It was the same private reception room. The incense was so pungent it made him want to cough, and the candlelight in the spider shrine grew hazy and indistinct through the smoke, leaving the entire room steeped in gloom.
The incense burning in the many incense burners was enough to make his head swim. Every visit to this room felt like torture to Renato. He genuinely could not understand how Quelyn could spend an entire day in there.
The Nightwind Matron still reclined on the human-skin sofa, her posture languid, her feet propped on her "footstool."
The disfigured manservant lay motionless on the floor, serving his Matron Mother.
Quelyn seemed to have spent all her time lying on the sofa lately. Renato did not know whether it was from a lack of exercise, but he kept feeling that her lower belly had developed a slight swell, contrasting awkwardly with her thin limbs.
Quelyn's voice drifted through the smoke, husky and languid, as though she had just woken from a long afternoon nap.
"My youngest daughter tells me you want to study combat techniques at the Combat Tower. Is that right?"
After Renato answered in the affirmative, the Nightwind Matron took a draw from an incense burner. Pale purple smoke slowly escaped her nostrils, forming a twisting, spider-shaped plume in the air before gradually dissipating.
"What is there to learn from a bunch of men playing house? Nothing but spoiled, useless sons who look impressive but serve no purpose..."
She gave a soft snort and said disdainfully:
"They spend years in the Combat Tower, kill a few slaves to work up their courage, and shout empty slogans... If I were their mother, I would simply offer them all to the Goddess. A pack of useless fools who do nothing but squander