>>956
You are struck by a sudden awareness that you aren't really sure what a paladin is. Given that you've a few hours to spare, you wander back to the mansion, explore until you find a library, then trace up and down the shelves until you find a dictionary. You check a few other dictionaries and encyclopaedias for good measure, and thus learn that "paladin" can refer either to one of the twelve elite warriors of Charles I's court, or, by extension, to any heroic knightly figure.
>>957,958
You make your way downstairs to the laboratory. Though you aren't sure what time it is, the sun has set and the lighting inside the mansion is wholly inadequate. The shadows play tricks with your eyes, and you hear faint noises - creaking, occasionally tapping. The console is as obfuscatory and unhelpful as ever, and, when you do eventually manage to create a clone of yourself, brings up a message reading:
WARNING: SUBSTRATE COUNT LOW: 4
Going downstairs to the basement room where your clone showed up before, you find another clone of yourself has materialised in an odd, mechanical capsule, as before. Pleased with your preliminary success, you return to the laboratory to continue tinkering. There are an incredible number of variables you can modify via the console, but none seem to control intelligence specifically. After some experimentation, all you manage to create is three completely unresponsive, comatose - but still breathing - clones of yourself. The console now claims that the substrate count is two (whatever that means). You ritually dispose of the useless clones, gaining six skill points and 300 mana. You now have six unspent skill points and 770 mana.
>>959
Unfortunately, you don't think you can play games on the cloning machine console, not even games as profound and deeply meaningful as Penis Cloner.
>>960
Much as you'd like to improve your social skills - goodness knows you could do with it - you think this would be better achieved through practising light conversation and mental restraint. These skill points, whatever they are, are more associated with arcane and forbidden techniques and knowledge.
You feel uneasy. You hear a faint noise behind you - a footstep? Or just your imagination? Looking up, you find your own clone; the one whom you last saw in the burning hedge maze. Her clothing, hair, and the skin on her legs are charred and burnt. She has a stern look on her face. She is holding a laser gun to your forehead. "Don't move," she says, "You... you monster, you left us to die! I've been watching you, you've been creating more clones, just to kill them as well! Doesn't human life have any meaning to you at all‽"
Finally, an intelligent clone! You put all your social skills into action in an attempt to persuade her to join you in your crusade against the foul Lady Cassandra - and also, perhaps, not point that laser gun at you. Against all the odds, you actually manage to come to a compromise; she'll fight alongside you, on the condition that you do not create any more clones of yourself.
>>961
Rejoicing in your newly forged armistice, you embrace your clone. She reciprocates the gesture. She smells like burning. What a delightful scent, you think to yourself.