Chapter 56

Gret didn't wait for half an hour before he was summoned.

Magic research is common, but magic apprentices are rare. A mage tower might only produce a single-digit number of magic apprentices in a year, and if the luck is bad, it might even go several years without any.

The Mage Gehrman, who was stuck in a research bottleneck, was more than willing to meet the newly appointed magic apprentice, at least to clear his mind.

After confirming, Gret's treatment was immediately upgraded to the level of a magic apprentice.

— A new magic robe.

— A single room in the mage tower.

— Paper, pens, candles, and a complete set of personal items.

Even the servant guarding the gate, with a look of panic, held out five silver coins to return to Gret, saying that the mage's mount could be kept in the tower for free, and he couldn't charge for it...

Although he didn't take the money, Gret remained in a good mood all the way. He entered the city, returned the horse to the barracks, and then headed back to his home. Along the way, people kept greeting him:

"Little Gret, you're back!"

"Little Gret, that robe... you've become a mage, sir?"

"Little Gret, congratulations!"

Gret smiled and responded cheerfully. By this time, it was already late, and the wooden houses by the roadside began to light up with twinkling lights.

Gret walked to his front door, just about to turn and take out his key to open it, when someone suddenly rushed out from a side alley. They bumped shoulders, and Gret took a half-step back, exclaiming, "Ouch!"

The person who rushed out also exclaimed, "Ouch!" He retreated more, almost falling over. Then, his eyebrows raised, revealing a fierce look, and a dark fist was already raised:

"You—"

He suddenly stopped, looking at Gret's magic robe, staring intently at the wand pattern on the cuff. Without a word, he turned and ran.

Gret silently looked at his own cuff.

Being a magic apprentice has its perks. Not bad, not bad.

Gret hummed a tune as he entered the house. The person who had bumped into him ran a long distance, and seeing no one chasing him, he took a detour to the tavern. At the back door of the tavern, a man was waiting, reeking of alcohol. Seeing him, he asked:

"How did it go? How was the fight?"

"You want to kill me!—That kid is a magic apprentice!"

"A magic apprentice?" The drunk man was shocked: "Did you see wrong? That kid has only been to the mage tower for a few days!"

"How could I see wrong! That kid was wearing a long robe with a wand embroidered on the cuff, I saw it clearly!"

The drunk man pondered. The man who had bumped into Gret had already extended his palm, spreading his fingers, and pointed them right in front of his eyes:

"Give me the money!"

"You want the money without doing the job? Try again!"

"You didn't say that kid was a magic apprentice!—If you don't give me the money, I'll report to the city guard that you hired someone to kill!"

"You!"

The two men started fighting. Gret was completely unaware of this. He first went to the barracks to report that he had become a magic apprentice and would be staying at the mage tower from now on. Then he went to the War God Temple to inquire about the progress of the surgical instruments.

... It wasn't completed yet. And it looked like it would take another ten to fifteen days...

"It's going to take—so—long—ah..."

Gret sighed so hard it felt like his lungs were about to burst:

"But I'm going to stay at the mage tower from tomorrow..."

"Uh-huh, I see your magic robe, congratulations." The bald bishop laughed:

"Since you'll be staying at the mage tower, let's practice the treatment process again!"

"No— I want to go home—"

"Stay at the temple tonight! I'll send a carriage to take you to the mage tower early tomorrow morning!"

Gret's objections were in vain. The bald bishop stretched out his big hand, picked him up with the magic robe, and carried him to the back hall like a chick.

Gret was busy at the temple for half the night. The next morning, when the War God Temple sent a carriage to take him out of the city, he was completely asleep in the carriage, not even bothering to open his eyes.

Because of this, he didn't see that not far from the city gate, two people were pointing at the carriage, their faces cold.

He also didn't know that on that night, a middle-aged woman entered the city lord's residence, her face streaked with tears, crying and shouting:

"Roman is your son too! The temple put him in solitary confinement, and you said you couldn't save him. A lowly commoner who harmed him, you can't do anything about either!

Are you still the city lord of Hartland? Do you even care about him!"

"Don't shout so loud. Roman's identity isn't something to be shouted about." City Lord Joanne Viscount, with heavy eyelids, slowly replied:

"That kid... is a magic apprentice now."

"He harmed Roman! My Roman! His hand is ruined!" The middle-aged woman became even more agitated, her still attractive face distorted by her roar:

"You said he's a city guard and that the War God Temple values him, so you won't let me take revenge. You kept delaying, and now he's a magic apprentice! I finally found someone to beat him up, but they didn't dare to do it!"

"You found someone to beat him up?" City Lord Joanne suddenly raised his eyelids:

"Fool! Do you know why the city guard protects him? Why the War God Temple values him? He cured an injury that the bishop couldn't! A healer, you can't offend if you don't have to!"

"But my Roman..."

The woman sobbed. Joanne Viscount sighed, patted her arm, and comforted her softly:

"If it's for Roman, you shouldn't have gone after that kid. —Do you know what that kid is doing recently? He's making something that can cure Baron's hand."

"Baron's hand?" The woman immediately stopped crying. Baron the knight's archery skills were the best in Hartland, but he couldn't draw a bow after injuring his hand three years ago. "That lowly commoner says he can cure it?"

"The War God Temple says he can." Joanne Viscount sighed:

"So, for now, you should hold off on going after that kid. If Baron's hand can really be cured, I'll go to the Spring Water Temple and have them release Roman to treat his hand. No matter how strict the temple is, they can't refuse to treat an injury, right?"

The woman gradually stopped crying. She thought for a moment and then panicked:

"What if he refuses to treat it? Before, before..."

Before, they had conscripted him for a search, and they had taken him to the temple, all things that had offended him. If that lowly commoner held a grudge and refused to treat, what would they do?

That's why you shouldn't have found someone to beat him up...

Joanne Viscount wanted to sigh again. But the lover is his, and the son, though illegitimate, is also his. Roman is the only knight among the illegitimate children and is quite likable, so he should still take care of him.

"Don't worry, I'm here." He comforted her softly:

"If Baron's hand can't be cured, it's fine. If it can be cured, I'll ask the War God Temple for help. With the temple and the city lord's residence, that kid won't dare not to treat."