Before Krahe was even halfway done reading its appraisal description, she had already slipped the Crimson Star ring onto her right index finger.
“I will put it down as claimed, then,” Firminus said. “I cannot say I do not understand. Given your apparent habit of punching up, it’s a perfect fit. Next, I believe this is yours.”
He took a box from the table, opening it for her to see. Within laid the burned-out shell of the prototype Black Sun Coupler, with the Shardkey of Heshmad Abbasi laid atop it.
“Given that you are in no state to switch voidkeys, I can either leave it in storage for the time being or have it sent directly to a safehouse, or perhaps a shrine, or my clinic. We can discuss that later.”
Returning the box, Firminus got up and made the table move so that he could properly sit behind it, across from Krahe. He got out an inkstone, brush, and began grinding an inkstick.
“Now, for my favourite part: Paperwork.”
“Spare me,” she groaned.
“Oh, but I am serious,” he said, facetiously. “The wheels of the ecclesiarchy may not turn as swiftly as we would like, but turn they do, and we’ve had six millennia to ensure the clockwork’s smooth operation! Come now, it won’t take long.”
A spark of anger flared in Krahe’s chest as her still somewhat groggy thoughts caught up to the ramifications of such paperwork.
“Wait, I thought I was an unlettered apostle. No records. Did you fuck me? Are you fucking me right now? Was I right all along?!” she demanded, baring her teeth in a manner entirely too much like a furious animal, veins popping on her forehead, down her neck, and even her right arm.
“No, no, calm down. There will be no records,” Firminus assured her, clearly having anticipated this reaction. “We will go through the paperwork, and then I will burn it right in front of you. The purpose is to go through the appropriate procedure, so that, if it ever becomes necessary, either of us may truthfully say that we did in fact do so — that at some point, the appropriate paperwork existed, and was then summarily destroyed to protect the identity of an unlettered apostle. I apologize for not making myself clearer. Now, let us begin with an unabridged full account of the raid. As much as you remember. We can take a break at any time.”
And so, Krahe got to talking, and a fair bit of time passed. Firminus didn’t write a word of it down. She made no attempt to embellish anything, presenting her experience of the raid as dryly and matter-of-factly as possible. A pained grin made itself known upon the grafter’s face when she got around to describing her experience with the Molting Tonic. Finally, once she was done, silence fell over the room for some time. She reached for her glass, which had been refilled twice over already, and lifted up her mask so she could drain it. If nothing else, at least ekarone juice still tasted the same. Firminus, meanwhile, took one of the forms off the top of his stack and began writing.
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“All things considered, it would be an understatement to only say that you suffered injuries in the line of service to the church," he said. "Obviously, it will be seen to that you receive appropriate care as part of compensation for service — beyond the care you have already received, that is. That was all the High Grafter’s personal resources. This entire facility is hers. Any official, church-provided care will come out of your monetary compensation, but it will also be significantly cheaper than if you had gone to a grafter yourself, and cheaper still factoring in hazard compensation — this especially refers to the unavoidable replacement of your lungs. Moreover, given the circumstances, there is justification for preventative care, that is to say, grafts specifically tailored to help prevent similar injuries in the future.”
“Why? I understand that I’m an unlettered apostle, but why the extra layers of special treatment?” Krahe questioned, already knowing the answer.
“It’s not,” Firminus shrugged. “The degrees of special treatment afforded to you are, thus far, well within the bounds of existing precedent. High Grafter Fidelia has decided that you are likely to be a valuable asset to the church in the future. I happen to agree. Therefore, all allowances that can be made, will be made. I have done the same for Aristedes, and others. You could, possibly, get all these allowances yourself, if you filed the appropriate paperwork. It would take significantly longer, and you would likely need to hire the services of an assistant clerk, but you could.”
“Alright, I get it. You’re just greasing the wheels for me. Though... I could swear you weren’t this talkative before.”
“It helps to distract the patient from the pain,” Firminus remarked, flatly. “There’s anesthetics coming into your mask, but as you can tell, they don’t do much. The Molting Tonic is still in your system. Won’t be for long, Zavesh be praised.”
With that, the grafter cheered up again, moving on: “Alright, let me give you shit for what you did with that voidkey. There’s good reason voidkeys of Fourth-order and higher are heavily restricted — a legitimate one, beyond just power control. Your current state is that reason. Even Third-orders have some of these issues to a limited extent, but the higher you go, the harder it gets to use one safely. And this one in particular… By Zavesh, the leverage ratio and cognitive strain factor, not to mention the extent of soul furnace modification. It’s a miracle you survived initial implantation, let alone that you held up long enough to use it in a fight. To start with, the implosive ignition creates resonant waves that react with the Liminal Coil — in the bad way. We can do some minor work on your Soul Furnace and adjust the Coil to fix that, possibly even harness the reaction to empower the Coil’s capabilities, but that’s not your biggest problem. See, normally, it takes a period of specialized training to acclimate to a higher-order voidkey, whereas you just shoved it in and started blasting full send. Your Astral Body will be fine — since you’re a greater pilgrim, you’ll acclimate well before too much spiritual damage can accumulate. Where you lack is the physical side.”