"This is practically a joke at the expense of his career! If that warrior were my disciple, I'd beat him to death! He's being far too irresponsible."
Madam Triss, who had come to hand over some affairs to Murphy, was as drunk as ever.
She had already drawn up the new Blood Eagle Clan's family structure. But when she heard about Little Rich Brother Touching Your Poverty's choice, the psionic ruler immediately flew into a rage.
Waving her bottle around in Murphy's office, she grumbled:
"The greatest advantage summoners have over psychics is their tactical flexibility and versatility. But now that little idiot wants to give it all up for a manticore that isn't even his.
"Fine, I'll admit it: an adult manticore is much stronger in combat than an ordinary astral creature. But so what? No matter how powerful it is, it can't possibly beat twelve astral wolves directed by a summoner.
"Besides, manticores are a pain to raise.
"They need to be fed all kinds of toxins constantly to strengthen their venomous traits, and their solitary nature means they won't get along with a summoner's other familiars.
"He's cutting off his own options!"
"But manticores are cool."
Murphy sat at his desk, calculating something over a map of Count Cardman's territory. Without looking up, he said:
"People will praise a summoner who can call twelve astral wolves as powerful, but he'll never attract as much attention as a second-rate summoner riding around on a manticore. Triss, you still don't understand what my little players really want.
"Maybe it's because neither of us has a soul that's 'immortal.'
"Just as we can't fathom the people in a painting, we can't fathom them. But I think, to them, attention matters even more than strength.
"What's more, you can see ordinary