As if a mere mention of her was a summoning ritual, Clarissa strode onto the grass field. Though she apologised with the expected courtesy, the decisiveness to her step told him Clarissa’s commitment to her goal had been unphased since they had first met. Each word she spoke was with intention - an admirable, difficult and terrifying trait at the same time.

Were he to be completely honest about it, Raimund would describe his relation with Clarissa as complicated. She’d been an undeniable part of his summer adventures in Derdriu; memories he wouldn’t trade for his life. Both shared a close friendship with Jorah, but when it was just the two of them, the air between Clarissa and Rai could grow thick enough to cut it with a knife. In the interest of the relation between Duke Gloucester and the Edmunds’ heir, he had decided to call Clarissa a friend. Rai shared this goal with Clarissa’s father, Margrave Beaufort von Edmund, whose penmanship Raimund had grown well acquainted with from numerous apology letters. If small expressions of familiarity helped encourage Ludger Gloucester to act with at least a modicum of grace towards Clarissa, Raimund didn’t mind if he had to play up their companionship in public. 

Raimund nodded towards their ash blonde classmate, as to direct Clarissa’s attention to the girl when she was about to speak. In stark contrast to Clarissa, Isolde Ordelia looked to shrivel up further with every word that came out. “Wonderful to make your acquaintance, Isolde.” Raimund lifted her demure hand above his and mirrored her bow in kind. “Borrowing Clarissa’s earlier words, I look forward to the honour of working alongside you.” He added, deliberately leaving out the part about melding their differences. After all, Raimund was keenly aware of the tensions between houses Gloucester and Ordelia. He did not know how Isolde would interpret such a sentiment coming from him - but made a mental note to find out later.

In his periphery, the other girl had been itching to speak up. Imogen her casual mannerisms were both a surprise and an unexpected wave of relief that washed over ‘Rai-Rai’. Her question made him chortle. “Wyverns are proud creatures. If they could smell their kin being served in the cafeteria, we would soon find ourselves on their plates instead.” Raimund explained with a gleeful smirk. “Not to worry, you’re not missing out. Wyvern meat is quite chewy and hardly nutritional. They’re predators after all.”

Finally, Raimund turned to Clarissa. “Ah yes, Derdriu. That takes me back.“ He reminisced, then his eyes briefly wandered to her posture, then the scabbard attached to Clarissa’s belt. “Have you picked up swordplay? I can tell by your stance. Balanced, yet limber. It suits you well.”