Diarch Rellik
Lord of the Diarchy
The afternoon crowd flowed lazily through the market district, a blend of metal clatter, chatter, and the hum of passing speeders drifting between the vendor stalls. Rellik moved through it all without hurry, letting the noise fade beneath the steady rhythm of his thoughts. A rare quiet day. He had almost reached the end of the street when a sharp commotion caught his attention, something being knocked over, a voice barking, the scrape of a door sliding shut a little too aggressively. Then silence again, abrupt and awkward.
Rellik slowed.
A few feet ahead, someone stood alone just outside the doorway of a small cantina, the kind whose staff didn't bother hiding their impatience.
He stepped closer, softening his voice as he approached, golden eyes catching the afternoon light.
"Are you alright?" he asked, stopping a respectful distance away. "You look like you've had a rough moment."
A small pause. His tone stayed warm, steady.
"I was about to get something to eat. If you'd like to join me, you're welcome to."