Chapter 270: Dream and Fate
Choosing sides—standing behind the winning side—was the most basic survival rule of the kobolds, the underlying logic at the very bottom. Ruger had seen far too many such things while scraping by among the tribe. Back then, he had been weak, skin and bones and shedding fur, so insignificant that even when the kobolds fought, they saw no value in having him choose a side. Just like now, he was still weak, but he had gained a little value as someone who could choose a side. And he shed far less fur now; even what he did shed had become valuable.
The black book tumbled through the air.
He did not know. There was much he did not know. He did not know whether this would anger that old woman, nor did he know whether it was right. Of course, he was not doubting his own choice. He simply did not know whether throwing out this poetry collection counted as this little mouse making a choice—as that one had said, lightly stirring the threads of fate.
Suddenly, the black book spun as black flames ignited upon it, falling toward the other side.
Ruger noticed that when the ever-smiling old woman saw him throw the book over, a flicker of surprise crossed her face. She seemed not to have expected him to choose her, the one at the Wizard apprentice level.
That subtle shift in expression further solidified Ruger's choice. She had not factored his role into her calculations, yet she still showed little worry or concern. That alone was enough to prove his choice was correct. No matter how things developed afterward, at least this step, right now, was correct.
The black poetry collection burned with black flames, tracing a graceful arc as it fell