Work Text:
“Kalys Passeri was a great philosopher!” The heated female voice resounded through the almost empty inn. “You cannot dismiss the importance of his work simply because this is a translation!”
“Yes, but this is a translation from ancient huttese into contemporary basic! They had six words more to alone describe different kinds of wetness, and those are just the known ones! You have no way of knowing if what is written there is the correct translation!”
Jaster was enthralled. The two Jedi had been arguing over the same text for about, and he checked his wristcomm for the time, an hour and half, and he was not going to lie, it was hot. It also was extremely fascinating to hear their assumptions about the meaning of Passeri’s text on the underlying morale and justice of Hutt family courts. Even with a, from what he had been able to gather so far, more than sketchy translation both came surprisingly close to the original meaning in several points and accurately assessed the shortcomings of their translation in others.
Honestly, he should have picked up a bounty half an hour ago, but this was just way to interesting. Someone else could go claim those credits, he’d enjoy himself a bit more.
Maybe a lot more, seeing as the two were still going strong.
Stars, they were hot.
(Somewhere several systems away a young Jango suddenly felt cold sweat break out. His buir was doing something weird again, he could feel it. Myles concernedly looked up from the rocket launchers they were currently afffixing to their brand-new pogo sticks.)
“Here! Look at this passage and tell me it doesn’t show us that this translation is faulty at best! It definitely should say “Broodmother” here, but instead the translation says “Matriarch” which. Is. Wrong. It also completely changes the message of this entire paragraph, and that is only one single example. There are hundreds of such passages in this book, you can’t earnestly keep telling me that this work is a reliable source in any way, shape or form.”
There was a loud and angry huff from the turquoise haired woman, as she immediately grabbed the controversial piece of writing and dragged it over to look at the passage in question.
She was quite flushed in anger. Jaster shouldn’t have been finding that as endearing as he did. Those were the mortal enemies of his people!
But the dark haired man had really nice cheekbones.
Thus, the Mand’alor continued sipping on his drink and enjoyed the show.
Another enraged sound came from the lady Jedi and she forcefully slammed her hand down on the open page. “If you had read that chapter from the beginning, Yan, you would have gathered from the context that it hints strongly on there being no distinction between those two terms 2000 years ago! Back then the Broodmother was the Matriarch!”
The man scowled. “I did not miss those hints, but it is preposterous to assume the clan structure changed that drastically simply because something you are reading into what might as well be a unclear translation from the original! Just admit that we do not know enough about the Hutt Clans from that time period, Jocasta!”
“Which is exactly why we have to rely on this text to try to understand them! I’m not saying it is a good translation, but as long as you can’t produce the karking original, it is in the name of the sweet, merciful Force the only thing we can work with.”
“Well, the original is lost! And we definitely should not want to work with a faulty transcript in its stead!”
This was bad, Jaster already had finished his 5th drink and he was reluctant to go to the bar to get himself a new one, the fight between the two Jedi was just too delicious. On the other hand, without a drink he’d be painfully obvious… and he didn’t want to spook the two of them. ( Even though their argument had cleared out most of the other patrons of the inn and the barkeeper was holding back tears, but too scared of the two riled-up Jedi to do something against it. Which only made them hotter in Jaster’s opinion.)
“What do you want me to do then? Leave the Archives incomplete?! Especially after we went through such pains to acquire this transcript?” the lady Jedi spat heatedly, and oh how Jaster agreed with her, ignoring a book about an interesting topic simply because it was badly written would be a horror.
Her companion sighed. “It is a tragedy that it is such a bad translation, and I’d certainly agree with you; even this nonsense must be preserved, as it is indeed quite rare in itself. But you cannot earnestly think of using it to teach the younglings about the Hutts!”
He passed them as they continued bickering and wandered up to the bar to get another glass of the same sickly-sweet beverage as before. The bartender looked positively deceased and he tipped her generously for her sorrows. Any other time he might even have helped to throw troublemakers out, but he was being selfish for today. No time like the present, right?
He deserved a treat.
And if that treat was two attractive Jedi bickering over ancient philosophical text, then so be it.
Drink in hand he sauntered back to wards his table, but not without cutting rather close to the space where the two Jedi still had the book open at the offending passage. Yes, this was his curiosity getting the better of him, but he didn’t care. Glancing over the page, he couldn’t stifle a light chuckle. He had suspected it, but the translation really was less than passable.
Only, he had underestimated the Jedi’s vigilance.
Their heads snapped up and Mand’alor Jester Mereel found himself, slightly tipsy and drink in one hand, being stared down by two visibly riled up Jedi.
(Huh. They both had really nice eyes.)
“What, If I may inquire, Mando,” the man asked in a quiet and composed tone that indicated for Jaster to proceed with caution. “is so funny?”
Jaster, who definitely was not short-circuiting being stared at by two attractive people who looked like they could and would quite possibly polish the floor with his shapely ass if given even half the chance, blinked and said: “Ah… She’s right. You know, about the status of Matriarch equalling Broodmother.” he hesitated, and furrowed his brows. “Well, at least for the two or three decades that the original had the misfortune to come out. There had been some kind of coup amongst the Hutt Council and they tried to reform it so that every Broodmother would also be a Matriarch, but it didn’t work out.” Shrugging, Jaster took a sip from his drink, instantly regretting it. That stuff was just too sweet. “Anyways, he mentions the consequent counterrevolution in his second book and-“
He didn’t get much farter in his explanation, as the woman grabbed his arm and dragged him a little forward (which made him spill some of his drink, but he didn’t really mind…).
“What did you just say?” She hissed with the gravity of a good dozen neutron stars.
(Stars, it made Jaster feel things.)
“Uh… you were right?”
“No, not that, you armoured buffoon!”, the man now interjected, eyes gleaming with something that Jaster couldn’t quite interpret.
“There is a sequel?”
Jaster blinked again. Huh, that was what they were so interested in? He grimaced. “Well, it’s definitely a second book by Passeri, but I don’t know if one can call it a sequel per se, as it-”
The hand on his forearm tightened its grasp and tugged him even closer (he couldn’t even be mad about being interrupted once again, because how strong of a grasp must one have to feel it through vembraces of pure beskar?)
“There. Is. A. Second. Book?”
The Mandalorian flailed a bit under their combined stares, not really knowing what they were getting on. “Yes?”
Narrowing his eyes, the man shook his head slightly. “You are not lying, how? Never, in no records or papers or anything was ever mentioned that Passeri wrote more than one work. Even if it has existed at some point, it must have been destroyed! There is no way you would know what he wrote in there!”
Admittedly, Jaster wasn’t that big of a fan of some random space monk using his force magic on him, but since the space monk in question was pretty handsome and pushed all the right buttons for him, he was willing to overlook the transgression. “Huh, well actually I do know, seeing as I have the book in my possession. Also,” and he looked back and forth between the two Jedi, and decided to take a small gamble “I am in the possession of an original of the first one, if you’d… like to have a look at it? Reading ancient huttese is a bit tricky, but I’m sure we have a language key somewhere.”
He was once again met with two stares, this time way less venomous though.
“The original copies all were lost. There is no way you have one.” The turquoise haired woman states matter-of-factly, but she too seemed slightly dazed. Stars, could they please not use their magics on him? Jaster really wanted his helmet back, but he had left it on the bench together with his rifle…
“Ah, no, I don’t know about the original copies, I’m talking about the original. Passeri’s manuscript.”
The silence that followed that statement of his was oppressing. He even thought he could hear the slight squeaking of the gears turning in the Jedi’s minds. But maybe it was just the sound of the bartender polishing some glasses.
Then suddenly everything happened at once.
Jaster’s world was flipped upside-down as he found himself being hoisted over the man’s shoulder while the woman moved to pack their stuff in a split-second. Well, the two of them certainly were more eager to see the books than he had anticipated, but he could work with that. So, he let himself being manhandled by the hot jedi, though after a split-second he had a sudden revelation and shouted: “Wait! My helmet! Let me down so I can get my helmet and rifle!”
“Already on it!” the woman shouted over the shoulder as she jogged back into the far end of the inn to get his stuff.
Meanwhile the male Jedi was powerwalking into the general direction of the landing platforms, Mand’alor still hoisted over his shoulder.
Somehow, it had not occurred to Jaster that, being virtually abducted by the two Jedi meant that he would not end up back at his own ship, but in the one of the Jedi. In retrospect that was pretty obvious, but he’d still have to figure out a way to get his poor ship back to Mandalore. Preferably without Jango sitting in his neck ranting about “irresponsible behaviour” and “taking risks carelessly”, because please, he had invited the two jedi to come take a look at his private collection on purpose. He always calculated the risks.
(Not that his son would appreciate that in any way, shape or form, but it was a justification.)
Maybe he could send a comm to his second to go get it.
Suddenly he was dropped to the floor quite unceremoniously. And a bag was dropped on top of him. His yelp of protest was duly ignored.
“Coordinates?” came the question from the pilot seat. Jaster, still groaning, recited them. He heard how the man typed something into the Nav, then there was a moment of silence. The pilot’s seat turned around and the Jedi glared down on him. “Concord Dawn. Do you think we are stupid? We can’t just barge into the heart of Mandalorian space!”
Now it was Jaster’s turn to stare. “Did you… did you look at me? Where else would I live?”
The Jedi mumbled something probably rather unflattering under his breath, but had at least the grace to look slightly sheepish.
“JO!” he shouted into the back of the ship, “THE BOOKS ARE IN CONCORD DAWN”
“At the Mand’alor’s residence.” Jaster offered helpfully.
“AT THE MAND’ALOR’S RESIDENCE!” the man added, then whipped back around to face the Mandalorian, who was still sitting on the floor. “Wait what!? I thought you said you had the books! Why would you possibly store your possessions in the kriffing Mand’alor’s residence?!”
Jaster smiled disarmingly. “Well, it would be rather troublesome not to, seeing as I live there.” And he did a lazy salute. “Mand’alor Jaster Mereel, pleased to meet you.”