It was a good enough way to spend Faram’s Mass, Rictor had to admit, even if he wasn’t home in Kerwon. In some ways it was even better than the annual Silver Blades dinner last night; competition and jibes always reared their hea whenever the two different squads found themselves having to occupy the same space and table.
He eventually drifted over and found Albrecht during dessert, once they’d set aside the meal and retreated to baked goods and coffee, the group splintering into smaller conversations. He hadn’t seen much of her since the engagement party—she had always been more Aspel’s friend, especially considering the age difference, but some pleasantries were owed.
“Evening, Vivi,” he said. “Thanks for hosting.” An informal way to thank one’s host, perhaps, but he knew the Countess wasn’t much for the straightlaced rules of nobility.
“Good evening, Rictor,” she said, smiling. She had yet to speak with him - had yet to speak with many of the people, truly - and they saw very little of each other since his return. “I simply volunteered the venue. It was your sister and Magnolia who truly put this together.” Credit where credit was due.
The smile on her face turned a bit mischievous as she thought of the relays of gifts between Rictor and Almalexia. “I do hope you’ve been well. Were all of your gifts delivered properly?”
That was an unexpected topic change. He coughed, clearing his throat—the holy knight didn’t flush with self-consciousness, but it was close. “They were, aye. Maybe you could, uh, keep me posted on any other magical accessories you get in stock in future?”
Vivi already knew, and had already called him on it long ago. Might as well call a spade a spade.
“I suppose that I would be able to do so,” she agreed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve an assortment of scrolls, as well. It would, perhaps, be a welcome addition to any mage’s repertoire.” A subtle hint, really; there were only so many accessories that she could come across that would suit Almalexia.
She glanced around, watching the people gathered chattering. “I must admit,” she added softly, “this is quite the welcome change of pace.”
Rictor’s eyes followed hers, noting where Aspel was laughing with Mag, where the male dragoons clustered, where Seloria was gracefully swanning her way towards the group. A month ago, a calming sight like this almost seemed an impossibility. A year ago, even moreso — the Cassuls were a collapsed bridge being slowly rebuilt.
“It is,” he finally said. “Who’d have thought we could just have a fucking quiet meal with friends, without something barging through the wall and attacking?” After a pause, Rictor rapped his knuckles against the nearest chair. “Knock on wood.”
A soft laugh and a shake of her head greeted his statement. “It does seem as though such a thing has become more commonplace,” she agreed. (That was one tactful way of putting it, Rictor thought.) “It is a blessing that today has been quiet and calm.” She had anticipated something derailing the event, and had done what little she could to ensure that things went smoothly. Ultimately, this was Aspel’s and Magnolia’s party, and Genevieve was more than happy to step into the background.
“Have you been well?” she asked, after a moment. She knew Rictor was not one to allow himself to be on the side, preferring to jump into the fray.