The box’s lid flapped open and shut in response to my question.
Impressive.
I was actually a little moved.
Still, I took a moment to calmly scan my surroundings. I wanted to make sure nobody was hiding nearby, pulling a string or flipping a switch. It seemed like a lot of effort just to prank me, but you could never be too sure.
Eventually, I satisfied myself that it was genuine. It was clear the box possessed a will of its own, but that raised another question: why would anyone need a sentient box? Giving an object like this a mind of its own seemed somewhat pointless.
Since the box could only answer "yes" or "no" for the time being, I turned to Lu for clarification.
"There are two main advantages to an Intelligence Box," she explained.
The first, according to Lu, was security. By having the box bond with its owner, it could be programmed to never open for anyone else. That made sense.
The second advantage was organization.
"Even if you just toss things in haphazardly, the box will sort them for you."
"Huh. Really?"
"Yes. And if the box is experienced enough, it can even reposition items so that whatever the owner needs most is right on top and easy to reach."
I hadn't realized they could be that sophisticated. That sounded incredibly convenient.
"Exactly. That’s why Intelligence Boxes are so rare and expensive," Lu continued. "Given its size, there are all sorts of uses for it. Plus, the grimoire we found inside was perfectly preserved, which suggests it might have a maintenance function for its contents as well."
Lu gave a little chuckle. I had a feeling she was already planning to make it organize her mountain of medicinal herbs.
I paused to think for a moment. "Lu, how exactly does this box organize things?"
"Well, with the ones I’ve seen, everything was lined up perfectly. If you put books inside, it would arrange them spine-up so they were easy to grab. Oh, but it won’t work while the lid is open. It only sorts things once the lid is shut tight."
"So, I can just throw things in at random, and it sorts them the moment I close it?"
"Precisely."
"Will it sort anything? Food ingredients, for example?"
"It should."
As Lu answered, she glanced at the box. The lid popped open. I took that as a "yes."
I see.
I checked to make sure the box was empty. Then, using my Universal Farming Tool, I shaved down some of the firewood we had for the campfire and dumped the wood shavings into the box.
Lu looked like she wanted to ask what on earth I was doing, but I signaled for her to wait. I didn't want to explain myself yet in case I failed—it would have been embarrassing.
I closed the lid and asked a single question.
"Can you converse with us?"
The lid flipped open. Inside, the wood shavings had shifted to form words.
"Of course, Master."
Success! We finally had a real way to communicate.
I turned to Lu, ready to show off my clever idea, only to find her slumped over in a state of profound depression. I wondered if she was upset because she hadn't thought of the sawdust trick herself, but she just shook her head.
If it wasn't that, then what?
Ignoring my question, Lu held up the grimoire she had retrieved from the box. She flipped to the first page.
"How to Make a Flying Carpet."
"Oh, so you can actually make those?" I asked.
Lu flipped through the pages for me. There were about two hundred pages in total. The actual instructions for crafting the carpet only took up the first ten; the rest seemed to be a manual on how to "raise" the carpet, or perhaps a growth diary of some kind. I was only skimming, so I might have been mistaken, but that was the impression I got.
When I shared my thoughts, Lu’s eyes started to well up with tears.
"When we get home... please help me translate this from the very beginning."
Then it hit me.
Lu couldn't read the script in the grimoire. She couldn't read the words the box had formed with the wood shavings, either.
Now that I was looking at it closely, I realized the writing in the book and the characters in the box were identical.
"I thought the Empire Devil Script was fairly well-known, though. Then again, grimoires are usually written in cipher, so it’s not surprising if someone can’t read them," the box wrote.
The box’s attempt at an explanation didn't seem to offer Lu any comfort. However, the box didn't seem to notice.
"Flying carpets are also known as Intelligent Carpets. They are something like colleagues of mine," it continued. "In fact, I was being transported by one when—ah! I remember now!"
"Remember what?"
"The Intelligent Carpet carrying me suddenly went berserk while flying over this forest. It dropped me!"
"That sounds rough. Are you okay? No cracks?"
"There is no need for concern. I pride myself on my durability. Even a small dent will repair itself after a short while."
"I see. That’s good to hear."
"Thank you. But while we're on the subject, I’ve remembered something else. I wasn't the only box being transported."
"What?"
"Fifteen boxes, including myself, were dropped."
"...Fifteen?"
"Yes."
"Were they all Intelligence Boxes?"
"They were. Master, I hate to impose, but could you please find my kin? I don’t know how long it’s been since we fell, but we must find them before it’s too late."
"Too late? What happens?"
"We sentient tools possess a consciousness, but if we go too long without thinking or interacting, we lose our sense of self and revert into ordinary objects. I had been dormant for a long time until that impact earlier. If I hadn't met you, Master, I believe I would have eventually become nothing more than a simple box."
That sounded urgent. We couldn't just let that happen.
I immediately called out to everyone nearby and started a search. We were looking for fifteen boxes in total. Since we had one right here, that left fourteen more to find. Locating them all in the middle of this vast forest seemed like a daunting task, but for the box’s sake, I wanted to save as many as I could.
As it turned out, finding the remaining fourteen was surprisingly easy. Kuro’s children sniffed out the suspicious locations, and I simply dug them up with the Universal Farming Tool.
The boxes clattered their lids joyfully as they were reunited. It seemed we were in time; none of them had lost their consciousness yet.
That was a relief. Now, the only problem was figuring out how to get all these massive chests—each one big enough to hold a person—back to the village. Having come this far, I couldn't just leave them here. The forest was far too dangerous for that.
I decided the simplest solution was to ask the dragons for a lift.