Vivi sat and waited, curious and maybe even apprehensive about the upcoming explanation. Learning more about the Fell Apostate hadn't been her goal coming to the Archbishop, but once that promising source of information had revealed itself, she and Rafael had obviously decided to pursue. In fact, she might have met with Augustine for that aspect alone. The Dragon King knew about the Twilight Celebrant, but possibly even he wasn't aware of the ritualist's more recent history.
Augustine frowned at his desk for a second longer, twisting his quill between his fingers.
"I am, in my role as overseer, privy to knowledge that not even all cardinals are," he began almost reluctantly. "Though if I speak honestly, what I tell you of now I learned far earlier. Back in the fires of my youth, when I first discovered the corruption in these halls and how deep that rot spread, I refused to leave a stone unturned. I raided our archives for evidence, for proof—for I'm not sure what. I found little of what I sought that day, but learned of… other horrors. I've told few this, but my crisis of faith did not come only from having the wool pulled from my eyes, from seeing the perversion and wickedness of my brothers. But from learning how endless the well of depravity runs, and how endless it has always run."
A heavy silence lingered.
"We can all agree that there is a special violation in hypocrisy and deception, in wolves wearing sheep's clothing. But one who revels in his monstrosity is not somehow less stained for the honesty. You inquire into one such man. Yet Guildmaster Rafael mentioned the Fell Apostate when offering explanations for the breach over Meridian—for you to be investigating further tells me something more has happened."
He glanced up from his scribbling, and Vivi knew he wanted her to elaborate. And yes, it was only fair that she extended trust of her own. No matter what hesitations she had about the man, she could take one fact for granted: the Archbishop would do what he thought was right.
"Prismarche was attacked," Vivi said. "The Fell Apostate opened a permanent gateway to the void. He's also known by another name, apparently: the Twilight Celebrant, and he belongs, or once belonged, to the Selrath-Kyn. An organization similar to Morningstar, from what I gather, but much older."
She hoped this wasn't knowledge Embralyne had offered in confidence—she didn't think so, though she doubted the dragon would want it spread either way. She trusted the Archbishop not to gossip.
Augustine sat back and digested her announcements with a grave expression. She wondered if she should have led into the reveals.
When he spoke at last, he addressed something she hadn't expected. "I thought you would ask why I didn't provide the information earlier," he said wryly. "The moment the Guildmaster first mentioned the Fell Apostate."
Vivi hesitated. The thought had flickered into her head, but she hadn't wanted to interrogate the Archbishop. She herself had underestimated how powerful the ritualist was, and how important he might be going forward. Perhaps Augustine had done the same.
"I'm sure you had your reasons."
Faint amusement tinted his voice. "Indeed, I did. I doubted that it would be useful for capturing him. I also didn't wish to share his blasphemies with the world, not even their concept. Some horrors are best left buried."
That's ominous, she thought.
"He's an experienced ritualist, and his most recent project inflicted mass soul damage across an entire city," she said. "So I can imagine."
His eyebrows rose at her words—'mass soul damage across an entire city.' Maybe he put together why, exactly, she'd come to him for help.
"I'm sure. Nevertheless." He cocked his head and studied her. "The Twilight Celebrant. Selrath-Kyn. I don't know these names."
"I didn't myself. It's an ancient organization, though I'm not sure how old. Or how old the Fell Apostate himself is. I was given only a brief description."
"Who revealed this to you?"
"I owe that person… discretion."
Augustine seemed disappointed, but not offended. "I see." He rubbed his mouth. Distracted by the conversation, he hadn't scratched at the papers in front of him for more than a minute. He'd probably been optimistic assuming he could work, given the topic. "Then as for what I do know about that creature."
He set his quill down and leaned back.
"Anselm of Oestering—an invented name, I have little doubt—joined as an acolyte to the High Sanctum more than four hundred years ago. A beastkin mage seeking a new path in life. A grown adult, though not elderly, and I understand that's changed little despite the centuries." Left unspoken was how he must have attained immortality of sorts… or perhaps an incredibly high level simply shielded him. "He was quiet and studious; he did what was asked of him, and was a quick learner, as the reports say." The Archbishop's volume didn't rise, but Vivi could tell he was growing angry as he spoke. "It was clear from the outset that he wished to learn the secrets of the divine, and pursued that goal with talent and dedication that many could only hope to match."
His jaw tightened.
"The heavens do not bestow their power only upon the deserving," he said, tone clipped. "A fact I struggle with to this day. So long as one connects to the divine in their own manner—through routine and effort—they may forge a path to channel the essence of something greater than themselves. Greater than us all."
Vivi felt herself growing interested for admittedly inappropriate reasons. She thought she understood the shape of what Augustine was revealing to her.
The Church and the Thaumaturgical Institute were separated for a good reason, despite both hosting mages of many disciplines. Priestesses and their variants used magic undoubtedly, and they even utilized spell circles… but tapping into divine energies allowed for not just circumventing foundational magical theory, but also empowering effects in great excess of what standard strategy permitted. Healing spells being the most prominent example.
Perhaps the Fell Apostate should be her main focus, but hearing one of the world's preeminent experts on divinity speak about this topic fascinated her. She leaned forward, unintentionally, out of curiosity.
"Indeed, the Church learned too late that the Fell Apostate had come seeking the secrets of our devotion without noble purposes. And he succeeded in foul abundance. For many years, he toiled in the shadows." His tone darkened. "Though for all I know, he was supported by the Church. Considering how much he accomplished, and for how long…"
He shook his head.
"Not out of mistrust, I will not speak on the details of that monster's experiments," he said. "But their purpose and shape, in case they benefit you through knowing his nature. His foundational pursuit was that he saw untapped potential in the divine."
"Because heavenly power mixes into mana without limit?" Vivi guessed, unable to help herself. "It's an infinite wellspring. I've wondered about that myself. He tried to exploit that? In what way?"
She realized her mistake a second late. Augustine's expression didn't turn unfriendly, but his eyes did narrow. He studied her with a level of forced calmness that almost had her panicking as she understood what her words might imply.
"Not that I've researched it myself, of course," she said in a hurry. "It's just an observation I made recently. It relates to the favors I have to ask." Naturally, she meant the Codex, and how divine classes interacted with it.
She winced, once again a second late, remembering that Rafael had told her not to phrase the Archbishop's help as a favor. She'd gotten distracted by fascinating magical concepts, as she always did.
"I've stayed away from divine energies as a whole," she expanded. "They're too—" She stopped herself from saying 'finicky and conditional.' She could see the man taking offense at her speaking about the power of the heavens in that way. Indeed, this mangling of tact was exactly why she hadn't wanted to visit the Archbishop to begin with.
"Outside my specialties," she finished lamely.
Whether her attempt at salvaging her inappropriate enthusiasm helped, she had no idea. Augustine's gaze remained steady and calm. Eventually, he responded.
"Indeed, the exploitation of the heavens was that monster's goal," he said, apparently choosing not to comment on Vivi's previous words. "A blasphemy unparalleled, even in the darkest records of the Church. His approaches were varied. He forged his own connection as the first venture; it was why he joined as an acolyte. But he attempted other… strategies… too. Early, he slew a bishop and enslaved her revenant, somehow maintaining the woman's bond in the process. A feat I hadn't known possible, and which disturbs me deeply to this day. And yet that was one of the least despicable of that man's inventions. I will not describe the others in detail, in either their methods or their result."
Vivi forcibly reined in her fascination, though her interest had only been stoked higher as the Archbishop spoke. She didn't know if her earlier comment had upset him. Obviously she didn't want to try usurping the heavens herself. She just found the concept… intriguing.
"It's useful information," Vivi said. "Thank you for telling me. I'm not sure if it's relevant to what's happening here, but…"
She trailed off as she considered. It was clear that the Fell Apostate involved himself with a number of magical atrocities. He'd certainly not been a principled man as the Twilight Celebrant. But if meddling with divine energies had been his most recent major pursuit, could she dismiss the idea that he still sought a way to exploit that source of power?
"…but I also won't rule out the possibility," she said. "Something about the void caught his eye, and I can invent plenty of reasons why. There's potential there, maybe more than even I can see. But I can't discount that he wants to mix those disciplines somehow. Or maybe use one to facilitate the other?" Her voice dropped into a murmur as she began making her own theories, unable to stop herself.
Incredible nullifying effects… divine energies… ways to exploit both in tandem? What would that look like? What had been the Fell Apostate's ultimate goal? Had he achieved it before discovery by the Church? Had he determined it impossible and given up? Did the void unlock new avenues to those previous goals, somehow?
Once more, she realized she shouldn't be inventing fresh blasphemies in front of an extremely zealous archbishop. Even if it were simply to 'view the problem how her enemy might,' she doubted he approved. She straightened and pushed the intrusive thoughts away.
The Archbishop was, as before, watching her with an inscrutable look.
"I'll keep that in mind," she repeated. "Thank you. Do you know anything about his history, or anything else that might be of use?"
"These records are old and scattered, and they focus mostly on the man's work. If you find the material crucial, perhaps I could convince the cardinals to allow you access." His tone became stern for the first time. "But some things are best left alone. Not even considered in the abstract. Sinful thoughts are not sinful actions, but entertaining wicked fantasies is condemnable in its own right. Would you not agree?"
Okay, he's definitely upset. She really should have saved the theorizing for later.
"Yes, I do," Vivi said carefully. "There are many branches of magic I refuse to touch, for obvious reasons."
Though, did she fully agree with the Archbishop? With the base statement, maybe. But the problem was twofold: she thought contemplating those topics in the abstract was fine, perhaps even necessary, and she also didn't consider divine energies sacred, somehow off-limits.
…which was the bigger problem. By definition they were sacred; they came from the heavens. She just didn't find the heavens worth so much respect, because she wasn't sure they existed in any functional sense.
Magic was just a tool. How it was used mattered. So of course she couldn't fully agree with Augustine.
But that's really not something to debate with a man who imprisoned himself for ten years because he didn't 'root out the Church's corruption' fast enough.
She wisely stayed silent. That was usually the best play with how easily she could put her foot in her mouth.
Eventually, Augustine nodded, willing to let the rest of the argument go unstated. "Of course, if there is ever a moment I am needed against that monster, you have my staff. It would be a great honor to bring the Fell Apostate to justice."
"I'll remember that."
The words weren't even empty: she really might call on him when dealing with the ritualist. While she could handle almost any magical problem herself, the fact that she couldn't tackle all of them was exactly why she'd come to the Archbishop in the first place.
"Now, then," Augustine said. "That is that. Your personal request, and a mission—I am needed somewhere? Please, explain."