A small reaction forced itself out of Silver; his throat tightened at the words, but he tried to act natural.
"Why do you think that happens? The warlords losing their mother, I mean?"
He tried to bite down on the mushroom, but he didn't feel like eating—he wanted to answer.
Once again, a cold look appeared on that man's face.
"I can't understand what he thinks with that look on his face. Does he feel anger, or suspicion, or an emotion I don't know?" Silver focused on the food more than his words.
"There is a popular folklore about the truth that holds this world together," the old man said as he finished his meal and placed the bowl and spoon on the floor.
"The world is built on a balance. To obtain something, one must lose something. The value is compared and judged by parameters beyond our control. That's why humans fail to comprehend the unfairness of this fair world. The parameter that gods apply to us is beyond our own understanding."
He took a brief pause.
