Skeptically: "And what do you propose to do about it?" 

"Well--you said he's not a good influence. But I can be." 

Flatly: "He's older than you, and involved with things it's not a good idea for a girl like you to witness, let alone be a part of." 

She feigns mild shock. "I don't hang around while he's doing things, Prelate!" 

Grimly: "Even so." 

Hhhhhhhhh what does he even think he's going to accomplish with this conversation. 

"I understand, Prelate. I'll heed your wisdom." 

"See that you do." 

What a deeply unpleasant man. 

It's so tempting to let her face drop into the derisive expression she wants to make and stick her tongue out at him as soon as his back is turned, but they are in public and Hulrun is not a complete incompetent in terms of gathering information; he would absolutely find out about it. 

Obviously, she does not, in fact, heed his "wisdom." She does complain about it to Daeran, a few days later. 

That's hilarious. Like, Daeran is also sympathetic, but that's hilarious. 

That's fair but also she is going to stick her tongue out at him about it. 

"By the way, I heard tell of a boar in the forest that was causing some trouble..." 

"Your sense of humor hasn't improved since you were twelve. Let's do it."

Prelate Hulrun decides to confront her about it, because of course he does. 

"You went out to kill a boar with Count Arendae." 

Oh boy.

"...Yes? The boar was causing problems. He offered to help deal with it. I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth..." 

Hulrun grimaces. "I don't think his motives for doing so were particularly pure." 

"Well--that's possible, but impure motives cause fewer problems than boars that wander too close to human settlements." 

Hulrun hmphs skeptically. "It's still not a good idea for you to spend so much time with him." 

She is seriously considering suggesting to Daeran that he find some non-magical itching powder and spiriting it into Hulrun's clothes. Not, like, very seriously, but some. 

"I don't know if I can avoid it, Prelate, if the alternative is letting his spells go entirely to waste instead of only mostly," she murmurs with faked regret, spreading her hands helplessly. 

"If you can't," he says flatly, "then I may have to ask your mother to assist you." 

Flames flare up Lucette's face, overtaking her ears and eyes, leaving her unable to process any audiovisual input over the crackling of her own rage. 

How dare he. How dare this terrible burning-people-alive man involve her parents in this--threatening to twist them against her best friend--

She wants to make a list of every person he's ever needlessly killed, every cultist who was burned over the course of minutes instead of quickly and cleanly done in with a sword, and rub his nose in it like a misbehaving little puppy. 

Hulrun Shappok is the greatest counter-argument to Iomedae being a goddess worth worshipping that Lucette has ever encountered.