'On top of that, people like Terl will take good care of my stuff until I come collecting it.' He actually thought.

The man started sobbing and grabbed the edge of Lith's robe to kiss it in a sign of devotion, creeping him big time.

"Calm down, Sergeant. There are no gods, just good mages doing their jobs." Lith said while stepping back.

"Archmage Verhen, I know I'm overstepping my bounds, but could you please visit the city hospital?" One of the soldiers that had managed to stand up said. "Winter left several people scarred and it will take a while before Baron Wyalon can afford a good Healer to take care of them."

For cities like Jambel, it was unfeasible to move so many people to the nearest city with a mage capable of using tier four and five of healing magic. The best course of action was to pay the mage to reach the city and treat those who required professional help.

Healing magic was no miracle. Up to tier three it simply sped up the natural recovery process of all kinds of injuries, but it was incapable of treating organs damaged by an illness, regrowing missing parts, or even fixing a badly healed fracture.

To do that was necessary the intervention of someone who had access to the Healer specialization that only the army, the Association, or one of the six great academies could provide.

Lith was about to find an excuse to refuse when he noticed two things. First, Tista was looking at him with big, puppy eyes like she did when they were little. Her little brother was her hero, and she pictured him way better natured than he was.

Second, the guard seemed too concerned for his request to be a selfless plea. Lith looked around, noticing that many of those present were holding their breath in expectation.

Clearly, they had a friend, a relative, or a loved one in need of help. One grateful guard would turn a blind eye to Zolgrish's antics from time to time whereas several guards might cover up even big messes if necessity arose.

"Sure, but now I need some rest." There was only so much Lith could do without ruining his cover.

Regrowing a limb with half the staff and time the White Griffon usually needed was worthy of an Archmage, doing more would raise a flag for anyone who knew about Awakened and their powers.

If not for Invigoration, Lith would have been exhausted. They Warped back to the Baron's guest house, where the rest of the family was waiting for them.

"If you want to play savior, why don't you do it yourself?" Lith asked Tista. "You have all of my skills, just less experience."

"Because I'm yet a nameless mage and I want to stay that way until I decide otherwise." She replied with a sigh. "You are already in trouble with the ancient households for your achievements and with the Council for the same reasons plus Awakening me.

"If I stand out too much, I'll offer them another target and force you to follow me during my travels. This way, instead, I'm just 'Lith's sister'. Everyone underestimates me and you don't have to worry about me. It's a win-win."

"Great thinking." Lith nodded. "I would still like you two to accompany me to the hospital. We'll work faster and I could use some help to not abuse Invigoration too much."

"Can you teach me?" Nalrond said. "In all my years as a healer, I've never seen such a technique. Regrowing a limb is easy, but they are usually a blank, clumsy slate whereas the one you made already had a certain degree of coordination."

Nalrond was part of the werepeople, an artificial hybrid between a human and a magical beast. He had two mana cores which allowed him to use all elements like a human and to use true magic like a magical beast.

Yet he lacked the beast's instinct and the skills of an Awakened. On top of that, he couldn't even Awaken because his two identities were more stacked together than fused.

"Sure thing." Lith was glad to share his knowledge about anatomy and the spells he had created for his students at the White Griffon with the Rezar.

That way, once their roles were reversed and Nalrond taught him Light Mastery, Lith's request of sharing with him the Rezar's personal spells would sound fair.

'Why waste time to reinvent the wheel when I can access the collective knowledge of a tribe who practiced Light Mastery for centuries? I bet they have spells even Manohar can only dream of.' Lith thought.

'By my maker, I hate you so much when you act like this. Progress my stone ass!' Solus rebuked him.

Lith ignored her and handed Kamila the map Nalrond had drawn of the underground silver veins. As a Royal Constable, rules, regulations, and bureaucracy were her bread and butter.

The more information she had, the easier it was for her to cover all bases and fill all the paperwork necessary to make any claim the local nobles could make on Lith's future business groundless.

Later, that same afternoon, Lith had Baron Wyalon accompany the whole Verhen family to the city hospital.

"Aran, Leria, I can't bring you on the battlefield with me, but at least I can show you what your big brother does when he is away from home." Lith said while taking the children inside their first hospital ward.

According to Solus, their mana cores were growing nicely, almost at the same rate as Lith when he was their age, and used Accumulation. According to her estimates, they were likely to reach the yellow core of a magico in a few years and later maybe even a green or more powerful mana core that would allow them to attend one of the six great academies.

'I don't know if I'll have the time to teach and guide the children in the ways of magic, but I don't want them to grow up as spoiled brats. Magic is a gift that no one should take for granted. They must realize how lucky they are.' Lith thought.

The ward was filled with people that needed constant care either due to wounds too severe to be cured in one session without depleting their life force or to diseases of which normal healers could only treat their symptoms.

Everyone on Mogar could use magic, but powerful mages were rare and among them those who also had enough talent to learn a specialization were even rarer. Most of them would become nobles or serve influential households and trade their magical skills in exchange for political power.

The rest would join the army, the Mage Association, or devote their life to magical research. A mage who spent even a bit of time helping others was about as rare as finding a unicorn holding a pot of gold under a rainbow.

"Why are these people sick?" Aran turned up his nose at the smell of disinfectants and blood that filled the air.

"Because not everyone has a mage for a brother or uncle." Lith explained. "These people are just like Mom and Dad, but less lucky."

"Why did you bring us here? This place is not cool, it's smelly and sad." Leria asked, feeling guilty for her tailor-made clothes that stuck out like a sore thumb amid so much misery.