Ruger looked in that direction. The earlier spell fluctuation had been extremely well concealed; he could only vaguely sense the direction it had come from. Looking at the Middle-Aged Wizard had been an instinctive, subconscious response. At this moment, however, something else occupied his thoughts: would anything change if this Feather-Winged Being sat on that malformed Gnarled Chair? After all, he had said himself that it was his chair, that he had never sat on it since his birth, and that he had only lent it to a wizard friend for a small experiment.
If some interesting change did occur, then Rainbow Mushroom Wizard Academy would probably reap the greatest rewards by cooperating with him. After all, the chair could not be taken away, and this being's value outside was different from his value within this world. That was true in theory, at least.
His original fate had been to remain here and become an enemy of the wizards or of that invader's world. At some point, after a futile struggle, some powerful figure from either side would dispose of him in passing. If he was lucky enough to encounter a wizard, he might be kept as an experimental subject when they dealt with him. The Otherworld Invaders were more likely to erase him outright, or devour him as though on a hunt.
So his choice had been wise, and he had been fortunate to meet that wizard who chatted with him. Perhaps that wizard had intended to persuade him and then take him away personally. But as he had said, the wizard had suffered a minor mishap, leaving him unable to take him away and forcing him to leave alone.
Ruger saw many wizards wearing similarly subtle expressions of curiosity. They had never heard of this Mushroom Academy, but