Vivi suspected the Archbishop already knew why she'd come to him. Her comment earlier about a city suffering soul damage didn't seem like the kind of thing he would mentally gloss over, regardless of whether he had addressed it then. She had also stated that the Fell Apostate had attacked Prismarche. It didn't take a genius to put the two data points together.
Still, her previous misstep made her doubly determined to get to the point. "The Fell Apostate orchestrated a ritual above Prismarche to tear open a portal to the void. Though I don't know the specifics of how he managed that—"
She stopped herself in the nick of time from adding 'yet.' There were seven huge bone shards locked up in Vanguard's vault which she was actively studying. She wanted to know how the Fell Apostate had accomplished what he had. But given her previous discussion with the Archbishop, he might find the idea of such research… upsetting.
"—they suffered soul damage on a city-wide scale," she said, self-correcting. "While the worst outcome was avoided, the citizens there were hurt. I'm not particularly capable at healing, so I'll need your assistance."
Augustine took her explanation in stride. "I would say that I'm flattered by your overestimation of my abilities, but I doubt you've done any such thing. What role do I fill in these plans?"
"The largest one. I have an artifact that amplifies spellcasting capabilities. The burden will be almost entirely on you."
Augustine's eyebrows rose. "Immensely powerful artifacts do exist, Lady Sorceress," he said slowly. "Wondrous items that might double or even triple a mage's channeling power. But to cure a city of soul damage? I would need more than three, or ten, or a hundred times the power that I currently possess. Soul damage is invasive. Delicate to heal. Never mind on such a scale." His brow furrowed. "And yet I also know I've said nothing that could be a surprise to you."
"Yes. You're right."
She hesitated. As much as she wanted to be direct with Augustine, dumping the Codex on his desk with no warning would be unwise. Rafael had outright advised her not to. She had noticed how menacing the book was—it was themed after the first Cataclysm. An aesthetic the Archbishop seemed like he might be especially sensitive to.
So, some lead-up was in order.
"I received a Quest reward upon reforming Vanguard," she began. "It allows me to store my own mana, and another mage can tap into that reservoir."
She let the man digest the statement. While priests and mages saw the world—and magic—differently, they operated under many similar restrictions. Priests couldn't lend their magical strength to another person; that simply wasn't how mana worked.
And while Augustine was old and experienced, and thus knew more about the world than most—and must have seen 'impossibilities' before—that depth of knowledge could easily work against him. Someone so well-versed in his field would always be surprised to see established fact suddenly overturned. Perhaps more than novices.
"Is that so?" he eventually said. "An item that allows the sharing of mana. An incredible artifact indeed."
"I also confirmed that priests can use it without issue," she continued. "Divine energies supply themselves to the claimed mana just as naturally as if they were pulled from your own core, at least so far as I understand the process. Hollis, from the Roving Justicar's party, helped me discover that. I'm not sure if you two know each other."
"We do," Augustine said, though idly, his thoughts obviously occupied with the Codex's nature. "You received this simply for reforming your guild?"
"Yes."
He appraised her quietly for a long moment, face becoming, as it had many times before, hard to read. "Then you are the favored daughter of the heavens indeed."
She was briefly lost for words. Was there some sort of implication in that statement? Either way, she could hardly disagree with the sentiment. If the heavens were real, then what was she if not the System's chosen champion against the void? And the System was heavenly by almost all interpretations.
As it should be, given what it is.
"In any case," Augustine said when the silence stretched a second longer than was comfortable, "this is great news. I consider it an honor to purge the misdeeds of that foul creature, and to heal the undeserving bystanders." He rubbed his chin. "What is your other request?"
"Similar in nature, but smaller," Vivi said. "My butler's student has a sick brother. Blighted."
That one word explained what it needed to. "Incurable," he remarked. "Except perhaps with the Sorceress's mana, wielded by a healer. I see."
Well. She still debated the claim of 'incurable.' Some creativity mixed with enormous amounts of mana and magical expertise could solve almost anything. But 'almost' wasn't 'all,' and she hadn't confirmed any of her other theories. So maybe the Archbishop was right.
Vivi said, "That's correct. I would be incredibly grateful if you could help me."
"With how much the world owes the Sorceress," he said dryly, "what self-respecting man would deny the request? Or any request of yours?" The rhetorical question made her immensely uncomfortable, almost enough for her to show it visibly. "And more to the point," he said, "I would ask you if I were allowed to pursue such potential. If Blight can be healed…"
He trailed off for a long moment, then shook his head.
"Then it should be. A worthy venture on its own merit. It would give me time to acclimate to the artifact before the presumably more challenging task as well. Even with your mana, a city of damaged souls will be a substantial problem. To say the very least." He nodded. "Well, then. Might I see it?"
In another body, she would've grimaced in anticipation. She supposed she'd given as much prep time as she could.
"Thank you," she said.
"Think nothing of it."
Holding a hand out, she mentally delved into her inventory and found the item in question.
The Codex of the Hollowed Sun dropped into her grip.
Made of some unknown, polished black stone and marked with a hollowed-out silver sun on its front, the Codex intimidated by appearance alone. But the sight of it held a distant second place to what her other senses warned her of by being in the book's vicinity. Saffra herself had said that she could feel its hungry aura, and Vivi assumed the Archbishop was more in tune with his supernatural intuitions than a novice mage.
Indeed, Augustine stiffened as he felt the Codex's presence fill the room. His lips pressed into a white line as he scrutinized the book. A long moment passed, with Vivi starting to grow concerned, before he finally turned his gaze up.
His tone was flat. "A quest reward?"
"Yes. It wasn't harvested from the Reaper, or any other Cataclysm." Even if he hadn't assumed that, the idea might have crossed his mind in the future. "It's safe; I'm completely convinced. I even let my apprentice handle it."
She had meant the statement as an assurance, but Augustine's expression shifted toward incredulity. "You let your apprentice wield that… creation?"
"After thorough inspection," she said defensively. "I'm not sure why the heavens decided to style it this way, or why it feels like it does, but it was provided in a Quest. For that matter, it played a significant role in helping defend Meridian."
That had the man's dubiousness fading. He even seemed to grow abashed at his previous reaction. "Of course. My apologies, Lady Sorceress. May I?"
Vivi gave him the book. He turned it over and studied the smooth black material—and the designs etched onto it—for nearly a minute. Or perhaps he was studying what his other senses told him. He opened the tome next and peered at the first page, though it showed only the simple rune for Galdrust. Finally, he closed the cover and offered the Codex back.
"I find myself both apprehensive and fascinated," Augustine said. "A dangerous combination, in my experience. But let's not dally. There's a city that needs healing, and a young man. We start with him?"
"If you could be so kind." She stood. "I'll take us there."
Getting to the main event relieved her. Every sentence exchanged with the Archbishop threatened a war between the Sorceress and the Church. Not that she actually believed that, and it would take more than putting her foot in her mouth to escalate to such an extent, but she would still much rather hurry things along.
She held a hand out. The Archbishop accepted, and Vivi warped them to her manor. They appeared inside a hallway in the living quarters. Matters had been arranged so that the involved parties were aware beforehand, naturally, and thus Elise was standing by a tall wooden door, straight-backed and impressively unflustered despite the abrupt arrival of two of the more important people in the world.
The maid curtsied to them without so much as batting an eye at the teleportation spell. "My lady. Archbishop."
The Archbishop looked around, oriented himself for a second, and faced Elise with a smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, dear. Please call me Augustine."
She kept her gaze down. "As you ask. I am Elise."
"The young woman with a sick brother, I presume?"
"That is me."
"I see. Can you take us to him?"
Elise curtsied again. If she felt nervous, she didn't show it outwardly.
Through the door was, of course, Remy. Vivi had met the teenager briefly. The process of making him a recruit of Vanguard had been rushed, but she'd had a Quest that needed finishing.
The dark-haired boy jolted to his feet upon their striding in. He didn't have a decade of poise training to lean on like his sister did, so though he didn't gawk, he did something close with the way his eyes widened.
During their first meeting—before Elise had revealed to him who Vivi was—the boy had given off an air of resolute stubbornness that made for an admirable contradiction to the gauntness of his figure. Most adventurers, or the physical ones at least, exuded a sense of vitality. A prerequisite to relying on one's body for a living. Remy was frail and feeble at first glance in a way that she'd never seen on someone presenting an adventurer's badge.
Normally, the boy wore bandages across the limb, but his skin was bare now. The signature maiming of the Reaper of the Lost Harvest—Blight—manifested as thick red criss-crosses spread throughout the exposed skin, like deep scars. The magic inside the wound, though thousands of times weaker than what the Reaper's scythe could have carved into living flesh, still felt angry and puckered to her senses, no matter the treatment Elise had provided to him. The magic was complex, woven into him so intricately that she knew for a fact tugging on it wrong would kill the boy.
Only after a moment of stunned silence—despite having been informed in advance who would be coming to help—did Remy jerk into a low bow. Vivi almost told him that he didn't need to, as she had insisted during their first meeting, but then she remembered the sign of respect was only appropriate for the Archbishop. He stood on ceremony more than she. As everyone in high society did, even retired and easygoing figures like Aeris.
"Archbishop Augustine," Remy managed. "It's an honor, Your Lordship."
"Please, be at ease," the priest replied with a smile. "Who am I to demand formalities, when the Sorceress does not?" He chuckled, which Remy returned, if with evident nervousness.
"I still can't guarantee anything," Vivi told the teenager, "so I don't want to get your hopes up. But I feel strongly that this'll work. And I have other ideas to pursue if I must."
She gestured at the bed, indicating for the boy to take a seat. He all but scrambled over to do so, which made her feel strange. She experienced a flash of appreciation for how Saffra had never treated her with such obvious… fear? That wasn't the right word. Or maybe it was.
Elise had posted herself at the foot of the bed, and despite the maid's training, Vivi could read the tautness in her posture. She inclined her head at the woman. She hoped it conveyed some measure of 'I promise it'll be fine.' But then again, this was uncharted territory, so she couldn't truly guarantee that.
"Not to hurry anything along," Vivi said, "but the Archbishop is a busy man, and we have another task to see to after this." She addressed Remy: "Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be?" the boy hedged. He twitched. "I mean, yes, Lady Vivisari. I'm ready."
Vivi summoned the Codex and held it out to the Archbishop. The man accepted, studying the book briefly before looking up at Remy, then at Elise, and back to the artifact.
"Is there anything I should be aware of?" Augustine asked her. "Beyond the sharing of mana?"
"It's nothing more than a reservoir, and I have little advice when it comes to healing, of course. It's in your hands. I trust you."
She briefly considered explaining her contingency plans—because she did have them—but voicing those backups would just make the brother and sister even more anxious. So she stayed silent.
Then she remembered an important tidbit that had fallen by the wayside.
"I have been told the experience is jarring, though," she said to Augustine. "There's a substantial amount of mana stored in the first page, and you'll feel its presence when you link." She'd been stockpiling heavily, and while it would be many weeks if not months before the Codex was filled completely, she'd made good progress. "Take as much as you need, and from other pages too, if you must." Though, realistically, Blight would be tricky to peel away as much as it would take large quantities of mana.
Elise's hands tightened in her apron, but she didn't voice whatever concerns she might be feeling. Vivi tried to give her another reassuring look, but she suspected her naturally flat expression didn't help much. Elise hopefully sensed the sentiment if nothing else.
"Very well," Augustine said. He flipped the Codex open and seemed to brace himself. At least that meant he was taking Vivi's warning seriously. "I will begin."