Heir to the Empire
The Crystal City of Chaleydonia was Lucien's first stop on a journey that brought him deep into the heart of Confederate space. Having taken a leave of absence from his duties, or to put it more accurately, left with short notice and no approval, he was headed to the southern half of the Outer Rim to take care of some business that he'd left unfinished before his entry into the Imperial Order. It felt as if years had passed when it had only been months, since he'd taken off his iconic Jedi armor and once again donned the clothes that were more familiar with him outside of the order. As much as he appreciated the unique armor that was fashioned for him specifically, there was no comparison between it and the iconic spacer attire that he'd grown accustomed to over the years he'd spent traveling the stars as a lone Jedi on a mission to simply live his life and have some fun at the same time.
He'd began feeling as if he wasn't the same man he use to be, before topics such as duty and war became a commonplace among his vocabulary of terms to get use to. Yet the moment his Spacer Jacket, stylized in the unique Serennoan fashion of his homeworld, was fitting over his frame, he could feel the old him beginning to return from beneath the cracks of what he'd become. Fighting on the fringes of Imperial space had only hardened him to the true reality of war, and as much as he thought it was turning him into a different man, he was still the same exiled Prince who just wanted to live his life for him. He was who he was, after all, and it would took far more than a new set of armor, or his duties on the battlefield, to remove his innate desire to wander the stars from within his heart.
Maybe that played a role in why he was so keen on abandoning his duties, he thought, as the draw of heading across the galaxy to tie up unimportant loose ends was by itself not all that interesting to him. He needed some time away from Nirauan, to see people in the same light that he'd done so for years upon end in prior to his commitment to the fight against the Sith. It had always brought his mind to good place whenever he visited a world that he'd never seen before. The feeling took him back to the golden times of his apprenticeship, and it reminded him of a time where his greatest concerns were his training, or where him and his master were visiting next. It was a time long since passed, and from that story the only person who remained a constant was himself.
"Could be worse."
He muttered, setting the thoughts to the back of his mind as he focused his attention on weaving through the crowd of people that bustled through the city streets around him. His visit to Chaleydonia was intended to be a short one, but between refueling and giving his fickle R4 droid some respite to rest and recharge, he found himself with more than enough free time to roam the city streets aimlessly. In spite of being aimless in his direction, he still took in the sights of the architecture, his gaze constantly scanning the high-rise of buildings around him before shifting back towards the diverse crowd of people around him, the occasional grin being directed towards a few of those whose eyes lingered upon the spacer. He was in a good mood that day, and it was made even better the moment he spotted the familiar neon-sign that came with many cantinas across the galaxy off to the left of his peripheral vision.
Cutting a hard left off the sidewalk and down the side-street where it was located, he was surprised to see that the Cantina would present itself far from the seedy atmosphere that he'd gotten use to during his time spent out in the outer rim. Upbeat, yet relaxing music echoed outside of the building, and a pair of human bouncers located at the entrance performed thorough enough searches on those who sought entrance into the building. The latter would've proved a major issue for him were it not for a brief wave of the hand, which seemingly convinced the two men to let him through without issue alongside a handful of words. He still surrendered the pistol that was holstered on his thigh, then strolled his way inside towards the bar, which was empty to his surprise.
A tap against the marble brought the bartender in his direction, a near-human woman who flashed a beautiful smile at him before exchanging greetings with the lone occupant sitting in front of her. The two engaged in a brief bout of small talk before she finally asked him what he wanted to order. "I'll take a glass of brandy-- Vasarian, if you have it. On the rocks." Luc sent a wink back in her direction as he curled his lips into the familiar visage of a smirk. Afterwards he shifted in his seat, an arm leaning against the counter while his gaze scanned the occupants of the cantina casually before focusing upon the source of the music performing on a modest stage at center.
Fury of Aerðs
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