Ruger was not a greedy fellow. That was how he saw himself.
Why?
Because greed knew no bounds, and that would be too exhausting. He was a lazy kobold, and there was evidence to support this. All his virtues seemed to have taken root and sprouted from that very trait. His pursuit of efficiency in certain matters, for instance, also stemmed from his laziness; it was one of its manifestations. As the bearded old wizard had said, caution was one of the thirty-one manifestations of ignorance. Though Ruger did not know what those thirty-one were, perhaps laziness was the same, with all sorts of outward manifestations rooted in it.
Ruger continued strolling through the garden. This, too, was in strict accordance with the old wizard's instructions: it was a form of rest and relaxation.
The old wizard had said he could use any of the rooms on this side, so long as he could open their doors.
There were four doors on this side. In other words, aside from this strange study, he had three more doors he could try.
In truth, though, he could not even finish exploring the garden before him.
It was enormous. Every blade of grass and every tree was a book; every leaf and every spot held curious tales and knowledge. A faint floral fragrance drifted through the air, the beauty and sweetness of knowledge itself.
Ruger isn't greedy. Ruger is a kobold who likes flowers and plants.
That was what he thought to himself.
Perhaps those other doors are traps to begin with. The moment I leave and try them out in the corridor, the old wizard will decide I've finished resting, grab me, and drag me off to some flat or round workbench where I'll have to concentrate with all my might.
*It's