The Enigma

The Beskar

Strength is life, for the strong have the right to rule:

To a Mandalorian, strength was equal to life. The act of defending oneself rather than capitulation was seen as giving on spiritual strength and honor. With previous bounties he had been tasked to track down and bring in, rule number one had always come into play. Strength wasn't just a principle he lived by; it was the very essence of his being. Sure, strength was always needed when taking down some drug lord or thief, but what about a bounty that went willingly? Completely helpless and too weak to defend them self? Why did he even care? The job had been done-the payment carried inside the camtono, ready to be melted down into a new suit of armor. The events over the past two days had got him questioning the Guild leaders motives: 

Never under any circumstances question the state or reasoning behind the bounty:

The first rule of the Guild.

So why did this time feel any different?

The Mandalorian stepped down into the maze of dark underground coverts, each step he took with more determination than the last. Even with their faces concealed by a helmet, he could feel the eyes of every clan member watching his every step as he lowered himself deeper down into the tunnel. Payment of the size he carried would be enough and more to mold him a new set of shiny armor, making any Mandalorian jealous. He entered the dimly lit doorway-the clans signet stamped on the stone above for all to see. Once inside he set the camtono carefully onto the table, twisting the top to reveal the shiny ingots inside. Someone stood over a flaming melting chamber located in the center of the room and turned upon his arrival. She set down the firebrand in her gloved hand and sauntered over taking a seat at the table. The Mandalorian waited for her to be seated before he too sat to her level. Every source of light in the room was illuminated by the fire bouncing off the Armorers golden helmet. With one of her gloved hands she picked up one of the tablets feeling its weight between her fingers. 

"This amount can be shaped in many ways," she spoke after a long moment of silence. The Mandalorian nodded his head. 

"My armor has lost its integrity. I might need to begin again."

"Indeed. I will form a full cuirass. This would be in order for your station," she placed the ingot back into the camtono.

"That would be a great honor," the Mandalorian once again nodded, the only amount of movement he made in his entire stoic body.

"I will warn you, it will draw many eyes."

Unbeknownst to him, three Mandalorians had quietly followed him to the Armory, the biggest one now appearing at his side. The large one picked up one of the tablets holding in his giant grasp inspecting it. The muffled, derisive snort that came out was meant to annoy the Mandalorian and it was working. 

"These were cast in an Imperial smelter. These are the spoils of the Great Purge, the reason we live hidden like sand-rats," he threw the ingot roughly onto the table making sure the land it in front of the bounty hunter. 

"Our secrecy is our survival and our survival is our strength," the Armorer calmly reminded. 

"Yeah? Our strength was once in our numbers and now we live in the shadows only coming above ground one at a time. Our world was destroyed by the Empire with whom this coward shares tables with." He stepped threateningly closer, the stoic Mandalorian unmoving until the large one latched his fingers on the base of his helmet. The Mandalorian's instincts kicked in and in the attempt to reveal his face, slammed his fist hard down onto the armored hands grasping his helmet. With his free hand the large Mandalorian took hold of his helmet once again this time lifting him off his seat. The action angered the bounty hunter and eventually broke the large hands free. A knife was being swung at him and he ducked as it passed his face shield. In the swiftest movement as he was hunched over he slipped his hand into his boot leg pulling out a concealed knife of is own. He counteracted by throwing blows, the blade scrapping the chest plate of his opponent. Falling back the larger Mandalorian blocked the furry of oncoming strikes, his armored gauntlets protecting him and allowing his to push forward. He gained enough ground and engulfed the bounty hunter in a tight headlock stopping his quick jabs of the blade. The bounty hunter twisted under his grip giving him the edge he needed and came out from underneath, knife to his attackers throat. The Armorer stood up causing the table to scoot out nearly tipping over.

"The Empire is no longer, and the Beskar has returned. When one chooses to walk the way of the Mandalore you are both hunter and prey. How can one be a coward of one chooses the way of life?" She turned her head to stare directly at the bounty hunter who still held his knife inches from his attacker, neither one of them moving. "Have you ever removed your helmet?"

"No," his voice breathy from the previous altercation.

"Has it ever been removed by anyone else?" 

"Never."

"This is the way," the Armorer reminded. 

"This is the way," all three chanted back and the bounty hunter slowly let down his knife moving a few steps backwards before replying, "This is the way."

Once the tension in the room subsided the Armorer lifted a gloved finger pointing at the Mandalorian's tainted armor. 

"What has caused this damage?" 

"A Mudhorn," the bounty hunter stated. 

"Then you have earned the Mudhorn as your signet. I will be sure to craft it." 

"I...can't accept it. It...was not a noble kill. I was helped by an enemy," the Mandalorian tried to find teh right words. The Armorer tilted her visor in a quizzing manner. 

"Why would an enemy help you in battle?"

"I...don't know." He had asked himself the same question and still didn't have a logical, concrete answer. She knew he was her enemy, but she still chose to spare his life when she had the chance to run. Why didn't she take it? 

"Since you forgo a signet, I will use the excess to forge whistling birds," she picked up the few ingots and placed them back into the camtono.

"Whistling birds will do well. But reserve some for the foundlings," the bounty hunter agreed. The armorer nodded. 

"As it should be. The foundlings are the future. This is the way."

"This is the way." 

The Armorer stood and walked over to her station, beginning the melting process. She carefully laid several ingots in a row, letting them hang inches above the blue flames of the melting stove. 

"Whistling birds are a powerful defense against multiple enemies. Use them sparingly as they are very rare." She spoke as she placed tiny metal pellets inside one of the gauntlets, using a delicate touch to the highly explosive missiles and securing them when she finished. Returning to the now melted pieces of Beskar  she began teh forging process shaping them to their designate form. The Mandalorian watched as she pounded the Beskar with a force only one who was well trained in the art could do. She made it twist and mold under her will each piece finally beginning to take shape. Each pounding of the mallet sent a series of sparks into the room, the clanging metal on metal ringing sharply through his modulated helmet. With each stroke she made, flashbacks of his childhood flooded his memory almost in rhythm to the strikes of Beskar.

He saw his mother's frightened face as his father carried him and they ran for their lives. Laser fire from the sky shooting down all around-bodies falling lifeless to teh ground before his small eyes. 

Another bang of metal.

He saw droids shooting men, women, and children, all of them trying to scramble between buildings but were too late. He wanted to close his eyes, burying his face into his father's neck, impossible to muffle out the cries for help all around. 

Bang!

He saw teh hatch and was fearfully lowered to the ground as his parents lifted the door pausing before turning to him. His mother grabbing him and kissing his cheek refusing to let go. The shooting was getting closer and he was immediately lowered into the dark cellar. With tears in his eyes-a desperate cry for them to stay he lifted his tiny arms in a final farewell as the light slivered above him, the doors being closed just before the explosion where his parents had just been. He covered his mouth, refusing to give himself away as the hatch doors were roughly opened, the droid aiming the weapon directly at him-Bang!

The Mandalorian snapped back to reality the last pounding of Beskar reminding him who he was and why he was here. It was experiences like those who shaped his kind into the fighters they were today. And he wasn't going to let his emotions be the ruler of his actions. He had one job, one mission. Today wouldn't be the day he went soft.