The Oblivious Saint Can't Contain Her Power: Forget My Sister! Turns Out I Was the Real Saint All Along! Volume 3 [Parts 1 to 6] by Almond

Author:Almond
Language: eng
Format: epub

(Carolina)

The days passed, and the upcoming assembly of the Malcosian nobility drew ever closer. On one of those days, I found myself in the Garnet Palace, performing my final perusal of the documents that had been drawn up for the forthcoming meeting. Ed and I were seated at a stately, elongated table, meticulously examining Teodore’s proposal. The architect of the plan, Teodore himself, absolved of such a task by virtue of having written it all in the first place, lingered nearby, brewing tea.

As I concluded my review, I turned to address Teodore. “The proposal is comprehensive, but there is one detail that escapes me: On the eve of Noel, exactly how many sacred flames is the Saint expected to ignite? It is implausible to presume her presence in each country simultaneously, is it not?”

Teodore looked downright befuddled, as if this was a detail he’d simply forgotten. It seemed to my surprise that he had forgotten. I had to remind myself every so often that despite his usual preternatural precision, Teodore was only human. His lapse was likely more indicative of his extreme weariness than it was of any form of neglect.

He paused, lost momentarily in contemplation. “Indeed, you make a valid point. It would be not only exhaustively tiresome but utterly impracticable for her to visit each participating nation within such a limited frame of time. Yes, to eschew the embarrassment of arriving mid-celebration, it would be prudent to determine a more feasible itinerary for her travels prior to the festivities.”

With that, he lapsed into silence, absently serving us the tea he had brewed, before sinking into a plush sofa nearby, deep in thought. Meanwhile Ed, seemingly indifferent to the impromptu brainstorming session unfolding right before his eyes, contentedly reached for another chocolate-studded cookie. It seemed he had no intention of involving himself in intricacies that fell outside his domain of expertise.

We made eye contact. “Lina, try these cookies, they’re delicious,” he insisted, the offer slightly incongruous when accompanied by his usual stony expression.

“O-Oh?” I replied, a little taken aback. “Well, then I suppose I shall.” With a nod, I reached for a cookie. Despite feeling a twinge of guilt for indulging while Teodore toiled over the Faith Council’s success, I couldn’t resist. I eagerly savored the treat.

My, they really are good. The doubled richness of the cocoa—both in the dough itself and in the fragments of chocolate contained within—created a luxurious melding of flavors. “You’re right, these are exceptional,” I remarked, my palate delighted. “Where did these come from?”

“Do you remember the butter cookies we had at the high pontiff’s?” he replied. “You seemed quite fond of them, so I inquired with His Holiness for the name of the baker. Just recently, I sent someone to procure a selection of their offerings.” His expression softened ever so slightly. “I’m glad you like these too.”

Edward Ruby Martinez. For all the criticism the man received for his lack of awareness, his attentiveness towards me was undeniable, as was his thoughtfulness. In

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