"So what I'm asking is; can I have that bar at the other end of Eldham? The, uh... Crowned Cat?" Fahlnem asked, the glimmer of ambition bringing light to his eyes.

Queen Lana 'Luck' Wake peered down from her throne at the hopeful Elf, smiling kindly at him. Her smile hid a biting sense of remorse and pain that Fahlnem was unaware of. "...Yes. Almon has... not come back to claim it. Fahlnem, you are free to own it in its entirety and... rename it, if you wish. I will have men clear out the leftover stores of alcohol; and, Fahlnem? Bring me a bottle of your first batch once it's done, please. That would... make me happy." She forced another sunny smile.

"Thank you, Queen. I'll do the bar justice, I promise."

With that, Fahlnem departed the keep and made way back to the Crowned Cat. To his understanding, a man named Almon used to own it, but had become deceased at least a year prior. Hopefully it isn't haunted. He had plans to remodel portions of it and rename it The Fiery Wench based on his aspirations to become a Pyromancer. Along the bustling city streets to the town reservoir, upon which his new bar resided, he encountered who he considered to be his best friend at the time. "Come help me check out the bar, Ciron. Have you seen Kali around?"

"Why would I?" Ciron arched a brow, walking alongside Fahlnem to the bar.

"Just asking. I've been at the keep for most of the day."

The two of them passed the Eldham Hospital on the way to the bar. It was a place of constant bustling; Fahlnem didn't think that many people really got hurt, but the individuals working there were especially famous. To his knowledge, Almon had been one of the main draws to the hospital. That whole group was relatively tight.

"I'm gonna rename it to the Fiery Wench, I think."

"That's an awful name, Fahlnem. Are you that obsessed with Fire magic?"

"It's not that bad. I think it's eccentric. Far better than the Crowned Cat, at least."

"The Crowned Cat was constantly packed. Pretty sure you're gonna have a hard time filling it back up. You're not as well-known as Almon was."

"It'll work out. The booze will be the real draw." The two stepped into the dusty building. It hadn't been so long that cobwebs were an issue, but it was still in a state of disrepair. To their immediate left was a stairway down to the bath, with the bar to their right and a lounge front and center. In the far right corner, another stairway to the basement where the kegs were stored, and a staircase to the second floor with rentable rooms and a small library. As a whole, the building was very spacious. "Mind checking the state of the bathhouse? I'm gonna go behind the bar and see what supplies I'll need to start serving customers."

The deep rumbling of the train, bounding around in his chest, coupled with the firm but minor rocking of the railcar made it impossible for Fahlnem to get more than an hour of rest at a time. And if Forgo hadn't been drilling him about questions as he filled out a report, the Pyromancer might have been able to get a much-needed hour of meditation, too. He couldn't ever get a good meditation session in pure silence; so he preferred to do so in an area with consistent, soothing sounds. He liked to called it a 'symmetrical environment,' because he perceived the sounds as a linear track parallel to time. Using the train as an example, it makes the same consistent noises at different parts of the railway. In other words, the ambience stayed the same over the course of the meditative period. It was easier for him to concentrate that way, to draw himself back into his consciousness and focus on his element and mana pool.

"Full name?" Forgo continued, reading from the report form. In the rail car with them were two accompanying Lilac Rites sitting across from Fahlnem and the Pale Spear Forgo. The rail car itself was relatively advanced-looking, especially compared to what Fahlnem was used to. It's impressive that the Elves are this successful without magic. Surprised it isn't covered in white, though.

"Fahlnem Elenvaul."

"Age?"

"Uh..." Fahlnem had to think about it. "Seven hundreds? Birthdays aren't exactly worth celebrating anymore, so I'm not sure on the exact number."

"I get that. As it is, you're far older than any normal Elf from this realm."

Fahlnem furrowed his brows, glancing over to Forgo in earnest. "People here know that this is just one realm out of thousands?"

"We're not barbarians, Fahlnem, warded off from science. Just because we hunt mages doesn't mean it's because we don't understand them." Forgo scoffed. "Are you familiar with the concept of fear based on the unknown?"

"Um... yeah. It's fairly self-explanatory, based on the name."

"We've encountered mages before. It's why the Pale Spears exist." Forgo locked his eyes to Fahlnem's. "The Elven Kingdom isn't afraid of you, Fahlnem. You know that, right? I'm not afraid of you." The Forgotten of Vows leaned back with a sigh and returned his emerald gaze to the report in his lap, twirling his charcoal writing utensil once in between his fingers. "You contradicted the laws of our Kingdom. That's it. We know all there is to know about your Pyromancy."

Fahlnem frowned, maintaining his stare at Forgo, trying to get a read on the man. His personality changes consistently with each interaction I have with him. It may have been acting on the wharf, trying to fool the hired thugs just as much as I, but there's a tangible difference between the sympathetic Forgo in the cell and this cold, logical individual sitting next to me right now.

Forgo continued. "Sex?"

Fahlnem had to resist replying with 'often.' "Male."

Forgo nodded. "Self-proclaimed profession?"

"Enchanter. Used to tend bars as a hobby, brewing my own booze."

"Too wordy. Enchanter and brewer. Tried your hand at alchemy in the past?"

Fahlnem shook his head. "Never seemed necessary. Anything I needed to enhance my combat efficiency with magic could still be achieved with alcohol brewery."

"Mh." Forgo nodded in affirmation. "In two short sentences or less, please describe your extended past as much as you can recall up until the point of birth-"

"Time for me to ask some questions. Does that work out for you?" It wasn't actually a question. "Sweet. What's with the fascination with white and purple? You said that I initially caught your attention because of my fashion choice of wearing white."

"Those colors are reserved for distribution by the Violet Crown. Any citizens under the guidance of the Magisterium seen wearing items of clothing with traces of the colors white or purple are subject to prompt execution if Human or, if Elven, arrest." Forgo quoted the law from memory. What a loser. "White is the holiest color there is, and you were wearing it almost exclusively. Purple is used to 'mute' the sins of the individual," Forgo gestured to the purple stamps, ribbons, and cloths adorning his holy armor. "which relates to Pale Spears especially. The strongest and most well-regarded Pale Spear, the one assigned to the Crown, wears only white." Ah. So it's the opposite of what I thought, then. The more purple they wear, the more sins they have to conceal.

"You're the 'Forgotten of Vows,' right? What's his title?"

"Supposedly, it cannot be uttered by any but the Violet Crown. Scribes of the Magisterium refer to him in the official texts as The Longest Spear, but I, among others, think it's awfully-"

Fahlnem interrupted him. "Crude? His helmet isn't in the shape of a cock, is it? God, please tell me it is."

Forgo sighed. "The other Spears call him the Clockfather."

"Cockfather." Fahlnem giggled.

"Forget it. Any more questions?" Fahlnem could tell that Forgo was getting irritable.

"What's the law on 'warlocks'?" Fahlnem inquired, unable to tear the childish glee from his face. Cockfather.

Forgo, arching a brow in judgement, indulged the Pyromancer. "Any warlocks, witches, or general magic-users are subject to prompt execution upon subjugation by a Pale Spear or a fireteam, which is four or five, Lilac Rites."

"So why aren't I dead? The Rites had me boned before you even showed up, right?"

"Not exactly Not alone, anyway. Pale Spears share an ability with the Crown that bolsters the forces under us; I was nearby, but not directly involved during your capture in the market."

"So you were helping them during that process." Fahlnem glanced across the railcar to the two Rites intently focused on him. He was able to get a better look at them this time, and he decided that they were far less elegant than he initially believed. He knew they were Humans from the start, but aside from the ears tipped with purple to make them seem more Elven, they actually had no defining features- at all. Cloth and plate covered every inch of their bodies, and draped over their face was a rectangle of purple cloth behind a layer of chainmail. There was nothing too special about the robes themselves, as far as Fahlnem could see. Not sure I like these guys. "But you didn't answer my question." Fahlnem got back on topic, turning back to Forgo. "Why aren't I dead?"

Forgo took a second of pause before answering, searching for the right words. "You weren't just a warlock; you had worn white, so you were already guilty of one crime. And then you assaulted me, and killed the civilians in the building." He's lying.

"You're lying. What does the Crown want with me?"

"It's been several centuries since the last warlock sighting."

"Shit. You're a young Elf, too. You've probably never even fought a mage, huh?"

"You are the first I've come into contact with, yes."

"So, what? The Crown wants to get a good look at me before they kill me so they can identify the next schmuck that gets unwillingly birthed into this shithole of a realm?"

"I don't know what their plan is for you. Under normal circumstances, we'd have just killed you on the spot."

"And by 'normal circumstances' you mean 'more than one mage to bully,' right?"

Forgo glowered at his report, twirling his charcoal again. "Back to the questions."

"No, wait a minute, this is rich as fuck. That isn't why you were assigned to Railsource, was it? I bet the other Spears have way better positions with nice things like hookers, or clean air. What kind of A-class Spear died for you to get to replace him?"

"My post at Railsource has nothing to do with my inexperience as a Spear, nor my skill as one. Someone has to protect the city from threats like you, so I did my job. The Violet Crown chose me for that purpose."

"What, is the Crown omnipotent or something?" Fahlnem had now gathered the attention of the Rites across from him and Forgo.

"No corner of the future is hidden from the Violet Crown or the Magisterium that they lead," one of the two Rites butted in.

Fahlnem chuckled in response. "Go back to brooding, buddy. This is an exclusive conversation here." He thumbed Forgo and himself alternatingly. "Forgo? Bit of clarification on the Crown actually being all-knowing?"

Forgo smirked with a light chuckle out of his nostrils, nodding slowly. "The Lilac across from us is right. Do you remember what I said earlier about leading our troops in battle with foresight?"

"Godsdamn, I thought you were being metaphorical. The Crown actually gave the Spears foresight? Like, the genuine, honest-to-Gods ability to see into the future and guide your troops?"

"Yes. When the Dwarves thwarted the majority of the Human Legions, the Violet Crown appeared to guide the shattered Elven Kingdom and reform the Magisterium under their lead. Their foresight saw to the destruction of Queen Dalamus and the rest of her heretical legions."

"Great." Fahlnem glanced back to the Rite that spoke earlier. "Thanks for your contribution, pal."

A door at one end of the railcar, leading to the engine, opened. A soot-covered, malnourished Man leaned through the doorway to announce, "Two hours before we enter the inner-Elven territories."