Chapter 180 - For he who watches
Raimond’s eyes swept across the underground chamber as he and his eclectic band of newfangled companions took a delectable moment or three to catch their breaths and bask in the glory of the splendid triumph they had all just achieved. He wore his most dazzling of smiles as his gaze briefly lingered on each member of the group.
The Shielder duo—consisting of Allyssa Astrey, with her spirited personality, and Shin Thornthon, poised and with an inquiring mind—boasted a delightful contrast that harmonised beautifully. Their undeniable bond was evident as Allyssa fussed and scolded her partner for his carelessness while simultaneously helping him treat the minor scrapes that remained after Raimond’s healing magic had worked its wonders.
The pair radiated a youthful energy and vigor that Raimond was certain would carry them far in life, as long as they managed to avoid crossing paths with any vexed dragons or the like. The Shields Guild was a beacon of good in the empire in many ways, but its members were not always known for their circumspection.
Beside them, the enigmatic white-haired fellow known only as ‘Fynn’ sat on the stone floor, his eyes closed in a meditative trance. The youth’s current demeanor was a rather stark juxtaposition to the ferocity and intensity he had displayed earlier in combat. He gave Raimond the impression of a lurking predator, embodying both the natural innocence and ruthlessness of a wild beast.
Raimond had heard tales of the tribe that had made the Whitdown Mountains their home for generations, coexisting alongside the empire in an extraordinary feat of relative harmony, but he had never thought he’d have the opportunity to meet one of their members in the flesh. He considered himself exceptionally fortunate for having done so.
Leaning against the wall next to Fynn was perhaps the most captivating of the group—if Raimond could say so himself—and a woman much of the same cloth as him. Rosa drank water from a flask like a person parched for three days, holding the receptacle above her head to let the liquid wash her skin of the sweat and grime from their previous encounter.
Raimond found himself rather intrigued by the woman, not only for her delightful personality and the fact that she was a wonderful conversationalist. He was also intrigued by her curious blend of magic. Minstrels were common enough throughout the empire’s cozy hamlets and bustling cities, but those practiced in the arts of bardic charms were rare north of the Luicean Isles. Among those he had met, while they had all been without a doubt pleasant encounters in their own right, Rosalina Hale seemed to have a special quality of her own.
Last, but certainly not least, Raimond’s gaze settled on the proverbial heart of this group, the fervid-yet-wintry Baroness Scarlett Hartford. The red-haired woman appeared much as weary as her companions after dealing with the infused Auranthial left behind by the venerable Deacon Donovan Emberwood. Yet, that did not diminish the dignified aura she exuded as she crossed her arms before her chest, casting a sharp and discerning gaze over the others.
Though Raimond still considered himself a fresh, budding bachelor in the prime of his life—he was still a youthful thirty-three—he had lived long enough to encounter his fair share of remarkable figures over the years. While not all were as uniquely fascinating and entertaining as the Baroness, individuals of her calibre were not as rare as one might expect.
Or perhaps they were, but it was a kind of rarity akin to finding a four-leaf clover in a vast field. A pleasant surprise when stumbled upon, but if one continued their exploration long enough, they were bound to discover more.
Even with that said, Raimond couldn’t deny that he had observed qualities in the noblewoman that were singular to her. Just as each clover could possess its own distinct pattern, the Baroness held a captivating enigma where that pattern took the shape of fiery flames amid a flurry of ice and snow, all centered around a tiny bud of what could perhaps signify a possible fifth leaf.
To one such as Raimond, who found nothing more beautiful and brilliant than the hidden potential within each person, what he had witnessed in the Baroness was an allure that set the very embers in his heart ablaze with ardour.