Vance scowled, his eyes remaining closed as he waited; while Mandalore was clutching at his chest, knelt, the Sith Master knew that the test was far from over. The wound the other had sustained had been minor, at best, and Vance would not allow himself to believe otherwise.

Beff was, after all, as resourceful as any Sith.

From left and right came Mandalore's bodyguards, the two men dressed in armor; they brought their weapons around, clearly intent on continuing the testing and allowing Beff the time he needed to recover as best he was able. One blade, one staff, came at the Sith Master. There was a clash of metal, followed by a slow grinding of edges, and standing with a sword in each hand, Vance held the two attackers in a dual weapons lock; the Force had given the Sith the weapon Beff had dropped, allowing him to defend himself in a fuller manner than offered by a single blade.

Twisting his arms, Vance's left rose up and above his head, coming back down on the reverse side of his body, while his right came over from behind to his front; this changed the dead locks, causing both men in armor to adjust their grips on the weapons, this in turn gave Vance the chance he needed. Turning on his heels, the Sith released his locks, both enemies suddenly pushing with full strength with no resistance; both men stumbled forward, their weapons flailing on either side of the Sith, as the change of hand holds had placed them both off balance.

Turning his wrists, Vance hit both men as they passed to the back of the helmeted heads, knocking them further off balance as they fell away to stumble a few feet before recovering; with a moments pause, Vance slashed at the back of either man's knees, slicing cleanly through the joints in armor, causing them to grunt in pain in unison. Coming back around, the Sith stared at Mandalore, swords clutched at his sides, as he waited for the bodyguards to recover enough to counter attack.

One armored figure stumbled, and fell to a knee; the other turned, clearly hindered by the wound he had suffered, but refusing to stand down, and a breath later his fellow guard followed suit, pushing to his feet. With war cries filtering through their helmets, they attacked once more as two, intent on over powering their opponent; they brought weapons around, placing precise slashes and jabs in seemingly random pattern, seeking to confuse, but the Sith was already gone...

Vance gritted his teeth as he completed his flip backward, the attacks slashing the air where he had once stood. Landing heavily, the Sith side stepped and rushed the T-visored bodyguard; as the other man brought his staff around to stab, Vance ducked low as the pointed end passed along his spine one of the Sith's swords held at his lower back, the blade reaching up to between his shoulder blades. Crouched low, Vance turned on his haunches, his second blade coming around and slashing across the bodyguard's stomach, inflicting a more serious wound than that given moments before.

As the armored figure backed away, pulling his staff clear of the spinning Sith, the second guard attacked, launching fiercely with his sword; Vance dived forward, the blade passing below him, and as he came to land on his hands firmly, legs curling up to his chest as they touched the ground clear of the attacker. Leaping forward once again, Vance twisted in the air and reared back one arm, before throwing his left weapon at the remaining bodyguard.

The sword rotated on itself through the air, a buzzsaw of movement as the bodyguard brought up his own blade to defend; as he knocked the thrown weapon aside, his eyes widened as the second weapon came stabbing toward him. Vance, having crossed the distance between the two in a heartbeat, slashed down the torso of the last opponent, the sharp blade slicing into the worn armor.

Turning, Vance ducked low, sword brought around as he held it up; standing just within arms reach, Mandalore had the tip of the Sith's weapon against his chest, one arm above him with a weapon in hand. For a moment nothing was said, silence filling the hall... Slowly standing, Vance kept his weapon tip at Beff's chest, as he smiled.

It was over.

In the days following his defeat a great many things changed on the planet Mandalore. Chief among those events, which would prove pivotal in the unfolding future of the Dominion, was the exile of Beff Pike.

Vance Jas did not kill his opponent, though it was his right. The Sith warrior knew his victory over the other was humiliation enough. More importantly however, he understood the life of a soldier. A bond, unspoken, formed between the two battlefield combatants.

Not that it would have made any difference in the end. The Mandalorians trained under the Anzati warlord were purely feudal; they would follow only the strongest warrior alive which, in this case, had proved to be Vance Jas.

Or so it seemed…

A dedicated few cried treachery, claiming that the battle was unfair. Pitting a force-trained fighter against their leader in open combat as they had was foolish and predictable. Pike had known the enemy was coming and had planned for his arrival; he had been given his advantage.

The battle was fair.

When the infighting was over, when only those who would follow the fiercest were left alive it was clear that the Mandalorians had a new master; a new Mandalore.

Whether the Sith would take up the mantle, however; remained to be seen. Either way, Beff Pike did not remain on the planet long enough to find out.

“You see before you a defeated man.” Vance had addressed the masses while holding his sword poised for the killing stroke above a kneeling and wounded Mandalore. “Will you follow a man so weak?”

He had said a great many things, but only that most poignant phrase had stuck in the minds of the warrior breed.

The exile was swift and surprisingly merciful. It was almost as if it had been planned before hand.

One group would not submit and for a moment it looked as though the Guild loyalist would be wiped out in a bloody coup. That did not happen because Vance Jas and Beff Pike prevented it.

The Guild owned the Navy and could, at any point, begin an orbital bombardment that would turn the cities to slag. They would be forced to kill millions, their own among them, in an effort to avenge their President. Unfortunately there would also be Mandalorians on those vessles who would fight tooth and nail to kill their enemies first. The resulting chaos would very likely annihilate most of Mandalore considerable resources… which would not please the Sith.

The Guild abandoned Mandalore taking with it their president and a significant portion of the fighting fleet.

In retrospect it had to have been planned. Pike remained in the exclusive custody of the Sith up until the moment he departed the planet for good. The fleet had been too ready, their supplies too planned. Key groups of trusted Mandalorians had also been recently reassigned, their position at the time of change-over all too convenient.

The actual exile was carried out without dramatics and without pomp. And though the short-lived Mandalorian Dominion would soon face that desciding moment between life and death, though they would do it without their founder, the Bounty Hunters Guild had chosen life.

Though Beff Pike appeared to have found himself right back where he started…

Things are rarely as they seem.









~The End~