Forgo stepped over a writhing man who had been speared in the chest. His scribe followed him closely, gripping her notes tightly against her breast. The Ninth Spear's body lay motionless and pale on a blood-soaked wooden table. The animals had tried, assumedly for many days, to cut her armor away from her flesh. The scribe gagged.
Flies hadn't yet plagued the dark and musty room, thankfully, but Forgo knew that he would still have to wrap something around the corpse. The rebels' bodies, on the other hand, would rot in there for a while.
Forgo dispelled his spear into purple whisps in the air, only to clench the same fist as a nervous tic. He gazed over the Constant's dismembered corpse. One of her arms had been slowly sawed off for them to hollow out the flesh from that portion of her armor. The whole shoulder-to-hand segment of the armor was soaking in a sink full of half-bloodied water.
"What do your texts say about the Constant?" He reached down to tear off a portion of cloth from a dead man to cover the fallen Pale Spear's eyes with. The scribe had regained her calm and pretty visage a few moments prior. "The Ninth Spear, the Constant of Fury, was the primary protagonist against the Human rebellion here in Erumar when it first started. They say that she had extensive experience fighting against mages in a brutal frenzy, which earned her the title given to her by the Crown."
Forgo nodded, and the scribe continued as he examined her injuries. How did she fall so easily to the Humans, then?
"The Constant was then instated as the Pale Spear to watch over Erumar, quelling further rebellions and completely extinguishing the population of mages in the city. It was her legend that inspired many Elves to move here in the present century."
"What was her preferred weapon?" He answered his own question when he spotted an ivory piece of equipment sticking out from underneath one of the men he felled.
"She started her successful career with a spear, as you have, sir, but supposedly she preferred a-" She was interrupted when the rebel turned onto his back, aiming a knife at the approaching Forgo.
"Fuck you, asshole! This shit, all the bitch's shit, belongs to us! We've been-"
Forgo placed his hand in the air above the man that he missed in his initial sweep around the room, summoning his spear tip-down. The tip of the spear coalesced into existence inside the rebel's chest cavity. He reached down and turned over the corpse after dispelling his spear again to reveal the Constant's weapon of choice, a claymore.
"Alright. Done writing?" He picked up the claymore with some heft and glanced back at the scribe who quickly wrote down some additional notes in firsthand. "You're not gonna bend the truth like how they teach you, right?"
The scribe muttered something. "Beg your pardon?" Forgo chuckled awkwardly, requesting that she repeated herself.
"Just a little. They want you to seem heroic. To live up to the Constant."
Forgo's grin subsided and he laid the claymore on the Constant's chest as if she were a fallen knight.
"I'm still trying to live up to the Forgotten." He grumbled, dispelling his armor to grab a white blanket with which to wrap around the Constant, immediately donning his armor with a quick notion of his consciousness afterward.
Forgo tightly wrapped the Constant in the blanket before hefting her into his arms. "Let's get back to the Exarch and show him what we found. He could have sent a small platoon of guardsmen to do this days ago."
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Fahlnem awoke with a suffering groan, sitting uncomfortably in the metallic railcar seat. He turned his head to observe his handiwork on the Spine of Affliction- the armor, from the stomach down to the thighs, was charred completely black. It had melted onto the Spine's flesh, grafting itself in place. His final explosive blast just sealed the deal, blowing a hole straight through the fucker that sheared her in half. The flesh was still smoldering.
He pondered this execution's spot on his list of most stylish executions and quickly settled on it being in first place, but he figured he could still do better.
The pain in his left side, left hand, and rear of his head interrupted the contemplations of triumph, prompting him to rise. He could see the Spine's quarterstaff manifesting next to her corpse from purple dust grouping together into the rough shape. Startlingly similar to mana grouping together into a solid, which is most definitely a thing. He limped over to his knapsack and slung it over his shoulder, tucking the balled-up cloak under his arm. No need to hide himself in an empty ambush train.
He resolved that he would take the Spine's quarterstaff for later testing, but he quickly gave up on trying to take off any of the armor. It wasn't worth the trouble when he felt his eyes fogging up any time that he dipped his head down. He fastened the quarterstaff to a little loop on the side of his knapsack and wandered up to the engine car. The attendant from earlier was sitting alone, reading a book of some kind.
Fahlnem sighed and leaned up against the sliding-door frame. The attendant didn't notice.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
"Hey. Pal. Did you know anything about that?" Fahlnem gestured back a few railcars to the one with a hole blown in the side of it and a dead Pale Spear.
The attendant slowly lowered his book. Fahlnem could practically smell the piss as it drained into his trousers.
"Listen, buddy. I don't care. It wasn't you who beat my face into a mighty-fine resemblance of a date rape victim. I just wanna know who all was in on it, you feel?"
The attendant stammered for a few moments. "I... Sir, I didn't know. Truly. They just told me to get people seated quickly, so I-"
Fahlnem put up a hand to stop the attendant from speaking. He reached out to the attendant's book, taking it out of his hand and turning it right-side up. "Good book so far, pal?"
The attendant looked confused. "I.. don't know. I can't read. The boss told me to mind my own business, find something to do and ignore the loud noises."
"Sure, sure. Good stuff. Where we headed?"
"Railsource, sir."
"What's your name?"
"Vincent, sir."
"Great name, pal. Am I gonna see another ambush when we reach Railsource, Vince?"
"I don't know, sir," Vincent stuttered. "I suppose it's possible."
"Alright. That's more than enough to convince me. Let's just pass through Railsource and get to Erumar without stopping. Does that work for you, Vince?"
Vincent gave a breathy, awkward chuckle. "Sir, I can't just go straight through without-"
"Stopping? Sure you can. Listen, Vince." Fahlnem stepped off of the doorframe and let the sliding door close behind him, moving closer to Vincent by a pace or two. "I'm not really in the mood to bargain. It's not a disussion-"
"No. I'm not doing it." Vincent crossed his arms, but Fahlnem could still see the anguish and fear behind his eyes. "I don't... want to get in trouble. I'm a Human, sir. This is a good job for a Human."
Fahlnem frowned and thumbed to the hole in the train just a few railcars back. "You really more afraid of losing your job than getting off at the wrong stop?"
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Valonio decided he'd try to sell one more item before he closed shop for the day. He was a blacksmith by trade, so he had a certain quota of weapons and other equipment to fill for the Magisterium each week. On top of that, he had a monthly quota to fill for the Exarch. But he still managed to get orders done for other Humans in Railsource- typically tools like axe-heads or tanning knives. Things for other working men, such as himself, to use in their daily trade. But today was selling day. He would still accept orders as they came in, but he typically set up a stall in the market where he would sell spare things. Pots, tools, novelty items like blunt damascus knives for the kids. A middle-aged woman approached and asked about the quality of the cookware that was for sale.
"All very high quality, ma'am. It won't warp over campfires or stoves, and the handle won't get hot when you try to move it." The woman didn't seem too interested at the time, but said she would come back again the next week. Valonio decided to call it for the day and head home. His abode was on the other side of the keep, so he'd have to cut through the train station and into the residential district.
"Hey, Val. Good day for sales?" The guardsman began searching Valonio once he reached the checkpoint.
"More or less. You know how it is."
The guardsman nodded empathetically. "Yeah, I get it. Have a good one, Val."
"You too." Valonio gave the man a smile once the search was over and started traversing the platform. A group of people had gathered in front of the tracks to wait for the next train to arrive from the Maw. A man stepped in front of Valonio.
"Hey pal, would you mind giving me a few Markes? I just need twenty."
Valonio became uncomfortable. "Sorry, I don't have any on me. Good luck, though."
Valonio could hear mutterings amongst the crowd as he tried to shuffle past the beggar.
A door opened to the checkpoint barracks and he was stopped in his tracks as the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Pale Spears along with their accompanying fireteam of Lilac Rites stepped in front of him to get onto the platform.
The crowd got louder, and so did the rumbling sound of the incoming train. Valonio typically saw the train on his way home on market days, but the crowd seemed much more agitated on that day. He could hear the tracks singing in a deep rumbling tone, as if forewarning them with a tune. He turned to look, and a few citizens were peering into the tunnel to see the oncoming train speeding in the distance.
"It's not slowing down!"
"The train's on fire!"
Valonio arched a brow and got a bit closer to see, as did the Spears and Rites. In a split-second event, members of the crowd screamed and Valonio was taken aback as the train sped through the checkpoint without stopping, each of its railcars set ablaze, with only the engine car unscathed from the raging flames. The corpse of a Pale Spear flew out of the train as it passed, colliding into the crowd in a puff of red mist.
Valonio couldn't resist as his legs pulled him toward the body of the Pale Spear. A few guardsmen were trying to pull the upper half of the body off of an awaiting citizen that had covered themselves in blood and vomit, while the lower, mostly-melted half sat against the pillar it had impacted against.
The two awaiting Pale Spears in the train station returned to the barracks while a few Lilac Rites began the recovery of the dead Pale Spear, and guardsmen tried to regain control over the situation.