Vrump!

Julia and company appeared suddenly at the South Quarter docks to little fanfare, though not for a lack of witnesses. There was a crowd of hunched and stooped elves clustered around the piers.

They stared out at the water, where Julia noticed flickering glows blinking against the reflection of the fading light. There seemed to be many, but they were so far out that she couldn't be more specific.

"It begins," came a voice from behind her.

Julia whirled around in surprise to find Mahven just a stride away, staring out over the Blue with a pensive expression.

"What begins?" she asked incredulously.

Mahven's head turned slowly toward Julia, his expression morphing into a rictus—though slight—grin.

"Unrest,"he declared, his tone heavy with anticipation.

"The fliers?" she asked, noticing a smaller crowd beginning to gather behind Mahven. There were a few humans, including Cass, among them.

"A symptom, the spark that finally catches and spreads from the already-burning coals," he said ominously.

Julia looked back toward the water and the lights upon it, a gnawing pit beginning to grow in her gut.

"What's going to happen?" she asked quietly.

A silence blanketed the space, no response to her question forthcoming. She turned back to Mahven, thinking to ask again, but she stopped short at the sight of the crowd now gathered before her.

There were upwards of fifty people gathered, their faces set with grim determination. Their eyes were dark as they watched the water, their demeanor subdued but tense, like a snake coiled for ambush rather than for rest.

"Change," Cass finally answered, a smile on her face.

"Are you being intentionally cryptic?" Julia asked, annoyance creeping into her tone.

"If you want accurate answers, ask specific questions," Cass said, her smile shifting to become playful, while Mahven chuckled.

"You are planning to fight—and kill—the civilians crossing the Blue, yes?" Ithshar suddenly asked, stepping up beside Julia.

Brows in the group furrowed, jaws set in determination shifted to frowns, both of anger and discomfort.

"That's quite direct," Mahven said, his smile not faltering.

"Indeed—and you will provide an accurate answer?" Ithshar pressed.

Tension began to mount—or rather, it began to shift. While formerly directed at the water, it seemed to form a sharp point and hover just before Ithshar's throat, invisible but palpable.

"The answer, Ithshar Ithsharûn-Tûrathiin, is that we will do what is necessary," Mahven said, his smile falling as his visage darkened.

"And what, Mahven, do you think is necessary?" she responded.

"Change," Cass interjected.

Her face was neutral, but her tone was firm. She seemed the hand that gripped the spear of tension, ready to drive it into Ithshar.

"Change goes by many names: revolution, progress, destruction. Which do you represent?" Ithshar questioned, shifting her gaze to Cass.

An invisible conversation seemed to pass between the two as they stared, unblinking, into each other's eyes.

"The framing of your question troubles me, Miss Ithshar," Mahven interjected. "They may be civilians, but they come here for violence. What would you have us do—lie down and accept it?"

"You do not see the future; you do not know that there will be violence. Yet you prophesy it, which increases its likelihood—almost as if it is what you want," Ithshar said, not breaking eye contact with Cass.

"What I want is freedom for our people," Mahven spat, his carefree facade breaking for the first time. "These civilians sat back and watched while our people were driven to the brink.

"They watched as the violence of poverty and despair was wielded against us. We were rounded up and corralled into a single Quarter of the city we belong to—that we helped build, yet even that wasn't enough!

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"Now, those that watched the structural violence unfold from their comfortable chairs in front of their warm, glowing hearths have come to make literal violence.

"And you would—what—prefer we hide in our homes and hope they leave eventually?" he asked with disdain.

"Surely there's a better way. You're preparing for violence, so that's what you're going to get. You're escalating before they've even landed! It could be possible to deescalate if you just talk—" Julia started.

"Talk?" Cass sneered. "What would you say? 'Please stop being racist and violent'? Doesn't sound like it's going to convince anyone."

Julia opened her mouth to respond, but Mahven interrupted.

"You are young and new to this city, Julia. I admire your desire for peace, but do you really think we haven't tried talking?

"For years we've been spreading the word about this city's corruption, yet anyone not affected by the reforms are either too satisfied with their current comfort or too afraid to end up like us," Mahven explained in a tone he probably meant to be kind, but it came off to Julia as patronizing.

"Even if we gathered everyone in the entire city willing to support elven equality, there might be…hundreds of us, maybe?" a human in the crowd that Julia didn't recognize said.

"Hundreds? This city has hundreds of thousands—how could the number be that low?" Julia asked in bewilderment.

"Complacency," Cass declared flatly. "'As long as it's not me' is a powerful deterrent, and it's self-enforced."

Julia blinked, unsure how to respond—unable to.

"Do you know how many elves die in this city every year, Julia? Ithshar?" Mahven asked.

When both Julia and Ithshar shook their heads, he continued.

"Six hundred twenty-seven two years ago when I started counting, and one thousand forty-one this year—so far. Next year will likely be even higher.

"These are just the numbers I can track by counting funerals and the like—deaths that are known and mourned by surviving family or friends. There are likely even more that are unaccounted for dying in the streets or taken into some dark prison and never seen again.

"Do these numbers not disturb you?" he asked.

"Of course they do!" Julia said definitively, offended that he would suggest otherwise.

"Then why would you choose them over us?" Mahven asked. "How many elves would you sacrifice so that you could sit every single person in this city down, talk to them, and convince them to be better, Julia? Ithshar?

"Why are their lives worth more than ours? Are our lives mere bargaining chips to you? Why do you insist on protecting them at our expense—"

"Just say what you want," Ithshar interrupted. "You met us here, gathered your people, and began trying to convince Julia of the justice of your cause for a purpose, yes? What is it you want from her?"

Mahven smiled, though it didn't look friendly.

"I admit, I had hoped you would join our cause. That said—if you don't—all I would ask is that you simply watch without interfering.

"You are an Adamantine party, so what you do carries tremendous weight. My only request right now is that you wait to start throwing that weight around. Observe what happens here without interfering. Witness what these civilians you are trying to protect do.

"I don't know what you're assuming they are all coming here for, but you must at least suspect that their intentions are not good.

"This is what the city wants—to turn its inhabitants against the elves. This is why they've been ransacking merchants—" he said.

"Wait, you know about that? How? We just got back?" Julia interrupted.

"It was obvious once the draft notice went out. I suspected for quite a while that the city was likely interfering with trade, but the revelation of the attacks, plus a draft notice, while you were out in the field? That could only be because you discovered and thwarted their plot, so they had to escalate," Mahven explained.

Julia nodded—that made sense.

"I know you think we're about to massacre a bunch of civilians, but let me assure you: we would prefer to resolve things peacefully.

"That said, I hope you also understand that if we are pushed, we will push back," Mahven declared.

He spun around and disappeared into the crowd, which itself dispersed into the larger crowd of elves watching the water and the lights upon it.

Julia looked back at Ithshar, who watched the crowd gathered at the port with a critical eye. What she was looking at, Julia had no idea, but she always seemed to be looking beyond whatever her eyes were seeing.

"Things got a little tense…" Julia said tentatively.

Ithshar glanced at her before returning her gaze to the crowd, smiling a little.

"A small word of advice for you, Julia: one of the hallmarks of manipulation is a great deal of talking. If someone approaches you and begins to ramble without getting to the point, they are likely trying to convince you to do something you otherwise would not," she said.

"You disagree with them, then?" Julia asked.

"I do not disagree that the elves' situation—our people's situation—must improve. I dislike their motivations," Ithshar said darkly.

"What are their motivations? It seemed like they wanted the same thing you do," Julia asked.

"Actions matter more than motivations, but one's motivations often inform their actions. If one is motivated solely by the desire to improve the lives of the elves, they will be more likely to avoid actions that would cause the elves undue harm.

"If their motivation is for the revolution itself, rather than the livelihood and well-being of the elves, they may overlook the suffering their actions cause—or not even notice it in the first place," she explained, her look saddening as she gazed upon the crowd.

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