What puzzled him was naturally not the content. The old wizard was meticulous in his work. He took their level into account and explained precisely what they needed to do and what they needed to watch out for. He could even roughly anticipate some of Ruger's shortcomings and offer pointers to address them.
It was precisely this thoroughness that made Ruger's brow furrow even deeper, like mountains rising from flat ground. If he had not been a Fur Shepherd, those tightly knitted brows might have squeezed out a few hairs.
There was no way he could fail to understand, because he had seen it before and followed those pointers.
He had even completed that stint as an assistant far beyond the old wizard's expectations.
A wizard. A rigorous wizard. A rigorous, busy, seasoned wizard who never let his workload descend into chaos.
That little sphere of mental power conveyed what the old wizard needed, but it was also a lesson. It imparted knowledge, teaching them in a more convenient way how to face what came next, how to handle those things, and what to avoid so they would not get hurt.
Would an old wizard teach almost exactly the same knowledge twice? The slight differences amounted to scattered changes in wording and a few inflections of emotion. Beyond that, there was no difference at all.
Everything was normal, and that made it profoundly abnormal.
Ruger had thought about it while reading in the garden, but everything had seemed fine, so wonderful that he could casually find a scholarly work beside a path.
And now, that abnormal side had finally revealed itself before him.
The pitch-black surroundings, the faint light, the Shadow Servant, the rising heart.
As Ruger stood dazed, a voice rang out.
"Boy, don't keep staring into the darkness