Jin-Woo, seated silently with arms folded, finally spoke,
"Jaster," he said, turning slightly toward the elder warrior, "now that most of the Mandalorian civil war has been cleaned up—will Satine Kryze be able to rule? I'm not here for politics. I just want my cut of beskar. Twenty percent. That was the deal."
Jaster let out a sigh and pulled a small device from a pouch at his side—a simple but elegant holocommunicator. The casing bore the sigil of House Kryze.
"Under normal circumstances, we wouldn't know where she is," Jaster said. "She went into hiding during the assassinations. But… she gave me this."
He held up the communicator. "She said, 'If Mandalore is ever truly settled, and you survive to see it, call me.' I never expected to use it. I never expected… well…"
He gestured vaguely toward Jin-Woo, his expression caught between admiration and mild horror.
"A crazy monster in armor who ended our civil war with a walking funeral pyre," Jaster finished. "So yeah, I'll contact her."
"But," he added after a beat, "we've still got a bigger problem."
Jin-Woo raised an eyebrow. "The Republic."
Jaster nodded gravely. "They're not going to like Mandalore suddenly stabilizing on its own. Without Jedi assistance. Without Senate permission. With the Death Watch—of all people—sitting under my banner."
Jin-Woo leaned back slightly, voice turning dry. "Those corrupted higher-ups always make things a headache. Can't win too cleanly without making someone sweat."
As the Mandalorian carrier descended into Sundari, the great domed capital of Mandalore came into full view. The city was intact—its shield dome still gleaming under the sky, protective and proud. Despite the civil war scars and recent chaos, it stood resilient. Majestic.
With a mechanical hiss, the carrier's ramp dropped open.
Jin-Woo stepped out first, his long shadow stretching across the hangar floor, followed closely by Jaster, Jango, Myles, and the newly subordinated Death Watch troops. The atmosphere outside was quieter than expected, no protests or unrest—only a cautious silence and lingering tension.
Jango stretched his arms and looked up at the dome above.
"Home sweet home," he muttered, a nostalgic grin on his face.
Jaster stood beside him, arms crossed, eyes scanning the skyline. "Still intact," he said. "Just like last time. The dome held."
Jin-Woo's gaze shifted. His eyes narrowed as he saw something breaking the skyline—Republic ships.
A Venator-class star destroyer, flanked by two smaller escort cruisers, floated silently above Sundari's perimeter, not in attack posture, but clearly keeping watch. A few Jedi transports could also be seen parked at one of the upper hangars.
"So," Jin-Woo said, voice calm but dry, "she's here."
He didn't have to say the name. They all knew who he meant.
Jaster gave a small grunt. ". Duchess Satine. Took refuge with the Republic after the assassination attempts. Stayed under their protection just a bit too long, if you ask me."
Jin-Woo folded his arms. "Mm. Hiding under Jedi cloaks, huh?"
Jaster gave a shrug. "Enemy of my enemy is my friend. As long as the Duchess is safe and the Jedi are keeping her alive… I don't mind. For now."
As the Jedi transports began their descent from the Republic ship overhead, Jin-Woo turned his head slightly. "Did you already contact Satine? Let her know the situation's been handled?"
Jaster shook his head. "Haven't yet. But if Dooku kept his word after losing to you—and with Death Watch's confession—I imagine she's already aware. If anything, it probably pushed her to stabilize Mandalore quicker."
Jin-Woo exhaled quietly. "A pacifist leader who genuinely cares for her homeland… impressive."
The hiss of landing gear cut through the air as the Jedi transport touched down, its ramp descending slowly.
Out stepped Duchess Satine Kryze, her posture graceful but composed, flanked on either side by Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn. Jedi robes shifted softly in the breeze, their presence calm but alert.
Jaster stepped forward and immediately knelt on one knee, his helmet tucked under one arm. The rest of the True Mandalorians behind him followed suit without hesitation, even a few of the Death Watch reluctantly mimicking the gesture.
"Welcome back, my Duchess," Jaster said solemnly. "It's good to see you again."
Satine's expression softened as she placed a hand over her chest. "As always, thank you, Jaster… for believing in me. Even in the chaos."
Her eyes shifted, falling on the towering figure in dark armor standing silently beside Jaster. Her breath hitched faintly.
"…And I didn't expect the Armored Man would be here as well."
Qui-Gon stepped forward slightly, arms crossed, a calm smile on his face. "I heard a rumor," he said. "That you defeated my former Master using Mandalorian technique. I admit… I'd like to witness it myself one day."
Jin-Woo gave no reaction, but inwardly?
Dooku… not bad. You're good at lying about my nature. At least now things won't get awkward.
Jin-Woo gave a faint nod in return, letting the moment settle—his presence already casting long, foreboding shadows beneath Mandalore's restored dome. But his eyes, behind the helmet, remained sharp. Focused. Watching.
Not with his eyes. Not with his ears. But with something deeper—an instinct forged in the abyss, sharpened by death and command. A presence… hidden. Veiled not by simple stealth, but by refined mastery of the Force. A cloak not made of fabric, but of thought.
Jin-Woo's voice barely left his lips, a whisper carried through his internal channel.
"Offensive Bias… if a Jedi cloaked themselves from perception—can you detect it?"
A pulse responded through his neural interface.
"Affirmative. I am aware someone is hiding here. Detection is easier than obscuring a Flood infection. Probability of subject being Grandmaster Yoda… one hundred percent."
Jin-Woo's gaze drifted, scanning the group until it settled on Qui-Gon Jinn.
He tilted his head slightly, the gesture subtle yet sharp. "You're good at smuggling people, Qui-Gon Jinn."
Obi-Wan glanced at him with mild confusion. "Hm? It's just the three of us. Myself, Master Qui-Gon… and the Duchess."
Qui-Gon, serene as ever, offered a calm smile—but there was something in his eyes. A glint. A flicker. Confirmation.
"You noticed, then," he said.
Jin-Woo chuckled softly. "Even if Master Yoda were a thousand miles from here… I'd still detect him."
Like a veil being ripped from every mind in the plaza, the illusion collapsed. A ripple of mental static washed over the area. The Mandalorians. The Jedi. Even Satine herself blinked—as if waking from a quiet dream.
And there he was. Small. Ancient. Wise. Master Yoda stood in full view, his gimer stick in hand, eyes narrowed with a knowing twinkle, now visible where there had once been nothing.
"Hehehmhmhmhmhm…" Yoda chuckled with that familiar tone. "The Armored Man… hmmm… better sense than any Jedi, he has."
Jaster and Jango, both hardened Mandalorian warriors, instinctively gulped at the sight—and more importantly, the presence—of the legendary Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. Even the Death Watch behind them straightened, unsure whether to salute or vanish into the floor.
Satine, ever the diplomat, gave a respectful bow, her tone composed but warm. "It is an honor, Grandmaster Yoda, to have one as wise as you grace Mandalore with your presence."
Yoda's eyes sparkled mischievously. He turned toward Obi-Wan and said with a teasing grin, "A good woman, Satine is. Perhaps resign from the Jedi, you should… mmm? Be with her, you might."
"Master Yoda!" Obi-Wan stammered, flushing as his eyes widened. "Please, don't joke like that. My will belongs to the Jedi Order… though…" He trailed off for a second. "I do… have feelings for her."
Jin-Woo, arms crossed, couldn't help himself. "Yeah, the Jedi Order is strict as fuck."
Yoda turned slowly toward him, brow lifting, clearly amused. "Dislike the Jedi Order, do you?" he said dryly. "To the point of swearing about it, hmm?"
Jin-Woo gave a lazy shrug. "Just calling it like I see it, old man." He grinned beneath the helmet. "Besides… you were thinking it too."
Yoda chuckled again, his ears twitching slightly. "Perhaps, perhaps…" he murmured, tapping his cane lightly on the floor. "But better to hear it aloud, it is."
Then, with a turn of his head and that sagely calm in his voice, he addressed the Duchess.
"Duchess Satine, proceed you may. Attend your meeting, stabilize your pacifist rule. Hmmm… flourish, I hope peace will—through this planet, through Mandalore."
Satine gave a respectful bow. "It's an honor, Master Yoda. Thank you."
But Yoda's gaze shifted back to the one towering figure whose aura weighed heavier than any Republic cruiser.
"However…" Yoda said slowly, "Armored Man… with you, in private, speak we must."
Jango Fett instinctively stepped forward, tension in his brow. His lips parted, ready to voice concern—not against Yoda himself, but the risk of what a duel between two overwhelming presences could mean for Mandalore. Especially after what he saw on Korda Six.
But before he could speak a word—
Jin-Woo lifted a hand slightly and spoke first, his tone casual but final. "Don't worry, Jango. I'm not going to crater this city anytime soon. Not unless someone really asks for it."
He turned slightly, gaze flicking toward Yoda. "Besides… Master Yoda's purpose is different from Dooku's. He doesn't come to claim anything. He's here to understand."
Qui-Gon took a step forward, nodding toward Obi-Wan. "Obi-Wan, go with Duchess Satine. Assist her with the peace talks. Ensure everything flows as it should."
Obi-Wan hesitated a second. "But Master—"
"I'm not here to escort Master Yoda," Qui-Gon said quietly. "I'm here because… I have a feeling I need to be. I want to hear this."
Jin-Woo turned his head slightly toward him, eyes narrowing beneath the mask. I guess it's not just Yoda who realized Dooku was holding back.
He studied Qui-Gon for a moment longer. That level of calm… those instincts… no way he's just a Knight anymore. Jedi Master, no doubt. And still not fooled by Dooku's half-truths.
After ten minutes, .
The three of them—Jin-Woo, Grandmaster Yoda, and Qui-Gon Jinn—sat within the deep, echoing quiet of the Sundari Royal Palace's private council chamber. The walls were elegantly curved, the Mandalorian crest etched along the columns, and soft blue lighting cast faint shadows across the floor.
Jin-Woo sat on one end of the long chamber table, arms folded, helmet reflecting the room's light. He stared straight ahead, unmoving.
Yoda and Qui-Gon sat across from him, watching silently.
Twenty minutes passed.No words. No gestures.
They're trying to gauge me, Jin-Woo thought, his gaze hidden behind the visor. Trying to read me through the Force. See if I'm a Force user. Maybe even trying to peer into my face… but they can't.
His lip curled slightly beneath the helmet.
This exoframe isn't just tech. It's Forerunner design. From a race that wiped themselves from the galactic map. Not even the Force is getting through it.
On the opposite end, Yoda's expression remained unreadable—but his thoughts were growing louder within him.
Useless… it is. Clouded, everything around him becomes. Not dark… but alien. Like he does not belong to this galaxy at all…
Finally, after what felt like a stand-off of wills, Qui-Gon leaned forward.
"I'll break the silence," he said calmly, folding his hands. "First, let me thank you, Armored Man."
Jin-Woo tilted his head slightly but still didn't respond.
Qui-Gon continued, his voice measured, respectful. "You saved Master Tyvokka's life. Prevented a massacre between the Republic and the True Mandalorians. That misunderstanding could've cost thousands of lives."
He paused. "Enemies and allies nearly traded places on Galidraan. But you prevented that. Even if your methods… remain unconventional."
Jin-Woo finally stirred, his voice steady and cold beneath the armor.
"Skip the formalities," he said. "I already know what you both want."
He leaned forward slightly, the tone in his voice turning razor-sharp.
"But before we go further… who figured it out first? The seal. The one I placed on Dooku's mind and mouth—locking away what he knows about me."