Faced with the dwarven proprietress's heartfelt insistence that they stay, Connie ultimately chose to be deeply moved—and firmly refuse.
Though remaining in this city-state called Minas Tirith was indeed tempting, if they truly made that choice, wouldn't it mean abandoning everything from their past and betraying Jenisar's painstaking guidance?
This was the bottom line Connie held fast to. Perhaps this place was wonderful, but she did not belong here in the end—at least, not yet.
If everything that Silver Dragon lord had promised was true, then at the very least, she could choose. Choose to let more people have such a choice: to immigrate to this miraculous, vibrant city-state and welcome a brand-new life filled with hope.
And in the distant future, she hoped to lead some of those who had received this gift—people who had learned advanced knowledge and skills in Minas Tirith and gained the strength to resist tyranny—back to Calimshan together. They would overthrow those brutal Pashas, liberate the slaves across Calimshan, rebuild their homeland there, and forge a city-state as free and orderly as the White City.
That was how it should have been.
But she had never expected that, just as the agreed day arrived, the Northlands would erupt into war with Luskan. Would that Silver Dragon lord still have the energy and willingness to carry on with his original population migration plan in Calimshan?
It left Connie more uneasy and frightened than she had ever been before.
Sometimes, the despair that catches one unawares is not endless darkness, but believing, amid one's death throes, that one has found the dawn of salvation—only to turn around and discover it was nothing more than a shooting star flashing by.
"Big Sister Connie, what should we do?" Perhaps Maria had sensed the turmoil in her heart as