Chapter 275 - Two deacons in one
When Scarlett awoke to the golden rays of dawn filtering through the blinds, the previous day’s exhaustion still clung to her like a stubborn mist. A flicker of annoyance sparked within her at the sun for daring to disturb her rest, but its brightness told her she’d likely overslept.
With a tired sigh, she ran her fingers through her tousled hair and sat up, the silken sheets rustling against her skin. Her eyes drifted to the window, tracing the vague outlines of the world beyond the blinds before she finally mustered the will to rise.
The cool floorboards sent a slight shiver through her as her bare feet met the ground, with the chill of the morning air nipping at her exposed ankles. With barely a thought, her pyrokinesis flared to life, enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth as she crossed the room to the dressing table.
She spent several minutes preparing herself, much of it devoted to taming her long, dark-red locks, which had grown wilder than usual overnight. Satisfied, she returned to the nightstand beside her bed and retrieved her [Pouch of Holding]. A thought later, her nightwear shimmered and was replaced by a flowing emerald gown, and she left her chambers with a determined stride.
As Scarlett moved through the Elystead mansion’s half-familiar corridors, her mind wandered to the events of the previous day. Occasionally, she paused to acknowledge the respectful greetings of passing servants, absently admiring the expensive paintings that adorned the walls. Eventually, she arrived at a set of double doors that opened into a large, sunlit hall with tall columns lining a long table at its center.
Most of her companions, along with Raimond, were already seated, engrossed in conversation over a meal. Lady Withersworth was the only notable absence, but Scarlett assumed the older woman was still sleeping, much like she’d been until recently.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the belle of the ball,” Rosa remarked, the bard’s sharp eyes catching Scarlett’s entrance. “Finally decided to grace us with your presence, eh? Last night’s soirée must have been quite the affair. What sort of mischief did you fine folks get up to in that fancy palace?”
“Good morning to you as well, Miss Hale,” Scarlett replied, her tone cool but not entirely unkind as she moved to take her seat at the head of the table. Her gaze swept over the faces of her companions before settling on Raimond. “And to you, Father Abraham. I see you have made yourself quite at home.”
The priest’s plate was piled high with an assortment of delicacies, and the stack of empty dishes beside him suggested this was far from his first helping. His appetite might even rival Fynn’s, and Scarlett briefly wondered where he managed to put it all. Could he pray away the calories?
Raimond flashed a dazzling smile. “Who am I, as a humble servant of the resplendent sun, to refuse such magnificent accommodation? The sacred scrolls of Ittar teach us that ‘To bask in the warmth of hospitality is to honor the rays of the sun and one’s host’. Thus, it is only fitting that I partake generously of this sumptuous feast, for to decline such bounty would be to spurn the very blessings of Ittar himself!”
“Oh?” Rosa twirled her fork, a morsel of food balanced precariously on its edge. “So you’re telling me that all this time, our dear Fynn wasn’t just being a glutton, but actually practicing the tenets of a devout follower? Mayhap that we have an aspiring priest in our midst.”
Fynn, seated across from the bard, furrowed his brow at her words. “I’m not a follower of Ittar, though,” he said with a hint of perplexity.