The others had been given silence up until this point. Metus allowed his peers to speak. Some gave support. Others did not. Such was how he had anticipated this evening would transpire. Yet now, he chose to speak once more, addressing his old friend:
"The time of saying 'yes' with fine print has long since passed. Half-commitments will no longer suffice. Either you are with us, and will put faith in our Mand'alor's ability to lead entirely...or you will part ways with Manda'yaim once and for all. Speak now, plainly, if you would. Make your choice, ner'vod."
There was much more that the Mandalorian wanted to say to his old friend. He wanted him to know that he understood - that the bonds of matrimony and fatherhood could make a warrior feel divided. That holding a life in his hands, or holding a beloved, makes one value each and every life under his banner beyond words. He understood, for he had been there before himself. But yet, he believed. He put faith in their Mand'alor and in their people. He hoped Draco would come to that point as well.
But if not...Draco would never be alone. Alderaan was the jewel of his life. Faith and their children were his Sun and Stars. The Warmaster understood and would harbor no ill will against his old comrade. Not now, not ever.
Metus then raised his hand, addressing [member="Aedan Miles"]. "Peace, old friend."
"All who gather today were promised that they may leave in peace. So shall it be."
His eyes slid to [member="Jekai Almec"] as he strode back towards his ship. A man had lost his soul this day, at least in the eyes of the Sole Ruler.
Then to the guest, [member="Carradine Dukal"], he answered simply: "There's more to it."
"In this case, Mand'alor Munin checked all the boxes. There was a duel when his predecessor disappeared. When he emerged victorious, the Clans unanimously recognized his claim. Then the loser decided...well, I'm sure you saw the news. Millions dead. Even more displaced. The Clans, effectively, collapsed overnight. Mand'alor regrouped on Dxun; and what he was greeted by were but a handful of those who had pledged fealty to his rule once before. Only now that we have returned to Mandalore have many others begun to stir."
"So yes...There is more to it. Tonight is...not your typical, Mandalorian bonfire. But rather drawing a line in the sand."
His gaze then slid to [member="Alleria Mereel"].
"Such an ignorant attitude. The Force is a Tool, no different than a blaster or saber. Those who make a religion out of its usage are fools. Yet those of us gifted with this tool, among our people, Master it as we would any other. To discriminate based on something one is born with is no different than pointing at a Bothan and saying 'you can't be vode, you aren't like me' or pointing at a Korun and saying 'you can't be vode, your skin looks different.' With time, you will grow to realize that your peers who have been given this Tool bleed the same, fight the same, and serve the same as you."
Bickering. Gunshot. Clan Dem'adas had arrived.
"As blunt as ever, good to see you've come." he said, a bemused smile playing upon his lips. "As I'm sure you've noticed, the Exile is over. We've regrouped and have come home. Tonight, on behalf of Mand'alor, I have drawn the line. Some -" he then motioned at the one stepping away from their midst. "-have decided, of their own volition, to become Dar'manda. Others have stated their support simply. Where do you and yours stand, Alor Dem'adas? Do you yet recognize our Mand'alor and his Cause? If so, plant your banner. If not..."
He motioned to the flame with his hand.
