I'm going to create an auxiliary chapter with a Q&A section to address any questions you may have. Thanks to Pierre_2196 for the extensive feedback you provided in Chapter 23. I'll do my best to answer what I can without revealing any spoilers.
And to all my readers, thank you!
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Death Watch burst through the shattered windows of the eastern balcony, a formidable group of about fifteen warriors clad in obsidian and burnt orange armor. They were unadorned by clan banners, with their only insignia being the emblem of Death Watch, prominently displayed on their chests and shoulders.
The warriors exuded the cold resolve of men on a mission, reflecting the ruthless ambition that Tor Vizsla had ignited two decades earlier. At the forefront stood their leader, Gavyn Rook, tall and imposing, holding a helmet casually under one arm while his other hand rested on a blaster at his side.
His pale, unyielding eyes scanned the room until they settled on the Duke, who lay wounded on a stretcher, his wife anxiously clasping his hand.
Glass crunched beneath the weight of the Beskar boots as Rook stepped over the remnants of the shattered balcony railing. Cool night air flowed in behind the Death Watch soldiers, bringing with it a hint of unease that washed over the guests watching the scene unfold.
With a tone dripping with the self-assuredness of a man convinced of his victory, Rook said, "Good evening, Duchess. Your husband appears to be in distress. Allow us to offer him some… relief from his burdens."
Katrine looked at Rook with a look of hatred as she said. "Rook mighty bold of you to come and offer your head to us. Make it easy on all of us and kill yourself."
Rook's eyelid twitched slightly at her words, a flicker of amusement creeping across his face. He laughed heartily, reveling in the sight of her hot anger directed toward him and the Duke, injured and crumpled on the ground like a discarded puppet.
"No can do, Duchess," he taunted, his voice dripping with derision. "I need to kill you both and dismantle your pathetic pacifist movement before you ruin our people."
"Destroy our people!? That's rich coming from a terrorist," Katrine snapped, her voice seething with righteous fury. "Mandalore will thrive under us, while you lot keep dragging our home into the abyss of chaos and despair."
Rook's grin widened at the passionate spark in her eyes, his amusement peaking as he donned his helmet, a cold, metallic mask that offered no hint of the emotion beneath. He grasped his two blasters, their weight familiar in his hands. "We'll see, Duchess, who leads after tonight."
In a flurry of swift determination, Katrine snatched a blaster from a nearby guard and, rather than aiming at the unyielding threat that was Rook, targeted the man standing beside him. Before he could react, three shots rang out—clean, efficient, and lethal—striking him center mass and dropping him like a broken marionette.
The sudden shift on the battlefield sparked chaos, erupting like a tempest. Royal guards scrambled to raise their shields, forming a protective barrier around the Duke, duchess, and Satine. In the midst of the turmoil, Elyse, Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan ignited their lightsabers, the blades casting a vibrant glow that illuminated the shadows of the corridor.
Qui-Gon assumed an Ataru (Form IV) stance, his green blade held close to his face as he scanned their adversaries. Positioned nearer to Death Watch, he focused intently on the oncoming threat. Beside him, Obi-Wan ignited his blue lightsaber, slipping seamlessly into his signature Soresu (Form III) stance, resolute and unyielding.
Together, the Master and apprentice became a dynamic bulwark, their blades a whirlwind of deflected blaster bolts as they pressed forward, forcing back their relentless assailants inch by inch.
Elyse stepped ahead, her distinctive yellow double-bladed lightsaber whirring to life, its elegance contrasting with the fierce determination etched on her face. Adopting a Niman (Form VI) stance, she spun her lightsaber with graceful precision, sending blaster bolts ricocheting back toward her attackers. Though she donned heels and a flowing dress, the shoes—while beautiful—restricted her ability to execute more acrobatic maneuvers.
The royal guards held their formation, a shielded phalanx bolstered by the Jedi's unwavering protection. As they advanced, inching down the corridor against the martial traditionalists, their determination blazed brightly.
Suddenly, another squad of guards surged in from behind the traditionalists, guns blazing. A few attackers quickly pivoted, raising hastily assembled arm shields to deflect the incoming blaster bolts. Yet, as they took their positions, chaos reigned once more when a towering figure emerged—a ruthless combatant clad in dark red armor, his oversized shoulder plates dwarfing his frame as he positioned himself sideways, unleashing a relentless torrent of fire from a Z-6 rotary blaster cannon.
Elyse's heart raced as she spotted the man amid the chaos, calculating the danger posed to her and her comrades. She knew that once he turned his sights on her, the storm of blaster fire would be beyond her capacity to deflect, and the guards behind her would hardly withstand that overwhelming onslaught.
With a quick, decisive motion, she raised her arm and activated a small communicator, reaching out to her clansmen still positioned outside. They had been instructed to hold their ground unless called upon or directly attacked.
"Morgan, come in. Morgan," Elyse urged, urgency lacing her voice.
"Yes, Alor, I'm here. What do you need?" Morgan replied, his tone steady.
"I need you to divide into two groups. Group A will flank the Death Watch from behind, ambushing them to relieve Master Qui-Gon and his padawan. Group B will move to the outside of this hallway and use your rockets to blast a hole near the traditionalists attacking us," Elyse commanded, her voice resolute as she deflected a blaster bolt, sending it back into the fray.
"We're on our way, Alor," Morgan affirmed, his efficient leadership soaring to the forefront as he organized the twelve remaining clansmen into two teams, stepping forward with Group A to execute the plan.
The royal guards moved in unison around the stretcher. The duchess used her blaster to assist the guards in suppressing their attackers. They were trapped between two groups, which created significant difficulties for them. Their shield held strong, but the exterior became blackened with scorch marks from the attacks.
Three guards had already fallen from the formation, but there was no time to mourn their losses as they cautiously ventured deeper into the hallway. The narrow corridor allowed them to form a defensive shield wall, offering better protection against the onslaught of attackers. With the ceiling too low for jetpacks, the Death Watch warriors were grounded but relentless in their pursuit.
On one side of the hallway, an array of vibrant paintings adorned the walls, beautifully framed, while old antiques, each telling a story of its own, were gracefully displayed on ornate mounts. In stark contrast, the opposite wall was a massive expanse of glass, providing a clear view of the chaos unfolding outside. Attacks are happening all around the royal palace; all potential reinforcements are occupied. The Death Watch and the traditionalists had ignited the flames of civil war on this fateful night, and the air was thick with tension and the scent of impending conflict.
Qui-Gon Jinn spun swiftly, evading a searing blaster bolt that whizzed past his shoulder. He leaped over a Death Watch trooper, his lightsaber flashing as he dispatched the foe with a precise cut to the back. The hum of his blade reverberated through the air as he gave his blade a twirl.
Obi-Wan Kenobi moved closer to Satine, positioning himself as a protective barrier while she expertly wielded a guard's spare blaster, returning fire with deadly accuracy.
"I thought you were a pacifist?" Obi-Wan queried, a hint of surprise lacing his voice as he observed her prowess, noticing her take down a distracted attacker with a well-aimed shot.
"I am, but I'm also a Mandalorian. That doesn't mean I can't protect myself," Satine replied, her eyes focused with determination as she fired at another warrior, only for her shot to be blocked mid-flight.
As their dialogue unfolded amid the chaos of battle, reinforcements from the hidden Clan Knight finally surged onto the scene. With precision and synchronization, six Knight clansmen activated their jetpacks, launching rockets that screeched through the air before detonating just behind the enemy lines. The explosions obliterated half of the Death Watch group while disorienting the rest, leaving them staggering in disarray.
"Retreat! This attack was a bust!" Rook barked as he spun around, firing frantically at the Knight warriors. He continued to suppress Morgan and the others while he and approximately six other Death Watch soldiers made their hasty escape.
On the opposite side, the man from the Traditionalist faction aimed with his Z-6 rotary blaster, unleashing a torrential stream of blaster fire directed at the guards and Elyse. Realizing she could not deflect the onslaught, Elyse deactivated her lightsaber, focusing her energy to use the Force. She seized two of the enemy warriors and hurled them into the path of the relentless fire.
The surprise tactic momentarily halted the man, who watched in disbelief as the bodies of his comrades absorbed the assault before collapsing lifelessly to the ground. "No shit," he muttered, his voice thick with shock, as he turned his gaze towards Elyse. Though she could not see his face, she felt the fury radiating from him through the Force.
Just as he raised his Z-6 rotary blaster to fire, a series of resounding explosions erupted from the glass side of the hallway, shaking the very ground beneath them.
As the dust settled, six figures soared through the newly opened breach of the hallway, raining blaster fire upon any moving targets below, including the man with the rotary blaster, who was knocked to the ground by the Force of the blast.
Elyse reignited her lightsaber, the blade glowing fiercely as she charged forward, cutting and slicing through any remaining attackers, whether they were standing or prone.
When she finally struck down the last adversary, the clash of battle came to a definitive end. Her outfit was tattered and soiled, and her breath came in heavy, exhausting gasps as she surveyed the aftermath. "All clear! Get the Duke to the med bay now!" she called out, her voice resolute amidst the chaos that had just unfolded.
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Two days later
Elyse strode through the opulent corridors of the palace, her beskar armor gleaming in hues of blue and purple. She has chosen to keep her armor on all the time now. With purpose, she made her way to the medbay to check on the Duke and Katrine.
As she moved through the hallways, the atmosphere felt unusually tense. The aftermath of the recent attack lingered in the air, prompting Katrine to triple the number of guards stationed throughout the palace. Warriors from House Kryze were now patrolling the perimeter, their vigilant presence a reminder of the danger that loomed just outside the palace walls.
Outside the medbay, four guards—those who had faced the assailants—immediately stepped aside as Elyse approached, recognition flashing across their faces. Their posture softened in acknowledgment of her authority.
Inside the medbay, a somber yet hopeful atmosphere enveloped the room. Katrine stood alongside Satine and Bo-Katan, their expressions a mix of concern and hope as they had a conversation with the doctor. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood off to the side in their own quiet discussion. The room was filled with the sound of beeping machinery and air. Elyse joined Qui-Gon silently, as she listened to the doctor.
In the center of the room, Duke Adonai lay submerged in a bacta tank, the clear fluid swirling around him. Breathing and feeding tubes snaked from his body, a lifeline in his fragile state. The wound on his shoulder blade was healing remarkably well, pink flesh emerging from beneath the bandages, a sign of hope.
The doctor conveyed reassuring news, confirming that the Duke was out of immediate danger and expected to make a full recovery in the coming days. Although currently in a medically induced coma, once his body regained its strength, he would be awakened and transferred to a proper bed.
A collective sigh of relief filled the air as Katrine and the others absorbed the doctor's words. Katrine and the girls had been weighed down by anxiety after witnessing the extent of their husband/father's injury. For the past two days, Katrine had not left the medbay. Besides the order to increase the guards, she remained steadfastly beside Adonai, her heart unwilling to stray far from him in his time of need.