Mand'alor. Chief of the Clan Chiefs. Commander of Supercommandos.
I, Arla, of House Rodarch, make this claim, and this challenge.
I will strive to lead wisely, with honour, and with confidence in each and every one of you. I will take counsel with you, help you solve your problems, and support your causes. I expect nothing less than your honest opinion.
Follow me now, and I will show you glory. Not just with blood, but with a lasting change, establishing a strong foundation for the future. Not by making the same mistakes of the past, but in a new way, a better way. A way untarnished by past mistakes, with the promise of a brighter future to come for all our people. We must honour our ancestors, but also our children. We owe it to them to do better.
I will be your Mand'alor."
She could hardly believe she had said the words. There was no way to take them back, and if she were truly honest with herself, despite her wish to remain a servant, she would not truly want to take back the words. It was time to put it out there and not be afraid of being cut down. She knew in her heart that she could improve on Ijaat's beginning.
Tuur drummed her fist against her chestplace and mouthed the word Mand'alor at her. Arla's heart was fit to burst. Whatever happened next, she had stepped blind into the abyss, and it felt good. What came next surprised her.
Tuur raised her voice and shouted. "TE RAMIKAD!" A name the members of Clan Rodarch had taken to using for Arla. She had been a good commando. "TE RAMIKAD!" Tuur voiced loyal and unwavering support. Even if she was the only one, she would add her voice to Arla's claim.
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