Fortunately, Arlya had been careless. Otherwise, if she had pulled out a pile of small tricks and tools, Phield's head might have been knocked sideways.
As for her status panel—hard to put into words. It was utterly useless to the territory, the legion, and even to him personally.
What she said was true: the contract brought no benefit to the lord. If he had only one contract slot, it really would have been a waste.
"Let's go, Daddy. The black dragon will be back soon." Arlya's tone had softened considerably, almost like they were speaking as equals.
Phield burst out laughing. "I was joking before. Just call me Phield."
"Daddy, let's go~" Arlya refused instead. "I, Arlya, keep my word. That is a dragon's pride."
It felt as though her favorability had inexplicably increased—there was even a hint of indulgence.
And that wasn't an illusion. After observing so many Divine Chosen, Phield had noticed something interesting.
