CHAPTER 668: GARRETT: IF I SAY HE CAN’T, THEN HE CAN’T

Garrett, though he asked aloud, "Can I go in two months?" knew very well that he couldn’t just state this outright to the Queen.

One must maintain decorum, after all, as everyone is nominally a subject of the kingdom. He dutifully spread out a piece of stationery and took out the Endless Ink Pen, beginning to earnestly write a letter to the Queen:

"Subject Garrett Nordmark hereby reports..."

Ah, no, that’s not right. He quickly scratched that out. That was the style of ancient petitions in his former life, not the way to communicate with the Queen in this world!

Biting on the tip of the feather pen—a bit of luck that the Endless Ink Pen was a ninth-tier magical artifact and not easily damaged—he started anew:

"Your esteemed Majesty:

Hello!

As a loyal subject, I am most eager to serve you. However, to accumulate experience and ensure your greater safety, please allow me..."

Ah, scratch that! The tone was too casual, utterly lacking in formality. He needed to adopt a more bureaucratic tone!

Oh—forgotten how to write it—

Being in emergency medicine, not to mention the poorest and busiest, he was naturally ranked last in bureaucratic writing within the hospital. Not to mention, after several years in this world, he had completely forgotten how to write official documents.

...Though he had become increasingly proficient in academic writing. One paper a month, then two, large drafts stacking up enough to potentially publish a book.

After scrapping three drafts, Garrett slumped over the desk, breath faltering. He finally realized he couldn’t waste his life writing letters to the Queen:

"Aurora... Aurora, I think I’ll just outline what I mean, and you write it, please... Or maybe find someone reliable to write it for me, I just can’t do it anymore..."

Boss at his wit’s end, Aurora reluctantly took over the manuscript, biting on the pen’s end. After three drafts, she still felt her writing was inadequate, so she sought advice from her teacher, immediately earning a scolding from Archmage Carlisle:

"Why fuss over the phrasing? Are you nobility? Is Garrett nobility? We are magicians! Magicians need only convey a ’polite’ facade to the royalty, why adopt the meticulousness of nobles?"

Magicians don’t mingle in noble circles! Those precise, nuanced terms, magicians need not bother!

"Just a letter, write it well enough! What you should be thinking—what you should remind Garrett to think about—is how to negotiate better terms with the royal court, like perhaps another mage tower..."

Right! Commanded, Aurora went. Once she spoke with Garrett, he too saw the logic: Writing the letter was trivial enough, but the rewards were worth considering.

From Nevis to the capital was a journey of six or seven hundred miles, a flying dagger trip, and also providing treatment for the queen; surely this merited at least half a mage tower, if not a full one. Or at least a sizable part of one?

But such matters were not suitable to bring up now. After all, the letter was meant to delay his departure, effectively a polite refusal; it wasn’t the time to negotiate terms.

After sending his response through the Magic Council’s Mage Tower system, Garrett waited for the next royal letter. Waiting and waiting, he finally received a visit from the Springwater Temple—

Undeniably, the queen was slightly displeased upon receiving his reply. If this Nordmark mage were a legendary magician, then perhaps it would be different, as legendary magicians, being supremely elevated, could simply ignore the queen’s letters if they chose.

If he were a mage of level 15 or higher, that might be another matter, as the head of the royal mage corps, Archmage Laffette Seymour

, was only level 16. Such magicians, still with potential and ambition, often focused on reaching legendary status, sparing little attention for worldly affairs;

But Nordmark was merely a level 6 mage!

Level 6!

Even if tutored by legendary figures, currently, he was merely level 6!

Even if lauded by the legendary mage of the neighboring Black Crow Swamp, predicted to certainly ascend to legendary status within fifty years, he was still just a level 6 mage. Couldn’t he come to the court two months early if the queen required it?

Queen Anne bit her lip, crumpling and then carefully smoothing out the letter. By her side, Selina gently offered advice:

"Actually, until seven months into the pregnancy, there’s no need for his assistance. The Nordmark mage wishes to stay longer at the medical facility to gain more experience, to be prepared for any situation..."

"Selina, I appreciate your kindness," the queen interrupted softly,

"It’s just... I feel somewhat uneasy. Never mind, send for Nurse Mary. Let her accompany me in a prayer to the goddess, to bless me and my child."

The contents of Garrett’s reply, however, had leaked. The Springwater Temple in the capital’s main temple, from the high priest down, were secretly delighted:

Better if he doesn’t come!

If he doesn’t come, the queen will be unhappy and reluctant to use him! Ideally, during this time, the temple’s delegate could learn all he needs and perform surgeries independently, eliminating the need for him altogether!

The main temple quickly relayed messages to Nevis’s great temple, inquiring about the learning progress. However, the hopeful inquiries were blocked by Nurse Sally:

"In the field of obstetrics and delivery, there’s so much we need to learn. Honestly, we haven’t even mastered half of the diagnostic spells and their corresponding feedback. I don’t believe I can handle such emergencies on my own."

"Even you can’t manage it? After so many years working in this field, you can’t handle it independently?" asked the high priest, somewhat surprised. He even tried to persuade:

"You must understand, the Springwater Temple urgently needs someone like you to restore trust in front of the queen—the main temple is very disappointed and anxious that the queen would prefer a magician’s service..."

Nurse Sally firmly refused. Yet not long afterward, her disciple, Priestess Lucia, quietly approached the high priest:

"I think I can do it. I’ve learned a lot at the Oak Grove Clinic, even observed cesarean surgeries. If needed by the temple, I can serve the queen."

The high priest hesitated between refusing her and reporting to the main temple that no one here was capable. Finally, he bit the bullet and chose a third option:

He personally visited Garrett to inquire about Lucia’s training progress and whether Garrett could issue a document certifying that Lucia had completed her training and could independently perform cesarean surgeries—

"No," Garrett refused without a second thought:

"None of the healers trained here are yet capable of practicing independently. The most advanced among them still need nearly a year of study."

"What if she does it on her own?" the high priest asked, clinging to a sliver of hope. Garrett answered without hesitation:

"If she wants to try on her own elsewhere, I can’t stop her. But I absolutely will not issue such a document."

The high priest, resigned, brought Lucia back to the temple and covertly arranged for her to practice on several expectant mothers from the countryside. This divine officer proved quite capable, smoothly completing nine cesarean surgeries.

However, during the tenth—

"Ah! Why won’t the bleeding stop! Why can’t it be stopped!!!"

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