Last Westgard Standing
Location: Azbrian, Namsk Town
Objective: Visit the marketplace
Tag: OPEN
As always, the people of the region were drawn to the market like moths to flame. Among them was Silas, who never missed the chance to lose himself in the atmosphere, sample a few treats, and remind himself why he loved this place so dearly.
Wrapped in a thick, weather worn coat, he made his way through the brightly lit aisles, his breath fogging faintly in the cold air. His eyes wandered from stall to stall, taking in the colors, the laughter, and the familiar scents of spice and smoke. Every so often he stopped to exchange words with a local, offering warm holiday wishes or a respectful nod to those he recognized but didn't wish to interrupt.
These were his people, friends he had known since childhood, long before the wider galaxy had claimed him. Even after becoming a Jedi, they saw him not as something distant or untouchable, but as one of their own. In their eyes, he was both protector and representative, a man who carried Azbrian's name beyond its borders. Few ever made it far from this world, and fewer still returned as he had. Silas was one of the exceptions, and the town remembered.
Unfortunately, nostalgia alone wasn't the reason he'd braved the cold and crowds today. Later that evening, he was planning a large cook up, not just for himself, but for friends he hadn't seen in far too long. The vegetables were already accounted for, pulled fresh from his own garden, and the steaks had been carefully stored months in advance.
What he lacked were ribs. Proper ribs. And the only way to get them was through one of the planet's butchers.
Thankfully, for this single festive day, several of the best had gathered here in Namsk, their stalls lining the square like a promise. Silas adjusted his coat and headed deeper into the market, intent on finding the perfect cut before the day took them away.
