Looking at those fellows, Ruger felt that the conflict he had anticipated probably would not happen.
Of course, he meant a conflict beyond words. The Supreme Council's name still carried weight. It had recognized the Rainbow Mushroom Wizard Academy, and everyone knew the requirements for admission to the Supreme Council: a wizard organization had to have at least three Eight-Ring Wizards.
More importantly, Wizard Dati was not acting on her own behalf. Merely belonging to some organization was not enough to intimidate wizards. It was perfectly normal for a member of the Pillar Organization to have their head twisted off over a personal dispute. Dati was representing that mushroom academy, which made all the surrounding wizards much friendlier.
Of course, "Mushroom academy" was a shorthand Ruger would only use in his head, because Dati had corrected him before. Apparently, there were other places called this or that mushroom academy, so using its full name was the precise way to avoid trouble.
Ruger simply sat down on a nearby branch he liked the look of. Listening to their arguments, he unconsciously began swinging his short little legs.
Suddenly, he felt someone watching him.
Ruger looked toward the source of that feeling. His gaze passed through the voices arguing and debating, through the slanting branches and gaps between leaves, and settled on the figure sitting on the armrest of the enormous chair in the distance. Their eyes met. The other figure was also sitting leisurely on the edge, swinging his legs. Seeing Ruger look over, he returned a flawless smile.
A dim ray tinged with purple pierced his folded wings at an angle and passed through his muscular chest. A few black-and-brown feathers drifted down, then rose again on the wind.
The smile remained on his face.
He tipped backward and tumbled