Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess - Chapter 262 - talkative priests
“The one and only!” Raimond announced with a flourish, his appearance accompanied by what Scarlett hoped was merely an imagined shimmer in the air. His priestly robes rustled as he glided across the room, a radiant smile plastered across his face.
Scarlett’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “…I was not expecting to see you here, Father.”
Raimond’s gaze swept across the group, a cocktail of amusement and inquisitiveness swirling in his eyes. “Nor I you, Baroness. Just look at you all! It appears you’ve been through quite an adventure.”
Rosa shifted her weight, leaning more heavily against Fynn for support. Her voice, still tinged with exhaustion, held a note of dry humor. “I’m sure none of us knows what you mean. So, what brings you to these parts, Father?”
“Why, to offer my most heartfelt devotions to the illustrious Ittar, naturally!” Raimond’s voice rose dramatically, his arm sweeping towards the altar behind them in an overly grandiose manner. “Despite what my dazzling exterior might suggest, I am, after all, an ardent priest at heart.”
Scarlett’s gaze flicked to the masked acolyte standing silently nearby. If she were to guess, he’d been instructed to inform Raimond of their arrival. It seemed the priest-cum-derelict-deacon had come here specifically to await them after receiving the news. She hadn’t known he would be in Elystead, though.
“Your timing is impeccable, as always,” Scarlett said, her voice not hiding her skepticism of his claims.
Raimond winked at her. “A talent I’ve honed over years of practice.” His face softened, a hint of what might have been genuine warmth—or a remarkably convincing act—suffusing his features. “But truly, seeing you all gathered here is a balm to my weary soul. These past weeks have been a whirlwind of chaos for the Followers and myself. In the bleak expanse of the empire’s current plight, this reunion feels like a rare and vibrant bloom in a desolate wasteland.”
Rosa snorted, though the sound was somewhat subdued. “Laying it on a bit thick now, don’t you think?”
The priest shrugged, his lively smile never wavering. “My dear Rosa, when blessed with a silver tongue, why not aim for linguistic gold?” His attention pivoted back to Scarlett, eyes twinkling with barely concealed interest. “Pardon me if I am mistaken, but are you perhaps just about to take your leave, Baroness?”
Scarlett nodded. “We are.”
His gaze flickered past her to the back door, behind which the fire goddess’ statue resided. “I find myself most intensely intrigued about what mysterious matters could have drawn someone of your distinguished stature to this humble house of worship,” he spoke slowly with feigned innocence. “But, as fate would have it, I too was about to take my leave. Perhaps we could abscond together and exchange a few words on the way, hmm?”
Scarlett raised a brow at the overly transparent ploy but decided to let it pass. “Very well,” she said.
She had no real reason to avoid him. Technically, he was one of her collaborators.
Leaving the unfortunate acolyte behind, their group exited the House of Fire. The cool winter air outside was a stark contrast to the sweltering heat they’d experienced in the dungeon earlier. With Fynn’s assistance, they quickly located the coachman waiting a couple of blocks away—parking right in front of the temple for hours on end wasn’t an option—and soon, they were climbing into the carriage. Raimond, ever the gentleman, gestured for the others to board first with an almost saintly demeanour.
Scarlett hesitated before climbing inside herself, her eyes studying the priest closely. For a fleeting moment, as the setting sun caught his silhouette, she could have sworn a faint, ethereal glow surrounded him. Was she imagining things, or was he actually using lumomancy right now?
…She bet that whichever priest had taught this man would be rolling in their grave if they knew how frivolously he used his ‘sacred’ talents.
Shaking off the notion, she finally entered the carriage and settled into the plush seat by the window. Raimond followed, his appreciative gaze roaming over the carriage’s opulent interior as it lurched into motion, the rhythmic clop of hooves filling the air.
“I see you’ve upgraded your mode of transport,” the priest remarked from the seat opposite her, running a hand along the polished wood paneling. “Though the last one had a certain cozy intimacy, this one is splendid in its own right.”
“I am sure the craftsmen would be thrilled by your effusive praise,” Scarlett replied without much emotion.
“Indubitably.” Raimond’s attention drifted to the receding silhouette of the House of Fire. “This feels rather nostalgic, doesn’t it?” he mused after a moment, a wistful note in his voice. “Here we are once more, ensconced on freight following yet another visit to a temple conspicuously steeped in fiery symbolism. The only missing element is another perilous adventure through its hidden catacombs, but perhaps we can imagine that in spirit? Because, surely, you would never embark on such a thrilling escapade without a certain charming priest in tow.”
Scarlett didn’t even bother acknowledging the ‘subtle’ jab with a response.
A soft chuckle left Rosa to her left, her head lolling back against the cabin’s padded headrest. “Not that I mind, but I don’t think our esteemed baroness is in the mood for your particular brand of whimsy at the moment, Raimond.” She grinned as she regarded the priest. “Don’t tell me you’re actually sulking about being left out of our little expedition?”
“That I am, unfortunately. Alas, my considerable talents go unappreciated yet again.” Raimond released yet another dramatic sigh. “But if the Baroness is too drained from her undoubtedly uneventful temple visit to listen to this priest lilt, it would be most inconsiderate of me to add to her burdens.” His eyes locked onto Scarlett, his tone growing more serious. “I must confess, however, that I was rather taken aback when you first sought my aid in accessing the House of Fire. Knowing you as I do, I trusted there was a compelling reason behind it — a reason that, as you may have noticed, I am rather eager to uncover.” His eyes flicked to Rosa’s slumped form. “Judging by Miss Hale’s current state, I can only surmise that your visit involved more than simple prayers and contemplation.”
His perceptive gaze shifted to Fynn briefly, scrutinising the youth with an intensity that belied his overall jovial demeanour. “It would also seem that our steadfast Fynn here has recently benefited from some rather extensive healing.”
A flicker of surprise passed over Scarlett’s features. Could he really pick up on minor things like that? She wouldn’t have been able to notice anything out of the ordinary about Fynn’s condition.
“I suppose there is little point in obfuscation at this juncture,” Scarlett conceded. “Beneath the House of Fire lay a hidden sanctuary dedicated to the fire goddess. That was our intended destination, and the trials we faced there are the reason for our current…disheveled state.”
A look of contemplation crossed Raimond’s face. “Hmm, I see. Fascinating… Unexpected, certainly, but not entirely beyond the realm of possibility. The temple’s origins do lie with the fire goddess, after all. Still, in all my years with the Followers, I’ve never caught so much as a whisper about such a sanctuary, even if I did start to suspect after you contacted me.” A curious glint appeared in his eyes as he watched Scarlett. “So, would I be correct in assuming you found something interesting in those hidden depths?”
“You would.”
The priest held her gaze for a long moment, as if expecting her to elaborate further.
She didn’t.
“You wound me, Baroness,” Raimond finally broke the silence, a trace of playful reproach in his voice. “Am I truly not deemed trustworthy enough to be privy to these tantalising secrets?”
“I fail to see how this concerns you, Father,” Scarlett replied.
Raimond’s eyebrows rose dramatically on his forehead. “Surely you’re aware that, personal alliances aside, the Followers hold complete authority over the House of Fire. Any discoveries made therein could, by rights, be considered our property.”
Scarlett casually leaned an arm against the windowsill, her finger tapping rhythmically against the polished wood. “The Followers’ dominion extends to the House of Fire, yes, but they have no claim to the sanctuary beneath. Should you, however, wish to pursue this matter, I am certain an Imperial Tribunal would be more than happy to adjudicate.”
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The Followers of Ittar hadn’t even known the place existed, which, for once, likely actually placed the law in Scarlett’s corner. Imperial decree dictated that the discoverer of sites such as Zuverian ruins held initial claim to any findings for a period of several weeks, and she was fairly certain that the same principle could be applied here. While the law had been primarily designed to benefit groups like the Ustrum Assembly and the mage towers, there was no reason a noble couldn’t utilise it to her advantage.
An amused smile appeared on Raimond’s lips. “No, I must say, the prospect of an extended legal battle holds little appeal to me. I shall graciously withdraw my words. However, I would be most grateful if you could exercise discretion regarding my involvement, should word of this escapade spread. The thought of the Quorum hounding me more than they already do is not one I am particularly keen on.”
Though his words were said in a light-hearted tone, they cast a more serious pall over the carriage’s atmosphere. Scarlett studied him intently for a few seconds.
“…How are you faring on that front?” she finally asked.
Much of the mirth drained from Raimond’s face. “I was not indulging in needless hyperbole earlier when I spoke of recent chaos. The Tribe’s relentless raids, the Citadel’s sudden manifestation, and now these monstrous attacks sweeping across the empire — it’s as if calamity breeds calamity.” He leaned back, his gaze turning distant. “On a personal front, I have had to endure a grueling inquest following the Crowcairn incident. They dissected my every action, questioning how my supposed negligence allowed a key suspect to slip through our fingers.” A weary sigh escaped his lips. “While I’m certain my peers appreciate the role I played in averting catastrophe, some of them often struggle to comprehend the…nuances of my admittedly unorthodox methods.”
“Yet your presence here suggests that you managed to finesse your way out of that predicament,” Scarlett said.
Considering that she’d yet to have any inquisitors or Dawnbreakers knocking on her door, she assumed he’d kept to his word and managed to deflect suspicion away from her. No doubt that was a lot harder than it sounded, and she genuinely appreciated his efforts, even if she was loath to admit it openly.
“I had hoped for a smidgen more praise than that, but alas, the plight of a misunderstood and artistically inclined soul is ever thus,” Raimond replied with some of his earlier theatrical melancholy. His expression sobered as he continued. “I will say that I did not emerge from those inquests entirely unscathed, mind you. My once vast sphere of influence has been somewhat…curtailed, if you will, and I’ve no doubt that certain colleagues are watching my every move with heightened scrutiny. Despite what some may believe, however, I do retain allies within the Followers who’ve proven invaluable. You needn’t worry about today’s clandestine meeting reaching unfriendly ears.”
“I harbored no such concerns. While there are many complaints I could raise, your discretion has never been in question, Father.”
“Ah! Then allow me to rescind my earlier lamentations of being underappreciated.” The priest cleared his throat. “But as I said, there are still those who stand firmly in my proverbial corner. Deacon Solnate, in particular, has been a steadfast ally, despite her masterful facade of perpetual exasperation with my antics. Her assistance in investigating those…delicate matters we’ve discussed has been most helpful.”
The ‘delicate matters’ in question referred to the corrupt elements within the Followers, which included a deacon in league with a Vile and another entangled with Mistress.
“That is fortunate indeed,” Scarlett said. “Your complete ouster would have significantly complicated matters for me.”
Raimond flashed a broad smile. “I pity those who claim your heart is naught but ice, Baroness.”
Scarlett’s brow furrowed slightly. “Who has made such a claim?”
“About half of Freybrook,” Rosa chimed in. Scarlett shot her a reproachful glare, but the bard merely responded with an impish, if tired, grin. “Never said I agree with them.”
With that exchange, the last vestiges of seriousness in the cabin appeared to dissipate, leaving a moment of silence in its wake.
“Am I the only one who still has a hard time believing that this guy is an actual, Ittar-ordained deacon?” Allyssa suddenly blurted out, shattering the quiet.
All eyes turned to her.
The girl’s cheeks flushed as she met Raimond’s gaze. “No offense, Father.”
“None taken, I assure you,” Raimond replied with a good-natured chuckle.
“Speaking of which,” Rosa interjected, her eyes fixed on the priest. “What’s the proper form of address for someone of your…particular ecclesiastical versatility? ‘Ray’ or ‘Raimond’? ‘Father Abraham’ or ‘Deacon Abram’? That question’s been tiptoeing through my thoughts for a spell, and I’d hate to think I’ve been going around unwittingly committing sacrilege all this time.”
“I answer to either with equal enthusiasm,” Raimond replied in a charming voice. “For friends and compatriots of your caliber—especially those blessed with exceptional talent and breathtaking beauty—any form of address you choose is music to my ears.”
“Yeah?” Rosa studied him, one eyebrow arched skeptically. “Awful generous, giving a demon-ladened soul like me that much leeway. Pretty sure you’re supposed to be brandishing holy fire and chanting exorcisms in my general direction. Or something.”
For once, Raimond showed a warm, fatherly smile that might actually have suited someone of his status. “I have unwavering faith in the inherent goodness of your character.”
“Lucky me.” Rosa turned away from him, letting her eyes drift closed as she sank deeper into her seat with her own tickled smile on her lips.
Scarlett looked between the two, then let her focus settle on Raimond as her voice took on a more businesslike tone. “Father Abraham, if I may inquire, what truly brought you to the House of Fire today? Did you have a specific matter to discuss with me?”
“That’s a matter of perspective,” the man replied as he looked away from Rosa, his fingers interlacing in his lap. “While I have been quite preoccupied of late, I found myself in Elystead’s vicinity on various…priestly errands, let’s call them, when your request reached me. It seemed an ideal opportunity for a clandestine rendezvous among comrades, and naturally, my interest was also piqued by whatever surreptitious business might have drawn you to the House of Fire — though it seems those tempting details will remain shrouded in mystery even now. Beyond that, I had hoped this might provide an opportunity for a long-overdue conversation with our dear Rosa.” He cast a sympathetic glance at the exhausted bard. “Although it appears now that the timing may be less than ideal.”
Rosa shook her head, eyes still closed. “Don’t mind me. I’m just resting my eyes a bit. Been meaning to have a chat with you as well, so why don’t we have it back at the mansion?”
“A splendid suggestion,” Raimond agreed readily.
Scarlett considered him thoughtfully. She wondered what had brought him to the capital under such tumultuous circumstances. The man typically steered clear of political entanglements, so she doubted he was here to attend the conclave. The fact that he hadn’t just told her outright likely meant he preferred to keep quiet about it, though, and she wouldn’t pry.
Still, since he was here, perhaps she could make some good use of him.
With a subtle gesture, Scarlett activated her [Charm of Expeditious Change], causing the [Depraved Solitude’s Choker] to disappear from her neck and reappear in her palm. She extended it towards Raimond. “I presume your mana reserves remain as formidable as ever, Father. I would be grateful if you could replenish this.”
The man blinked, his gaze moving from the necklace to Scarlett’s face with an expression of mock injury. “I do hope you don’t view me merely as a convenient wellspring of magical energy. There’s far more to me than my exquisitely luxurious hair and undeniably impressive mana reserves, I’ll have you know!”
“Hah. Now you know how I feel half of the time,” Rosa laughed from the side.
Ignoring both their comments, Scarlett pressed the necklace closer to Raimond. “I will be attending the conclave at Dawnlight Palace this evening. Given the unexpected turn of events that occurred in Windgrove, I would prefer not to arrive completely bereft of mana.”
Her current state of exhaustion would prevent her from accessing most of the mana stored in the necklace, but even a fraction was preferable to nothing at all. That said, the likelihood that what happened during the Tyndall ball would occur within the heavily warded imperial palace was vanishingly small. The magical protections surrounding the palace were second only to those of the Rising Isle itself, making it all but impenetrable to the likes of the Hallowed Cabal most of the time. Not to mention, some of the empire’s most powerful individuals stood guard over the imperial seat of power.
Raimond finally accepted the proffered item, touching a glowing fingertip to the crystal at its center. “I had wondered if you’d be gracing the conclave with your presence, Baroness. As it happens, the Followers will also have our own distinguished representatives in attendance. Perhaps you will have the opportunity to engage with them in various forms of stimulating discourse.”
Scarlett frowned at his word choice. “…Perhaps.”
He studied her closely, a hint of concern creeping into his voice. “Forgive my bluntness, but are you truly in a fit state to navigate such a politically charged gathering? While you certainly appear more…lively than Rosa here, nevertheless…”
“Whether I am fit or not is immaterial,” Scarlett said. “I will manage.”
Raimond regarded her for another long moment before returning the [Depraved Solitude’s Choker], now filled with mana. To Scarlett’s surprise, he then extended his hand towards her, suffusing it with a warm, golden radiance that reached out to envelop her.
Almost instantly, she felt the vise-like grip of her headache loosen somewhat as a revitalising energy seeped into her limbs.
“Lumomancy may not be a panacea, nor is it particularly suited for this type of healing, but I can at least offer you this modicum of relief,” Raimond explained.
Scarlett met his gaze, momentarily taken aback by the gesture. She inclined her head slightly. “You have my gratitude.”
His response was yet another smile as bright as the magic he wielded. “Do mention it.”
She continued to study him, a slight crease between her brows.
“Something else troubling your mind?” he asked with a touch of amusement.
“…Do you anticipate returning to Freybrook in the near future?” Scarlett asked, her voice carefully neutral.
“I’m afraid not, at least not in any immediate sense. Why do you ask?”
“Evelyne, my sister, sustained injuries during the recent monster attacks. Her recovery is…ongoing. I wondered if you might be able to lend your expertise to her treatment.”
Raimond’s expression turned thoughtful as he seemed to ponder it for a moment. “I’ll see what I can do. If time and circumstance permit, I may be able to offer my assistance. Although, I assume Rosa has already done what she could, so I can’t promise miracles beyond what she’s already achieved.”
“Your assessment alone would suffice,” Scarlett said, turning to gaze out the window, effectively ending the conversation.
The request had felt awkward, but if it meant expediting Evelyne’s recovery, it was a small price to pay. After all, that would make things easier for her in the future.
