===Maximus===
The three massive Astartes sat in silence as their shuttle descended into Mandalore's atmosphere.
The low hum of the shuttle's engines filled the cabin as it cut through the planet's thinning upper atmosphere, the heat of entry fading quickly as they neared the surface. Through the viewport, the rugged, battle-scarred terrain of Mandalore came into view—jagged mountains and barren plains stretching out beneath a dust-choked sky. It was a world shaped by conflict, and even now, it seemed to wear its scars like a badge.
Maximus sat rigidly, his posture as unyielding as the ceramite armor he wore. His gaze was fixed on the planet below, calculating, assessing. The damage to their armor—their battle-worn shells—was a reminder of the brutal fight they'd just endured. While his brothers remained in relative silence, Maximus's mind was focused on their mission. The purpose of their visit was clear: to request the assistance of the Mandalorians in repairing their damaged armor using their rare and legendary Beskar. It was a delicate request, one that carried its own risks and potential consequences.
Beside him, Raxor, his new mechanical arm resting against his side, stared out the viewport with a thoughtful expression. The Salamander's gaze softened as he took in the desolation below. "The planet's scars are deep," he remarked, his voice low and steady.
Sebastian, seated across from him, adjusted his position slightly, the crack in his helmet faceplate visible but no less menacing. His voice was sharp, filled with skepticism. "We're here for Beskar, nothing more. If they've lost any love for outsiders, this will be a hard sell."
Maximus's gaze remained unwavering as he responded, his voice calm and resolute. "We don't seek to impose ourselves on their world. We come with respect for their craftsmanship and their strength. We need their help, and we will make it clear that we mean them no harm."
Sebastian snorted in disbelief, his tone cynical. "Respect? Mandalorians don't care for 'respect.' They care about power. And from what I've read in Theeds archives, they'll take what they want, no matter who gets in their way."
Raxor glanced at Sebastian, his expression mild but firm. "You underestimate the Duchess. She seeks peace, even in the midst of this wasteland."
Maximus's eyes shifted toward Raxor. "The Duchess is our best hope. If anyone can help us, it will be her."
The shuttle began to shudder as it entered the lower atmosphere, the city of Sundari—what remained of it—coming into view. The capital of the New Mandalorians, though scarred by the endless conflict that plagued the planet, still stood resiliently, a testament to the tenacity of its people. It was here that they would meet Duchess Satine Kryze, leader of the New Mandalorians, and where they would present their request for Beskar to repair their damaged armor.
Sebastian crossed his arms, eyeing the city with suspicion. "I don't trust this peace she speaks of."
Maximus stood, his massive form shifting as he made his way toward the rear of the shuttle. His voice, when he spoke, was low but carried the weight of authority. "We are not here about trust. Only the Beskar matters. Where it comes from, does not."
===
Maximus was the first to disembark from the shuttle, his armored boots meeting the metal platform. His gaze was fixed upward, taking in the towering dome that protected Sundari, the last remaining city of any note on the war-torn world. It was a stark symbol of the Mandalorians' defiance—a fragile bastion of civilization amidst the scars of centuries of conflict.
The trio stood in silence for a moment as the shuttle's engines hummed quietly behind them, the dust settling around their boots. Then, a man appeared from the shadows, approaching them with an open, welcoming posture. His eyes held an air of cautious optimism, his clothes marked by the subtle insignia of the New Mandalorians.
"You must be the three that Queen Amidala mentioned were coming," he said, his voice smooth and warm despite the harshness of the planet. "Welcome to Sundari. This way, please."
Maximus inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the greeting, though his posture remained stiff and unreadable. He glanced briefly at his Brothers, both of whom seemed equally unmoved by the man's welcoming words. Raxor's mechanical arm clicked softly as he adjusted his stance, while Sebastian's gaze scanned their surroundings, ever watchful.
"We appreciate your hospitality," Maximus said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of a man accustomed to command. "We've come to discuss an important matter with the Duchess."
The man gave a nod, his expression polite but neutral, as if he was used to dealing with visitors from all walks of life. "The Duchess is expecting you. She'll want to hear your request. Follow me."
He gestured toward a nearby walkway—an elegant, if slightly weathered, path leading toward the heart of the city. The architecture was a mix of Mandalorian tradition and the attempts at modernization the New Mandalorians had pursued under Duchess Satine's leadership. It was clear that the city had seen better days, but its resilience was undeniable. As they began to walk, the Astartes moved with deliberate precision, their massive forms looming over the man who led them.
The city itself was noisy, the streets relatively packed. The figures they passed looked at them with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, as though strangers of such a nature weren't common visitors. The walls of Sundari, reinforced but bearing the marks of past conflicts, seemed to hum with the history of war, both recent and distant.
Maximus's gaze remained focused, his mind calculating the political ramifications of their visit. They were here for one thing—to procure Beskar to repair their armor. But they were also treading a fine line. The Mandalorians had a long history of mistrusting outsiders, and even more so after the recent conflicts that had divided their people. Their request could easily be seen as an imposition, or worse, a challenge to their way of life.
The man leading them, noticing the tension in the air, spoke again, trying to ease the atmosphere. "It's not often that we receive visitors from such distant parts of the galaxy. I trust Queen Amidala's words, though. She believes your mission is just."
Maximus glanced down at him, his voice measured. "We are here for no reason other than to seek your aid. We require Beskar to repair our armor, and we hope you will see the value in assisting us."
The man's brow furrowed slightly, but he did not slow his pace. "Beskar, you say? That is not a request we take lightly, even from those with noble intentions. But, as I said, the Duchess is waiting. She will be the one to decide what can be done."
Sebastian let out a low growl, but Raxor gave him a sidelong glance. "Patience, Brother. We must proceed with care."
Maximus did not respond, his focus now fully on the path ahead. The city stretched on, the palace now visible in the distance, rising against the horizon. It was an imposing structure, symbolizing the authority of the Duchess, but also a reminder of the delicate peace she tried to maintain in a world ravaged by war.
As they neared the palace gates, the man paused, turning toward them with a more serious expression. "I'll announce your arrival," he said before stepping into the entryway, leaving the Astartes to wait.
Maximus, Raxor, and Sebastian stood in silence, their towering forms a stark contrast to the bustling city around them.
"I haven't been this bored since attending that High Lord banquet," Sebastian's voice crackled over the private vox link, though the massive crack in his helmet let his words slip out a little, barely audible to the others. "We should just take what we need. Or we can go to the Death Watch. I'm sure they'd be simpler to discuss this with."
Maximus's voice came through steady and unwavering, his tone barely a whisper on the vox. "If the Duchess is unwilling, we will go to the Death Watch next. But the girl, Padmé, said the Duchess was a fair and logical woman. We will give her a chance to decide."
Sebastian grunted in frustration, the sound faint but telling. "Fair and logical doesn't win wars. Or repair armor."
Raxor's voice, calm as always, added his own thoughts into the conversation. "We must give the Duchess the opportunity to see reason. If she is indeed logical, she will understand our needs."
Maximus's posture remained unchanged, the massive figure of the Ultramarine unmoving as they continued their quiet vigil outside the gates of the palace. "Patience, Brothers. We will not rush this."
The short silence that followed was broken when the man who had greeted them earlier reappeared, stepping briskly toward them, his pace quickening as he reached their side.
"The Duchess will see you now," he said, his tone formal but with an air of quiet anticipation. He gestured toward the grand archway that led deeper into the palace. "Please, follow me."
Maximus nodded, his expression stoic as he turned to follow. Raxor and Sebastian fell in step behind him.
The throne room lay before them, a space vast and imposing, with high, vaulted ceilings and walls adorned with intricate Mandalorian art—tales of battle and survival etched into the stone and colorful windows. At the far end of the room, perched on a raised platform, was the throne where Duchess Satine Kryze sat in quiet authority. Her presence was commanding, yet there was an undeniable grace in the way she held herself.
Her eyes locked onto the trio as they entered, her expression unreadable, but there was no mistaking the hint of wariness in her gaze as she studied the imposing figures before her.
The man who had escorted them spoke first, his voice reverent. "Your Grace, the Astartes have arrived, as requested."
Maximus stepped forward, his massive form dwarfing those around him. "Duchess Satine Kryze, we thank you for agreeing to meet with us. Our armor is damaged, and only the finest metal of Mandalore can restore us to full strength. We seek your assistance in obtaining Beskar." He said, cutting straight to the point.
Satine blinked, her eyes narrowing as she absorbed the gravity of his words. She studied them carefully—these warriors were not like any she had encountered before. Their size, their presence, the craftsmanship of their armor—none of it was familiar.
"You are unlike any I've seen before," she said, her voice calm but laced with a quiet suspicion. "Who are you, and what is your purpose here?"
Maximus did not flinch. "We are the Adeptus Astartes, soldiers of the Emperor. We are in need of Beskar to repair our armor, and we request your assistance."
Satine remained silent for a long moment, her gaze drifting over the three of them—her eyes lingering on the damage to their armor, the battle-worn edges, the faint bloodstains that still clung to the surfaces. "I do not know who this Emperor is, but I do know that Mandalore's resources are limited. Beskar is a rare and precious metal. Why should I give it to you?"
Raxor stepped forward slightly, his mechanical arm clicking softly as he adjusted his stance. "We do not seek to take from you lightly, Duchess. We only ask for what we need to continue our fight."
Satine's eyes flicked toward Raxor, then back to Maximus. Her expression remained unreadable. "I am not one to give without cause, Astartes. Mandalore has bled for too long. You are not the first outsiders to come asking for our resources, and you will not be the last. But I am willing to hear your case. If you wish to earn my aid, you must prove to me that your cause is worth the cost."
Sebastian's voice came through the vox, low and frustrated. "Prove it? Maximus, this is a waste of time. We should just—"
Maximus silenced him with a quick gesture, his attention never leaving the Duchess. "Then let us prove it, Duchess. If we cannot convince you of the necessity of our request, we will seek other avenues. But we ask that you listen first."
Satine regarded him for a long moment, her gaze calculating. She had seen too many conflicts in her life to be easily swayed. But there was something in the way the Astartes stood, something in the quiet resolve behind their words, that made her pause.
"I will listen," she said finally, her voice firm. "But know this: I do not give Beskar freely. It is not a gift for the asking. You must earn it."
Maximus inclined his head slightly.
And with that, their conversation began, the weight of their mission pressing heavily on the air between them.
===Unknown Mandalorian===
Far above the throne room, high in one of the windows, a figure sat in silence, watching the interaction below. Her armor gleamed with the dull sheen of a polished finish, and her visor obscured any expression, but her posture was one of focused interest as the three Astartes conversed with Duchess Satine Kryze. The massive figures, clad in their ceramite armor, seemed almost out of place in the elegant surroundings of the palace. Their very presence exuded power, but the woman in the window could sense there was more to this meeting than it appeared.
She had been watching them since they arrived, her position granting her a clear view of the conversation unfolding. Though none of the Astartes were aware of her presence, she paid close attention to their words, analyzing their every movement.
After a while, the woman leaned forward, taking a final, long look at the trio below. Then, without another word, she moved. Her jetpack flared to life with a low hum, lifting her off her perch on the roof of the palace, the noise quickly drowned out by the sounds of the bustling city around her. The jetpack carried her swiftly across the sky, the streets of Sundari below a blur as she made her way to a more secluded part of the city.
She landed lightly, her boots touching down on the cracked stone street with barely a sound. Her surroundings were quieter here, the chaos of the city distantly muted. She moved quickly, blending into the shadows of the alleyways as she opened her comms link, the low hum of the device filling the air.
The voice on the other end of the comms crackled to life, impatient and sharp. "What have you found out? Who is meeting with Satine?"
The woman took a slow breath, steadying herself as she reported. "I'm not entirely sure. There were three of them, all in massive power armor. The one that seemed to be leading them called themselves Adeptus Astartes."
There was a long pause on the other end, the voice sounding more intrigued than before. "Adeptus Astartes? Do you have any idea what they want? What their intentions are?"
The woman's eyes narrowed slightly beneath her helmet, her instincts telling her there was more at play here. "They're asking for Beskar. They said their armor was damaged, and only Beskar could restore it. But there's something off about them."
The voice seemed to take a moment to process the information before responding, more measured now. "This is troubling. We'll need to monitor them closely. If they're asking for Beskar, it might mean they're gearing up for something more than just repairs."
The woman's fingers flexed slightly in her gauntlets as she considered the implications. "I'll keep watching. We need to know what they're really after before they get too close to Satine."
"Do not act hastily. We need information, not confrontation. Stay in the shadows. Keep your distance, and report back if anything changes," the voice warned, its tone hardening.
"I understand," she replied before closing the comms link. Her thoughts were sharp, and she couldn't shake the feeling that these Astartes were more than they appeared. With a final glance toward the palace, she turned and disappeared into the city, blending once more with the crowd, her mind racing with possibilities.
===
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