Chapter Text
Old Jho's Pit Stop
The Planet Lothal
It was morning on Lothal, that time of day where business was at its slowest at the corner side pub. Old Jho, the Ithorian owner of the pub, was busy preparing for the soon-to-come wave of customers: cleaning cups, readying drink bottles, and especially making sure that the broadcast screen was set to the Imperial Broadcast channel. It was the law for all stores to have this on their screens. The channel acted as a news station that supposedly demonstrated all that the Empire was doing to benefit the galaxy. But there was one in the pub who knew better.
The pub saw all sorts of different travelers each day, but this mysterious figure was a more common visitor than most. Seated at a corner booth of the building was a young man, his face shrouded by a hood from his cloak as well as the helmet he wore underneath. He wore armor that showed signs of once being a white color, but was now worn with streaks of grey and black; memories from a hidden past life, a life the figure thinks back to as he watches the lies that the Empire spreads through its broadcast. A life before the Empire, to the days of the Republic…