Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess

Scarlett’s first day in Elystead ended up packed with far more ceremony and formal meetings than she liked. Even though she’d agreed to Lady Withersworth’s suggestions, knowing full well that this was exactly what would be expected of her, it had taken a considerable amount of patience and restraint to get through it.

The nobles she’d met were cordial enough, being acquaintances of Lady Withersworth and at least somewhat familiar with Scarlett’s recent achievements. She was also fairly certain Lady Withersworth had deliberately spared her the more unpleasant meetings. But that was precisely part of why the ones Scarlett had endured ended up grating on her nerves.

Because Lady Withersworth’s plans wouldn’t work otherwise, each of the nobles Scarlett met had been aware, to one degree or another, that she had personally slain an ancient dragon, and the sheer obsequiousness and parade of compliments she’d had to sit through on that fact alone had been enough to wear down most of her composure.

She wouldn’t go so far as to call those people fake just because of that, but it had definitely crossed the bounds of what she personally wanted to deal with. Not that things had actually been that bad. To be entirely honest, the number of meetings likely had more to do with what tired her out. But when exhausted, she just liked having something specific to direct her irritation at.

That said, by the second day of her stay in Elystead, the worst of the obligations had been dealt with, and she was allowed some breathing room. There were still a couple more minor meetings in the evening, but those would be her last, and she’d made sure that the entirety of the third day in Elystead would be free for her to work on her own preparations. The fourth day was when the official celebration and completion of the Empyreal Barrier was supposed to take place.

Right now, though, she had another sort of meeting to attend.

She stood in the foyer of their Elystead mansion along with Evelyne, waiting patiently. Before long, the doors opened, and a servant entered, guiding two visitors inside. The first was Livvi, carrying a thick folio against her chest, her long brown hair tied into a neat tail that draped over her shoulder. She was accompanied by a blond-haired man in brilliant red robes who smiled brightly as his gaze swept over the polished bannisters, the framed paintings, and the decorative vases arranged around the foyer, then settled on Scarlett and Evelyne.

“If it isn’t my favourite Hartfords!” he proclaimed warmly. “A pleasure and a privilege, as always.”

Evelyne blinked, giving Scarlett a questioning look.

Scarlett arched an eyebrow at Raimond. “Deacon Abram. I was not aware you would be here today.”

Her attention shifted to Livvi. The demure woman gave an apologetic smile as she touched the rim of her glasses. “It was the Guildmaster’s idea. Maybe I should have written ahead.”

“And deprive myself of an entrance?” Raimond asked. “Absolutely not. Half the charm of a reunion lies in being ambushed by it. Anticipation is a fine seasoning, as the wise sages once said, but surprise is the feast. Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Evelyne?”

Evelyne hesitated on the spot, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Deacon Abram, I mean no offence, but I don’t really dabble much in metaphors…”

Scarlett glanced at her. Evelyne had had far fewer meetings with the…relentlessly exuberant priest, so it wasn’t strange that she was somewhat unused to how to deal with him.

“No offence taken,” Raimond assured her. “All metaphors are hardy creatures. They survive harsher climates than some polite uncertainty.”

Evelyne smiled somewhat awkwardly. “Thank you.”

Scarlett watched them, then turned and headed for the stairs. “Livvi, Deacon Abram. Come with me. Evelyne has matters of actual consequence to attend to, so she will not be joining us, but I assume you are both here for the same reason.”

Both Livvi and Raimond offered brief goodbyes to Evelyne—who’d only joined Scarlett in greeting them to be polite, but still had a veritable mountain of work to get through herself—and followed Scarlett as she led them to the parlour. Inside, Fynn and Slate were already seated on one of the long sofas at the centre of the room, bent over a chessboard.

Scarlett paused briefly when she saw that. She had asked them earlier to be ready here by noon, but she supposed she hadn’t considered whether they would find something to pass the time. The two of them usually didn’t mind having nothing to do.

She wondered whether playing chess was Slate’s idea. Had that been influenced by Nol’viz, or was it the reverse?

Livvi appeared to share some of her surprise as she stepped into the room and took in the board, Fynn, and Slate in turn. Raimond, meanwhile, crossed the room like he owned it, settled down opposite the pair, and leaned over the table with his chin propped on one palm. His expression turned suddenly grave as he assessed the board.

“Knight to f3.”

Fynn looked up at him, then back down at the pieces, his brow creasing.

“That is an unwise move,” Slate stated without any emotion. “Knight to f3 would allow my bishop to pin your queen in three moves. It would secure my fifth consecutive victory.”

Fynn’s frown deepened, and he looked back at Raimond.

Raimond nodded sagely. “Now you know what not to do. You’re welcome.”

Slate’s eyes lifted to measure the priest.

“Posturing. You knowingly gave poor advice, then behaved as though you were concealing ignorance by claiming intent. This is strange.”

A flicker of surprise showed on Raimond’s face as part of the facade cracked, but he quickly covered it by coughing into a closed fist and chuckling. “Slate, was it? I had almost forgotten you were my natural enemy.”

“We are not enemies.”

“Figuratively.”

“I see. Idiomatic hostility.”

Slate gave a restrained nod, the shadow of her hood concealing most of her features, then returned her attention to the board as Fynn moved a pawn forward.

“That was suboptimal. Moving the rook would have placed my king in a defensive position.”

Her pale hand shifted across the board and moved a black piece into place.

Fynn’s face tightened in thought, as if he were seriously weighing her advice and reflecting on his mistake.

“It is unfortunate, but you will have to postpone this game until later,” Scarlett said, stopping near the table along with Livvi.

Fynn glanced at her, then climbed off the sofa and moved to stand behind it. Slate shifted in her seat, emerald-green eyes settling on Raimond. “I am ready.”

Raimond’s brows rose. He looked briefly to Scarlett before turning back to Slate. “Straight to the chase, then. Do you mind if I simply get to it, Baroness?”

Scarlett gestured. “Go ahead.”

She’d agreed that the Shields Guild and Followers of Ittar would have access to Slate to study her, so she assumed that was Raimond’s role here.

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He stood, reaching into his robes to pull out several small instruments and curious trinkets that he placed on the table. Scarlett guessed those were artifacts meant to assist with the examination. Raimond then moved to sit beside Slate. Gold light gathered around his hands as he touched one finger to the girl’s temple.

Scarlett observed as Slate remained perfectly still beneath the priest’s scrutiny.

Livvi spoke beside her. “How have you been, Scarlett?”

Scarlett looked at her. Livvi was also watching Raimond, but she had a strange look on her face, her fingers tightening against the edges of the folio she held to her chest.

“Are you referring to the time since our last meeting?” Scarlett asked.

Livvi nodded. “Yes. Since then.”

“I have been well. There have been many responsibilities for me to manage, but nothing that proved beyond me.”

“Right…” Livvi’s voice thinned, then she turned to meet Scarlett’s eyes, searching her face. “After I left that day, did you…?”

Scarlett studied her. “Did I what?”

Livvi hesitated. Then she shook her head. “No. It’s nothing. I don’t think you would have, would you? And it isn’t my place to pry.”

She faced forward again, watching Raimond work.

Scarlett frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

“I heard from Evelyne that you’ve been meeting half the nobility of Elystead,” Livvi said after a few seconds. “I almost thought you had stopped caring about those things.”

Scarlett kept her gaze on the woman a moment longer before looking ahead as well. “For the most part, I have. At present, however, Lady Withersworth is assisting me with preparations for the celebration in two days, and certain political courtesies are proving unavoidable.”

“Oh? Can I ask what you’re preparing for? Or is it something you need to keep secret?”

Scarlett considered the question before answering. “No, I suppose it is not. You would learn of it soon enough, regardless.” She crossed her arms. “I recently slew the Dragon of Devastation.”

Several seconds passed without a response.

When Scarlett turned her head, Livvi was staring at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. “You’re serious?”

“I often am.”

“…You’re mad, Scarlett.”

“And what, precisely, do you mean by that?”

“I—” Livvi’s lips parted, then closed. She swallowed. “I don’t even know where to begin with that. How?”

“I would prefer not to recount the details here. It is a lengthy story.”

“But you—” Livvi stopped herself. She drew a measured breath, her gaze sharpening. “Are you planning on making an announcement during the celebration?”

“I am.”

Livvi considered her, and something in her expression shifted.

“So that’s what you are doing.” She faced forward again. “Do you want me to speak with my father on your behalf?” she asked after some time.

“You would do that?”

“Yes.”

Scarlett pondered the woman’s profile, feeling slightly confused. By this point, she was fairly certain Livvi didn’t truly see her as the friend she had once known. There was always a certain awkwardness underpinning their interactions. A carefulness that neither of them really addressed. So Scarlett did not quite understand why Livvi would offer to intervene on her behalf.

“…The offer is appreciated,” she eventually said, “but you do not need to bother. Count Knottley is fond of neither me nor Lady Withersworth. I doubt even your endorsement would carry much weight.”

“You’re underestimating yourself, Scarlett. It’s true that my father may not like you, but he lost friends to the Dragon of Devastation. He won’t let a private grudge stop him from giving that its due.”

Scarlett’s gaze lingered on Livvi before returning to Raimond. “If that is the case, then you may speak with him if you wish.”

“I will.”

Neither of them said anything for a while. They simply waited as Raimond continued his examination, moving from one trinket to another with a focus that seemed almost at odds with his usual air. Scarlett had essentially accepted that their conversation was over when Livvi suddenly cleared her throat.

Scarlett turned back to her.

The woman was looking down at the folio in her arms, lips pressed together.

“Yes?” Scarlett asked.

Livvi glanced at her, then towards Raimond. She shifted her grip on the folio. “Have…you heard about the rumour, Scarlett?”

Scarlett raised a brow. “Which rumour?”

Livvi’s cheeks coloured faintly. Scarlett got the sense that there was something distinctly accusing in the way she looked at Raimond.

“T-The one about the Augur.”

Scarlett paused, and her eyes narrowed slightly. “…No. What does it say?”

“That she…” Livvi fell silent, then forced herself on. “That she’s in Elystead, and that she has received another revelation.”

“…Is that so?” Scarlett’s gaze moved to Raimond. “And who, exactly, is circulating this?”

“Just…people,” Livvi said.

“I see. And do these people have a reason they could not share it directly?”

“I would very much like to know that myself.”

Beneath their combined attention, Raimond hummed lightly under his breath as he adjusted a small instrument in the shape of a bronze brooch with a sun carved into its face. “You remain every bit as fascinating as when I first laid eyes on you, little one. Uniquely numinous, as well. Tell me, have you ever considered opening your heart to the gospel of Ittar and his brilliant mercy?”

“I have not,” Slate replied blandly.

“Shame.”

“Is it?”

“Well, for Ittar, certainly.”

“I have been informed that the affairs of divinity are not my concern. Should any divine entity attempt to contact or claim me, I am to reject and denounce them.”

“Mm. In Ittar’s boundless mercy, I think I’ll pretend not to have heard that particular morsel of blasphemy.”

“Ittar cannot hear us, and your pretending not to hear me serves no practical function.”

Raimond pressed a finger to his ear. “How curious. My hearing seems to have abandoned me at the most convenient possible moment.”

Slate regarded him for several seconds.

“You’re meant to pretend along with him,” Fynn said from behind the sofa.

Slate turned her head to look at him, then faced Raimond again. “I have understood this. It remains without practical function.”

Watching the exchange, Scarlett felt the urge to roll her eyes. She turned back to Livvi. “This ‘rumour’ about the Augur. Is there a particular reason it appears to be spreading now?”

“I can’t say,” Livvi replied. “I only heard that…there may be people who wish to meet her, and that they can figure out how to on their own.”

Scarlett glanced at Raimond one final time. “Intriguing.”

She wasn’t sure whether Raimond choosing to pass this on through Livvi had a proper reason behind it or if that was simply him being needlessly oblique because he enjoyed it. Either way, considering what was going on with divinity, it was unlikely to be a coincidence that the Augur had received a revelation.

Scarlett had a rough idea of where the Augur would be if she were in Elystead. She also had some notion of how to approach her without inviting too much risk. She might not have considered seeking the woman out otherwise, but if they were the ones who approached her first…

Well, she had wanted to gather as many aces as she could.

A few more minutes passed before the gold around Raimond’s hands faded. He withdrew from Slate with a thoughtful hum, then began gathering his instruments one by one and slipping them back into his robes.

“Did you learn what you came to learn?” Scarlett asked.

“That would depend on how generously we are defining ‘learn’,” the man replied. “On the comforting side, I found no obvious filaments of nebulous sorcery lashed about her soul, binding her every twitch and breath to some unseen mistress of dastardly villainy. On the less comforting side, I failed to confirm the absence of any exquisitely hidden filaments of nebulous sorcery, lashed about her soul by an unseen mistress of even more dastardly villainy, who knew precisely how to conceal her dastardliness from any especially dashing priests.”

Scarlett gave him a flat look.

Raimond only smiled. “I was thinking of another unseen mistress of dastardliness, naturally. Entirely separate matter, I assure you. Speaking of entirely separate matters, where is my fellow devotee of life’s finer indulgences, Miss Hale?”

“She is out,” Scarlett said. “Attending to affairs on my behalf.”

“Oh?” A glint of interest crossed his face. “What manner of affairs, if I may ask?”

“You may not.”

Scarlett turned to Livvi. “Now that Deacon Abram has finished his examination, I assume you are next?”

Livvi glanced between them, then nodded. “Yes. Do you mind if this takes some time? The Guild prepared quite a few questions this time.”

“You are free to take as long as you need. I have already instructed Slate on which matters are restricted, and she will tell you if your questions touch on them.”

“I understand.”

As Raimond left Slate’s side, Livvi took his place, smoothing her skirt with one hand before setting her folio on the table and sitting beside the girl. She undid the folio’s fastening and drew out a number of papers, arranging them into several neat piles. They appeared to be a mix of maps, reports, transcripts, and annotated diagrams.

“Slate, this is a collection of records collated from several sources across the empire,” Livvi said. “Do you think you could review them with me?”

Slate’s gaze moved across the papers. “Yes.”

Livvi gave a small smile. “Thank you. We will take them one at a time.”

Scarlett watched the two of them settle into the work, Livvi beginning with the first stack while Slate studied each sheet with her usual focus. Then Scarlett’s attention shifted to Raimond as he stepped up beside her, hands clasped behind his back and a strangely proud look on his face.

“What is that expression for?”

“Nothing in particular.” He looked at her for a moment, then motioned towards the door. “Would you be amenable to a short walk? I wouldn’t object to admiring your mansion from a few new angles.”

“Fine.”

Scarlett looked to Fynn, silently indicating that he should keep watch, before joining Raimond as he left the parlour.

“State plainly what it is you want,” she said as they stepped into the corridor.

Raimond’s smile remained in place, but something in it sharpened. “It’s fascinating how one never knows whether to expect blunt practicality or elaborate misdirection from you, Baroness. But very well.”

His gaze rested on her for several seconds before he continued.

“I have heard whispers of a gala lately. You wouldn’t happen to know how one might secure an invitation?”