A bad temper?
Ruger chatted cautiously with the lady beside him, their conversation drifting in and out as they occasionally enjoyed the garden's tranquility together at the table. After all their talk, he had yet to notice the bad temper the Old Wizard had described, one so severe that she could not even be approached or disturbed. At least, the Kailyn before him was nothing like that. If there really was more than one Kailyn, then he must have been lucky enough to meet one who was easy to talk to.
The dripping sound began again.
This time, however, the drops were not landing beside his mouth.
Ruger looked up.
A vine-like plant climbed to the conservatory's dome, bearing flowers of every color. From here, they looked like a string of tiny blossoms, but given the dome's height, each had to be at least as large as his head. Nor did any single flower have multicolored petals. Instead, every blossom in that chain had a different color, each possessing a beauty uniquely its own.
The teapot's little lid, shaped like the center of a flower, had already been lifted off and set aside. The dripping sound came from inside the pot.
The floral tea was wonderfully refreshing. It was not just the tea itself that was exceptional; the water used to brew it was unusual too. There was even a special ratio to the different drops of water falling from each flower.
Ruger glanced at his large teacup and felt he had drunk a little too quickly earlier.
The large cup was simply so comfortable to drink from.
A fresh pot of tea had begun brewing, and a distinctive fragrance was faintly drifting out.
This patch of grass, this table, and the arrangement overhead clearly complemented one another. Moving anything