Ruger was just about to speak.
A fireball had already shot out!
Green continued casting the simplest spell of all, the Apprentice's signature Fireball Spell. There were basic targets in the spell practice area, as well as marks Ruger had left on the walls, but the speeding fireball seemed to have a mind of its own. It avoided everything and slammed straight into a corner.
Ruger was just about to open his mouth when a second fireball flew out, followed by a third.
Green seemed unhappy with where the fireballs had landed, too. Ruger was about to reassure him, only to see him pick up his cup again and take a long drink.
Then he cast again. Ruger sensed no obvious abnormalities in his mental power, much less any disorder, yet the fireballs all veered away from his marks in various ways.
"Perhaps..." Ruger said.
"Perhaps I need to drink more. The second mouthful already felt different from the first. If I drink more, it should feel even more different. My mental power has never been this active. It feels like the day I first became an Apprentice again. Of course, you must understand that fond memories make things seem better, so this really is the most active my mental power has ever been. My casting speed has improved as well. This stuff has value, Ruger." Green looked at Ruger eagerly, then turned his gaze back to the winecup.
"I think..." Ruger began.
"Sir, I think drinking more will actually let my spells hit their targets. What do you think?" Green raised the cup to his lips, watching him with bright eyes.
From his posture, he seemed to be waiting for Ruger's judgment.
Ruger raised his eyebrows, suddenly feeling that something was off about him.
When Ruger took too long