Ronan scrambles to his feet and follows after Ambrose like an oversized puppy. Being allowed into this secret space is every bit the honor Ambrose intends it to be. Ronan's eyes are on everything, absorbing as much detail about his surroundings as he can before the High Mage directs his attention to one object in particular.

Another test. Ronan hates questions like these. His old teacher would ask them constantly and he could never give the right answer. But Ronan looks anyway, his brow drawn first in consideration before softening into surprise.

There's probably some very fancy-sounding Thornean name for what he's looking at. He doesn't know it, whatever it is. With an appropriate amount of trepidation, he steps closer to behold it. He's practically buzzing with excitement all of a sudden, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Blood rushes in his ears as his heart races, pounding so loud he's sure Ambrose can hear it. He feels like the dumbest fish staring at a lure, about to get hooked.

"Yes."