Should a sentient being cause that landslide, there is evil; and requires justice as a consequence, so that civilization can exist. There is no greater good than justice; and only if law serves justice is it a good law.
He’d have nothing to show for his life except a professional reputation, and a Mandalorian needed more than that. Being the Mandalore—halfhearted or otherwise—didn’t give you a clan.
She gave him space to take his leave of Ailyn as well. It was hard. He could feel another memory, one that he hadn’t suppressed and didn’t want to. He was in a dusty arena on Geonosis sixty years before, picking up his father’s helmet.
Jedi always take everything from me.
You’re no one! You didn’t earn this armor! You didn’t earn my reputation. You called me a ‘fossil.’ If you were going to be me, you should have learned from this fossil. You’ll never be me.
”I know that you sit on the throne of your former employer.”
“Bib Fortuna was not my employer.”
“It was Jabba the Hutt’s throne.”
“Yes. And now it is mine. And I will take this payment as what /you/ should have brought me as tribute.”
Killing was his trade. He didn’t enjoy it, and he didn’t dread it. The only person whose death he knew would make him feel good and not just competent was Jacen Solo.
‘Better that you rot than die. I can wait. Thanks for motivating me to survive.’
“Where’s Ailyn?” He asked, slightly glancing behind his shoulder. “Did you leave her on Concord Dawn?”
“She’s safe,” the woman said. “I didn’t abandon her like you abandoned us.”