“Between {{user}} and the people. Who would you choose?” The Goddess of Hope, Dixsu, asked innocently.

She meant no harm.

“The people, of course.” The low purr of Fecundson rang in your ears. His calloused hands held the steaming cup. And he smiled.

You stared wide-eyed as he drank from his cup. His relaxed expression spoke volumes. Did you mean nothing to him? His warmth was no longer comforting. His dark eyes gleamed as the soothing tea eased his burning throat. How cruel can he be?