"Up there?"
"Yes. This is no place for people. I've asked around—all you need is one ticket, and you can fly to the Star Realm. Once you're there, the Alliance will take you in. They have benefits, preferential treatment... all you have to do is change your nationality from the Empire to the Alliance. Hey, it makes no difference. It's just a name that has nothing to do with you."
Wog rambled on.
"I'm not going," Alek refused instinctively.
The Elf collected the plate Alek had just wolfed his food from. "Why not? Good things like this don't just fall out of the sky. It's not easy to find a generous foster father who's good to you, let alone a Dwarf—that's practically a miracle... OUCH! Wog, you dare hammer my fingers!"
"Because... because..." Alek hadn't figured out a reason to refuse yet; he didn't even know why he was so resistant. Then his eyes fell on the plate, and an idea struck him. "Because I hate food from the Star Realm!"
