Progress

I had found a lodestone. A genuine lodestone. I could scarcely believe my luck, that such a gift had been laid before me. It felt... feels still, almost, as if I was given a sign. A divine sign. 'Do not relent', it spoke to me. I had been given a chance to complete my task, and hopefully come a step nearer my return home.

Strangely, the idea was not as euphoric as it had been the day I arrived...

"A rock."

"It's not just a rock, Piper," Natalie declared; "It's a loaded stone."

Piper blinked at the correction, though Martin could not fault her. Natalie hadn't understood either, and seemed to still misunderstand his excitement. Himself, he could scarcely begin to explain the significance of his discovery. A lodestone, here, meant that some trace of magic still prevailed in this world. They were commonplace at home, though considered almost mundane in terms of arcane capacity. A lodestone like this, an average mage would consider beneath their attentions. After all, the Aetherius continuously supplied magicka.

"It's a rock," Piper repeated, frowning; "A pretty rock, I'll give you, but... Martin, did you go buy jewelry? Pretty sure you got scammed. There's plenty of rocks lying about"

But for a mage trapped in a world where the Aetherius might as well have been a dream? Where the arcane energies suffusing the very air in his homeland, here were all but the thinnest of vapors? In a world where the simplest of spells drained as much as a day's worth of work, and the trickles of magicka barely felt at all?

A lodestone was beyond its weight's worth in gold.

And he had bought one for a mere two pieces of worthless metal. That alone was almost as astounding as the find itself. He scarcely even noted Piper's remarks on the stone, until she stepped closer and plopped down on the couch next to him, and sighed. The sudden closeness jolted him from the deep crevices of his mind, back to the present. More things than just the rediscovery of the arcane partitioned his mind. Her soft sounds did little but further muddle his concentration.

"You know, most guys buy pretty stones for girls," she hummed, leaning back, head rested against her crossed arms. She kicked sock-clad feet onto the table. Natalie promptly did the same, as if to prove a point. Martin, for a moment, was rather lost; "But the way you're fawning all over it, gonna guess it's a bit more esoteric than a bauble, yeah?"

"It is," though, in truth, he had little notion of how to explain its importance. How did he explain something so fundamental to his own world, that so lacked in this one? He didn't even himself fully understand the hows behind lodestones, only the whats as to their functions; "Though it is difficult to explain."

"Try us," Piper mused. She looked at him, and he couldn't tell exactly what it was about the way she did it, but it stirred him. For a moment, he wasn't certain either as to what it would have stirred him, if she hadn't continued; "I'd like to think we're pretty in on the whole magicks thing now."

"You won't find better," Natalie quipped, and her tone, serious and almost derisive in the same note as it was amused, made him smile. He hadn't meant to; "Literally. We're the experts on magicks in the Wasteland."

He wondered if she was going to use sharing a residence with him as the primary credential.

"It's a lodestone," he started; "In my homeland, it is... like a toy, or a very simple tool. Alchemists would use it as a reagent, or apprentice mages would be given one for practicing magicka control. It is, how you say, a tool for the very new, or those who have nothing else."

"And you have nothing else, right?" Natalie shifted her feet on the table, self-assured in her words. He could but concede, and nod. With his work on the potions having ground to a halt so far, the find of a lodestone really did present the only viable avenue; "Sucks. You're basically going against raiders with a bb."

"That as it may," Martin held forth the stone again, finding a peculiar, but welcome sense of familiarity in its arcane touch. It was as if it warmed his hand, though it was cold to the touch; "Imagine... you are gathering rain water. I am gathering rain water, but I only have my hands. I do not gather much, and if it rains hard, the water overflows and is lost to me, yes?"

"Rain here being magicks, right?" Piper hummed. She had the right idea, and he appreciated her understanding; "So, what's the stone then?"

"A funnel," he sighed, smiling; "and a bucket. Mage apprentices at home are given such stones by their institutions, to my understanding, if they pursue a path of arcane prowess requiring more magicka than the uninitiated can themselves accumulate. Of course," his smile its mirth as the memories came back; "at home, the world itself is saturated with the arcane. A healer would have no need for a lodestone."

"This is the first one you've actually seen," Natalie surmised.

"It is the first I have held," he hummed, running a finger over the smooth surface; "I have seen them before. It was never a part of my education how to use them, but..." he let flow a trickle of power, the same as he would have needed for a tiny, dancing flame. Rather than producing spellfire or any visible effects, the trickle seemed to be sucked into the stone. "The principle is simple. I allow it some of my power, and when I need it back, it is there."

"So it's a battery," Piper nodded, one hand scratching her cheek in apparent contemplation. It ceased, for a moment, when it seemed a realisation struck her. Slowly, she turned to actually face him; "Wait, you...you found a magical battery. You found something genuinely magical. Here. In Diamond City."

"You are disbelieving," it was no question, for the shock and surprise was written so clearly upon her face, even he could see it; "You found me, am I not magical?"

"Well, yeah, but," Piper threw her hands out, the gesture seemingly as confused as she was; "You came here from somewhere. That stone," the vigor with which she jabbed a finger against the smooth surface of the lodestone was almost impressive; "Is a piece of rock from the Boston River, or something. It's from here."

"Yes," he nodded; "I told you there was magic here."

"Ouch," Natalie laughed, when Piper's face became a study in irritated frustration; "He's got you there"

"Laugh it up, will you?" Piper sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose; "Look, what I'm trying to get at here, is there's something obviously messed up about magical rocks lying around, and no one knows about it before now."

"Didn't you say there were plenty of books on magic?" Martin allowed himself a grin at her obvious frustrations. Finally, here was something proving him right. Magic had been around in this world, no matter how much Piper insisted otherwise.

"Fairy tales, you smug shit," she gave him a stare, flat as any, before she spoke again; "I hate dealing with you sometimes, Martin, really," it was only the resigned tone with which she spoke that kept him from frowning in sudden worry; "Every time I'm thinking I've got it all nailed down, you kick in my door with some new, fantastical chunk of something. Here I am, dead-certain there's no magic, and you prance in, swagger and all, and drop a magical stone in my lap."

"I did tell you," he chuckled, though he knew, behind it all, that she had a point. Lodestones, for all that they were almost mundane at home, here they should have been an impossibility, if the world truly was devoid of the arcane. And now, he was presenting Piper with evidence that the world wasn't devoid of the arcane, that there really was still lingering traces of magicka, of the Aetherius; "But, I see your point. I don't know the nature of magic in this world. There is a trickle, or I'd have had no powers at all. But at the same time, it is so faint, and the gods so absent, it is as if there truly is no Aetherius, no source."

Wiser men than he might have understood it all, or taken it as a theological challenge.

"So, what does it actually mean anyway?" Piper sighed, propping herself up on an arm, watching him. The intensity of her stare, for a moment, made him forget what he'd meant to say. Blinking, he averted his eyes from hers and back to the lodestone; "What, you're back to full power now?"

"In theory," he nodded, the smile persisting; "I've never used these before, timescale is an unknown, but... should let me soak up enough residual magicka to make up for the low density, yes?"

"It's not even radioactive too," Natalie spoke up now, and it was a moment before Martin even recalled what radioactive meant, so lost was he in dreams of once more wielding proper magic; "Myrna even ran a geiger over it to show."

"Everything's radioactive, Nat," Piper shook her head, a motion that ceased much too sudden. Her eyes fell on Martin, then the stone; "Although, if anything were to not be... Martin, you said you felt radioactivity as a kind of 'wrong' magic, right?"

"And there is none here," the stone gave off many strange sensations, but not a one of them was the diseased touch of radioactivity. Of perverted, inverted magicks. Warmth, cold, repellant and an absorbing sensation, these all radiated from the stone, but not radioactive, no. There was no illness of the world in this stone. The knowledge made him clutch it a little tighter, an anchor of the arcane in a world that lacked; "It is like... pure, a candle in complete dark, yes. The only thing that is warm in the cold, and the only thing that is cool in heat."

"Wicked," Natalie scooted over, eyes on the stone. Martin read her intentions, the question unasked, and handed it to her, though most of all he wished to hold it longer. Her expression of excitement dulled somewhat, replaced with a frown; "I don't feel a thing."

"It's not spell," he clarified, taking it back; "There is no fire or frost. You do not feel it because you have no aptitude..." he paused, seeing her frown deepen; "I think. Maybe it works different here, yes?"

"Or not at all," Piper mused, offering her sister a sympathetic shrug; "Sorry, Nat, I don't think wizardry's in your future. Still," and here, once more, inquisitive brown eyes turned on him once more; "Do you think it could solve your problem with the ingredients? If it sucks up magic, or however, could it remove that too?"

Martin, at first, did not understand what she meant. Then, as the words slowly translated, the gears of his mind churning, they finally settled into an understanding. And it made him cease, almost breathing too, as the ramifications of the stone struck him.

The stone had no background radiation either, not merely itself not irradiated. Background radiation, that was... that was the ambient radiation, yes? It meant, radiation did not exist in an aura around it? Or, merely touching it, even? Even then, if it was just by direct contact, the complete absence of radiation had to mean...no, no he had to verify it first. The Wasteland killed all optimists, he'd learned at least that much by now.

"I think you broke him," Natalie noted; "And here he was in such a good mood too."

Martin scarcely heard her. His eyes once more glued to the stone, thoughts raced abound and beyond his control. The possibilities now laid out before him, all but endless in the applications of the lodestone, if only he used it right. It was not the first time he lamented on the lack of knowledge in this world, but this time at least it was not the lamentations of a desperate man beyond his bounds, but rather those of one who sought further knowledge.

He already held in his hand the answers. All he needed was context.

"Yo, Martin, are you in there?"

He glanced up, eyes dry from ceaseless staring. Piper watched him with an expression that seemed amused, mostly, but also with an edge of worry beneath its veil. He blinked, unsure of what to say. He wasn't even sure if he should stay here, or rush to the clinic. Yet, something kept him seated, something calmed him.

He realized with a small start, it was Piper's hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry, it's..." he started, throat aching. The stress and worries from weeks of work, and more than a month of resignation to a mundane life, threatening. It felt as if he was back in the examinations at the Institute, awaiting the passing score for entrance. And once that passing grade came, with marks and notes and comments, each flaw pointed out, each correct answer and explanation praised, relief and nausea; "...difficult to put to words. Imagine... you forgot how to read, and write. No one around you knew either, so cannot teach you, yes? Then you... you find something that teaches you, all over again."

"A key to a lost world," she nodded, sympathetically; "So, do you think it will work on the potions? Even if it doesn't, at least you're gonna be back to full capacity, right?"

The lodestone was empty. He hadn't at first understood this, but the sensations of deep cold betrayed the arcane vacuum within the gleaming surface. It was indeed a bucket, or a battery, but there was a lid on the bucket that had never been removed. But the warm sensations, at the same time, betrayed the touch of a mage. The arcane touch of one steeped in the Aetherius, and the lid was torn free.

"It will be a day, I think," he muttered, though the smile persisted. How could he but smile? "When I touched the stone first, it was like ice, but also it started to become warm. It was like a bucket where there was a lid on top. Even though it was raining, no water would come in. But even now, it is like a sponge to the air."

Perhaps, using it would be easier than he'd first thought? Though the process was slow, he felt as if the stone grew just a little warmer by the minute. Never did it feel as if it would become scalding to the touch, though.

"Wicked powers for a piece of jewelry," Piper muttered; "Hard to think something like that just lying about, sold like junk for a few caps."

"Things only have value if appreciated," Martin hummed, perhaps a little too satisfied with himself. But even then, he cared not. Today, even if just today, he was allowed that bit of satisfaction; "To all others, it is a rock of no particular significance."

"While to you it is the most significant thing in the world," she nodded; "I get it. So, want to test it out?"

He hesitated, if only because it was a surprise to see her mirroring his own mind in this. Then he nodded, holding up the lodestone once more, for shared inspection.

"I do," he said, though he was not yet entirely certain as to how. Pushing his own magicka into the lodestone was one thing, but he did not know if he could do the same to inanimate objects, like the root or a brick; "I am not certain of how, though. I did not think I would get this far."

"That's a good problem to have though," Piper mused, an expression on her face that made him feel... warm, of sorts. It was not something he could explain, but it merged well with his overall sense of satisfaction, in the here and now. She stood from the sofa, somehow pulling along the sense of warmth like a rug removed. Natalie said nothing either, but seemed to watch her sister with interest too, as she grabbed one of the mut fruits, tossing it from hand to hand. It reminded him a little of the marketplace jesters that sometimes performed tricks during festivals; "Catch!"

He only narrowly managed to, having been caught off-guard by the gesture. Mutfruits were strange to him, even now, and likely he would never quite get used to them. The wax-like skin reminded him of an apple, but the taste and texture was more akin to plums.

"What am I to do with this?"

"I dunno, cleanse it or something?" Piper shrugged, sinking back down into the couch. "Since everything's got some amount of radiation, might as well start with a DC-grown fruit, right? It's not as irradiated as wild flora, because of the treated water, but there's still there. Good for a first try?"

For a moment, Martin felt some revolt at the realization that the very food he ate was poisoned with the same perverted magicks as the ingredients that caused him such grief. But, it died down, at her words of treated waters and lower amounts. Hopefully, it meant he'd not eaten poison for weeks and weeks here already. The fruit stared back up at him as he held it, uncertain of how to progress.

The idea had seemed simple, before, when he'd not yet tried it out. Simply using the lodestone to draw out the radiation from whatever it infested. Now, though, as he held in his hand a piece of irradiated fruit, he felt some doubt creeping in. He could feel the radiation in the fruit, now that he paid it proper heed, though as Piper had said, it was significantly weaker than what he felt whenever touching skin to the ingredients in the clinic. Tentatively, he tried touching the stone to the fruit.

And waited.

He took them apart, waited a moment, and touched them together again.

And waited.

"Nothing's happening," Natalie pointed out.

"You probably just can't see it," Piper countered.

"Martin doesn't look like he can either."

"Shush, I'm sure he's just concentrating."

Martin took the stone apart from the fruit again, glaring daggers at the purple piece of flora. This... should have been easy. It should at least have been simple. He wasn't sure exactly how it ought have been simple, but it felt as if simply touching the lodestone to the fruit brimming with energies - much as it could - should have caused something to transpire.

"I don't think it works," he muttered. Again he pressed them together, hard enough to leave a dent in the soft flesh of the fruit. Frustration was starting to edge in over the previous euphoria, joy and relief at his find sobered by his own inability to use it; "It should work."

"You have no idea what you're doing, right?" Natalie asked, the question less one of derision and more of sympathy. He hoped. The girl was still occasionally hard to read; "It's like math, right? If you don't know how to solve a fraction, even if you know it should be easy..."

"Your grades being what they are, Nat," Piper sighed; "Maybe not the most uplifting metaphor. Still," she turned her expression to a faint smile; "You've never used a load-stone before, right? There's probably just a learning curve."

"Maybe..." it stung to consider, but still, he had to admit she was likely right. Had he chosen any other path in the arcane but that of a healer, Martin knew he would have been made familiar with lodestones and their use. But, once more, healers had no need of such usually, and so the subject had been entirely dismissed years before he'd entered the course. Still, it felt wrong, to be left at this wall, hammering a bloody fist against bricks; "But, it's a step closer than before."

"Did you try blowing on it?" Natalie asked. Martin looked at her, not sure of what to say. Blowing on it? "You know, like when Piper's terminal gets the fritz?"

"Sure, why not turn it off and on again too?" Piper scoffed, flicking a finger on her sister's head; "It's not a piece of electronics, Nat. It's a rock. And a fruit."

"Mr. Zwicky told us there was a terminal called apple once though."

"Not really relevant here," Martin sighed. Though the bizarre conversation at least helped on his mood, it did nothing for his progress. At times like these, such having become far more regular since his arrival in the wasteland, more than anything he wished he could attend a sermon. Even if the priests and their speeches had little bearing on his problems, proximity to the gods helped his peace of mind.

Strangely, the idea did not immediately vanish, as the longing for communion often did.

"I think..." he started, the words coming slowly. Piper perked up at the caution in his words, he felt, whilst Natalie seemed disappointed. For himself, however, an idea was starting to form in his head. An idea that, though at first it seemed silly, more and more it seemed the rational, if not outright obvious course of action; "I think I am going to go out, for some time."

"Okayyy," Piper sounded surprised; "Anywhere in particular? You know, in case someone else barges in with a bruised spleen?"

Martin hesitated, though as well in his getting up. Piper still looked at him, surprised and a little concerned, if he had by now any understanding at all as to how she thought. It was not the first time, by far, that he felt poorer for it, knowing she bothered far more with him than he was likely worth.

"It will... sound silly, if I say it out loud, and I might not go then," but even speaking such words already made him feel more moronic than his intended course of action ever could, and so he spoke again before Piper seemed like she'd considered a reaction to his words; "I am... I was never a particularly devout man, but at home, visiting the Temple, it would, how you say, it eases the mind, yes?"

"The All-Faiths?" Natalie asked now, sliding from her spot. The movement was much akin to a cat disturbed from its seat; "How's that gonna help? It's not like there's a shrine to... uhm, Agatha-osh?"

"No, there isn't," the mismatched name made him smile though, despite it all; "But... I like Clements. He has a mind open to faiths new and old, and he is wise, I think. I suppose, I go as much to talk to him, maybe... get understanding?"

"Hey Piper, if Martin ends up converting the city, do we get specials?"

"I'm no Colovian," Martin scoffed; "Nor a Nord, or Aldmer, for that matter."

"Yeah, what he said," Piper nodded.

The All-Faiths Chapel was starting to become a familiar sight to him, as was its occupant. Not to the degree of the clinic or Piper's home, but a close contender all the same.

"Ah, Martin," Clements greeted him as he approach, goal in sight. The man was sweeping the street directly in front of the chapel. His movements borne of little urgency, it seemed more a daily ritual than anything. Certainly, the street before the chapel was cleaner and far more tidy than around most other buildings, be they homes or no. There was nary a piece of trash, and the boardwalk was free of dirt and grime both; "And Natalie Wright," kind eyes shifted to Martin's side, where the girl appeared, as if out of smoke and air. He'd not heard her coming, and blinked in surprise. A surprise Clements was quick to distract from; "You have the look of a man unburdened and burdened both, by the troubles of this world. I hope present company is not to blame?"

"Can we talk?"

"Always," the priest smiled, a warm and kind expression that held not an ounce of reservation. Never had, and it was a trait to the man Martin found almost as out of place in the Wasteland as Piper's optimism and hospitality.

Not for the first time, he felt himself more fortunate than he had a right to be, despite it all. Clements leaned the broom against the chapel wall and opened the door. Natalie said nothing, merely shrugging as he glanced down to her, an expression of curiosity on her face. Thoughts of aksing why she had come were dispelled when he realized Clements yet awaited him at the door, and to keep the man waiting would be improper.

Martin had at this point visited often enough that he knew much of the history behind the place, and had come to recognize the names of at least most of the major deities of the Wasteland. When he'd met Piper that day in the wilderness, and walked the tunnels with her, she had used the name of her god, Jesus Christ, who was simultaneously also the son of her god, yet the religion was a monotheistic one. It confused him, even after Clements had waved his hand and said something about the devil and details. Apparently there were different versions of the faith too, and this more than anything reminded him of home. Like the Nords and Bretons had differing variations of the Imperial Pantheon, Piper belonged to one branch of her faith, and the Barbrov brothers another. Some branches had multiple, minor deities that bore the same moniker of saints that he recognized from home. Arturo apparently belonged to one such branch, his ancestors hailing from Europe where the religious schism had been more widespread than here.

He'd not mentioned that to Clements, though Piper had found it funny.

As Martin settled on the wooden bench, Natalie sliding in aside him, Clements dragged his own chair out from behind the podium, and seated himself before them. He spoke then, with the warm voice that seemed to soothe all Martin had witnessed in the chapel.

"What troubles you, son?"

Clements did not know of his abilities, though by now surely the man had heard the rumors. Martin had never treated him, nor considered a reason for him to know. Now, though, it seemed he ought have disclosed things sooner, if nothing else than to make his problems more easily understood.

"You know I undertook a project for the mayor," he started, the words mostly for the benefit of Natalie, that she at least understand how much the pastor knew. And, hopefully, what he did not yet know.

"Yes, the medicine from your homeland," Clements nodded; "Last we spoke, you were considerably more weary than you seem now. You have made progress, I take it?"

"...in a sense," Martin nodded, slowly, and fished the lodestone from within his jacket; "I found this stone this morning, at the market. It is... difficult to explain, but it shares properties with things that my people hold to possesses great... spiritual potency."

"An adderstone?" Clements accepted the lodestone as Martin held it out before him. There was not a hint of mockery or amusement in the man's voice, only interest; "What properties does your people invest in such?"

"It's a bucket for spiritual energies," Natalie said, speaking before he could. Martin found himself curling toes in frustration that she had, for he knew not how to explain such a statement.

"A... sort of battery," he muttered; "We believe them to be lodestones, that they can aid us in our work as healers. But, the use is...unknown to me."

"I see," the priest nodded, turning the stone over in his hands.

The surface caught lamplight, and shone with a gleam that seemed, for a moment, to make the man cease. Martin did not miss it, but said nothing, daring not to hope. Clements closed both hands around the stone then, eyes closed, as his lips moved in what seemed like silent prayer. Martin found himself frozen in his seat, eyes locked on the priest. He could not tell what the man was doing, or saying, or thinking, but he noticed that where the older man's arms were bare, the hairs stood like needles.

For a long time, an eternity to Martin, nothing further happened. Only the expressions on Clements' face changes, alternating between frowns. The man was deep in concentration, fingers clutched almost white over the smooth surface of the stone. Not even Natalie spoke until the priest finally opened his eyes once more.

"That was wicked," Natalie whispered. Clements, for his part, seemed at first confused, which in itself did little for Martin's understanding. He could not comprehend what the man had been doing, only that it seemed there was a reaction of sorts. The first instinct told him the pastor maybe was magically gifted, but the notion was thrown away by the sheer absence of any such people from the knowledge of the pre-war mind of Valentine. He was not so naive nor selfish to think he would discover the first ever mage from Boston.

"More than twenty years ago..." Clements muttered, fingers diving into his vestments. They retrieved his cross, a small thing of shaped metal, worn by sheer time and use; "I lived down south, in the old capital of this country. It is a ruin, like... everything else, and people like me, like so many others, made our living by digging out scrap and remnants from before the bombs, selling anything with a piece of wire or a shiny gleam to the Brotherhood of Steel. They... collected technology, see. I lived in an old carrier, beached in the river. Rivet City, we called it..." Clements' eyes seemed unfocused, lost in a memory Martin dared not disturb by speaking.

"North of the river, one day I came across the ruins of some old church or... or chapel, I don't know. If it had a name, no one alive but the ghouls remembered, and I... wasn't keen on them, in my youth..." So ghouls were not merely the results of radiation in Boston then? Was it everyone from before the war, who either died or turned to ghouls from the bombs? Martin found his desire to know subdued by instinct, that something of greater import was ahead. Clements held his cross into the lamplight, dangling from a thin, weathered chain around his neck; "Raiders were in there, found me before I found them. I still don't know what they were doing in the chapel, not like there was much to loot. When they gathered around me, guns drawn, I... don't know what happened, exactly, but... something must have caused part of the ceiling to collapse in that moment, and... I woke up, surrounded by dead raiders, this..." Clements lifted the cross, eyes on it like a loving parent; "...had fallen on my shirt. Like a... sign, from the Almighty, whomever it is, that there was more to life than day-to-day living like a scrapper. I sold what possessions I had, and booked up with the next caravan. Fortune had it, that caravan ended up here, and... so did I."

Martin did not speak, mostly as he did not know what to ask. There was a reason Clements would tell him this, a connection to the stone, likely. But, for the life of him, he did not know how to venture into it. Was it because Clements finding that cross had changed his life? Was it because it made him a religious man? Would it be improper to ask if there was a lesson to it all, or did Clements expect he already understood?

Clements then spoke again, perhaps sensing his doubts.

"The feeling I had then, when I found that cross on my chest, and saw the sunlight's beams in through where the roof had collapsed..." he explained, words slow and well-weighed, and Martin slowly started to understand; "...the feeling of renewed purpose, of something...bigger, it is... the same feeling I get from your stone. As if it represents a renewed purpose for you, Martin."

"That's vague," Natalie noted, her remark not in itself rude. Martin found himself agreeing.

"These matters of faith often are, child," Clements mused, his voice betraying no offense, if he took any; "Faith is vague, even when it is strong. I couldn't put words on what I felt back then, or how I knew what to do or where to go. I simply... had a feeling. Did you have a feeling, Martin, when you came across this stone?"

Had he had a feeling? The choice of words remained strange to him, but he understood well enough now that, yes, he had had a feeling. Even before he found the stone, it had been a feeling that brought him to the store, to the suitcase. Even as his mind had not understood it, something else inside him had guided his steps.

He nodded, slowly, uncertain if it bore the same magnitude as what Clements had experienced in the chapel. Words would not yet come to him that could properly explain just what he had felt, for he still did not know it himself. Feelings were too vague, too beyond him for his liking.

"How can you feel anything about that stone?" Natalie asked, and for once Martin neither begrudged her the question nor see it as an interruption. He had no clue of what to say, and the question itself was well chosen. Natalie had felt nothing from the stone, even as he could feel its energies and workings. But, Clements had felt something, visibly. Did that mean he was going at this in the wrong manner? Was the use of a lodestone more a matter of faith, or spirituality, than it was one of arcane understanding?

What manner of stone was this, when a mage found trouble and a priest did not?

"Sometimes you don't know how you know something, or feel something," Clements said, handing Martin back the stone. It felt no different than before. The vague answer left him none the wiser, nor satisfied in demand for understanding. Somehow, the priest could sense the stone, and its importance. Of course, it was entirely possible for the man to make pretend, but... no, not like this. It was not such a case now, he felt that; "That said... Martin, I don't myself entirely understand what this is. You say it's a sort of battery for...spiritual energies?"

"It is... difficult to explain," Martin averted his eyes, briefly, to the stone. He felt as if this particular explanation - or excuse - was becoming an old one faster than he'd like; "You know how I... what I do, in the clinic. My abilities. I must...use the stone to help me drive out something that is... how to say it, wrong, inside the reagents."

"And you believe the stone can do this, yet you ask me for help," the priest hummed; "You seek to purify something you find foul inside your reagents, like a man beset by sin seeks to cleanse himself of the taint."

"He means the radiation," Natalie added, to which the dark-skinned man simply nodded; "Radaway won't do apparently. Gotta be special, you know?"

"I understand, I think," Clements nodded, his voice bearing the rust of age yet betraying no uncertainty. The man bore conviction Martin sorely envied; "I don't know how much you know of our faith, Martin, but there once was a man who sought to drive the taint of sin from his fellows. In the beginning, it is said, driving sin from the body was done through hardship, toil and for some, self-flagellation. But this man, a mere carpenter, found instead that by bringing light into their lives, into the hearts of the sinners, he could replace the sin altogether, and fill the hearts of his fellows with the light of the Almighty."

"A Saint?" Martin ventured. The feat sounded a tall enough task that no less would do.

"Who knows?" Clements mused, something like a wry smile on cracked old lips; "After two millenia, much of the old lore is lost to time. Names change around, details too, sometimes. But the lessons stand, and in these times they tend to stand stronger, for those willing to listen."

"It's an allegory," Natalie said, to which the priest nodded once more. Martin, not knowing the word, looked to her in confusion; "The sin's the radiation, right?"

"Precisely," So, it was like a metaphor then; "Now, I don't exactly understand what it is you mean to do, or how, but it seems to me, if you want to drive out the sin or, the radiation, in your reagents, light is the way to go. Or radaway. Maybe both?"

"That didn't take long."

Outside the chapel, Piper waited for them, leaning against the wall with an expression that seemed to say she already knew what had transpired inside. Or, maybe, it was rather that she had a sense. Or just that he didn't look disappointed now, having received the wisdom of the clergy. She'd donned her red jacket, fresh patches added that almost fell completely in with the original leather. But her hair was free, and likewise her smile.

"Clements said Martin's gotta replace the rads with light," Natalie spoke before he had a chance. In truth he'd forgotten what to say, for a moment, something about the sight making him pause. A breath, and it subsided; "Still don't see why he can't just slap a radaway on it. It's just rads."

"I don't know what radaway does to the reagents," and it was the uncertainty that had kept its use on the end of his rope, a final measure if all else failed. If he accidentally poisoned the reagents, he did not know where or how to acquire replacements. Working alone meant he could afford no mistakes. All decisions, all faults, all responsibility, rested on him; "I don't want to use rat-away unless I must."

"So, ready to try again?"

"I must," he nodded, and Piper seemed almost as if her shoulders lowered a little when he spoke. A tension left her he'd not noticed before; "I am, I mean. I must purge sin with light, yes."

"Well, let's leave any purging till we're back inside," Piper snarked, the smile on her lips weak but persistent as she jerked her head homeward.

The main room had settled into silence.

Martin sat on the floor, cross-legged, with the lodestone in hand. Weakly it pulsated, a soft glow invisible to all but him. All day after they returned from the All-Faiths, he had poured a steady trickle of magicka into the stone, until the sensations of cold void within were all but gone, and instead only the warmth prevailed, feeling almost as if the stone itself had been left lying by a fire.

In his other hand, the same mutfruit from before. Its offensive peel seemed to almost glare, daring him to succeed where before he had failed.

"Ready," Piper whispered, slumping onto the floor across him, a distance away.

She set down a metal box, not much larger than his head, flicking a switch that made the machine give off a bief, buzzing sound. The Geiger counter would measure radioactivity, and prove whether or not he truly managed his task. Natalie occupied her usual chair, knees pulled up and close with a rug over her, watching in rapt anticipation.

Replace the sin with light. He liked the word 'sin' more than radiation here, for it felt more suitable to his thorough distaste for the perverted magic. The concept was the same though, no matter his choice of words. Still, he felt a little silly for it, necessity or not, for it felt too much as if he was performing some sort of exorcism.

On a piece of fruit.

Truly, six years of arcane education were well spent, that he had arrived at such a prestigious moment. Purging a fruit.

This time, he hoped to know what to do. This time, rather than simply taking energies from the fruit, he would replace them. The idea was so simple, he felt stupid for having not even considered it before a man of the cloth brought it up. He still wanted to know who the man was that replaced sin with light, yet another to the list of men who sounded more akin to mages than the mundane, but knew to wait. Besides, if even Clements did not know, who else could he ask? Valentine did not strike him as a...man... of faith.

This time, he did not touch the fruit to the stone. There was no need, in theory, and he'd rather solve such problems now than later. Instead he kept them held apart, focusing first on the fruit. Within its purplish flesh, he could sense the corruption. It was faint, compared to the root. Now, he turned instead mind and eye to the lodestone. It had soaked in the energies of this world for the whole day, as well as those he had poured into it since, and felt as if it pulsated, a deep warmth emanating from within. Where touching the fruit, aware of its corruption, reminded him of touching something rotten, touching the stone in its contrast was as if he handled a gem.

In value, it was not even wrong.

Energy coursed within the stone, begging for release. He obliged it, channeling its flowing magicka like a thin, concentrated stream of pure light. None was visibly produced, and he wondered if he looked strange, frowning and scrounging his brows with nothing outwardly to show.

Like he was guiding a trickle of water with his very hands, he coaxed and pushed and pulled the magicka into the mutfruit. It reacted instantly, bulging and pulsating as if he had blown air or water into it, rather than pure energy. Magicka and anti-magicka collapsed against each other and themselves, annihilating each other in spectacular flashes of dulled light, purple through the wrinkled skin.

"Wicked..." Natalie whispered, eyes large and giddy at the sight. Piper said nothing, but looked likewise enthralled. Martin frowned, as more and more it felt as if the fruit was heating up between his fingers. The mutual annihilation of forces within was generating a great deal of energy in turn, which came to the front as pure, pulsating heat. More and more it warmed, until it was as if he was touching his naked hand to the top of the kitchen hotplate.

When he could bear the heat no longer, feeling the heat scalding his hand, Martin cut the flow of magicka. Instantly, as if a door had closed shut, the heat abated, cooling more and more, until it felt no hotter than the floor on which he sat. He shifted the fruit into his right hand, and looked to the blisters now no-doubt pock-marking his hand.

It was unharmed. There was no damage, no blisters, not even a mark.

"Is it... was that is?" Piper asked, when he did not know what to say.

Wordlessly, he handed her the purified fruit, unsure of what else to do but await judgment. She hoisted the purple thing before her eyes, squinting as if there were visible marks. When she found none, next the Geiger counter was raised up and put before the fruit.

The steady ticking, electric and scratching in tone, slowed to a crawl as the mutfruit covered the entirety of its sensor. Martin found himself holding breath. Piper then removed the fruit, and the ticking increased in rate, almost twice that of when the fruit was before it. She looked up at him.

"Martin, that's... pretty amazing, you know?"

He averted his eyes, unable to stand the look in hers. He was not certain why, for it was by no means a disapproving one.

"I thought it would explode, you know," Natalie said, and her voice was not devoid of disappointment. She grabbed the fruit out of Piper's hands and juggled it, eyes squinted as if to discern some deceit. Piper, meanwhile, handed him a bottle of purified water, itself almost a celebratory gesture, considering its worth; "Don't look different. Like, at all. Sure the counter's not broken?"

"It's working," Piper shook her head; "Checked it earlier. Regular mutfruit's usually about ten roetgen. This," she took back the fruit, maybe fearing Natalie would chomp down for a test; "doesn't even rake up three. That's just above half of a nuka-cola."

The drink Martin had been taking, he all but choked on at those words.

"Hey, I'm pretty sure you're safe until it's something like... ten or fifteen roetgen, give or take," Piper shrugged, a wry grin on her lips at his sudden discomfort; "Not great, not terrible."

"I see," Martin nodded, slowly, fighting the urge to cough again. At least this meant the fruit was, for all intents and purposes, safe; "Then I can get to work immediately."

"Tomorrow, you mean," she countered, with a firmness he'd not half expected the grin replaced with a thin line of sternness, but it seemed to persist. Still, her voice brokered no argument, as she spoke again; "It's late. You've solved one problem today. Tomorrow, you'll solve another. One thing at a time, right? Otherwise, you'll probably go bonkers at the end of it all."

Martin relented, when it was evident he could offer no argument against her words. There still remained a two weeks of time before the deadline. Two weeks, and he finally understood how to cleanse the ingredients in the clinic.

He nodded. Tonight, he would rest, more at peace than he'd been for days. Tomorrow, work would not resume.

It would, at last and after much delay, finally begin.

Night had fallen, but Martin had felt too filled with energy to sleep. Nights in Diamond City were still warm enough that one could sit outside, gaze at the stars in all their multitude, and not feel but a shiver. Hearthfire here was not as warm as back home, but then, Cyrodiil was located only just north of the equator, whilst Boston was further from the warm belt.

The town slept, mostly. There was still music from the Dugout coming up and out through the empty streets, muffled by concrete and sheet-metal walls. Faint footsteps below betrayed whenever guards would make their rounds, heavy and wont to their route. Beyond the walls of Diamond City, too, there were sounds. Dogs or... whatever counted for such in this place, howled in the hills, distant and far-off, more background noise than any one beast. Somewhere to the north, gunfire occasionally entered the stage as well, as brief and sudden in its termination as had been its birth.

Then silence reigned again, and only the crickets spoke.

"And, uh, it looks like the old Corvega Plant in... Lexington, has been taken over by some raiders, I think, uhm, yeah that's what it says. Raiders... It looks..."

"I'm not surprised," Piper muttered, hands behind her head as she stared up into the stars. The radio was beside her, sat on a fold-out table she'd brought up for it, whilst they themselves lay on the sheet-metal roof; "It's an old car-factory, full of stuff, if scavvers haven't already picked it clean."

"Cars?" Martin frowned at the word, though he knew he'd heard it before. It was another moment ere he recalled its meaning. A horseless cart, perhaps hence its name, the metal machines that had once been the possession of the common man, yet in their technological achievement would have been considered the prizes of kings at home; "Yes, cars. Why would raiders want them?"

"Who knows?" she shrugged, flicking the cap off a bottle before she handed it to him. A crate sat by her side, half-filled only with glass-bottles of beer. She pocketed the cap itself, currency in this madman's world, and opened one for herself; "Raiders are messed up in the head."

Martin had seen enough to agree. Raiders were cruel beyond measure and necessity, and deserved the gallows one and all. He arched a brow as Piper reached her bottle to his, and clinked his glass to hers.

"Cheers."

"Tjeers," he hummed, greeting the bottle with a content sigh. Piper snickered, though he couldn't tell the reason. And, in truth, right now he was strangely too comfortable to really care. Something... about this, about how and where he was now, even as the world around him brimmed with violence and decay... he felt content; "Iubentium"

"That's how you say it?" Metal creaked as Piper shifted, leaning on one elbow to watch him. For what he wasn't sure. In hindsight, it felt like most of the time her reasonings were beyond him. As much a mystery as the stars of this world; "eeubensium?"

"Near enough."