Count Raymond's lips trembled. His face flushed red, then drained back to a deathly pale.
He swallowed hard, desperate to retort. He wanted to argue that his Path, though slow and difficult, was nothing like that seductive heresy, and that he would never stand by and watch it spread…
But the words caught in his throat.
He couldn't deny the terrifying allure of the doctrine Murphy had described. Nor could he guarantee that when hunger and despair truly descended, his own moderate reforms could withstand the fanatical slogan of "reclaiming what God has given."
'Most importantly,' he realized, 'if this doctrine spreads, won't the Equalist Sect see reformist lords like me as 'thieves' too?'
In the end, he only managed to force out a few syllables: "I... I..."
His voice was hoarse, and he couldn't form any more words.
Murphy watched him calmly, as if he had already anticipated such a reaction.
Silence once again spread through the living room.
