Ruger knew he was nothing special, just an ordinary, worldly kobold. He knew that, like other wizards, he would strive for perfection in certain things. But if he delayed a little at every step, the end would forever remain out of reach. So he drew another line for himself: a deadline for reading Monster Wolf with the Divine Object Art. Every step on the wizard's path demanded care, but he could not keep putting things off indefinitely. Everything needed its limits.
Life was fragile. Even amid peace and comfort, people died without a sound, sometimes without even knowing it themselves. Just like that commission from the demon last time: an unwitting act by a visitor from another realm, somewhere between sleep and waking, had left more corpses crystallized into pale yellow crystal than he could count at a glance. There had been wizard apprentices and formal wizards alike, but once dead, there was little difference between them.
"Father!"
Ruger had just returned to the Bedroom Space when a bright, clear call rang out beside him.
Whenever he used the Divine Object Art, he came to the Bedroom Space.
He looked at Little Regna as she nimbly climbed his robe to his shoulder, much as she usually did with Rabbit. When she sat on Ruger's shoulder, though, she generally hugged his head and rarely grabbed his ears. Tuzel had once felt inexplicably proud of that.
Smiling, Ruger raised a hand and gently patted her plump little cheek. When she first appeared, she had skipped infancy altogether and already looked like a child. Several years had passed since then, including his three-plus years of observation, yet she still showed no sign of growing. She looked exactly the same.
Little One was endearing, and everyone liked her. Not only did she never cry