Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the galaxy in the remote Outer Rim territories, a sleek Mandalorian transport ship was making its final approach toward a planet with an incredibly diverse biome. The world below featured a fascinating mixture of dense jungle regions, temperate forests, arid desert expanses, and rolling grassland plains. After flying over several modest agricultural settlements and farming communities, the landscape changed dramatically as the ship approached an obviously heavily fortified military encampment, where dozens of heavily armed men and women could be seen conducting blaster training exercises in the open air.
The transport ship touched down on a designated landing pad, and the rear cargo bay doors slowly opened with a mechanical hiss. Several figures emerged from the ship's interior, all wearing distinctive heavy Mandalorian armor that bore the characteristic trident claw marks of Death Watch emblazoned prominently on their shoulder plates.
The leader of the armored group immediately spotted the armed guards positioned defensively in front of the camp where they had just landed.
"This is definitely the place we're looking for," the Death Watch captain announced to her companions with grim satisfaction.
As they began moving purposefully toward the main entrance of the encampment, the Protector guards immediately raised their blaster rifles in a threatening posture, causing the approaching Death Watch members to halt their advance and maintain a safe distance.
"Hey there, we're all Mandalorians here," the Death Watch leader called out with false friendliness. "There's really no need for such obvious hostility between warriors of the same culture."
"Actually, we have plenty of very good reasons to be hostile toward your kind," came a stern voice from somewhere behind the defensive line of guards.
A fully armored Mandalorian warrior emerged from within the encampment's perimeter, moving with confident, measured steps. Despite his relatively youthful appearance, he possessed an intimidating presence that commanded immediate respect even when he wasn't displaying anger or aggression. The visitor standing before him was someone he recognized quite well from intelligence reports—a man with distinctive blond hair and piercing blue eyes, wearing Mandalorian armor painted in a striking shade of forest green with red decorative accents adorning his helmet.
"I assume you must be Fenn Shysa," the Death Watch leader said as he removed his helmet to reveal his face.
"That's correct," Fenn confirmed with a slight nod. "And you must be Bo-Katan Kryze. I imagine you're quite eager to have a conversation with us about certain political matters."
Bo-Katan possessed striking red hair, brilliant emerald-colored eyes, and pale, fair skin that contrasted sharply with her dark armor.
"That's precisely why I've made this journey to your remote world," Bo-Katan began with calculated diplomacy. "I've never encountered your particular group of Mandalorians before now. What exactly do you call yourselves? The Protectors, if I'm not mistaken?"
"If you truly want to have a discussion, then you'll follow me inside," Fenn said with barely concealed contempt. "But if any of you even think about raising your weapons in a threatening manner again, I will personally ensure that every member of Death Watch dies instantly where they stand."
Bo-Katan's eyes narrowed dangerously as Fenn turned his back on them and began walking toward the camp's interior, but she said nothing in response. Instead, she tilted her head slightly in a wordless gesture, indicating for her team to follow her lead. They began making their way through the encampment, passing numerous Protector warriors who regarded the Death Watch squad with obvious distrust and barely concealed hostility.
Eventually, their small procession reached the center of the military camp, stopping in front of a large, well-constructed command tent. Hanging proudly above the tent's entrance was a symbol that every true Mandalorian would immediately recognize—the ancient skull of a legendary mythosaur, the great beast that their ancestors had once hunted to near extinction.
"Come inside," Fenn motioned toward the tent's entrance, and Bo-Katan followed him with her team close behind.
The interior of the command tent was surprisingly spacious and well-organized, featuring several tactical planning tables, comfortable sleeping hammocks, and an impressive array of weapons and military equipment hanging from the reinforced fabric walls and ceiling supports. In the center of the space sat another Mandalorian warrior with his back turned toward the entrance, apparently studying tactical displays and reports.
"Spar," Fenn announced their arrival. "Our visitors have arrived as expected."
The seated Mandalorian slowly turned to face Bo-Katan, revealing a face that she definitely hadn't been expecting to see.
"An ARC trooper?" she said with obvious disgust and disbelief. "How is it possible that a Clone Advanced Reconnaissance Commando could become the leader of a Mandalorian clan? Shouldn't you have surrendered your weapons and submitted to decommissioning like all the other Republic clone soldiers when the war ends?"
Her insulting words immediately caused several other Mandalorians throughout the tent to reach for their weapons in anger, but Spar calmly raised his hand to wave them down. He studied each Death Watch member for a long, tense moment before asking in a deceptively calm voice, "Do you know where exactly you are right now?"
Bo-Katan blinked with obvious confusion and shook her head.
"Concord Dawn," Spar said with deadly seriousness.
Bo-Katan remained uncertain about the significance of this information, but decided to test his knowledge by responding, "Yes, Concord Dawn. What of it?"
Instead of becoming angry, Spar nodded with grim satisfaction. "Correct. Concord Dawn. Do you have any idea why I chose to establish my base of operations on this particular world?"
To be completely honest, Bo-Katan had never been particularly fond of riddles or indirect conversations. She much preferred direct, straightforward communication, and her growing impatience was evident as she demanded, "Can you just tell me what this is supposed to mean?"
"This world is the birthplace of both Tor Vizsla and Jaster Mereel, two of the most important figures in modern Mandalorian history," Spar explained as he rose from his seat with deliberate, measured movements.
Bo-Katan's eyes widened with genuine surprise—she had not been aware of this historical connection.
"You've obviously neglected to study the actual history of your Death Watch organization for quite some time," Spar observed with barely concealed disdain as he walked over to a nearby equipment table and retrieved an old holographic projector displaying various Mandalorian historical records.
"Jaster Mereel," Spar began, activating the display to show images of the legendary Mandalorian leader. "Our former leader and the man who guided the True Mandalorians during their golden age. He was the visionary who reorganized and reformed Mandalorian society for the better. Mereel transformed the Mandalorians from savage raiders into honorable warriors—professional soldiers and disciplined mercenaries who embodied the true Mandalorian spirit of strength with honor. The barbaric, destructive ways of the ancient past, with their senseless pillaging and banditry, only resulted in the unnecessary deaths and massacre of innocent civilians when they faced the business end of our blasters. Ultimately, those savage methods backfired catastrophically on our own people. Jaster Mereel changed all of that by creating the Supercommando Codex."
Spar held up a thick, well-worn manual bound in traditional Mandalorian materials.
"This is the code of honor that we follow," Spar said, staring directly at Bo-Katan, who couldn't deny that she was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as he continued his historical lesson.
"The Death Watch organization was created by the warlord Tor Vizsla, a man who desperately longed for the fanatical, destructive ways of the ancient past. He believed that Mandalorians should do nothing but fight endless wars, even if it meant dying in massive numbers for no meaningful purpose."
Bo-Katan was growing visibly nervous, but Spar continued to make his point with brutal directness. "Jaster Mereel and his eventual successor—my predecessor and genetic template, Jango Fett—ultimately tracked down and killed Tor Vizsla, effectively destroying the original Death Watch organization." Spar took several steps forward until he was standing directly in front of Bo-Katan, who was now perspiring with obvious anxiety.
"This was Jango Fett's family farm," Spar said, his intense gaze fixed unwaveringly on Bo-Katan. "This is where his journey as a true Mandalorian warrior first began, and where he developed the skills and principles that eventually made him worthy of becoming the genetic template for the Republic's entire Clone Army. I myself was part of that army, created from his genetic material. But now, I stand here having been given the title of Mand'alor not because I sought to steal power for myself, but because it was thrust upon me by the surviving Mandalorian people who needed strong leadership."
Bo-Katan was genuinely frightened internally, though she tried her best not to show weakness or back down from the confrontation. She had never been the type to be easily intimidated, but Spar was proving to be exceptionally authoritative and commanding.
"The most disturbing part of this situation is that I remember exactly what Death Watch did during their reign of terror," Spar continued in an increasingly ominous tone. "My sacred duty is to uphold and restore the honor and dignity that the Mandalorian people once possessed. Now I find myself standing face-to-face with an active member of Death Watch. So tell me, should I kill you right here and now? Or would it be more appropriate to take you prisoner and hold you for trial?"
The entire tent fell completely silent, filled with almost unbearable tension.
No one dared to move or speak a single word.
The Death Watch members stood frozen in place, their hands hovering near their holstered blasters but unable to draw them, paralyzed by fear and uncertainty about their precarious situation.
"Leave," Spar finally said, waving dismissively toward the tent entrance.
Bo-Katan exhaled sharply, apparently not comprehending what she had just heard. "What did you say?"
"I said leave this place immediately," Spar repeated, taking a deliberate step backward. "There's no practical purpose in killing you here on Concord Dawn. Go. Depart from this planet and return to your masters. Tell your pathetic little leader that a true Mandalorian would never follow a disgusting warmonger and terrorist like Pre Vizsla."
It took several long moments for the Death Watch team to fully process what had just happened and regain their composure. Bo-Katan glared at Spar with obvious hatred and resentment, while he returned her gaze with calm, unwavering confidence.
The Death Watch delegation departed shortly thereafter, making their way back to their transport ship in tense silence.
"I suppose we've just made ourselves a few more dangerous enemies," Fenn observed once they were alone again.
"We are Mandalorians, Fenn," Spar replied with stoic acceptance. "Generally speaking, the entire galaxy considers us their enemy anyway. For the sake of our people and our survival, we must be prepared to defend ourselves against all threats. Even if that means fighting against other Mandalorians who have lost their way. This is the true Mandalorian path."
"Should I begin preparations for departure?" Fenn asked, understanding the implications of what had just transpired.
"Yes. Alert Toby and begin pre-flight procedures for the ship," Spar instructed his two most trusted lieutenants. "Find Rav and make sure all of our weapons systems are functioning at optimal capacity."
The time had come for the true Mandalorians to take decisive action.
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