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When the Paladin withdrew on the thirty-fourth floor, she said, “If you have to pick one person, let it be me. It’s okay. And since I mentioned that… I don’t really want the Fingills to be the dominating species of the continent. It’ll be enough if they can earn a living for themselves.”
Had the Paladin been putting up an act to deceive me at the time? I didn’t think so. It was possible that the Paladin had heard about the Countess’ plan of testing me and agreed to it, but she had likely participated in the test because she trusted me, not because she was suspicious.
“I’ll leave the rest to you, Death King.”
She simply had not told me the whole truth. Typical of the Paladin.
Patricia gently stroked the cat in her arms. “I believed you wouldn’t fail. The issue was managing failure.”
“Manage failure?”
“The Terras will inevitably discriminate against the Sylvans. Conflicts will arise, and they won’t disappear after they’re resolved, even if you’re there to mend the conflicts, Gong-Ja.” The Paladin chuckled. “So, I thought you might feel a bit frustrated. I never imagined you would introduce a new form of art to the Sylvans. Cavefire plays! Weren’t you also surprised, Countess? None of us had ever thought of such a solution!”
The Paladin’s touches became slightly firmer. The Countess...
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