"Fits perfectly. Didn't even need alterations," Pre Vizsla said in the holocall, removing his helmet while wearing Tarre Vizsla's armor. He looked smug as he spoke. "Thanks, Max. I'll happily accept this generous gift."
Bespin wasn't some hidden presence anymore. On February 10, Galactic Standard Year 5, Pre Vizsla called the Bespin Mandalorian Autonomous Territory government hotline, asking to speak with Max Vizsla. After Max agreed, the call was patched through to the Kom'rk he was aboard.
"Clap, clap, clap." Max pursed his lips, looked Pre Vizsla up and down, said nothing, and applauded.
"Save it, Max." Pre Vizsla's interest evaporated. "You're still as irritating as ever."
"Nice armor," Max nodded. "You're only missing the Darksaber. Then the set's complete."
"Oh?" Pre Vizsla gave a crooked grin. He reached out of frame, took the Darksaber from someone, and ignited it with a sharp hum.
"Yeah. Clap, clap, clap." Max applauded again. "Great. Looks even better."
Pre Vizsla frowned and shut the blade off. "Max—as a Mandalorian, and especially as a member of Clan Vizsla, you should show the Darksaber—and its wielder—more respect."
"Brother," Max shook his head, "the line 'the one who holds the Darksaber can rule Mandalore' means the Darksaber is a symbol of rule. It doesn't mean whoever grabs it automatically becomes Mandalore's rightful ruler."
Pre Vizsla snorted. "That's just you twisting the meaning on purpose."
"Am I wrong?"
"Of course you are."
"Pre Vizsla—since you already have the Darksaber… are you ruling Mandalore?"
The moment the words landed, Max didn't need the Force to hear Pre Vizsla's breathing go heavier.
After forcing his temper back down, Pre Vizsla said, "Max, I didn't call you to argue."
"Is that so?"
"Can you talk like a normal person for once, without dripping sarcasm every other sentence?!"
"I can."
Pre Vizsla went silent. He glared through the holo for a few seconds, then continued. "Max—Tarre's armor and the Darksaber are back in Vizsla hands. That's destiny. Clan Vizsla is meant to rule all Mandalore."
"Uh—sorry to interrupt, brother," Max cut in. "Didn't you… steal both the armor and the blade?"
"And what's the problem with that?"
For once, Max had no immediate comeback. He leaned back. "No problem. Please, continue."
"Come work with me," Pre Vizsla said, making the pitch. "You and I together—New Mandalorians won't last a day. Taking Mandalore will be easy."
"And then?" Max asked.
"What do you mean 'and then'?"
"After you take Mandalore—then what?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Pre Vizsla spread his hands, lifting them as if raising a banner. "We restore the warrior way. We rebuild a strong Mandalore."
"And then the Jedi Order and the Galactic Republic intervene, and we get another purge of Mandalorians?"
Pre Vizsla stabbed a finger at him, furious. "What are you talking about? Max—are you afraid now? Have the Jedi and the Republic scared you so badly you've lost a Mandalorian's courage?"
"The Jedi and the Republic fear Mandalorians," Max said flatly. "They will not tolerate Mandalore returning to militarism. If you can't prevent their intervention, then"—his expression sharpened—"you'd better not run the Death Watch playbook on Mandalore. Don't bring disaster down on Mandalore and its people again."
"The ones who brought disaster are the New Mandalorians!" Pre Vizsla snapped, more heated by the second. "They colluded with outsiders and started a Mandalorian civil war! They crushed the warrior tradition, neutered our martial spirit, and tried to erase Mandalorians at the root! Death Watch is saving Mandalore. We're restoring Mandalore!"
"If the New Mandalorians ally with outsiders again, what do you do?" Max pressed. "Can Death Watch stop outside intervention?"
Pre Vizsla shot back, "So because outsiders might interfere, we shouldn't fight to survive at all?"
Max exhaled, shaking his head. "Avoidance won't solve anything. Outsider intervention is extremely—"
"You're the one avoiding it!" Pre Vizsla roared, punching the air in rage.
"You're the one who ran to the edge of the galaxy to mine! I stayed in the Mandalore sector and kept fighting! You think mining can topple the New Mandalorians?!"
"If we don't destroy their regime fast—if we just let them keep indoctrinating the next generation—then in ten, twenty years, Mandalore won't have armored Mandalorians left!"
"Unarmored Mandalorians—are they even Mandalorians?! If we don't fight for survival now, our people will die out. Mandalore will fall."
Pre Vizsla loved Mandalore. Duchess Satine did too. The problem was: the two of them were extremists in opposite directions.
"Brother," Max said, sitting upright again, "forcing everyone to remove armor is obviously wrong—but forcing everyone to wear it is just as wrong. Mandalore can't be without warriors, but it also can't be without builders. I—"
"You still want to split the difference," Pre Vizsla cut him off, impatient. "Big things are win or lose. There's no middle road. People like you—always compromising, always smoothing things over—never build anything that lasts."
"My principle is—"
"Save the speeches." Pre Vizsla cut him off again. "Just tell me this: between me and Satine—between Death Watch and the New Mandalorians—whose side are you on?"
"I'm on Bespin. Mining."
Pre Vizsla fell silent.
"I'm on Bespin. Mining," Max repeated. "Brother—want to buy gas? I can give you a discount, up to—"
Pre Vizsla ended the call.
In the original timeline, Pre Vizsla waited until the final phase of the Clone Wars, when the Republic was bogged down in a quagmire against the Separatists and couldn't spare the attention. Seizing that window—when outside powers couldn't intervene—Death Watch successfully took Mandalore.
Max had assumed Pre Vizsla would keep that tempo.
But now… maybe the butterfly effect was bigger than he'd thought. His "big brother" was swelling too early.
That was bad. If Death Watch moved too soon, the Judicial Forces and the Jedi would intervene—and Mandalore, painstakingly rebuilt by the New Mandalorians, would be smashed all over again.
(Once Bespin's defensive system is basically in place, I'll go back to Concordia, duel Pre Vizsla, take him out—and absorb Death Watch.)
Max's hand drifted to the lightsaber at his belt as he thought it through.
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🛡️ STAR WARS: THE RISE OF MANDALORE
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A warrior culture divided.
Clans fighting for survival.
A galaxy slowly moving toward war.
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⚔️ THIS IS THE WAY OF WARRIORS
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