Nearing the tail end of the sermon, Raimund found he’d hardly paid mind to any of the archbishop’s words. The scriptures had been required reading in house Gloucester and the archbishop was animated by passion as he spoke - but neither his enthusiasm nor the attendees clinging to his words seemed to make him feel part of the crowd. Even if marked by a crest, it did anything but. Rai wistfully remembered his early days in his household: memories he’d push away with drawing up a mental task list for planning.
He’d already arranged the music, but the space and catering would be more challenging. As Rai went over the options, Rai heard chatter around him indicating the sermon was over. Holding in a sigh of relief, he made himself scarce as he made his way back to the bridge. Places like these made it difficult to even paint a smile on his face, let alone a genuine one. Hopefully his presence alone would have been enough, without the need for paying the goddess further lip service.
As the professors and students dispersed, Rai found himself in the middle of the dining hall, task list in mind. It was empty this time of day, with only a few passers-through. His eye was drawn by a girl close to his age coming out of the kitchen, untying her brown hair as she circled around the counter.
“How terribly rude of me.” Raimund saw a chance to employ a mixture of the tricks taught to him by Jorah and his own upbringing. “I cannot believe I didn’t as much as introduce myself in class.” He approached the girl, feigning embarrassment as he planted his forehead in his palm. “Raimund Kent, please forgive my earlier ignorance.”
“I-I’m not a student here, I-” The bewildered girl stammered, though Rai swiftly interrupted her with practiced eloquence.
“Surely you jest, your elegance betrays your noble bearing. Please, grace me with your name.”
Her cheeks flustered, and she pulled onto the apron she was still wearing as if to make a point. “I am just helping ma in the kitchen.”
Rai brought his fingers to his chin and narrowed his eyes as if to scrutinize her. “No, surely.” He mused for a moment. “It appears I was mistaken, my apologies if my assumptions brought any discomfort. It is just… The way you carry yourself is so striking, miss…”
“A-anabel, lord Kent.”
“Please, lord Kent is my father. My friends call me Rai.” Raimund made a modest bow and slipped a wink. “As it happens, Anabel, I am throwing a party this evening - a true Leicester experience. We have one of the alliance’ greatest musicians, a dancing contest, esteemed guests of noble and common birth alike. Yet I find myself in a conundrum, I have nothing to serve my guests. I was hoping-”
“- You were hoping to rope my daughter into doing your work for you with your little sweet-talk!” A short, middle-aged woman with the same brown hair as Annabel shouted at Raimund, whose neckhairs shot right up.
“Not the work, I was just hoping to -” Rai turned around, but was once more interrupted.
“You’re on the church’ grounds here, you’re on the same foot as the rest of us.” The woman snapped back, as she put herself between Raimund and her daughter.
“Then let me prove it.” Raimund met her glare head-on. “I will be the one to cook.”
The woman shook her head. “A noble brat getting his hands dirty? Don’t make me laugh.” But Raimund did not flinch.
“I will have you know, my two-fish saute is no joke.”
Her brow furrowed and her glare sharpened, as if daggers poking at a facade. “... We’re some hands short for dinner.” She let up, with some hesitation in her voice. “If you can put your hands where your mouth is, I’ll let you borrow the kitchen when we’re done.”
“Consider it done.” Raimund forwent the usual bow and rolled up his sleeves. “Where do I start?”
Wiping the sweat of his brow as he could hear his own stomach grumble, Raimund could already see the first students leaving the dining hall while he hadn’t even eaten yet. The chef hadn’t exaggerated when she mentioned they were a couple hands short as the first day of school was as busy as a holiday in the dining hall.
“Uh, Rai.” He heard Anabel’s voice pique up besides him. “Ma wants to talk to you, she’s in the back.”
Rai sighed. Even if he had held up his end of the bargain, there was hardly any time left before the party. He certainly didn’t look forward to explaining all of this to his classmates, but alas. “Thank you, Anabel. I’ll be right there.” He forced a smile, though it definitely looked less genuine than any of his usual theatrics.
He didn’t know if his mind was playing tricks on him but when Raimund entered the storage room, he swore he could smell plum tarts. The chef, Hannah, had her back turned towards him as she finished packing something up.
“You called, chef.” Raimund announced his arrival - in the short time he’d worked he’d traded in his manners for a more common choice of words. “Work’s all done, after the dishes I’ll be out of your hair.”
Hannah looked over her shoulder, though not without prejudice. “I can’t believe you didn’t complain or give up.” She broke a short silence.
“My word wouldn’t mean much if I did.”
Hannah shook her head. “Forget about the dishes, Rai. Go take a bath, you can’t receive any guests smelling like fish. Tell me where I can tell Anabel to deliver these.” She stepped aside, clearing the view of a small box filled with sweets. Raimund’s eyes widened at the realisation his nose hadn’t lied to him.
“My dorms will be fine, I can hardly clear out a classroom at this hour.” Raimund managed not to stammer. “Oh and could you please tell Anabel one more thing, I’d like her to consider herself invited.”
“Hands off my daughter, Rai.” Hannah scowled at him. “Promise me that and I’ll let her know.”
“... Of course.” Raimund took a step back. “Thank you, chef.”
“Get out of here, Rai.”
With a shortened variant of his habitual bow, Raimund left the storage room, the kitchen and the dining hall - only remembering to take off his hair net as he left it. Nothing of this had gone according to plan - but when ends well alls well, this experienced would make for a much better story.
