As Ruger sank into the soft sofa, taking in the comfortable, quiet surroundings and the Silver Hand Viscount's smile beneath his little mustache, he had the fleeting impression that they would have received this information even if they had not presented the flat-headed drake to him. This strange wizard with silver fingers would have found a way to tell them anyway.
"Of course. In these waters, the Silver Hand Viscount will always be synonymous with fair exchange." The moment the other man finished speaking, Kurt offered his compliment. Satisfaction showed in the Silver Hand Viscount's eyes as he smiled at the three One-Ring Wizards.
Ruger cast him a glance.
He knew that Kurt, who seemed the most enthusiastic in his response, was actually the least interested in such matters. Or rather, of everyone present, he was the least likely to show up on some mysterious island. The great God of Sorrow had his mind entirely on his own territory now. If not for that troublesome Bread God, he might already have begun planning for new territory after his advancement-a second island, for instance, large enough to better suit his status as a Formal Wizard. Compared with thrilling adventures, Kurt preferred steady development: spreading his ideals, building up his island, and possessing a territory and followers that reflected his beliefs.
Perhaps some painful childhood experience had taken root deep in his heart, making him determined to create a different kind of territory, one where people could enjoy more laughter.
A God of Sorrow who had transformed from the God of Joy, yet wished for people to laugh.
"Then we won't take up any more of your time."
Kurt rose promptly as he spoke.
The three of them paid their proper respects to the more powerful wizard before them.
Under his satisfied