"Come talk with me, young healer." The old man beckoned to Justin with a gnarled hand that clinked and rattled under the weight of its many jewelled rings; it trembled almost as much as his quavering voice, but his eyes were still bright amethysts honed to sharp points. "I think perhaps a conversation with you would bear much fruit."

By this point in his journeys, Justin reflected, he should have learned to expect the unexpected in everything, but the Grand Bijoutier of the Crystal Gnosis Society was still a surprise. The enigmatic advisor to the Imperator of Kholarthal, the official who had personally demanded the head of Prince Justin Himmelgarten, turned out to be a tottering old man vaguely encrusted in minerals - even his walking stick was a long, spindly piece of crystal that clacked unsettlingly against the marble floors of the Society's home office. Still, even hunched over with age, the Bijoutier was taller than Justin, and his halting steps were still full of purpose as he led the young man into a private chamber lined with bookshelves and stained glass windows. The furniture was dappled with myriad colors of light, and the whole room seemed just a bit detached from anything reassuring.

"Now then, young healer." The door swung shut behind them, and the Bijoutier planted his walking stick firmly enough that the tip sank into the marble and dislodged a chip or two. "I couldn't help but overhear your idle prattle about miracles earlier." He adjusted the magnifiers on the right lens of his glasses, and the amethysts snapped into sharper focus.

"Ah, er ... y-yes, sir, ah ... Your Grace." Justin fidgeted with the hem of his robe. "M-my apologies, I meant no offense to this house of reason ..."

"None taken, ah hah." The corners of the old man's mouth softened into a half-smile. "Commander Sidaris has informed me that you are from a rather ... secluded locale, are you not? Hardly surprising that such a place would hold fast to the less enlightened ideas of the past. Nonetheless, I would ... exhort you to reconsider these provincial beliefs of yours, and perhaps lay them aside fondly as a man puts away his childhood toys. Surely you have seen that a pacified world such as this has little need of gods."

"... pacified, Your Grace? I'm ... not sure I understand."

"The Prime Crystals, you see." The Grand Bijoutier gestured, and a small chest on a nearby shelf came unlocked and spilled forth its contents: eight little crystals, inch-tall likenesses of the massive Primes in their various strongholds around the world. Another gesture, and they floated over to him, lazily spinning in a glowing circle around his hand. "Without their regulating influence, the elemental energies of Aïn would roil about in a miasma of chaos and conflict, reacting uncontrollably and causing untold destruction in all lands. But each of the Primes is attuned to one element, pulling the energies of that element unto itself. Earth and Air, Fire and Water, Electricity and Ice, Light and Shadow ... four pair of clashing forces, gently separated and pulled to opposite sides of the planet, subjugated and controlled for the benefit of all. Hardly a need for divine intervention, now is there?"

"I suppose not ..."

"It follows, then, that what some might call a 'miracle' is simply the working of a great act of magic by someone with a sufficiently strong and desperate will. Much more reasonable, wouldn't you say?"

"Y-yes sir."

"Good lad." Another smile, and the Grand Bijoutier turned to open the door once more. "Now, shall we rejoin your company?"