Memoirs of Your Local Small-time Villainess

The carriage traveled through Bridgespell’s gates and continued its journey down the well-worn cobblestone roads, leaving the bustling city behind and venturing into the comparatively tranquil embrace of the surrounding countryside. Scarlett peered out of the window, tracing the extensive fields stretching towards the western horizon. Fences and meandering dirt lanes partitioned much of the land into distinct parcels, though it all essentially blended into one at this distance.

She imagined the fields teemed with life during the warmer seasons, when farmers and the like toiled away to work the harvest. But now, the landscape wore a different coat, with thin vegetation and an almost palpable stillness to the view.

“Thus, I bid adieu to Bridgespell on the very day I set foot on her captivating streets,” Raimond mused from his seat at the opposite end of the cabin, his eyes fixed on the metropolis, gradually growing further and further away. “Delightful city, really, but I’m grateful my travels don’t bring me here too often. One can’t help but feel suffocated amidst the teeming crowds and constant flurry of motion.”

Allyssa chuckled, glancing over at the priest. “That’s almost exactly what Rosa said when we first got here.”

Raimond cast a look between the girl and Rosa, wriggling his eyebrows. “Well, it appears that the adage ‘great minds think alike’ holds true.”

“Hear that?” Rosa nudged Scarlett playfully in the side, a spark of amusement dancing in her eyes. “A priest has declared my mind ‘great’. It’s official now, sanctified by the divine fellow up high. Bet you feel pretty lucky to have snagged me as your personal minstrel now, don’t you?”

Scarlett briefly looked at the woman before returning her attention to the passing scenery outside. “Indeed, is there anyone as fortunate as I?” she spoke dryly.

Following their meeting with Raimond at the Followers’ temple, their party had set out for the Sunfire Shrine after some brief introductions. Raimond didn’t have any carriage of his own, so, of course, he had joined them in theirs. A fact that Rosa probably enjoyed the most, judging from how well the two seemed to connect.

“There almost definitely is not,” the bard’s voice sounded out in response to Scarlett’s statement.

“Wasn’t that sarcasm?” Fynn asked.

“Almost definitely not,” Rosa said. Immediately following that, Scarlett heard shuffling, and glancing to her left, she saw that Rosa had used one hand to cover Fynn’s mouth. “Don’t you dare say that was a lie.”

Fynn wordlessly looked at the woman for a prolonged moment until Rosa finally released her grip. “I wasn’t going to,” he finally replied.

Rosa seemed to narrow her eyes, then looked towards Allyssa and Shin, seated across from her. “Which one of you taught our sweet, uncorrupt boy to lie without even an ounce of shame?”

Allyssa held up both hands in the air defensively. “I’m innocent. I mean, I’ve tried, but that’s like trying to teach a fish to waltz.”

Shin just shook his head, seemingly opting for stoic silence.

Rosa’s scrutinizing stare shifted to Raimond. The priest placed a hand over his heart at the unspoken accusation. “It would be rather impressive if I had managed such a feat in the short time I’ve known him, wouldn’t it? But I am afraid not. Still, I’m flattered to be included in your suspicions.”

“That leaves only one possibility.” The bard turned to Scarlett with an exaggerated expression of horror and disbelief, leaning over to cup Fynn’s chin between her fingers. “What have you done to corrupt this pure boy? Is there no end to your villainy?”

Scarlett gave her a long look. “…Have you considered that he might not be lying?”

Rosa shook her head, her voice filled with conviction. “Impossible! Fynn can’t help but expose even my teeniest of white lies. It’s like a compulsion, I’m sure of it.”

Scarlett glanced at the young man in question, who sported a mildly perplexed expression. Rosa would know that Fynn often turned a blind eye to her lies—probably more frequently than Scarlett was aware—but the woman was ‘magnanimous’ enough to pretend that wasn’t the case.

If anything, Scarlett found it impressive that Fynn had developed the discernment to know when it was appropriate to call out Rosa’s falsehoods and when to let them slide. It was a stark contrast to the image most people probably had of him.

But Scarlett had no intention of calling this fact to attention at the moment. She suspected that Rosa needed this playful banter as much as anything else.

“It is curious that you would accuse me of corrupting him,” she said. “I seem to recall you preaching that ‘white lies’ are a necessary evil on more than one occasion. One would think that to be a more plausible explanation for any changes in his behavior.”

“Don’t try and trick me with your ‘logic’ and ‘reason’. I know you’ve been holding secret rendezvous with Fynn, coaching him in the art of deception!”

Scarlett paused. That was…actually not too far from the truth. She had told him to exercise more caution when it came to sharing certain information. But that was unrelated.

Rosa blinked, her eyes locking onto Scarlett. “Wait, really? I was just pulling your leg, but it seems I hit the mark.”

Scarlett released a small sigh. “I have counseled Fynn on the matter, instructing him to be more prudent with his words and to be mindful of others’ thoughts. It does not pertain to this situation, however, so let us not blow it out of proportion.”

“Oh?” The bard finally let go of Fynn’s chin, turning away from Scarlett and leaning even closer to the white-haired young man. “So, what secrets has our dear Baroness been whispering in your ear lately?”

Fynn shook his head firmly. “I can’t say.”

Rosa gasped. “She truly has corrupted you. Quick, Father Abraham, can’t you cleanse him with your priestly invocations?!”

Raimond chuckled. “I am afraid that is not quite how it works, Miss Hale. While there are certain members of the clergy who possess techniques for coaxing the truth out of people, I am not practiced in such arts. And, of course, even if I were, I would never dream of employing them on someone so evidently pure-hearted as this young man.” He paused, tapping a finger to his chin in thought. “Have you considered bribery, perhaps? Bridgespell boasts some renowned patisseries that are—to use a touch of hyperbole—truly divine.”

Rosa nodded earnestly. “Hmm, that might just do the trick.”

Scarlett looked at Raimond. “Father Abraham, I would appreciate it if you refrained from aiding her in prying into my personal affairs.”

Wasn’t he supposed to be a man of the cloth? Why was bribery the first thing that came to mind for him?

He showed an apologetic smile. “Pardon me, Baroness. As a wandering priest, it has become somewhat of an ingrained habit to offer counsel when interacting with others.”

Scarlett’s gaze shifted towards Rosa. “I suppose you are not the primary concern here.”

The bard blinked. “I feel like I should be offended here, but for some reason, all I feel is pride.”

Scarlett felt the exasperation mounting, and she decided that the best way to proceed from here was simply to disengage. She turned back to the window, allowing the others to engage in their own discussions while she contemplated their upcoming dungeon run. Her recollection of their destination wasn’t the best, but that probably wouldn’t matter too much. It wasn’t a particularly complex dungeon, excluding perhaps the method of getting access to it.

The Sunfire Shrine was located roughly an hour away from the city by carriage. As their journey progressed, the conversations continued among the rest of the group. Rosa and Raimond, in particular, engaged in lighthearted banter, sharing their various experiences from across the empire. Meanwhile, Allyssa appeared genuinely fascinated by Raimond’s stories and the sights he had encountered as a wandering priest, which sparked a slight contest between the priest and the bard.

Scarlett found that Raimond’s tales, while somewhat bombastic, won out in the end. Listening in occasionally, there was also one point where she heard Raimond inquiring about what was apparently the burgeoning rumors of Scarlett being a dragon slayer. A ridiculous prospect, honestly, but for once, she wasn’t surprised by the exaggerated gossip spreading about her. It was only a matter of time before it got out that a dead dragon had been found within her mansion, after all.

At least Raimond seemed discerning enough to believe the others when they assured him Scarlett hadn’t been the one to kill the dragon and that its presence was connected to a visit from the dean of Elystead Tower. It was the best explanation Scarlett could come up with that would make sense to people, and she had sought Godwin’s approval to share it.

By the time they reached their destination, Bridgespell and its surrounding scenery had long since disappeared from view.

Nestled amidst several rolling hills, the Sunfire shrine was a relatively humble cluster of structures with unassuming stone exteriors and simple pillars that blended in well with the landscape at this time of year. A short, weathered cobble wall enclosed the shrine, adorned with delicate carvings depicting the sun alongside imagery of flames reaching towards the sky near the entrance.

As they approached the gates, there was no welcoming party in sight. The coachman had to halt the carriage and personally open the aged metal gates to allow for their passage. Beyond lay a peaceful courtyard, flanked by smaller buildings, presumably accommodations for the clergy and the like. At the heart of the compound stood the Sunfire Shrine itself.

As Scarlett and her companions disembarked from the carriage, an acolyte emerged from the shrine. Cloaked in the customary red robes and white mask of the Followers, the figure hurried towards them.

The acolyte stopped before their group and bowed with both palms pressed together. “Forgive our tardiness; we did not know when to expect you. May Ittar’s light grace your path and welcome you all to the Sunfire Shrine, esteemed guests.”

“There is no need for the formality, brother,” Raimond said with a warm smile, sweeping his long hair aside as he surveyed the shrine. “I don’t believe either Baroness Hartford nor myself would demand such reverence from those who diligently devote themselves to their paths of reflection and self-improvement. We are the ones intruding, so please, don’t worry about it.”

Scarlett nodded. “Indeed. You may dispense with the ceremony for the time being. If you could lead us to Shrine Custodian Stanway, we will proceed from there.”

“Of course, if you will follow me.” The Acolyte turned and gestured for them to follow him.

They walked up to the shrine’s entrance, stepping through a pair of tall bronze doors into a spacious chamber. At the end of the chamber, a modest altar housed a statue of the enigmatic Ittar, cradling a flickering flame in his hands. Several pews lined the area leading to the statue, while well-worn mats lay on the ground immediately before it. A group of acolytes knelt on the mats, each donning masks and immersed in silent prayer.

The relative simplicity of this shrine was contrasted quite a bit with the grandeur of some of the Followers’ other places of worship, which Scarlett found somewhat curious. As she understood it, the Sunfire Shrine was one of a few locations in the empire where the clergy of the Followers of Ittar practiced a fusion of pyromancy and lumomancy spells, which was an unusual combination within the church.

One might expect a sun god’s worshipers to emphasize fire more, yet that wasn’t the case here. Perhaps one of the reasons for that was because this region had once worshipped a fire goddess before Ittar, and the Followers had gradually pushed that legacy aside instead of assimilating it. The House of Fire in the capital had once been dedicated to that goddess, but while the name remained, its ties to her had faded into mostly obscurity.

As Scarlett and her party followed the acolyte through the main chamber and into its connecting corridors, she noted that Raimond kept a close eye on their environment as they moved, even as the smile never left his face. Given how high his actual position within the Followers was, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was assessing the shrine’s state and ensuring everything was in order.

Eventually, the acolyte led them to what looked like a smaller training chamber. The floor tiles bore the marks of generations of use and abuse, with signs of damage scattered across the surface. At the room’s center stood an older, slightly burly man in red-and-white robes, overseeing two younger men in light grey robes. The latter two appeared to be practicing some sort of spell involving cords of fire and pure light, which twined around each other in patterns that made Scarlett think of candy canes.

None of the three wore masks, and the two younger ones’ clothing was much simpler than those of the acolyte who had led them here, but perhaps that was to be expected while training with fire magic.

Scarlett observed their spellcasting with interest as she and the others approached the trio. She didn’t recognize what spell it was, nor could she see any obvious combat application in it, so she wondered whether it was perhaps some kind of spell meant for practicing composite magic.

The older man, presumably Shrine Custodian Stanway, turned to face them. “Father Beaman. Are these the guests we were expecting?” he asked, scanning Scarlett and her group with a deliberate gaze.

The masked acolyte nodded. “They are, Custodian. This is Baroness Hartford and…” He hesitated, turning to Raimond as if only now realizing he had never gotten his name.

The man’s smile looked demonstrably gracious. “Reverend Ray Abraham. I was sent here on behalf of the Ecclesiastical Congregation of Sacraments.”

The Custodian’s expression held a slight frown as he eyed Raimond, but he soon returned his attention to the two young men practicing their magic. “Cease your training for now. We will resume it from here later.”

“Yes, Custodian,” the men responded as they dismissed their spells.

Curious, Scarlett studied both of them. “If I may ask, which spell was it that you were practicing just now?”

Custodian Stanway turned his gaze towards her. “That was the Gleaming Scepter. It is a fundamental invocation taught to all acolytes here, preparing them for more advanced and potent invocations in the future.”

“Such as?”

“The end goal with this particular invocation is Luminous Inferno, but few ever reach that level.”

“I see.” Scarlett’s attention lingered on the two men for another moment. She did recognize that last spell name, at least.

Although the Followers of Ittar referred to them as invocations rather than spells—and their magic often exhibited slight differences from that of mages—they were, in essence, still spells. During one of her visits to Freymeadow, Arlene had even provided Scarlett with a brief lecture on the topic.

As for Luminous Inferno, it had been one of the most powerful pyromancy-lumomancy composite spells in the game, boasting a higher damage output than almost any other spell if you excluded primordial ones.

“You are a mage, I suppose?” Stanway asked in a somewhat dry tone.

“In a manner,” Scarlett replied. “While most mages might dispute the matter, and I would be inclined to agree with them, there is no doubt that I am proficient in certain types of magic. Pyromancy in particular. Hence, my interest in the demonstration just now.”

“Hmm, that does not surprise me.” With a wave, he signaled to the two young men he’d been instructing, as well as the acolyte, to leave the room. Then, gesturing for Scarlett and the others to follow, he led them towards one of the adjoining hallways. “I have been made aware of your purpose here, as well as your identities. Particularly yours, Reverend Abraham.”

Stanway cast a pointed look Raimond’s way, implying he wasn’t particularly thrilled about the man’s presence here, before refocusing his attention on Scarlett.

“I will tell you that I have presided over this shrine for three decades, overseeing the training of numerous acolytes and priests within its walls. While I don’t intend to insinuate that your claims of a concealed section left behind by the venerable Deacon Emberwood are inconceivable, I am intimately familiar with these halls. I find it difficult to believe there is much here for you to uncover.”

“I understand your skepticism,” Scarlett said. “However, with all due respect, I believe you are mistaken in this instance.”

“Hmph. And why is that? What texts or evidence have you unearthed that makes you think you can challenge the knowledge accumulated by generations of custodians who have safeguarded this shrine since its inception?”

“While I am not prepared to divulge the precise source of my information for the time being, I can assure you that it is reliable. I anticipate that you will soon witness its validity firsthand.”

The shrine custodian’s eyes narrowed as she evaded his question. He glanced at Raimond, as if wondering whether the man would let the matter rest at that, but the blond priest showed no inclination of intervening. Eventually, Stanway just let out a dull scoff as they reached an aged wooden door at the end of a hallway. He gripped the handle and applied force, swinging the door open to unveil a dimly lit stairway descending below.

Now Raimond cleared his throat, raising his hands. “If you’ll allow me.” He clapped twice, and the entire stairway was illuminated by some unseen source.

That was certainly more practical than Scarlett’s typical approach to lighting up spaces. Maybe she should look into acquiring some sort of artifact or item with similar capabilities. Adalicia might have one she could buy, considering the wizard was experienced in lumomancy.

Stanway shot another look at Raimond before motioning for the stairway. “Then let us continue.”