:You had expected it to be - better, nicer, a pleasanter place to live, no? And it is...not:
Leareth's breath eases out. He stares past her, at nothing in particular.
:A very long time ago, I grew up in a place that was broken. And then I saw Tantara, I saw how things could be, and - I wanted to make everywhere like that. To make everywhere better than that. I swore a vow on the stars that I would do so. I tried. The war happened, and the Cataclysm; I assume that I made mistakes, though I am afraid I can no longer remember it clearly enough to be sure what those mistakes were:
:...I spent a thousand years trying to rebuild the world around me. My plans failed, over and over, even when I they ought have worked. It took...longer than it ought have, perhaps, to realize that this went beyond mere ill luck. Even now, I am not sure why the gods of this world, who operate through coincidence and subtle nudges, so firmly resist innovation and progress. I have tried to speak with Them many times. They seem uninterested in communication, and Vkandis set me on fire for my trouble. Twice:
His eyes return to Azabel's face, boring into her. :Valdemar is one of the better places to live, on this continent, right now - and nonetheless, children starve in the streets of their capital each winter. I want to build a world that has fewer such pointlessly tragic problems. The gods apparently oppose this, and for that reason, I cannot get anything done unless I am very paranoid, and - far more ruthless than would have seemed justified to my younger self. Perhaps that answers your question?: