86 - Reliquary Pt. 2 [Cherno]

The strange symbols immediately surrounding her lit up with a milky-white glow.

She couldn’t put together an oath on the spot, so she closed her eyes and focused on the convictions for which she had fought and died once already. To master both herself and every tool in her reach, to inure herself from attacks of the exact sort as the one which had killed her and the one which had forced her into this situation. To see the likes of Whitestone purged from the world, and to visit the same fate upon any who might think to follow in their footsteps.

“I swear to master myself and all the power in my reach, to become an unimpeachable paragon against wretchedness…”

Krahe felt a strange, intangible resistance, but it gave way.

“I swear to excise this world’s evils with a flaming sword, that they might never take root again…”

The resistance returned, this time stronger, but once more it gave way.

“I swear to make of myself a terror in the night for those who would make of this world one as hideous as that which from which I have come…”

The third time, it seemed as though a metaphorical wall, but the more Krahe lingered on the convictions and emotions which had driven her, the more the mental dam eroded, until eventually, it washed away like a sandcastle beneath the force of a tsunami.

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The purpose of this ritual was twofold:

Firstly, as a means of screening out would-be infiltrators in a way that bypassed any anti-appraisal measures. Anyone with ulterior motives or untrue convictions would give themselves away in one way or another.

Secondly, it was a means of measuring a would-be apostle’s strength of conviction. The church couldn’t afford to hand out high-grade relics to apostles that might just run off with them, or to ones that might never progress past the initial stages of apostleship.

Thus, this system had been established, one which funneled the cognitive pressure of a would-be apostle’s oath and put it up against barriers of increasing resilience. The attempt was reflected visibly on the three channels between the central ring and the Three Saints, starting with left, then right, then the middle.

The light flowed towards the first saint without ever stalling, lighting up his pedestal and causing him to raise his head in his meditative slumber, his eyes remaining shut. If a prospect got one of the Three Saints to respond, they were qualified for most relics, but anything truly exceptional would be out of their reach until they proved themselves.

The light continued towards the second saint, briefly slowing down before reaching him with apparent ease. Two saints meant that the prospect could theoretically start off with a higher-order relic, something from a Saint that actually stood out in some significant way.

All three saints responding would mean that the prospect could be given a relic of a major saint - could. Casus had been one of these exceptional souls. The problem with such greater relics was that they were often rather specific and demanding of the user, a problem perfectly exemplified in Casus himself. In theory it would ensure that rare resources would only go to those with the wherewithal to make use of them. In practice it often placed undue strain on apostles when a relic of more straightforward nature would have been better. Fidelia made sure to make prospects aware of this.

Slowly, the light began to flow towards the Third Saint, halting at the halfway point. It stayed there, the intensity of the central ring’s glow intensifying to a blinding brightness, until, at once, it broke through and the Third Saint jolted into an upright sitting position. Even now, all three remained perfectly tranquil in their meditation, eyes closed.

Three emotionless voices spoke as one: “Thine oath has been heard. Thine conviction is… Absolute.”

The Three Saints fell silent, dipping their heads once more.

The sigils’ light died out.

Silence reigned over the chamber.

“My my. I see why you were so certain, Aristedes,” Fidelia remarked. Despite possessing ironclad self-control, she couldn’t smother the faint shudder of excitement that coloured her words. “You may remove yourself from the central ring now.”

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Upon hearing Fidelia speak, Krahe opened her eyes. She wasn’t entirely sure whether what had just transpired was good, but she certainly hoped so.

“I presume I pass, then?” she asked, looking at the High Grafter.

“Very much so,” Fidelia said. “There shall be no restrictions on the relics available to you. Now it remains to determine which of our relics can physically fit you, and for which ones you may have a heightened affinity. I would suggest that you do not disregard the relics of the Outer and Inner Vaults, as those of the Sacred Vault can be exceedingly troublesome. Should you seek a surpassingly durable spine that accelerates your reactions with no peculiarities, an Inner Relic would be your best choice.”

Firminus chimed in: “The first part should be straightforward, as I need only cross-reference your measurements with the records.”

“Let us leave the saints to their meditation. Come,” Fidelia said, walking ahead and past the middle saint, opening the door behind him. Beyond was a sizable vault, with renditions of various relic grafts displayed in front of smaller, three-segmented vault doors lining the walls. In the center stood a shelf with tomes and scrolls, a reading desk at either end. The room was not cramped by any means, maintaining the same spacious layout as each preceding chamber. A full-size door waited at the other side of the room, presumably leading to another vault; assuming each three-segmented door concealed one relic, this vault couldn’t hold more than fifteen pieces. The records were categorized by symbols that Krahe couldn’t quite make a sense of, but Firminus clearly understood them given how readily he went over to the furthermost shelf and took from it a hefty tome, splaying it out on one of the reading tables, handling it without worry.