Between the Blades and the clergymen, Amos had left a trail of empty mugs in his wake. However, the priest appeared to be much unchanged. No stains wet the sleeves of his rough-hewn tunic; his steps were as measured as an organ hymn.
And even when his eyes lit upon a familiar figure, the smile Amos afforded was only marginally wider than usual.
“Lionel, it is so good to see you.”
The blue mage greeted him with a raised tankard of ale. “Likewise, Father,” he said warmly. Lionel didn’t drink very often, but when he did, it was usually in moderation. Usually. But today was a special occasion; exceptions could be made. Faram would forgive him for having one or two more mugs of the strong Kerwonian beer.
“I’m surprised to see you! I thought the Silver Blades would be forcing mug after mug down your throat.”
“Oh, they certainly did,” Amos said mildly. And here he did falter slightly, misstepping over thin air as he neared the blue mage. “The friars did, as well. I’d forgotten this was quite the favourite holiday!”
Lionel’s eyes lit up with amusement—now there was an obvious tell. He put a steadying hand on the priest’s shoulder and grinned. “Forgetting that a holiday centered around ale is a favorite? A very impressive feat, Father.”
A crowd of men cheered and whooped as they walked past. The city’s celebration couldn’t hold a candle to Bierfest in Kerwon—he’d had the pleasure of of seeing an authentic celebration two years ago—but it was still quite a celebration.
“Perhaps it is the time on the road. Although you would know about that as well as I.”
Another raucous chorus of cheers, and this time, the priest was startled into another half-stumble. He’d quite forgotten, it appeared, not only drunken holidays but the sensation that came with them as well.
“It would be for the best, I believe,” Amos said, “if I were to retire to the monastery.”
Lionel did his best to suppress a laugh; he had no interest in embarrassing his friend. (Although one had to admit, Amos Luscini: Drunk Priest was a very funny sight.) Nodding in agreement, he finished off the last of his ale and put the empty mug down on the nearest clear surface. “I think that is a wise idea, Father. It is getting late.” Not that the festivities would be winding down any time soon. This crowd seemed like it could go on for another several hours.
One of his arms went around Amos’ shoulders, pulling him in close. “To the monastery, then. And let’s hope you don’t feel too terrible in the morning, Father.”
The priest clumsily tipped in the blue mage’s direction. It took him a few moments to right himself, saying, “Oh, indeed…”