"Sir Hierophant. May Her light shine on you," Mattheus greeted in turn.
"Her light shines on you, your highness, on this auspicious day of your birth."
Andreas chuckled by Mattheus's side. "Homer, I see you are joining the celebratory spirit," the Master Strategist remarked over the priest's choice of drink being something alcoholic for once.
"It is a day worth celebrating, Lord Andreas," the priest chortled good-naturedly.
"It is indeed. Kolokithokeftedes?" Andreas offered the plate of zucchini fritters he swiped from a passing servant to Mattheus. The thirty-year-old took a fried dough ball himself by a toothpick, popping it into his mouth after dipping it in some tzatziki. "You must not have had a chance to eat yet, Young Master."
Mattheus begrudgingly took one of the appetizers in his hand before refocusing on Priest Spyros. There was only so long Nikolas could be distracted by the marquess, after all.
