"Why can't they just agree?" his very young padawan blurted out the moment the door shut behind them. "Their needs aren't even incompatible! The Vingar want trade access to the main continent via the ports of the southern shore, which the Arthan want to revitalize. It's been obvious since the first day of negotiations. Why is it so hard to sign a pfassking treaty?"
Mace gestured at the guest room's bed. Depa sighed and collapsed onto it. It was, perhaps, a bit childish, but the girl was fourteen.
"Not everyone shares your decisive nature," Mace reminded her. Hopefully what had worked for Master Cyslin with him would work for him with Depa. "There was also a war between the two factions less than twenty years ago. That they are at the negotiating table at all is all due to the hard work of Lafra Zevel-"
"-who wished to build up trade between the continents so there would be no more war on Bsalom, just like the Republic's precursor was a trading community between the Core Worlds to prevent war between them," Depa finished. She pushed herself up into a seated position, albeit slumped.
"Exactly," Mace replied. He hadn't actually planned to go into the founding of the Republic with her, but now that he thought about it, it was the perfect example. "Before the Republic was the Republic, it was the Union of Civilized Worlds. It began as a set of trade treaties and expanded both in membership and mandate until it's become the Galactic Republic. And never has there been war between its members."
"I assume you have more planned for your pep talk, Master," Depa said, dryly.
He couldn't resist. He reached out and ruffled his adorable padawan's hair, at which she grumbled insincerely and leaned into his side. "I actually don't," he said. "But the first trade treaties that grew into the Republic were also the product of fraught negotiations. Our current negotiations may lead to nothing, or they may be the foundation of something greater yet to come. So let's treat them with the gravity they deserve."
"Yes, Master," Depa said.
"For tomorrow, try to identify what the real, emotional objections to each proposal are, rather than evaluating the logic of the excuse," Mace advised. "It can be hard – Force knows it took me long enough to learn – so it's best to start early."
"It took you a long time?" Depa asked, outraged.
Mace laughed. "I wasn't born knowing how to be a Jedi, Depa. I had to learn, just like you, and often drove my master to her wit's end." He smiled at her and stroked her hair. "But surely you wouldn't do that to me, now, would you?"
"Of course not, Master," Depa replied. She was a fresh enough padawan it was even sincere.
"Good girl." He squeezed her shoulder and got up, folding his arms in his sleeves. "Now, we have a few hours before the dinner. Come meditate with me, padawan."
Depa hopped up. "Can we do lightsaber practice as well?"
"I suppose we can," Mace said. "But meditation first. Come, padawan."
His very young padawan hopped up and joined him on the floor. Diplomacy was the sort of thing that required practice and some of the patience adulthood brought, but Depa had the personality for it. One day she'd be leading these sorts of negotiations in higher stakes situations than the Council sent a fresh Knight and his young padawan. But for now, here they were.