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?”