Fahlnem walked and talked with Miranda down the vast cavern of the poorly lit aquarium. He held a compressed orb of flame above his outstretched palm, illuminating the murky green water held back by a thick layer of glass. He was glad that the place was abandoned; he never condoned aquariums or zoos of any variety, as they were often poorly managed and just kept their miserly animals in captivity until expiration. His native realm of Ibiriel hadn't reached a level of technological advancement to warrant such a form of entertainment. He recalled a sparring pit set on the corner of the street that led to the city entrance and the street that led up to the keep, and they were still using gunpowder exclusively for fireworks when he left for his next home. Miranda prompted a question toward him, drawing him out of an abyss of reminiscence.

"What's so special about your confiscated equipment, Fahlnem? According to reports, and how excited the Magisterium is to catch you, it seems like you're plenty powerful already."

"I've been able to manage, but the Fourteenth still gave me a hard time. I need my focuses, enchanted items that help me channel my magic more safely and efficiently. I'd like my full suite of weapons, but I can really start eating ass once I get my staff back."

Miranda rolled her eyes at him, and he turned back to her with a grin.

"Gimme the rundown for the undercover part of the op. I know where I'm going, but what's the plan for getting me in and out?" He inquired.

"As I said before, we hardly have any info to go off of, but we do have a month-old Lilac Rite outfit for you to slip into." She led him to the lobby area of the aquarium. The set of doors had been barred and barricaded and pamphlets scattered the floor. Another barricade of crates sat bordering the far corner of the room, facing the door and 'hidden' exit to the narrow alleyway outside. He could see racks of weaponry lining the walls and a table of disguises joining them.

Fahlnem ran ahead of Miranda to view the disguises, sifting through the dusty clothing and brittle sets of armor in childish excitement. She stepped over and shoulder-checked him, shoving him aside to pull out the uniform of a Lilac Rite. "You'll be wearing this into the prison. We would give you a guardsman uniform, but they neither have the clearance to get Desmond out of his cell nor would it be as intimidating."

"Gotcha," Fahlnem re-gathered himself after being pushed aside by the larger, more masculine woman. "I thought Rites were only brainwashed Humans? And didn't you tell me I'd be impersonating an Elven Crown official?"

Miranda tilted her head from side to side in a 'so-so' fashion. "Yeah, as far as we know. Not brainwashed, though. They're still normal Humans, they've just been broken by the Magisterium; and now the Crown foresees their every movement, so Rites get culled from the legion years before they make a mistake or even acknowledge defection as a viable option. In that sense, they're essentially brainwashed-- but not literally."

He frowned at her. I don't like being lied to. In that way, he was a hypocrite. Lying gave him a thrill, although he liked to tell himself that he only did it when he needed to. Never just to play with others.

"Fahlnem, I need you to do this because if you get caught, you will survive. One of my 'cronies' won't." She sighed. "Just put on the uniform, asshole." She thrust the Lilac Rite outfit to him and he reluctantly tore it from her hands. It was a loose set of purple robes, striated with Elven-crafted steel plates dyed white. "Besides," she continued, "nobody will be able to tell your race in that thing. And because of how the Rites are, you won't need to speak, either. Just try to walk with purpose. They'll suspect something if you act like you have no clue where you're going."

He slipped the robes on over his armor, fastening the plates to his form. "I don't know where I'm going." Miranda fluffed up the shoulders of the robes to make it seem as if his were broader like a Human's would be. "One more thing, Miranda." He made uncomfortable eye contact with her. Uncomfortable for him, not her. "What's the guy look like? Am I supposed to go cell to cell, shouting his name?" He chuckled, raising his voice. "Desmond?! Desmond, where are you!?"

Miranda smacked him upside the head, promptly quieting him. "Shut the fuck up, Fahlnem. Gods." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "The holding cell is in the checkpoint. You'll be able to tell if it's him by his long brown hair. It'll be matted. It was nasty even before he got captured. He'll also probably be in a more secure cell because of his status as a rebel. He may have even been executed by now. See if you can find a log of some sort. Just don't ask around unless it's only you and a guardsman or two. They'll be intimidated by you, but use a Common accent anyway. Even a guard will see through your high-born Elf voice."

"It's in the checkpoint? What happened to me needing you to get my equipment?"

"I wasn't lying. Where were you planning on getting a uniform to impersonate a Rite with?" She shrugged and continued. "If you see your equipment while you're in there, feel free to get it. Just don't come back without Desmond or a report of his death."

Fahlnem frowned at her, but nodded. It was an easy way to get into the checkpoint. She handed him the casque to complete the set and pulled his hood up. "Grab a weapon on your way out, too. Just in case."

Forgo stepped out into the street. It was tranquil for the time being. The Exarch was working on the process of questioning suspects that had been brought in by guardsmen, and the Rites were occupying themselves in the checkpoint barracks. No home abductions for a few hours. Forgo sighed in his helmet and led his scribe through the streets, trying to get a good idea of what to work with. He was in the nicer part of the city, by far, but for Forgo, it was rife with reminders of the corruption of the local government and the vile treatment of Humans in Erumar. Any Men that were worth anything to the Magisterium were sent out to work the fields, likely forced to clear away the debris of their fallen kin in the process, and the female Humans were sent to work in the homes of high-born Elves in the portion of the city that Forgo strolled. Elven children play in the streets, while the Human children toil away inside with their mothers to prepare breakfast.

His Elven ears twitched as his scribe readied her writing supplies and opened her mouth to speak.

"There's a story behind how every Spear got their title. What's yours, if you don't mind my inquiry?"

Forgo pondered before answering. "I inherited it. I'm not the original Twelfth Spear."

"There aren't any official texts on the Twelfth, which is why I ask, but I've heard that the original was a defector. Hence 'The Forgotten of Vows.'"

Forgo nodded. "Yeah. He abandoned his duties, so I was tasked with his execution. They gave me his title and the spot of the Twelfth in Railsource."

The scribe stuttered for a moment. "Oh- I apologize. I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright." Forgo chuckled awkwardly. "It doesn't bother me to tell people about it. Feel free to include it in your writing." He continued to lead her to the city checkpoint, listening to the intense wind glide over the city walls and turn into a light breeze within the city streets.

Forgo frowned. Two Pale Spears conversed outside of the closed checkpoint. The Seventeenth and Eighteenth. He remembered seeing them at Ianann, the Elven capital, when he brought Fahlnem into custody. The two Spears gestured for Forgo to approach, smiling at him. They had dispelled their helmets and spears, conversing openly to each other.

"The Forgotten of Vows." The Seventeenth spoke up first, and Forgo dispelled his helmet, reforming it in the crook of his arm as per protocol.

"Seventeenth. Eighteenth." He gave the two a nod of acknowledgment each. "To what do I owe this immense pleasure?"

"The Crown assigned us to help you out. We're newer, as you can see." The Eighteenth gestured to his and the Seventeenth's large quantity of purple adornments on their untarnished and unscratched armor, indicating their lack of experience and reputation in the Pale Spear hierarchy.

It's been a week. Are they just here to further monitor me, or are they just being assigned to me for easy experience? "Glad to have you. Has the Crown outlined a specific line of tasks for the two of you to complete already?" He remembered his first few assignments as a Spear. They were all closely monitored and very basic. All ridiculous tasks in his case especially.

"Yes." The Seventeenth nodded in affirmation. "We were assigned a fireteam of Rites for the two of us to handle, and we're to start allowing people back into the city via railway, but we're going to check each individual separately. Just like in Railsource."

"Were you two the ones that reported the death of the Spine of Affliction?" Forgo inquired uncharacteristically. The two Spears looked at him with a blank expression, and one affirmed the assumption with a nod. "Yes. We were there to intercept the warlock Fahlnem in the event that he came back to Railsource. He did, but he didn't stay."

Forgo nodded in understanding and donned his helmet again. He started to make his way back through the city, but he noticed something out of the corner of his vision and craned his neck to see the entrance to the checkpoint barracks behind the Eighteenth and Seventeenth Spears where both his fireteam of Rites and the two newbies' fireteam exited in sets of shiny new gear.

"Is that new standard issue?" Forgo gestured to the Lilac Rites. They were still identifiable as Rites by the excessive adornment of sin-cleansing violet on their uniform, but they hardly seemed like warriors of a theocracy anymore. They looked far more intimidating, and their weapons were more varied than just halberds.

"Affirmative." The two Pale Spears said in unison before the Seventeenth continued. "We were sent with it from Ianann. Witch-hunting gear. All Lilac Rites have been ordered to equip the new uniform."

Fahlnem made his way to the checkpoint wielding a kite shield. Historically, he wasn't much of a defense-oriented individual, but he wanted to give it a try and see what sort of offensive moves he could invent with nothing but a shield. He knew he wasn't going to get caught anyway. I'll walk up, never say a word because I look like a Rite, and apparently they're all fucking mute, get into the checkpoint, find my stuff, find Desmond, and leave. Then I can move on to... He continued down the street, frowning behind the smelly casque hiding his face. He didn't have the faintest clue as to what his next step would be after Erumar. Sure, he could just storm the capital and try to find a way home to either Ibiriel or Quintaris, but he wanted something more defined than that. Maybe I'll take over the rebellion and lead them to a victory of total domination. That'd be a nice thing to do before retirement.

It didn't take Fahlnem long to get into the more well-off portion of Erumar. Humans still wandered the streets, but there were almost more Elves. Never noticed the armbands on the Humans before. He glared at the purple armband of a Human child. Hate that pretentious sin-cleansing bullshit. The Magisterium's a fucking cult. His expression of distaste turned to one that admired the irony of the situation. And I'm wearing the uniform of one of those dumbass cultist fucks.

He began making his way into the train station and the checkpoint therein. He noticed that people were leaving the checkpoint, and a train was parked inside. Did the lockdown lift? A group of purple-clad individuals ushered Humans off of the train and sent them on their way. Once he got closer and passed into the enclosed station, he scanned them up and down.

Fuck. Those assholes don't look like Rites. They wore form-fitting cloth dyed black with fitted cushioning lining their ribs, forearms, and legs. Untarnished white plates of armor protected their shoulders, wrists, thighs, and chest, and a thick violet cloak enwrapped it all. A white and purple casque covered the lower halves of their faces, revealing their blank and unwanting eyes to Fahlnem.

They definitely fit the bill for Rites, and he looked nothing like them. So, he'd have to improvise.