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Salute!
Peering into the open box, the Scribe can see a slightly smaller box was fit within, also with a closed lid, engraved with more glyphs of foreign origin.
Resting a top the lid of the second box were two rolled scrolls bound with silvered twine.
These Le Chevalier pull out and set to one side; then carefully fitting his fingers around the edges of the second box, raising it up to set upon the table as well.
Naturally, the Scribe's interest is focused on the rolled parchments, and his hands reach to pick one up - but Le Chevalier stops him with a gesture, and bidding him wait.
"Here you go then," said Helga returning with their whiskey tumblers.
Thus distracted, the Scribe thanks her kindly and raises the drink to his lips.
Now he watches as the lid of the second box is removed, to reveal within... sand... the color of yellow and brown.
"What in the world?" the Scribe mutters.
"It is a garden," Le Chevalier explains.
"A sand garden? What can you grow in sand?"
"No, it is not for growing in the sense that you are thinking... it is for growing..." Le Chevalier taps one finger against his temple.
"Growing the mind?" the Scribe takes another sip of his drink. "How do you grow your mind using a box filled with... with sand?"
Josephine appears beside the box, resting one paw upon the edge...
Le Chevalier pulls out a small dirk, the only weapon that officers are allowed to brandish in the confines of the tavern common room.
From the corner of his vigilant eye, he notes a uniform of the Osterreich armee stumble as it passes by their table.
He begins to trace something within the grains of quartz.
The Scribe squints to see better.
It is but a single stroke, like a slash.
Le Chevalier, gazing upon the simple mark he has made, begins to intone softly...
"Even though I draw a mere line on the ground and defend it, he will not be able to engage me in battle because we thwart his movements..."
(to be continued...)
Regards,
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NWC
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