Hassan was not angry at all when he heard the insults. If anything, he understood exactly how the player felt, because that was who he had once been...
"Oh, you're angry? Sigh, so am I... Who's fooling whom? If I were still young, I would certainly kill the man I am now."
"But Hassan hasn't lied. I really am the most merciful one... You can certainly try to destroy me, but it would be meaningless. Hassan is the Consul of the Nomadic Tribe, but the Consul of the Nomadic Tribe doesn't have to be Hassan."
The player selected [About Kalé].
Hassan sounded somewhat wistful. "Ah... Kalé..."
He shook his head. "Good for him, leaving! Good for him! Don't let him come back. The Great Caravan has changed. There's no fellowship or home here, only expansion and commerce..."
His gaze settled on the pile of documents and ledgers on his desk, a profound weariness showing in his eyes. "Honored Tarnished, Hassan reminds you that none of this can be swayed by human will. Perhaps the Gods had no such intention, but it was undoubtedly the Gods who caused all this."
"Please believe this: stagnation breeds corruption! And corruption is by no means merely a natural law on the surface. It seeps into every aspect of life."
Hassan suddenly began to pray devoutly. "Lord Horace was right! Unless society changes, corruption will only grow more terrifying. A thousand years of struggle can bring change even if it yields no results."
His voice became utterly devout, yet contrasted with his actions, it was utterly hellish. "This is our only way to survive."
Leaving that unforgettable sweatshop, the player continued down the leaf-strewn avenue with a heavy heart.
The Altus Plateau shone brilliantly, and here one could gaze upon the radiance of the Erdtree.