Forgo got off the private transport to Erumar, observing a walled city with dense concentrations of urban structures. The city was surrounded by ranches and fields, denoting it as the agricultural super-hub of the Magisterium. Forgo tried not to think about its subjugation under the Elven kingdoms, unable to discern whether the pseudo-slavery was worse there or in Railsource. In Railsource, Human workers were relatively free to dictate their own lives, but everything they earned went to the Elves-- and the only Elves that actually set foot in Railsource were any Pale Spears assigned there; historically, Forgo. On the other hand, Erumar was fairly populated by the Elves. They were far from half of the populace, maybe making up less than a quarter. They were far removed from the sin of industrialism in Railsource, which appalled them. Nonetheless, the Magisterium had permitted it and deemed the exports from Railsource to be too valuable and too plentiful to give up on. So any Elves that were sympathetic of the Humans or, conversely, wanted to be closer to their adjudication, would move to Erumar.

Not a working Elf among them, Forgo thought with disdain as he meandered down a gravel path to the city, leading through fields of Human workers being threatened by Elven eyes, watching and awaiting the opportunity for judgment. Forgo hated it. His parents taught him, through the Magister, the concept of equality. These Human citizens weren't equals, they were tools. And the Lilac Rites, disenfranchised as they were, were weapons.

Forgo first had to meet the Exarch of Erumar who, to his understanding, served as a sort of governor of the city. The Exarch of Railsource was a Human, so Forgo rarely interacted with him. To his understanding, the Exarch Sylus of Erumar was corrupt as could be. But the Crown liked his results.

Forgo stepped into the hall of the Exarch, a longhouse-style lodging that had been redecorated in an Elven theme to fit the pomp and arrogance of an Exarch. Forgo assumed that it had to have been sound-proofed somehow, as he could no longer hear the gentle bustling of the citizens outside or the yelling of Elven masters.

Forgo could hear the huffing and heavy breathing of the Exarch before he could see him. And once he could see him, he decided Sylus was the first fat, round Half-Elf he had ever seen.

Vile creature.

Sylus' extensive deposits of fat suffocated his bones and organs, forcing him into an unappealing hunch that made Forgo cringe. The Exarch's arms extended outward at a forty-five-degree angle, resting on the lard on his sides that jiggled with every step.

And he was surprised to see a Pale Spear in his city.

"Ah!" The man stuttered, already struggling to breathe. He gazed upon the Pale Spear and his fireteam of Lilac Rites. They had also been accompanied by a Chapel Scribe. The Crown had told Forgo that his incredible efforts in Erumar were to be heroized and regaled to young ones.

Before the Half-Elf Exarch could find his words, Forgo dispelled his helmet and took a step forward, still maintaining a fair distance from the Exarch for the safety of his sanity.

"Exarch Sylus. Were you not told that we would be arriving soon?" Forgo held back a spiteful grin. His hatred for Human-like Elves far outweighed that of the injustices committed in the Magisterium. Elves are Elves and Humans are Humans. This Sylus makes up a disgusting amalgamation of the two as a fat embezzlement of laziness.

The Exarch paused before regaining his facade of control and calm. "No, but your presence is quite welcome nonetheless. Welcome to Erumar, Pale Spear." The Exarch skipped the Rites, focusing on the shapely female Chapel Scribe. "And you as well, pretty gem." This elicited no response from the Scribe.

Forgo decided that the Exarch perfectly fit into every trait of a corrupt aristocrat. Fat. Perverted.

Incapable.

"I am the Twelfth Spear, the Forgotten of Vows. The Crown sent me to replace your Ninth Spear, the-"

"Constant! My, what a fine individual."

Forgo glared at the Exarch.

The Exarch bowed his head at Forgo. "My sincerest condolences. The Constant of Fury was an impeccable friend and an outstanding warrior. The city has remained firmly under my thumb since her death, but I fear that the rebellion here is growing."

"The rebellion will be done away with, in due time." Forgo waved a hand dismissively. "The Constant's body. Bring it to me."

The Exarch emitted a gleeful gurgling sound from his throat. A chuckle?

"It was never recovered, unfortunately. Our understanding is that the rebellion-"

Forgo's eye twitched, and he interrupted the Exarch. "Tell me where it is, Sylus. I will retrieve it. In the meantime, my Rites will begin eliminating key targets in the rebellion after you brief them on the situation."

Fahlnem's armor felt great on him. He had never seen the need to enchant it, but the loss of his magical focuses reinforced his belief in enchanting anything and everything you could. Unfortunately, he would have to manually rejuvenate the enchanted item's stores of mana over time in this realm, but the benefit from having at least one enchanted item far outweighed the minor inconvenience.

"How is it?" Samael beamed as Fahlnem tightened the drake skin bracers.

"It's good." Fahlnem glanced to the tailors and leatherworkers that had repaired it, to the best of their abilities. "It's good," he repeated. "Thank you."

The workers smiled gleefully and nodded. Fahlnem was sure that the endeavor was good experience for them. They didn't have any drake skin of their own on hand, but the armor had only been disassembled by the seam, not cut into pieces.

Fahlnem smiled at the workers, then returned his gaze to Samael. "I need to get to Erumar. The rest of my shit is supposed to be there. I don't imagine I have much time left here before a Pale Spear shows up, anyway."

Samael hesitated, before smiling again. "Don't worry about that, Master Fahlnem. The checkpoint has been firmly reinforced by our brothers, and-"

Fahlnem interrupted him. "I saw two trained Pale Spears when I was at the capitol. They're probably already here, planning to take back the Maw. On top of that, I have a Pale Spear of my own that's hunting me." Fahlnem stretched in the armor, making sure to be gentle on his wounded knee. "Sorry, but you guys are goners. And I have someplace to be."

The entire room full of Bluntear rebels glared at Fahlnem. Samael spoke up before one of the workers could say something unkind. "We can handle ourselves, mage. The checkpoint was only inhabited by Rites when you showed up here, remember?"

Fahlnem paused before nodding. "Very well. I can't say that doesn't make me feel better. I like your name."

Samael arched a brow at Fahlnem. "I don't see how that-"

Fahlnem changed the subject. "So. Erumar. Any suggestions? Tips? Ideas of what I might find there?"

Samael gestured for Fahlnem to take a seat. There was a cup of steaming tea on the disgruntled coffee table, so he shrugged and inclined.

"The rebellion started in Erumar many, many years ago. They weren't the Bluntears back then, but they had mages. To my understanding, that's how the Lilac Rites started. The Magisterium needed foot soldiers, and the acting Pale Spears at the time had a lot of opportunities to just... grab up Humans. Immigrants, rebels, civilians, anything to fill the ranks. Lilac Rites were basically subject to mind control before they became Rites. Now they're just undead." Samael took a sip of his own cup of tea. Sophisticated, for cutthroats turned into rebels.

Samael continued by saying that the rebellion, especially the mages therein, eventually got snuffed out. It never left Erumar. But since then, the Magisterium had reportedly grown lazy and complacent. Especially the Exarch in Erumar.

"Exarch?"

"The leader. He governs over Erumar and promotes the mistreatment of Human workers there."

"Gotcha. How can I get there?"

"You'll have to take the train back to Railsource. From there, you can take the track to the western coast. That's Erumar." Samael got up and directed Fahlnem to a map on a table. He rolled it up and gave it to Fahlnem.

"Are there any rebels in Railsource that I should know about? You guys have been nice, but..." Fahlnem rubbed his pointy ears. "I'm not a rebel like you. Definitely not a hero. I just want to get home."

Samael sighed, finally acquiescing and getting straight to the point. "Listen, Fahlnem." He handed Fahlnem a dense cookie to dip in his tea. "We're doing fine here. Even without you, we would have taken the checkpoint. But the Maw's already lawless. The Magisterium has an intense grip on Railsource and Erumar. One that we'll need mages like you to loosen up." Samael's voice turned to a hushed tone. "And you may be the last mage left in the realm."

Fahlnem stayed quiet. He was determined that he wasn't going to participate in terrorism. That decision was final in his mind. But he also worried that if he continued to disagree, Samael wouldn't let him leave as quickly as he needed to.

"I get it. I'll..." Fahlnem sighed. "Thanks for your help, Samael." He nodded with a smile toward the other rebels as well. "I better be going."

Fahlnem stepped out of the shack after finishing the rest of his tea. He was in a secluded part of the Maw, but he could still see the checkpoint from there. Samael stepped out of the shack after Fahlnem, offering a knapsack and a cloak. "The Bluntears fight for Human freedom, but also that of mages. Even if you're an Elf." Samael winked. "There's a weapon in the bag, too, if you need it."

Fahlnem gladly took the supplies and donned the cloak to cover his conspicuous drake skin armor. "Thank you, Samael. Hey, maybe I'll see you in Erumar, eh?" He grinned.

"If you do, then it'll either be because Erumar falls to the Magisterium or because the Maw does instead. Take it easy, Fahlnem."

Fahlnem set off for Erumar with the first friend he'd made in this realm taking up space in his thoughts.