File Defragmentation

With all of her personal effects and spoils tucked under her working arm or into her clothes where possible, Nahida began her inhuman sprint back north to the castle.

With all of the excess power, she feels that pushing her speed further is well within her capabilities. She will return to the castle. She will return to Isaac.

With this thought, the Bixite catalyst surges, and the iridescent energy flows over her legs. Her speed redoubles and her body blurs through the movements.

The journey back takes just under two hours, even with a stop along the way.

Nahida runs the stretch of road north. She passes through the farmlands where she aided the farmers against the abyssal flower. There is a large group of armed guards barricading the road, and several robed individuals with staves. Some were wearing hats.

She saw them quite a ways down the road, skidding to a stop as she saw several of them taking hostile positions when they noticed her approaching. She leaves quite a trail in the road as she does.

Nahida sees guards hold their spears towards her, and one or two of the robed people do the same with their staves. The staves they hold are not as ornate as the one Alfred has.

She stays still. These people are in an elevated state, potentially emotional. Sudden movements may trigger an adverse reaction. Cooperation with their requests may be the most effective way to deescalate the situation. She still has a surplus of charge remaining, even after the extreme movement. Delaying her return for a short time would not compromise her directives.

It is difficult to gauge their states in these dim conditions, Nahida’s eyes were not made for low-light conditions. She studies what information she can from their torchlight.

She observes that the farmers that were afflicted by the abyssal masses are still present. They seem to be receiving treatment from those with the staves. One of the staff wielders stays by the afflicted. A warm glow radiates from the staff, a glow that seems to mitigate the effects of and reduce the size of the abyssal masses.

Nahida estimates that this is some form of accelerated chemotherapy, suggesting that these abyssal masses are akin to malignant masses. The masses match the appearance of some tumors, she notes. She therefore estimates that these staves are a kind of medical equipment, and the robed individuals are medical professionals.

One of them calls out to her, a woman. “Identify yourself!”

Nahida bows politely. “I am Nahida, a Nahi 4 model Ellison Medical Assistant.”

“What… medical… Ellison?”

The other staff-wielder next to her, a young man, lowers his staff. “A medical assistant… if what you say is true, we could use a practitioner about now.”

Nahida nods. “I will aide however I am able.”

The woman looks Nahida over. “Is that… Bixite?”

“Yes. It is a sample of high purity.”

“Where did you get that?”

“I unearthed it from the Godfall crater.”

The woman thinks a moment. “Nahida, was it? Would you be willing to part with that Bixite? It has the ability to neutralize the abyssal infection.”

“I would be willing to, but I also require an amount of it to maintain my active power.”

“If you could part with one or two shards, that would be more than enough.”

“Very well. In exchange, I request information.”

An exchange is made. Nahida learns how to treat abyssal infection. In the process, she also learns of magic, mana, and catalysts.

Nahida uses her own catalyst to cast a newly learned spell, Divine Light. It is a spell taught by the Church to all that stand on the front lines against the Abyss. It’s a weak, basic healing spell, but the light it emits repels and destroys the abyss. Casting spells eats into her power supply a great deal more than movement does, approximately five times as much.

She also learns of the Healing Church, an organization devoted to the suppression of the Abyss and to healing the injured. Their healers travel across the Conference as neutral parties, and almost universally wear the white and blue healing robes and wield staves. The sort of catalyst used by Nahida is more typical of a sorcerer than a healer.

Once she finishes helping the healers clear the abyssal infection, she’s consumed an entire day’s worth of charge on casting a basic spell. She determines that unless she can secure a more efficient or more abundant power source, she should refrain from excessive spellcasting.

The remaining trip is uneventful. When she arrives at the castle, she retraces her steps back to Ellen’s quarters. The guards outside are wary of her, but after a bit of explanation, they let her through.

She enters to find that Ellen and Isaac are fast asleep together. Ellen has her hand over Isaac’s chest, and she holds a bright golden feather in place.

Nahida frowns slightly at this very unprofessional display.

Though, she thought, perhaps this is a form of healing magic.

Regardless, Nahida was now present, meaning she could provide more vigilant watch for Isaac’s well-being. Ellen was human, after all, and only as old as Isaac. She, too, needed rest.

Their talk could happen when daylight arrived. Nahida takes her place at the bedside and settles in. She places one hand on her lap… and thinks about the condition of the other. Her defensive abyssal suppression maneuver had caused significant self-damage.

Unless she could find someone to perform repairs and maintenance, she would have to be more reserved in her suppression response. She recalled Alfred mentioning dwarven artificers and elven lords in reference to golems. Perhaps she could find one to repair her arm.

While Nahida considered his words, Alfred had returned to the Healing Church. Alfred needed answers, and this was the place to find them. Alfred stepped through the moonlit cathedral to the stairs at the back.

Alfred descended the steps and stopped at the archive floor. He was certain there was no precedent for Isaac’s summoned condition. Regardless if there was or not, it’s happened now. If there were any answers, they would be in the archives of the Healing Church’s grand cathedral.

Alfred stepped into the archive.

There are no candles within, the fire is too much of a liability. light is produced by low-quality Bixite shards, unfit for spell casting. They aren’t as bright or readily available as candles, and the blue glow was said to give long-time scholars and archivists headaches, but they lasted longer, and were the mandate of the church.

The claustrophobic scroll stacks and shelves of the grand cathedral’s archives are a comfort to few, Alfred included. Although, to call them shelves and scroll stacks is generous. They are almost universally repurposed wine racks. Some pockets still contain forgotten vintages.

The air is dry, protective magic keeps all else out of the archives. There is sparse dust, and the ever-present fibrous odor of the countless treatises, manuscripts, documents, records, and journals hangs statically in the air.

Several of these pages hadn’t seen the hands of mortals in as long as Alfred had been alive, but the records he came for tonight are ones that he had become quite familiar with. He knows exactly where to look.

He sidles along the narrow gap between shelves and racks, two, three, four, five. His right hand stays up so as to avoid knocking over the precarious stack of unidentified tomes.

He was certain there is nothing to find, but the more certain he told himself he was, the less certain he felt. So here he is. He ducks left under a pair of shelves that nearly lean against each other for support.

At the back of the archives sat an old desk, one that Alfred had grown familiar with over the years. As he stands from under the leaning stacks, he sees that he isn’t alone.

Mother Connor sits at the desk. She casts Divine Light upon noticing Alfred’s approach. Her brown hair almost glows red in the light, and her eyes radiate a golden hue. Her deep caramel complexion seems to shine like bronze. She smiles to Alfred with tired eyes. “My, my, I wasn’t expecting company at this late hour, dear Alfred.” She coos.

Alfred bows politely. “Forgive me, Mother Connor, I find myself surprised to see you as well.”

“Think nothing of it. What brings you here, old friend? Surely it must be of some urgency.”

“That it is. The fourteenth hero’s summoning has occurred here in the capital.”

“I see. I take it that something hasn’t gone to plan. Did the summoning go awry?”

“It may have. The hero is here, but he is sickly and frail. The hero came to us ill.”

“Ill? That is quite concerning, indeed. So you’ve come to seek answers.”

“I don’t even know if I’ll find what I seek, Mother Connor.”

“I wish you luck in your search.” She closes a book and tucks it under her arm as she stands. “I must take my leave, sleep is precious. You should rest when you are able, dear Alfred. If you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything.”

“By your leave, Mother Connor.” Alfred again bows politely as she navigates her way out, the glow of Divine Light following her.