Boats, rafts, and dinghies landed, crowding together around the dock. There were far more vessels than available docks, so the boats bumped and jarred each other as they landed, tying to themselves once the piers ran out of space.

Julia sat on a roof just behind the dock, close enough to hear and see but far enough that she likely wouldn't be noticed—especially if there was a commotion.

A veritable horde of people trudged onto the wide roadway that led into the Quarter proper. Torches lit the facades of storefronts, restaurants, and homes lining the road. This entry into the Quarter was where the better-off lived, so it remained in relatively presentable condition compared to buildings just a few strides farther down.

She glanced over to the entrance of a dark alley, where Sahira, Nadhem, and Talnîr lounged against the wall, watching the crowd from a distance. Sahira had her arms crossed and leaned against a building while Nadhem crouched, sitting on his haunches. Talnîr paced back and forth, the only one whose tension was visible.

Atop a nearby building stood Ithshar, hands clasped behind her back, eyes always moving as she scanned the crowds. She seemed to feel Julia's gaze, as she met it with a small nod before continuing her watch.

Julia's attention was drawn back to the churning crowd as it made its way onto the road. It pulsed like a body of water as a large man moved through it, emerging from the front line with a stride that suggested he was in charge—or thought he was.

He had a large build, with wide shoulders and thick arms. He stood perhaps a head taller than most, with the classic friar pattern of balding hair. He wore a plain but good quality tunic with a large, leather apron draped over his front—perhaps he'd come here straight after work?

"Elves! Listen up! Word has spread about your kind attackin' our trade. Been goin' on for the past year, seems!

"Now, it's them spike-ears out in the marsh what done it, but we figure they ain't workin' alone. Gotta have an in with the city to know anythin' 'bout caravans comin' and goin'.

"So, let's make it real nice and simple-like! Anyone what's got information 'bout your kin from the marsh, come on forward, and let's have it," the man said with a greasy smile.

A silence stretched for several seconds as elves traded looks with one another. Julia still didn't consider herself socially adroit, but she thought they looked bewildered more than anything.

The silence began to grow strained and uncomfortable after ten to twenty seconds, and the man who spoke before sighed.

"Listen, we all know that not all a ya are villains, but ya gotta help us find those what are, ya hear? Otherwise, why…we got no choice but to turn this whole Quarter upside down lookin', ya see?" he said with exaggerated exasperation.

"Perhaps if you can describe specifically what you're looking for, we'd be able to help," a voice that Julia recognized immediately called out.

Mahven stepped out of the crowd of elves confidently, striding up to the man and staring at him in the eyes, as if in challenge.

"You say you're looking for 'villains' who are collaborating with Tûrathiin to attack trade caravans—I wonder, did you see the official notice from the Adventurer's Guild? The one saying they have proof that it was actually the city itself ambushing those caravans and stealing their cargo?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Aye, we all heard that hogwash. Bunch'a fence-sitters over at the Guild tryin' to muddy the waters," the man spat—literally.

"Muddy the waters? The Guild claims to have proof—a written confession by one of the military captains that looted the cargo himself—yet you believe the city, which provided no proof at all?" Mahven asked with mock incredulity.

The man's brow furrowed, and his veil of a condescending lecturer dropped as his anger began to simmer.

"Listen here, spike-ears. I ain't about to waste my whole evenin' debatin' who's right and who's wrong. City says it's the elves; Guild says it's the city. What can we do if it is the city? Nothin', so might as well check the South Quarter to make sure," he said, stabbing his finger into Mahven's chest.

"To be clear, you want to ransack the homes and private property of residents of this city on a hunch that maybe someone here has something to do with the caravan attacks?

"Will you do that for any frivolous claim? What if I said the caravan attackers were lodged in the West Quarter? Would you sail over there to turn that Quarter upside down?" Mahven asked, his face darkening.

"Now what in the Gods above would—" the man started, his face turning red.

"Why don't you just admit why you're here? You don't like us—elves, that is. You're a poor businessman who the city is fucking over—ruining your business—but you feel powerless to act against them.

"Instead, you turn toward the beaten and downtrodden, those who have it worse than you. Maybe they are contributing to your business failing, maybe they aren't, but at least you can beat on them without facing retribution.

"You are a powerless, pathetic coward—that is the truth of this situation. You direct your anger and resentment where it will harm others without improving your situation because at least it doesn't require any bravery," Mahven snarled as he spat on the man's shoes.

"You stuck up fuckin' spike-eared—" he growled, reaching for Mahven's throat.

A loud crack rang out, echoing between the buildings lining the road. The man flipped over himself backward and crumpled into a pile on the ground. Cass stood over him, fist held forward like a bow still vibrating from a freshly loosed arrow.

Julia cringed internally. She wasn't close enough to know for sure—nor did she want to know—but the loud sound and the force that the man's body bent over with suggested he might actually be dead, not just unconscious.

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A stunned silence stretched across the road, both crowds staring at the man's unconscious (or dead) form with disbelief. It had happened so fast that Julia thought most probably hadn't even seen what happened—he just collapsed suddenly, with Cass standing over him.

"Marvin…she—they killed Marvin!" someone in the middle of the human crowd shouted.

Cries of outrage sounded from the human crowd, and suddenly there were pitchforks and hammers and any number of sharp or heavy tools aimed at the elves.

The elves—almost as one—inhaled sharply and began backing away from the makeshift weapons. Julia thought this must be where the guards break up the mob, but a question suddenly struck her like a lightning bolt:

Where are all the guards?

"Murderers!"

"Thieves!"

Shouts rang out from the humans as they pressed forward toward the elves, who continued to back slowly away. While the humans were a disorganized mob, the elves were nearly all bent over and exhausted from their labors, so they moved slowly and with great effort.

The humans caught up to them in no time, though most were waving their tools and implements around in a show of intimidation, none seeming eager to actually cause harm, though.

"Ah!" an old woman screamed, her arm dripping blood from where the tine of a pitchfork had grazed her.

A middle-aged man beside her stepped in front to shield her from further harm, but the man with the pitchfork—whose face had gone white as a sheet after accidentally grazing the old woman hard enough to draw blood—must have interpreted the movement as an attack. He thrust his pitchfork forward; it caught the man straight in the gut.

The man yelped and buckled over, the momentum of his fall pulling the pitchfork from the human's hands. He lay motionless on the ground, which quickly grew dark and slick with blood.

Screams suddenly drowned all other noise as the elves turned and ran. Some stayed and tried to help others flee, and some leaped into the crowd of humans to fight. Though, whether these were elves enraged by their comrade's death or Mahven and Cass's forces, Julia couldn't tell.

She stood still, as if rooted to her spot on the roof. What could she do?

"Stand down! All citizens, stand down! Violence will be met with violence!" came a shout from the direction the elves were fleeing.

A row of guards advanced down the road toward the docks. They were equipped with shiny armor and tall shields. They carried short spears that—at the moment—were held up, their tips pointed toward the sky. However, as they closed the distance to the retreating elves, they lowered the spears and braced their shields, as if the fleeing citizens were the charge from an opposing army.

The elves stopped short of the spears as the guards all shouted conflicting orders of "stay still" or "go that way" or "get on the ground." It was mere moments of this confusion before the mob of angry humans pushed the backline of elves into the gathering crowd, sandwiching the elves between themselves and the line of guards.

The crowd compressed, bodies pressing together as cries of pain and confusion rang out. Some elves fell and were immediately trampled by the other elves struggling to maintain their feet. Others writhed and thrashed about, the press from the crowd making even breathing difficult.

On the opposite side, bodies on the front line were pushed forward from behind—straight into awaiting spears. Guards holding the spears had wide eyes and sweat dripping down their brows. As spears pierced bodies, some guards froze, as if in shock, while others stabbed mercilessly into the crowd, some kind of fury overtaking them.

"No…" Julia exhaled sharply. What could she do? She couldn't stand by while a massacre happened in front of her, but what could she do? There were so many people, and they weren't all bad. These were just people caught up in the machinations of larger entities.

Julia suddenly realized that she didn't know how to solve this issue, nor most issues. Fighting was all she knew. There were no monsters or Nashiin to slay, no armies to fight. She had no skills to aid anyone here.

She looked at the desperation in the faces of the elves and the fear and determination in the eyes of the guards and humans. Who was the enemy? Who must she fight? For that was all she knew.

She began shaking as she watched—helpless to stop the slaughter, not just of the elves, but of everyone. Even as she stood paralyzed, Mahven's forces cut down humans in the back as others shoved and maneuvered their way through the crowd of elves to confront the guards on the other side.

So many people were dying.

She had long ago lost sight of Ithshar and her companions. Were they doing something? Did they know what to do—what could be done? Should she try to find them and help with whatever they were doing?

A wind brushed against Julia's back, carrying with it whispered words that slipped into her ears like slithering snakes. And like snakes, they dripped with venom.

"Ideals…ideals are called that because they haven't been tested by reality yet. Look closely, Julia. This is reality. This is what you can do with your ideals—nothing.

"You speak of a non-violent solution, but it's impossible. Violence is already here, and it's not leaving.

"You speak of not taking sides, of respecting both. This is impossible if you want change. There is no singing and holding hands that will solve this issue. It is already drenched in the blood of the innocent.

"You may succeed one day—perhaps a hundred years from now—in changing the human opinions of elves. There may come a day when they realize the depravity—and tragedy—of their conditions.

"They may try to improve the lives of those elves who remain in that mystical future—but it will never wash the blood from their boots. It will never alter the reality: that every step they take leaves a bloody print behind them.

"It will not bring back the tens of thousands of elves who will have died to make that future—that future where you haven't had to sacrifice any of the humans, even while they soak in the comfort built on the backs of those they consider beneath them.

"You see it clearly before you: the humans are the aggressors. They hold the power, and they are the ones doing the killing.

"How many elven lives will you sacrifice just so that you don't have to sacrifice any of the humans?

"Why do you choose them over the elves, Julia? For no matter what you think, that is what you are doing.

"You may think this reductive—no situation could ever be so black and white in reality—but this is a view born of ignorance, not wisdom. It is an infantile thing to consider neutrality the moral stance. It is not a virtue; it is a lack of conviction.

"Neutrality is only virtuous to those who believe in nothing—who stand for nothing.

"And those who stand for nothing will find that no one stands with them, either.

"Think carefully about whose side you're on, for soon the time will come when you must live that decision. You will be forced to choose one side or lose them both."

Julia didn't turn around—she didn't need to. She recognized Cass's voice, and she knew that just as mysteriously as she had arrived, she was already gone. She left behind only her words, which snapped at Julia's heart and mind like vipers claiming a meal.

Whose side was she on?

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