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In an old part of town, the boots trampling the dusty ground of the square made firm noises and then slowed down. The lead had stopped. He was looking at an old beggar, sitting on the ground. A battered sign, once part of a metal pannel, read "Fortune telling - at your own risk."
Jango snorted.
The human lifted his withered head and gave him an unsettling smile. Jango didn't like it. Indigent people, smiling like that... They were crazy. Always.
"Do you want to be told your future, Mand'alor?"
"Maybe."
Jaster had planted his fists on his hips and was observing the crazy old man intently. This idiot still hadn't lost his smile, despite a whole squadron of supercommandos focusing on him all their attention.
"Buir," Jango snapped under his breath.“These guys are all imposters. What are you doing?"
"Being curious," Jaster replied. "How much for your insight, kar'vode?"
The old beggar smiled at him. For a moment, Jango swore he could feel his hair standing on end. It was stupid. He was just an old swindler, cheating the credulous. And Jango didn't think Jaster was among that number. The old man gave Jango a sidelong look that was so courteous it was almost condescending.
"For a reading for you, I'll have a reading for your son."
Jango arched his back indignantly but stopped at Jaster's raised fist. He held back his comments, behind gritted teeth. Behind him, his vode stifled small laughs. They thought it was funny, the di'kut.
Of all the moments for a flight of fancy, Jaster had to choose this?
"Then we have an agreement," Jaster said.
Jango shook his head, and he felt Jaster raise an eyebrow at him behind his helmet.
"If it's all nonsense, you have nothing to worry about, do you?"
Myles chuckled openly. Jango turned to glare at him but only got good humor and exclamations from the others. Some encouraging him to do so, others protesting the unscheduled stop.
"He got you there," smiled Myles.
"Let's go," K'has muttered. "The customer is waiting."
Jango pulled back and glared at Jaster.
"Yes, buir. The client is waiting. We should be there already."
Jaster had already removed his right glove.
"All the more reasons to get on with it."
Jango crossed his arms and glared at the man on the ground, with his dirty cloak and torn clothes. But the man had stopped looking at him and was taking Jaster's dominant hand in his.
He closed his eyes and Jango rolled his.
And then - he became completely slack.
Jango grabbed his blaster, spun around, and - nothing. He frowned at the sounds of laughter from the others, even though some blamed themselves for falling for the same trick he did.
The man wasn't dead.
No one had shot him - unlike his slumped body, his hands were still held high, holding Jaster's.
Jango grits his teeth. Theater... Just for this humiliation, he wanted to shoot the man. His withered head slowly rose from where it had fallen on his chest, and Jango expected him to spin it around all the way to his back. But when his head came to Jaster's eye level, he stopped. He spoke, not in a dramatic voice, but with his own. It was cultivated, strangely so for a beggar.
Yet, for some reason Jango couldn't fully explain, the air has become charged. Suddenly, everything felt heavy, almost... electric.
"Jaster The Dreamer, Jaster The Scholar. You won't be talked about for long. You have only united those who already dreamt as you do. Others follow their own dreams of Mandalore. You have brought honor, knowledge, but no reconciliation. No unity." The men behind him mumbled, the pleasant mood evaporating. "This reprieve is only temporary. Death Watch opposes you. The Pacifists oppose you. And when you die, soon, everything you have established will die with you. War will come. Death will come. Your legacy, drowned in screams and blood. Your dreams, an illusory concern, far from the True Enemy. You will be forgotten, Jaster the Dreamer. For your dreams are only for the mandalorians of your time, not those that will face the horrors of Tomorrow."
"You're kriffing-" Jango growled.
He stopped, blaster raised, only because Jaster's arm was holding him back.
For a tense moment, Jango felt his vode, behind his back, ready to attack at a single move of Jango. But Jaster only looked at the beggar consideringly.
“How am I going to die?"
And that man, that crazy old, unarmed, unarmoured man smiled. Smiled that stupid smile of his, with twenty blasters pointed at him. Jango wanted to shoot him. Mad. Stark, raving mad. Completely crazy-
"Treason, of course."
Anger surpassed outrage. "If you think any of us are going to betray the Mand'alor-" He struggled uselessly against the arm of his buir, his fury greater than his words. But Jaster didn't move an inch.
"All warriors accept Death. And there's more than one way for a man to have a legacy. What about my son?"
The beggar slowly turned his head until he was facing Jango, smiling.
“What about him, indeed?"
Jango wanted him to stop smiling. That level of insult, that arrogant gentlemanly air of his - as if he were one of those buffoons at a king's court instead of a beggar, insulting the Mand'alor...
"Jango."
Jango turned his red face toward Jaster who tilted his toward the old man.
"A deal is a deal."
Jango had to control his breathing because, for a moment, he feared that if he was left too close to the old man, he would beat him to death. He had done it, once, before. At the time, he had been too afraid of being unable to defeat his opponent to appreciate it, but he thought, with this man, he could enjoy it.
But Jaster was his Mand'alor and his honor was Jango's. He would obey.
He took a step forward and shoved his hand up to the man's face.
"Ah," the man inhaled, as if he had been handed a glass of fine wine."Jango Fett. Let's see it, then."
As before, he took Jango's hand and watched it intently, then – his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed.
And remained motionless.
And remained motionless. Then a slight tremor started at the ends of his feet, went up along his legs and the tip of his back, rising, growing and the man was shaking, choking, laughing — he fell on his side — convulsed — limbs jerking widely. Jaster tensed beside him, wanting to do something but he was no baar'ur.
Jango didn't know whether to let it go on or take advantage. The man's convulsions grew until his laughter, interspersed with wet sounds, choked. Jango thought he was going to asphyxiate and the man - stopped. Still. Then he shivered erratically, with strong aftershocks, like after being struck by electricity. A strangled chuckle grew and grew until it becomes an audible, full-fledged laugh -
"Jango Fett, the last Mand'alor. Jango The Last. Jango The Fettered. Jango The Unfettered. Jango The Breaker of His Chains. Jango The Beroya. The Prime. Dar'mand'alor, Dar'buir, Dar'manda. Jango Of The Millions Sons, Father of One. Jango The Unworthy."
And this time he felt Jaster tensed, but the man went on, dirty white hair, caught in his eyes, lit up with mad fervor, mischievous delight in giving a long awaited blow, even thought they have never met before -crazy -
"Listen to me and hear this. When your father dies, you will take his mantle. You will lead his commandos to glory. Many battles and many successes await you. And then you will be played. You and your opponent, both. The Enemy Of All will pit you against each other until no one under your command remains. You will know desolation. You will know isolation. Your honor will be sullied in ways you cannot even comprehend yet. You will break your chains, regain your honor. Then, rather than return to Mandalore, you will turn your back on everything. You will make a name for yourself through the stars, while your people will be killing each other in the streets.
And when The Enemy Of All will reach out with a plot against your old opponent, you will take it. You will have millions of sons, Jango Fett. And will be the father of only one. You will be what made the annihilation of the entire galaxy as we know it possible. Jango, The Destroyer. It won't be by your hand, but it will be by your will. You will plunge this galaxy into an era of darkness not seen for millennia, will be the origin point of the death of billions. By your will. This will be the result of your vengeance, Jango Fett. This will be your legacy."
Jango did not breath. He did not hear, but for the pounding of his blood through his temples.
Then it all exploded as his vode screamed and tried to get past him and Jaster, anger in their mouths, violence at their fingertips -
"Enough!"
People froze, Jaster's shout audible across the entire square.
Jango was panting, as if he had been fighting all morning. Jaster pushed the ori'ramikade back, a mass of soldiers writhing in anger and frustrated vindication.
Jaster looks somberly at the man.
"It is a serious insult, that you have given us."
The beggar shook his head a few times, smiling slightly.
"No insults in the Kara, Mand'alor. No lies either; only what I see."
He tapped the piece of metal on which he had engraved his inscription.
Fortune telling - at your own risk.
Indeed.
The man's smile stretched wide, some of that crazy amusement returning to his face.
"I tell you what I saw, Mand'alor. What you do with it, only you can decide."
"What if I decide to kill you, for the insult to my clan?"
That cursed smile turns to courtly condescension once again.
“You'll have to catch me first."
Jaster's helmet might be on, but Jango could see the skeptical gaze. The beggar looked like he had trouble just sitting, much less breaking into a run. Jaster looked at the man for a long moment and no one moved.
Then he sighed and rummaged through his pockets. He dropped a handful of credits on the ground.
"Buy yourself some food. I think the hunger has gone to your head. Make sure our paths don't cross again."
The crazy old man bowed his head several times, like a jockster, still smiling.
"Of course, Mand'alor. Of course. Thank you for your generosity."
"And stop offering your services to warriors."
That exasperating smile answered him. "That, we will see."
"Very well, men. Move out!"
Jaster walked the path he had been on before, the ori'ramikade muttering behind him.
Some made threatening gestures towards the beggar but all left, eventually, until only Jango remained, rooted where he stood.
The man fussed for a while, flipping his credits around, dusting them, putting them in his pocket, dusting his clothes, smoothing them down until he finally saw Jango still standing in front of him.
For a moment, his face turned kind. Somehow, it was even more unbearable than his taunts from before.
"Nothing is ever set in stone, young Fett," he said. “Sometimes all it takes for change to happen is the decision to act differently.”
"You are crazy, old man..."
The beggar continued, with his infuriating head bows of his.
"That I am, that I am. That doesn't mean there's no truth in what I'm saying; otherwise, you wouldn't be here."
Jango stared at him, breathing heavily.
And then that infernal smile returned. "No lies in the Kara, Jango Te Naast. You have been warned. The rest is up to you."
Then he ignored him. Jango looked at him then towards where the squad had gone. Seeing they were already far ahead, he ended up having to run to catch up with them.
But as he walked with his vode, an echo still rang in his head.
Jango Te Naast. You have been warned.