Spike stayed silent for a moment, before bursting into laughter, his voice echoing around the small room. For all the sound however, his face betrayed his true feelings, anger bubbling just beneath the surface.
“You had me going there for a minute Seugtai,” he admitted, wiping a non-existent tear away from his eye in an over exaggerated movement.
“I wasn’t joking,” Seugtai deadpanned, locking gazes with Spike. “I believe learning and taking to heart the Resol'nare will aid you, give you something to strive towards, a purpose not found in the Republic or the Jedi Order, but the Mandalorians, the true Mandalorians, the Crusaders, not the Neo-Crusaders.”
“I fought your kind, I saw what they did, what they made me do,” Spike growled. “I would choose your words carefully.”
“You saw the Neo-Crusader, you saw Cassus,” Seugtai snapped back, looking at Moonstone. “Tell me, Moonstone. What has Spike endured at the hands of the Jedi or the Republic compared to what he endured due to the Mandalorians?”
“Leave me out of this,” Moonstone shook her head, but Seugtai would not be dissuaded.
“No, answer the question Moonstone. I know enough about your past from yourself or from the HoloNet, Spike, may not know all of it but I can piece together other bits from common knowledge. Did the Mandalorians abduct you as a child thrown from his home? Did the Mandalorians make you fight in their little Civil War the first time? Did the Mandalorians cast you out and treat you like dirt for safeguarding the Republic against Mandalore’s armies? Did the Mandalorians imprison you for no crime? Or was all the Jedi, and the Republic that serves them?”
Spike snarled, but remained silent, Seugtai feeling like he may actually get through to the Dragon and pressing on.
“You have had a single driving goal your entire life, one mission, protect the Republic, but you know that’s wearing thin, you know that it is becoming less and less impactful each time you repeat it to yourself, even when on the run from the very empire you swore to protect. You may want them, but face the simple fact Spike. They don’t want you. You have given them everything, your body and your sanity in the Mandalorian Wars, your freedom in the interim. Why do they deserve your loyalty when they do not return it in kind?!”
Spike turned to leave, heading for the door, but even as it began to open, the telltale sign of magic encompassed it and it slid closed again. Whirling around, both Spike and Seugtai looked at Moonstone, the unicorns horn glowing as she remained on the bed.
“Let me out,” Spike’s voice was a facade of barely controlled rage.
“No,” Moonstone shook her head.
“It is my magic, my body, stop being clever and let me go,” Spike reiterated, less control this time.
“Spike you need to hear this and make a choice,” Moonstone snapped, Seugtai taken aback at the sudden passion in her voice. “You cannot just walk away from this, you have to make a decision now.”
“I don’t want to make this choice,” Spike hissed.
“The galaxy isn’t filled with things you want, Spike. You are a broken warrior,” Seugtai repeated the words he had spoken earlier. “You don’t have the luxury of time, Spike, because all of us here know what you’re capable of when pressed. Your navicomp is going haywire and if your triple zero fades...”
He trailed off, the implication enough without being spoken. Before he could continue, Moonstone spoke up, rematerialising in front of Spike and laying a hoof on him.
“Seugtai has a point, Spike. I think you know it, deep down.”
“Get out of my head,” Spike snapped, his voice still filled with rage, but a slight wobble made it clear even that was fast coming undone.
“I don’t need to be in your head, I’ve known you for long enough,” Moonstone smiled.
“Spike, I care for you,” Seugtai took the lead once more. “Never thought I’d say that for a Jedi, let alone you of all Jedi, but the past few years has proven you more than that. You’re more than just a Jedi, more than just a soldier. You have honour and strength and courage. You have a conviction that burns brighter than most stars, and when you set your mind to something, you shift the galaxy to make sure it comes to pass. I haven’t respected many people in my life as much as I respect you now, but you need something to hold onto. If you can tell me here and now you have that, or can have that, without Resol'nare, then I will never speak of this again, but I don’t think you will say that. Like Moonstone said, I think deep down, you already know your answer.”
“Get out,” Spike all but whispered the words, no anger in them, but forceful nonetheless, Seugtai inclining his head.
“Take the time you need to think about it, when you have an answer, I’ll be waiting.”
With that, Seugtai moved past Spike, Moonstone allowing the door to open once more as she relinquished control of Spike’s magic.
“You too, please,” Spike looked at her. “Let me be alone.”
Moonstone nodded once, before fading from view, Spike feeling her presence retreat within his mind as the door slid shut behind Seugtai. It would not open again for some time.
***
Seugtai returned to his own quarters, the room smaller and far more sparsely decorated, a single bed in one corner, an armour bench in the other, repair and cleaning tools scattered across its surface. As Seugtai walked in, he rolled his eyes beneath his helmet, looking at Moonstone as she sat on his bed.
“I didn’t know you could go this far away from Spike,” he mused, looking at the pony, before walking over to the armour bench and grabbing a plasma scalpel, expertly beginning to work on removing damaged sections of his plate.
“To tell you the truth, neither did I,” Moonstone admitted. “I believe this is about my limits, and even then, only because his mind is wandering, allowing me to wander with it.”
“Makes sense,” Seugtai grunted, before putting the tool down and sighing. “So, you can see the sense can’t you?”
“I can,” Moonstone nodded. “Everything you said was right, at least after a fashion. Spike fought the Crusaders long before the Neo-Crusaders, and he never hated their kind. Didn’t like them, but didn’t hate them either. And like you say, his guidelines wearing thin, he doesn’t much more to fall back on. He’s considering it at least, which if you’d asked me if it were possible a half a decade ago I’d have said was impossible.”
“Well, when we reach our lowest point is when we are open to the greatest change,” Seugtai sighed. “Chaos take me but I don’t want him to fade because he loses his way. The galaxy has enough of those types running round with Malak and his lackeys, Spike can be better. He has to be.”
“On that, we are in complete agreement. Not much to do but wait though, we’ll know soon enough.”
***
Seugtai and Moonstone waited for hours for any word or sign of a decision. As the sixth hour rolled past, Seugtai admitted defeat, Moonstone leaving and promising to wake him if an answer was reached. Even after he awoke, there had still been no word, Seugtai able to put off his own duties any longer. There was still a war on, still a syndicate to run, still raids to lead.
As he returned to the station, he knew that an answer had been reached, exiting the shuttle and coming face to face with Spike, Moonstone beside him, both looking impassive, hiding any expressions they may have had from the crew.
“Seugtai, my quarters,” Spike’s voice was a near emotionless monotone, Seugtai wordlessly following him back to his quarters. Only as the door slid shut once more, Moonstone's horn lighting up to ensure it would not open, did Spike finally speak.
“You’re right,” Spike didn’t sound happy at the words but continued regardless. “I’ve given everything to the Republic, and it’s time to stop. If I’ve remembered nothing else from Twilight, it’s to try new things, to try and not hold grudges. I can’t forgive the actions of the Mandalorians in the war, but that wasn’t all of your kind, and it wasn’t you, Seugtai. You’re many things, but loyal and honourable are two of the greatest. I trust you, I trust Moonstone. You two are clearly in some sort of agreement about this, so that’s swung the balance. I want you to teach me this Relosnare...”
“Resol'nare,” Seugtai corrected, smiling beneath his helmet. “I know it wasn’t easy, Spike, and I appreciate the words.”
“So where do we start then?”
“The Resol'nare has six tennants,” Seugtai began, gesturing for Spike to sit. “Ba'jur. Beskar'gam. Ara'nov. Aliit. Mando'a. Mand'alor. In galactic basic: Education. Armour. Self-defense. Tribe. Language. Leader. You don’t need Ara'nov, you’re clearly far beyond that, and as for Mand'alor...well, Revan took Mandalore’s Mask. You know well enough the importance behind that, without it we’re scattered, to be named Mandalore now would be almost impossible, though given time, that will change. Ba’jur will come from learning the others, Mando'a can be taught and learnt as easily as any other language. Aliit we are close, your tribe is everything to you, once you decide who they are. I haven’t seen my clan in years, Ordo is deep behind Sith lines at the moment, I doubt I’ll see it anytime soon.”
“So that just leaves Beskar'gam,” Spike finished. “I don’t need armour, Seugtai, in case you haven’t noticed. My scales do just fine.”
“Then let this be your first lesson,” Seugtai spoke as a Rally Master now, his voice bearing all the clipped hallmarks of a soldier. “Mandalorians wear our armour for protection, it is true. Some use it to mount their weapons, or to provide them tactical data in the heat of battle, but at its heart, it has a greater reason, one most forget. Tell me, Spike. How do you know I am Mandalorian?”
“You’re a Taung,” Spike pointed out, before shaking his head, realising what Seugtai was getting at. “Your armour conforms to known Mandalorian patterns.”
“Good. And a human, outside of any armour, is he Mandalorian?”
“Impossible to say.”
“Exactly. Crusader or Neo-Crusader, all conform to the ancient designs of the Taung and the Mandalorians. Be it a mask or a helmet, full body plate or just a facial covering, the armour is our identity. We are more than our armour, but our armour is us. This T Visor...”
He tapped his own helmet for emphasis.
“...s far more than just a visual aid. With the sensors in the armour of Neo-Crusader shock troops, we could have done away with visors entirely, armour the entire helmet and eliminated a weak point that can be exploited. Or we could go the other way, create a fully visored helmet like that of the Sith, or do away with a face covering altogether as the Republic soldiers do. We don’t, because this symbol is us. This symbol is as much a Mandalorian icon as the Mythosaur skull. If you are to be Mandalorian, no matter your personal strengths, you will create your own Beskar'gam. I know you can forge, and initially, that will do, we can create armour of durasteel or any number of materials, but when this war ends, whenever that is, we will travel to Mandalore, and we will follow the traditions and dictates of my clan, and have one forged of Mandalorian Iron.”
Spike considering Seugtai’s words, before wordlessly standing from the bed and dropping to one knee before the Mandalorian.
“Then as you say, I will follow this first tenant of the Resol'nare, and take my first step on the path of the Mandalorians.”
Seugtai smiled once more beneath his helmet, resting a hand on Spike’s shoulder and tilting his head down slightly to look into his eyes.
“I know you will, Spike. We have a long way to go, but we will travel it together. You have a purpose once more, and when you have taken the tenants to heart, then I will be honoured to name you Ordo and accept you as part of my clan.”