The natives see it as an obstacle to their lifestyle, whilst outsiders perceive it as a diamond in the rough. Regardless of the opinion, Menat Ombo is the most technological settlement on New Tython. Crammed with tall and slim towers, alleys and market squares have randomly developed where the necessary room is. You might turn a corner and see a vendor selling smoked meat from the indigenous animals, and the next corner could be a home. The merchant stalls are almost always temporary, folding easily with several clippings or a really good show of strength. Above the awnings of the stalls, buildings of various shapes and sizes crafted of sand and stone and earth create a set of interconnecting rooftops in some parts with wide gaps in the others.

It is easy to get lost in the crowds of people. As you leave the central market, countless alleys splinter out and lead to quieter sections of the city. The streets are kept tidly by maintenance droids. and the air is clean. At night, the city and marketplace are well lit, and the lights from the scattered inns create a welcoming ambiance to the twilight air.

The air was clean and light, scented with countless smells of cooking foods and mixing cultures only adding to the environment. It was everything that Valtiere expected from a typical market day, and he hated it.

The Commander cast baleful glances at the vendors trying to attract his attention, only picking up what he needed and cutting off any merchants that got too friendly with curt gestures. He clipped his helmet to his belt as he ate some tastefully spiced meat on a skewer. He hated to admit it was actually quite nice, as the seller had been trying to ask him about his day in an attempt to establish ‘common ground’, as if such a thing could exist; none of this dross could be his equal.

The flash of a topknot caught the Commander’s attention. The owner of the haircut turned, and Valtiere recognised the face in profile; Uji Tameike, the Aedile of Galeres. He saw the Battlemaster turn down a shaded alley, and Nikola followed him, slightly behind due to the throng of people. As he was about to turn, he slowed, noticing someone else making their way down the alley.

Woro Rool, a well known UHIO (United Hostile Intervention Organisation) agent. The heavyset humanoid, some blend of races, was instantly recognisable as a high ranking member in the paramilitary group. UHIO had found its hand in many of the shadowy plots of the Brotherhood in some way and it seemed to Valtiere that Uji was using them to build his power base somehow. Self-service was common amongst the Force Users of the Brotherhood but Valtiere had thought Uji was better than that. Apparently he had just been better at hiding his true nature.

“Damn Sith.” Valtiere spat, pulling out his pistol and firing in one smooth motion. Three shots rang out, spread widely. Rool fell in a heap, a puppet with his strings cut. Uji was already in motion thanks to some mystical sixth sense that many Jedi possessed as Valtiere fired, shots going wide. Tameike’s eyes locked onto his fellow Arconan, rage burning within them.

“You fool!” He snapped, voice quiet as he brandished his lightsaber. His face drained of the anger that had flashed across it and Valtiere backed up a step, knowing the danger of that icy exterior.

“I won’t kill a fellow Arconan, Valtiere, but you’ll pay for this damage to Arcona.” Uji strode down the alley, the white blade of his weapon throwing out harsh shadows in the cramped confines of the shaded alley in which the pair stood.

Valtiere turned out to the crowd, hopping up onto a stall before scrabbling up one of the lower structures that the building had been set against.

He heard the commotion below, and assumed that it meant that Uji had made it out into the crowd. Valtiere took a deep breath, turning to put distance between himself and the now rather incensed Aedile of Galeres, thoughts and plans beginning to unfurl in his mind haphazardly as he raced away from the enraged Force User.