A Hospital in Another World?

Three silver stars... Garrett silently calculated in his mind.

Mage badges change color at level five, three silver stars, five plus three, the other party is an eighth-level mage. Even if Garrett calculates as a fourth-ring arcane practitioner—equivalent to a seventh-level mage, he is still one level lower than the other party.

According to the common etiquette of mages, he first nodded slightly to the other party in acknowledgment. The speaker also returned the gesture, then half-turned towards the clergy in the audience seats, bowing gently:

"Throughout, all the healers—servants of the god of nature, priests of the god of war, priestesses of the spring goddess, and the healing mages of the schools of magic—have taken excellent care of our city.

In the city, whether it’s illness or injury, as long as one enters the temple, we can receive treatment.

In the countryside, the servants of the god of nature traverse the wilderness, bringing solace to the villagers between the mountains and fields.

Even the poorest, those with nothing to spare, can receive free treatment. For this purpose, the council allocates 500 gold coins monthly for treatment expenses and 50 gold coins for potions, establishing treatment centers in the port area to provide medical assistance to the city’s poor.

—I sincerely thank all the healers for their dedication..."

He bowed deeply once again. On the listening seats, several high-ranking clergy members smiled and nodded to each other. Behind them, and in the four rows opposite Garrett and the speaker, applause ranged from sporadic to thunderous, almost lifting the roof.

A flush rose to the mage’s cheeks as he waved his arm, continuing his eloquent speech. The applause in the conference hall surged like waves, lasting through three rounds before the mage bowed gracefully to each side and took his seat. The applause persisted for a long time, and the meeting secretary patiently waited for half a minute before raising the gavel and ringing the bell on his right:

"Mage Garrett Nordmark, do you have anything to state regarding the necessity of establishing public health institutions?"

On the podium, the eight members of the review committee exchanged glances.

To be honest, they didn’t agree that the healing power was already sufficient. Just look at the City of Radiance—what it had been reduced to!

But this news was still under wraps. Except for the legendary mages, only a few of them knew that the massive magical ritual that had alarmed the Magic Council was aimed at curing the city-wide plague.

How would young Garrett argue this?

Garrett couldn’t wait to stand up. He adjusted his mage robe, about to speak, when his sleeve slipped, and his oak staff fell to the ground with a thud. Garrett’s face froze, forced to pause his speech to bend down and pick it up.

A small ripple of laughter erupted from the listening seats. In his peripheral vision, Garrett saw the high bishop of the Temple of War leaning towards Elder Wood, seemingly asking something in a low voice, and they both chuckled.

Garrett smiled inwardly as well. Following the lead of the previous speaker, he first bowed respectfully to the podium, then to the listening seats, and finally to the speaker opposite, before calmly beginning:

"Esteemed Archmages, respected healers, ladies, and gentlemen. Firstly, I thank all the healers for their tireless efforts, caring for the residents of this city year after year. It is your dedication that ensures the peace of this city."

On the listening seats, the high bishop of the Temple of War nodded with a smile, clearly appreciating the sentiment. To his right, the high priest of the Spring Temple looked thoroughly bored, while to his left, Elder Wood raised his eyebrows in surprise, his face clearly asking, "What mischief are you up to now, lad?"

Garrett withdrew his gaze. He rummaged in his spatial pouch and pulled out a thick stack of papers. Flipping through it briefly, he picked up one stack and raised his voice:

"However, I must say, such healing power is entirely insufficient when dealing with emergencies!"

A stir arose in the listening seats. While several high-ranking healers hadn’t reacted yet, behind them, the nobles and merchants craned their necks, trying to gauge the expressions of those in front. Garrett remained composed, turning towards the podium and gently pushing the papers forward:

"This is a paper I submitted to the council in February of this year, titled ’On the Isolation and Treatment of Large-scale Outbreaks of Dysentery.’

The paper focuses on the dysentery outbreak in Hartland City last July. Starting from the large-scale admission of patients by various temples, on the first day, 14 were admitted, on the second day, 47, on the third day, 200, yet all the healing power in the city could only cure a maximum of 100 patients in a day."

On the podium, the Grand Mage of the Evocation school waved his hand lightly. The paper flew up, landing in front of him. Amidst the flickering light, it split into two, then four, then eight. Each member of the review committee received a copy, and soon, they found the section Garrett mentioned, with an extra copy even delivered to the opposite side of the council table.

The mage who had spoken earlier rapidly flipped through it. As he read, he muttered under his breath:

"But how often do plagues occur..."

"Quite often," Garrett immediately followed up, "I mean infectious diseases, those that can be transmitted from person to person. Plague, cholera, dysentery, tuberculosis, diphtheria, scarlet fever, smallpox, chickenpox, leprosy—"

At the mention of each disease, the opposite party would involuntarily shudder. After a dozen or so diseases were listed, the healer’s complexion had darkened considerably. Garrett then pulled out another stack of papers and pushed it forward:

"In the year 1163, 37 deaths from chickenpox, 278 from smallpox, 129 from dysentery.

In 1165, a major cholera outbreak occurred, resulting in 15,237 deaths."

A commotion broke out in the listening seats. Garrett saw the high bishop of the Temple of War nodding approvingly while conversing with Elder Wood. Across from him, in the rear of the mages, voices whispered:

"Yes, indeed, when I was a teenager, there was a major plague once, I spent a summer in the countryside hiding..."

"My younger brother and sister died then..."

"Three people died in my family..."

The mage opposite Garrett’s expression grew even worse. Suddenly, he interrupted loudly:

"Where did you get these records? Over 15,000 deaths—did you count them one by one?!"

"The original records are the weekly death statistics from the City Hall! In the database, records of the past 100 years are kept, and I extracted the last 20 years!" Garrett looked the mage directly in the eye, holding up the papers confidently, rotating them to showcase to the crowd. "Data entry and calculation were done by the Tower Spirits of Thunder Tower. There’s the Tower Spirit’s secret mark in the bottom right corner of the table, which can attest to it!"

A beam of light shot down from the podium, landing on the bottom right corner of the table. With a crackle, a lightning

-like phantom burst in the conference hall, exploding above everyone’s heads. The mage who cast the spell nodded lightly:

"It is indeed the secret mark of Thunder Tower. —Mr. Nordmark, please continue."

Hurray!

Spending 5000 contribution points was totally worth it!

With the endorsement of the Tower Spirits, he no longer had to worry about being accused of miscalculating!

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