The Spell Practice Area was quiet.
Ruger had put away the dining table and set a pot of after-dinner tea to brew on the small round table again.
Lord Soldrich had not stayed long, leaving as soon as he delivered the item. It was clear that the Demon Wizard's visit had taken quite a toll on him, especially coming so soon after the Divine Object Art Summoning. His body and mind had yet to recover fully before being put through another ordeal.
The little box he had just received sat obediently on the small round table, close to his side.
Ruger eyed it sidelong.
The black box was quite ordinary, just like the boxes the Holy Tribunal used to package materials when he applied for them. It might even have held some material for his earlier experiments on the scales on his elbow, casually repurposed by him and left in Soldrich's care.
He was considering a serious question.
Was there any need to open it?
As things stood, the matter seemed to have come to an end, and he had even received a small gift from his teacher's teacher. Letting everything end here seemed perfectly fine.
He tried to communicate with the person he had been two years ago.
Burble, burble! The tea bubbled.
He sighed. He had been scolded.
Not actually insulted, of course. He had simply imagined what his past self would say to his present self. First, he would seize the chance to give him a contemptuous look, then mock him for having an empty head. Since it really was empty, he had no way to argue. Then his past self would change tack, his face taking on the look of an angry dog as he squinted sideways and taunted him: someone without brains should obviously listen