Page | 13 he carried with him, Zanoba retrieved a single figurine… which he then proceeded to speak about at great length. The majority of this monologue meant nothing to Cliff, but it was clear that Zanoba had nothing but praise for the quality of the little figure’s design and manufacture. “I wish to apprentice myself to the man who made this figurine, and to spread such wondrous figurines across the world. For this to happen, I’ll have to learn to make figurines myself! Before I’m reunited with my master, I must master at least the basic spells necessary for this purpose. I’d be too ashamed to face him otherwise! And of course, I have a few figurines I’m dying to create with my own two hands.” The man had a dream. This was something that Cliff himself lacked. He had given up on his own dream some time ago. Given his position in the world, there’d been no other choice but to do so. Still… Zanoba, too, was a person of some importance. As a Blessed Child, he carried the hopes of his countrymen on his shoulders. Once he returned to Shirone, he would surely have no real leeway to choose his own path in life. And yet, he still clung to some thread of hope—planning for the possibility that some day, he might be free. If he ever had the chance, he wouldn’t hesitate to choose his own destiny. Such were Cliff’s impressions, at any rate. They were based on assumptions that were not entirely accurate. He knew nothing of the events that had taken place back in Shirone, or of Zanoba’s actual standing there. Still, his interpretation left a deep impression on him. He found himself looking at Zanoba with real respect—even admiration. “Who is this ‘master’ you keep talking about, anyway?” “He is a magician known as Rudeus Greyrat.”