Chapter Text
There are days Mace loves sitting on the council, making the important, necessary decisions. There are days he doesn’t mind mission reports and philosophy and subtle banter. This… is not one of those days.
Mace takes his responsibilities seriously but quite frankly, he isn’t sure why they haven’t just tabled this discussion for another day.
Yes, deciding on the location of their new Temple is important.
Yes, there are plenty of things to consider.
Yes, one of those things is considering the cultural implications of choosing the offered location near the center of Keldabe versus the one on the edge of the city.
No, they don’t know how either one would be taken by the populous at large.
No, the Mand’alor did not express a preference aside from the practical list of pros and cons for each location they all have in front of them.
No, they don’t think this is all some elaborate test.
Mace is fairly certain that if they just invited Jaster Mereel to consult on the issue they would have a very long and fascinating summary of all the different ways each location might be interpreted based on historical precedent and current political trends. In fact, they probably will ask, eventually, after they’ve worn themselves out.
Stars, Mace is tired of this debate.
He’s not alone apparently, because nearly the whole council perks up at the urgent tone from one of the Temple Guards.
Yoda studies it out first and smiles, one of those innocent grins no Jedi should trust.
“Visitors, we have.” Mace glances up, Yoda looks him in the eye, oh no. “Important, good relations with the Mandalorians are, Council Member, we should send.”
The Master nods decisively to himself. “Busy, I am. Other urgent business you have Master Windu?”
Mace just sighs, is this hazing? It feels a little like hazing.
“I do not, I’ll greet our visitors.” He stands and stretches slightly.
Yoda nods again, pleased and far too smug.
The Council starts the process of calling a recess and Mace goes to save whichever poor Temple Guard is feeling too seen this afternoon.
Apparently, one of the Temple Guards, whichever one joined the wayward padawan hunt, had an interaction that left them uncomfortable. Not that anyone had done anything untoward, thank the Force. It was just that, apparently, armour often naturally involves some very specific body language and they were very uncomfortable with apparent Force nulls reading them like a children’s holopad.
According to the few Jedi in the know, the Temple Guard as a whole was not taking this revelation with as much grace as might have been expected.
He arrives on the scene and braces for whatever nonsense or banal issue he faces.
Mace doesn’t even need the Force to know that whoever it is, they’ve left the Temple Guard utterly baffled.
There is… for lack of a better term, a small gaggle of children wandering around the speeder they apparently rode to the Temple and staring innocently at the two thoroughly cowed Temple Guards on duty.
A teenager in Mandalorian armour makes themself known by climbing out of the speeder and snapping at one of the toddlers who has, in the time they weren’t watching, wandered away and started stuffing their mouth with sand.
“Nayc! Url’ika! Gev!”
Predictably, at least in Mace’s opinion, the child’s lip begins to wobble and the sobbing at the harsh reprimand follows only a moment after.
The teenager startles, armour failing to hide a flinch as the sobbing escalates to screaming.
“Myl’ika! Gaa'tayl!”
“Lek, lek.”
Mace, assessing the teenager’s ability and finding it wanting, decides it’s about time to interfere.
“Greetings, little one.” He kneels and reaches out in the Force, the child isn’t hurt so he withdraws and offers a small smile instead.
“‘reetings,” they sniff and take his hand. He helps them up and they take the opportunity to cling to his robe and hide behind him, leaving just enough of their face visible to send a truly vicious glare to the now sheepish teenager.
A second teenager makes themself known, carrying an actual genuine human baby in a sling.
“Oh, Su cuy’gar!”
“Su cuy’gar,” Mace hasn’t gotten the pronunciation down quite yet but the teen perks up nonetheless.
The teen shuffles the baby enough to take their helmet off, revealing a young Pantoran, and kicks their companion into doing the same.
“Right, I’m Myles, Clan Eldar and House Mereel! This is Jango!” They grin and nudge Jango with an elbow.
“Clan Fett and House Mereel.” He sighs.
Ah, the Mand’alor’s son and his friend. Mace does remember meeting the two of them briefly, if his memory serves there was some youngling scolding involved.
“Jedi Master Mace Windu.”
They stare blankly for a moment before seeming to remember their several companions.
“Right!” Myles refocuses. “These are the kids we called about, um, sorry we didn’t wait for a response but uh, the kids were getting anxious.” He gestures and three Tholothian children step forward and stare, unblinkingly, up at him.
“Uh…” Myles places a hand on one of their heads and gently tips their head back so he can see their face better. “This one’s Haat…” He mutters something suspiciously close to probably under his breath and moves to the next child. “Ijaat and… that makes you… Haa’it.” Haa’it sticks their tongue out at him and he sighs.
“Traditionalists, honestly.” Ijaat kicks him in the shin, Haat says something probably meant to be insulting by the snarl on Jango’s face. Myles just rolls his eyes. “Knock that off, you wanted to come. Anyways, Clan Wren, House Vizsla for the lot of ‘em.”
Mace gives the younglings a nod and they nod back, seemingly pleased at being taken seriously by an adult.
“Behind you’s Urla,” he tips his chin out in the direction of the little one still hiding in Mace’s robes and sniffling. “She’s my little cousin, Clan Eldar and House Mereel.”
He readjusts his grip on the sleeping baby and reaches over to pull a Twi’lek girl with deep violet skin to his side.
“And finally! More cousins! Shakka and Solan! Clan Eldar and House Mereel! I think that’s everyone.” He glances at his companion for confirmation.
“That’s all of ‘em.”
“Great!”
Mace really hopes he isn’t expected to remember all that. He suspects the Clan and House affiliations are supposed to mean something but he has no real basis for any of the information he’s getting.
He takes a very deep breath. One thing at a time.
“You said something about a call?”
Mace didn’t hear about any calls, he discreetly glances back. The Temple Guards send an impression of honest confusion back.
“Yeah, tell ‘em Jango.”
Jango’s expression has grown rather uncomfortable, which is not a great sign.
“Jango… tell me you remembered to call ahead.”
“I remembered to call ahead.” He parrots.
“I can’t believe this! Jango! You promised you’d do it if I handled Sol’ika.” The baby in question stirs but doesn’t wake.
Mace sighs, teenagers. “What were you going to call about?” The little ones are growing impatient, Mace is honestly impressed they’ve held on this long.
“They wanted to see Ob’ika, if that’s okay?” He gestures to the gaggle of children, most of whom are staring suspiciously up at Mace.
Mace blinks, honestly a little surprised.
He takes a moment to think his answer through. He suspects that Ijaat is already planning their attack strategy if he answers wrong.
This is… not unprecedented per se.
Well, no, actually it is pretty unprecedented.
Families requesting to visit relatives is not unheard of, although not as common as the worst rumors about the Jedi like to imply.
It’s just, usually that’s parents, sometimes with a sibling in tow. There are policies in place, lines to fall back on.
Perhaps they should have realized Initiate Kenobi made an impression.
And friends, apparently, tiny little Mandalorian friends.
Tiny little Mandalorian friends gearing up to fight him over visitation rights.
He sighs, mourning the lovely tea he had planned with his padawan.
“I’m sure something can be arranged.”