New Mandalorian Calendar, Year 10 (32 BBY). Max Vizsla led his followers—along with their families—onto a path of self-imposed exile, setting out for the Outer Rim on the far side of the galaxy.
Yes, that's right: Max Vizsla—our offworlder, Ethan—had been absurdly lucky. In just three years since arriving in the Star Wars galaxy (this story is written under the Disney canon timeline), he'd already grown into a minor warlord with several thousand people under his banner, holding real local prestige on Concordia (star chart coordinate: O-7) and the surrounding sectors.
Once he'd gradually accepted the reality of being here, Ethan—now the young Mandalorian warrior called Max Vizsla—quickly began what you could only call a "cheat-coded" rise.
To Max, the way wars between Mandalorians were fought in this world was honestly bizarre: military technology was highly advanced, yet strategy and tactics were painfully crude—the whole thing screamed one word: brute force. The Mandalorian civil war on Concordia… if you swapped blasters for old slugthrowers, it would look no different from a street-gang shootout.
Before he became Max Vizsla, Ethan had just been an ordinary male college student back home—never stepped outside the campus bubble, the kind with that clear-eyed, harmless stupidity. But he also fancied himself a serious military-history nerd, and he'd studied strategy and tactics to a decent level—at least on paper.
Theory met practice. After paying full tuition in blood—by watching comrades die—Max Vizsla finally got results. Encirclement to draw reinforcements. Ambushes along predictable routes. Classic combinations of tactics, executed by elite Mandalorian warriors, won his faction battle after battle, campaign after campaign.
But they were still only victories in battles and campaigns. Even with his "cheat code," Max Vizsla couldn't rewrite the final outcome of the war on Concordia.
Pre Vizsla was an extremist fanatic, and Death Watch was an extremist movement—true. But on Concordia, Pre Vizsla and the Death Watch he led were, in the most literal sense, where the hearts of the people were. They had the mandate. They had the crowd.
Ever since ten years ago—when the pacifist New Mandalorians won the Mandalorian civil war and exiled the warrior faction to Concordia—revanchist rage and extreme militarism had become the mainstream current on the moon. Extremism, like a warm incubator, nurtured an organization like Death Watch.
There were groups that weren't quite so extreme—like Max Vizsla's faction. They refused to abandon the warrior spirit. They clung to Mandalorian honor. But they didn't go off the cliff.
When everyone around you is radicalized, people who insist they're "the rational ones" become the dissidents no one can stand—the kind neither the New Mandalorians nor Death Watch will tolerate.
Unlike Death Watch, which had deep popular support, Max Vizsla's warriors on Concordia were irreplaceable. Every death was permanent. Max led them to victory again and again, yet he also led them—inevitably—step by step toward decline.
In these three years after his arrival, through one battle after another, Max Vizsla rose from an ordinary Mandalorian fighter to squad leader, then company commander, then one of the core figures around the leadership. As those leaders were killed one after another, Max Vizsla ultimately became the faction's supreme leader.
After drawing on hard-earned lessons and cold reality, Max Vizsla made his decision quickly: when survival demands it, you leave. He would lead everyone into self-imposed exile in the distant Outer Rim.
"Self-imposed exile? Isn't that just running away?" During the briefing, a blunt, straight-talking Mandalorian warrior named Christopher Ryen challenged him.
"Yes." Max Vizsla looked at Christopher and nodded. "It's running away."
"How can we run?" Ryen trembled with emotion. "Running is cowardly. Shameful. It disgraces—"
Max Vizsla lifted a hand lightly, cutting off Christopher Ryen—and the buzzing arguments spreading through the room. Max's position as leader had been forged in combat; his authority was unquestioned. Even the warriors who believed retreat was shameful never doubted his courage.
The room fell silent. Everyone focused on Max Vizsla at the head of the table, waiting to hear his view.
Max planted both hands on the table and slowly stood, his voice heavy and controlled.
"If we keep fighting like this, we'll be wiped out within half a year. Running is our only choice."
"T-that can't be right!" Christopher couldn't help standing again. "Leader, we can't admit defeat!"
"That's right! We can't!" someone shouted.
"Leader, we can't run! There are only Mandalorians who die fighting—there are no Mandalorians who flee!"
"Leader, we're not afraid of death! Lead us into a final battle!"
"With you here, we'll win in the end!"
...
For a moment, the room boiled—voices roaring, blood hot. Max Vizsla said nothing. He simply stood there, still as a statue. When the hall finally quieted again, Max swept his gaze across the crowd. He nodded once to each comrade he met eyes with, then pressed both hands to the table, leaned forward, and asked loudly:
"Are you truly not afraid to die?"
"We're not afraid!" Christopher shouted, shaking with fervor. "There are no Mandalorians who fear death!"
"This is the right path!" the crowd answered in unison.
"Then," Max Vizsla raised his voice, "I ask you all to hold the resolve to die—and retreat with me to the Outer Rim, for Mandalore's tomorrow!"
"This is the—" Christopher Ryen's reply burst out on instinct, but halfway through he realized something was wrong. "Leader?"
"Christopher. All of you—listen." Max Vizsla removed his helmet and held it in his hands. His words were earnest, almost pleading. "Look across the galaxy's history—countless species and regimes have risen and fallen, and they all prove the same truth: a people that lives only to fight will destroy itself, but a people that forgets how to fight invites disaster."
"Mandalore's fate—whether placed in the hands of the New Mandalorians' extreme pacifism, or Death Watch's extreme militarism—ends the same way: self-destruction."
"My brothers and sisters—what we carry isn't only the honor of Mandalorian warriors. We carry the future of all Mandalorians. Throwing away our lives on a surge of pride, abandoning Mandalore's future for a moment of rage—that's not responsibility. That's selfishness."
Bang!
Max Vizsla slammed his head down onto the table. When he raised it again, blood and tears streamed down his face.
"I'm begging you. Swallow one moment of humiliation—so Mandalore can win an age of glory. Please."
After a short silence, the Mandalorians' roar shook the air.
"This is the right path!!!"
...
"Leader, the entire fleet is ready. Requesting departure."
"Permission granted. Maintain alert status. Once the Fang-class starfighters assigned to rear-guard detach from the atmosphere, the fleet will jump together and enter hyperspace lanes."
"Roger."
"All units, move out!"
...........................
PS: New Mandalorian Year 1 is defined as 42 BBY, the year the pacifist New Mandalorians won the first Mandalorian civil war.
PPS: The Mandalorian faction the protagonist belongs to is inspired by the "True Mandalorians" concept from the Legends continuity.