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Amir sat down beside Obi-Wan and recounted everything that had happened.
"That's why I hate piloting starships," Obi-Wan said, visibly empathizing with Amir's string of space battles.
"Do you know the current state of the Mandalorians?" Amir asked.
"After the Republic's defeat, Mandalore fell under Imperial control. The clans that aligned with the Empire appointed a governor of Mandalore. The Empire is attempting to assimilate this fiercely independent world—cutting off outside influence, setting up military academies, and systematically converting this warrior people's youth into their own tools."
"Some clans that were on other planets or on Mandalore's moons during the war might have escaped this fate. Those groups still uphold the ancient Mandalorian traditions. Your Mandalorian friend is likely from one of them."
"The continuation of their clans depends heavily on adopting orphans. These children are taught Mandalorian culture, and once they come to accept the way of life and beliefs, they're allowed to don the helmet and become one of them."
Amir nodded.
Din Djarin's parents had been killed by battle droids during the Clone Wars, making him an orphan. Rescued by Mandalorians, he eventually became part of a traditionalist clan.
That clan lived on a moon, preserving the ancient ways of Mandalore. After the Empire's takeover, they fled to the Outer Rim and now survived by bounty hunting.
"Since you're back, it's time to resume your training," Obi-Wan said. "The future still holds many dangers. It's inevitable that you'll shoulder a greater destiny."
"Yes, Master." Feeling the growth in his connection to the Force, Amir was eager to test his limits.
"You've maintained your connection with the Force constantly. That's not easy, but it's very effective for growth. You might have more potential than either of us expected."
"I do feel it's becoming easier, not as dizzying as before."
Maintaining a constant connection with the Force was like developing a new sensory organ. It allowed him to perceive his surroundings—lifeforms, energy—in ways he never had before. But it was also exhausting.
Once he adapted, however, the benefits to his Force abilities became very evident.
"Did you know that there were Jedi Masters in the Order who were blind? Some were born without eyes due to their species' traits. They relied solely on the Force to sense the world around them and often developed a deeper understanding of it. Others lost their sight in accidents and eventually replaced their vision entirely with the Force. Their mastery grew immensely."
Obi-Wan continued to share insights and techniques related to the Force, demonstrating many of them along the way. Amir soaked it all in.
He also asked about lost history and knowledge—things the Empire had suppressed.
This went on until evening.
The two boarded the Voyager and flew to Mos Eisley.
They found the bustling Dewback BBQ restaurant near the port.
The moment they stepped in, a wave of heat hit Amir in the face. In the center of the restaurant, a repurposed podracer engine hung upside down, spewing red-hot flames onto a bed of stones. Around the fire hung massive slabs of dewback meat, sizzling over the heat.
A Dug held himself up with powerful arms, expertly slicing meat with a knife using his legs, placing the pieces onto plates.
"Podracing used to be wildly popular here. Dangerous sport, really. Every race, someone died. These engines are better used for cooking—puts the mind at ease," Obi-Wan said, gazing at the odd but effective barbecue setup.
He was surely remembering Anakin's podrace as a child. Back then, Anakin had still been a slave. But thanks to his skill and a custom racer, he had won freedom—and the chance to become a Jedi.
Who would've thought that those same engines were now working in a BBQ joint?
"Whoghwhgh whagh?" An Aqualish shuffled up.
Amir had no clue what the tusked alien was saying, so he simply snatched the screen from his hands, selected three drinks and some meat, then handed it back.
"Waghgh wugh!" the Aqualish nodded and passed the order to the Dug manning the grill.
Though it was a Tatooine establishment, the interior was surprisingly clean—no trace of sand. The floor was made of ochre-colored bricks, with alloy tables and chairs neatly arranged.
The two cloaked figures headed deeper inside and found a seat.
Soon, the hulking Wolf squeezed through the door, scanned the room, and spotted Amir.
Amir waved him over.
"Now this is what I call real barbecue," Amir said, watching the dewback meat rotate and roast. Juices sizzled and popped, filling the place with mouthwatering aroma.
"Good food always lifts the spirit," Obi-Wan agreed.
"And who's this?" Wolf asked as he approached.
"Ben Kenobi," Obi-Wan nodded politely.
"Nice to meet you!" Wolf grinned, his nostrils twitching. "Smells damn good. I haven't smelled something this delicious in over a year. That nutrient paste was making me gag."
The mines hadn't exactly cared about gourmet meals.
"Eat your fill. It's on me," Amir said, though he looked at Wolf with a pained expression.
Soon, a giant platter of roasted dewback arrived. Thick slices of meat were stacked over a bed of green vegetables, sauce dripping between the layers, giving off a rich, intoxicating aroma.
Amir pulled out his chopsticks.
Obi-Wan had seen these clever utensils before. Wolf, however, stared curiously at the wooden sticks.
Amir explained and demonstrated how to use them. Wolf, impressed, called him an expert.
"Has Kanan come back in the last few days?" Amir asked.
"Not yet. When he left, he mentioned something about a promising job," Obi-Wan replied as he took a big bite.
Amir had trouble contacting people from outside. He had to hand others his communicator and wait until they left the signal-suppressed area before any call could go through.
So he hadn't been able to check in with Kanan—only knew the guy was out on another mission.
It was hard to imagine what a well-behaved Imperial soldier would become when cut loose in the Outer Rim. And as for the already rebellious Han Solo? His future seemed even more unpredictable.
While Amir had been distracted, Wolf had already devoured two slices of meat. Alarmed, Amir quickly stopped talking and committed himself fully to the noble cause of eating.
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