He hadn’t wanted to come, but it was one of the holiest days of the year, and appearances had to be kept. There’d been no way he was hitting midnight mass, so he’d made an effort to get up early and go to the first mass of the day. Faram’s Mass Eve had been spent alone, at home, with a quiet meal and a good book. The naps he’d taken throughout the day helped; he wasn’t horribly tired when he’d rolled out of bed.
There were more people climbing the steps of the cathedral than he’d ever seen - in the past, he’d avoided high holy days for this reason - and more than a few people wanted to wish him a blessed Faram’s Mass. Which only meant that it took longer to get inside. By the time he passed the threshold, many of the seats were already filled.
If he had to stand for mass, he was leaving.
“Drake!”
The knight’s call cut through the hubbub of nearby conversation, beckoning the councilman over.
Whatever awkwardness and tension had dogged their last meeting, it seemed to have been pardoned in honour of the season. This was the time of holidays, for self-reflection and warmth and family. And the monk had expressed a vague interest in keeping up religious appearances, whereupon Rictor had declared there’s no time like the present and resolved to drag him to Mass.
The holy knight rose with an apologetic nod and knuckle to his forehead as he displaced the people beside him, gesturing to the empty seat he’d saved in anticipation of his friend’s arrival.
“Got you a spot,” he said simply, as Drake wove his way through the rows of people. As the religious centre of Valendia, the Grande Cathedral normally saw a good share of audience. But this time of year was even more packed—it brought the fairweather Pharists out in droves, shaking off their usual ambivalence in favour of popping in and paying their annual respects.
“And here I thought I was going to get to go home,” he lamented, following Rictor through the crowd. It was a good thing he wasn’t claustrophobic; the idea of all of those bodies pressed in together would have given him nightmares. As it was, he was more than a little uncomfortable, and he was pretty sure the older woman that had brushed the side of her hand against his butt had done it on purpose.
When they finally took their seats - close to the front, why was he surprised? - he gave Ric a sidelong glance. “No one would have missed me with this crowd.” Pity he hadn’t thought of that earlier.
“It’s not about them,” Rictor said simply, his firm conviction unflagging. “Faram knows you’re here and paying attention. And any visibility as a councilor’s better than nothing. Wasn’t that your point to begin with?”
Perhaps it was a less-than-desirable motivation to go to church—but Ric would take anything that’d drag Drake to this pulpit seat and plant him firmly beside his friend.