The morning proved even busier than the previous days.

As the night of the Lantern Festival drew near, the city surrounding Port Luminara became increasingly lively.

The streets were thick with movement, far more crowded than when the Cassians had first arrived.

People swarmed through every corner. Some haggled over rare goods brought in for the celebration, and others wandered leisurely, taking in the festive decorations as they awaited nightfall. At the same time, performers, vendors, and travelling entertainers filled the air with sound and colour, drawing curious onlookers wherever they went.

But it was not the festival alone that had stirred such activity.

A new attraction had emerged within the city.

Along a narrow lane tucked between two rows of shop buildings, a long queue had formed. People stood shoulder to shoulder, stretching far beyond the entrance of a modest shop lot.

Most were dressed in worn or simple clothing, their appearance marking them as those from the lower tiers of society. Yet despite their condition, their faces carried a shared expression—eagerness, hope, and quiet anticipation as they waited for their turn.

At the front, several knights stood guard, maintaining order and preventing the crowd from descending into chaos.

Beyond them lay the source of it all: The free Healer’s House established by the Blue Mantle Company, a newly registered mercenary company.

It was an unprecedented sight.

Mercenary companies were known for their strength in battle and their services in escorting merchants across dangerous waters—not for offering healing, and certainly not without charge.

Most preferred the profitable routes, especially during peak seasons like this, when merchants from across the archipelagos sought protection for their goods.

Healing, on the other hand, was a costly and regulated field. It required skilled practitioners, official permits, licensed premises from the Bureau of Healing Affairs, and the burden of heavy taxation.

Few would venture into such a domain.

Fewer still would do so voluntarily, nearly unheard of.

Yet, opposing the norm, the Blue Mantle Company had done exactly that.

Word had spread quickly of how the free Healer House had appeared almost overnight—a skilled healer without magic had begun treating those turned away by others, with no payment demanded in return.

The story carried across streets and marketplaces, stirring both curiosity and admiration.

Within days, people who had long been denied treatment began arriving from every corner of the island.

The crowd grew, and with it came order.

Clear rules were established and strictly observed. Those in urgent or life-threatening condition were identified immediately and marked with a red flag, allowing them to bypass registration and be brought in for immediate treatment. The weak, the fainting, and those barely able to stand were not made to endure the wait.

For the rest, the process followed a structured flow.

They were first registered, their names and conditions noted, before being assigned a coloured flag according to severity—yellow for moderate cases and green for minor ailments. From there, the line moved steadily and in a controlled manner as patients were called in turn.

Minor ailments were treated swiftly to keep the line moving, while more serious cases received closer care within. Instructions were given before dismissal on what to avoid, what to take, and when to return if needed.

No one was allowed to push ahead or disrupt the order. Those who attempted to do so were turned away without exception.

And so, despite the sheer number of people, the process remained structured.

The people, not wishing to lose their chance, obeyed without protest, patiently waiting through the long hours. Because for many of them, this was an opportunity they could not afford to lose.

Luke sighed as he watched the seemingly endless line stretching beyond the lane. It showed no sign of thinning.

"This is madness..." he muttered under his breath. "How are we supposed to handle this many patients with only Joseph treating them? At this rate, they’ll wear all of us down."

He turned slightly, glancing through the wide-open window.

Inside, the situation was no less overwhelming. It was crowded and in constant motion. Aside from the healer, several figures moved about busily, assisting where they could—Athillia, Eli, Armel... and, unexpectedly, Elis.

"Look, even she is helping despite her condition," Luke added, brows knitting.

The princess consort had initially been forbidden from taking part due to her pregnancy. But as Rafe grew increasingly overwhelmed, she stepped in regardless, insisting on helping with what she could manage. With her knowledge of remedies and preparation, she proved more than capable.

Athillia and Eli, unwilling to stand idle, quickly picked up what they could and began learning under her guidance, easing the burden.

Armel, on the other hand, took charge of logistics—managing supplies, organising stock, and ensuring nothing ran short. In that regard, he had become indispensable as the operations manager.

"Complaining won’t make the burden any lighter, Luke," Eric said calmly.

He sat at the front table, pen in hand, recording each patient’s details as they came forward.

Beside him, Noah leaned towards the next patient, his gaze sharp.

"All right. What’s the issue?" he asked. "And don’t leave anything out or lie. I can read your thoughts."

It had become a necessary measure. Some patients, out of fear or embarrassment, tended to hide the true cause of their condition, which could complicate treatment.

To prevent such risks, Noah made full use of his intimidating presence—whether truthfully or not.

The patient stiffened at once, clearly unnerved.

"Yes—yes, Sir!" he stammered, quickly recounting everything without omission.

Luke exhaled, still uneasy. His eyes drifted back toward the long line outside.

Then—

"Don’t worry."

Kyren’s voice sounded from behind, steady and calm, as he oversaw the entire operation with quiet control.

"Help is arriving."

Luke turned. "Help?"

"Look over there."

Following his direction, Luke’s gaze shifted toward the street.

Drystan and Alex were approaching—striding toward them. Behind them trailed a group of about eight men, all dressed in simple robes, their demeanour composed and measured.

They had a certain air about them—calm, precise, and exuding the presence of intelligence and skills.

Luke blinked.

"Wait... are those... healers?"

Kyren allowed a faint smirk to surface.

"Yes, they are."

"How did you manage to find them so quickly?" Luke asked.

"Didn’t I mention last night that I would make arrangements?" he said. "The first day proved overwhelming. So I sent Drystan and Alex to seek out capable hands willing to assist."

The knight’s surprise remained.

"I thought the Mederians preferred to keep such skills to themselves... especially when there’s profit involved."

"Not all of them. These men were willing to provide their service at a lower salary, on the condition that accommodation is arranged for them, along with a few agreeable benefits," Kyren explained.

"Oh... that simple?" Luke asked, scepticism evident.

"They lack the means to afford premise licences, rental costs, and the renewal of their permits on their own," Kyren continued calmly. "So, they chose to serve under our banner. It is a fair exchange."

His gaze shifted to a figure standing not far from the building.

"We should extend our thanks to Mr Halven for the information he provided."

The man in question was the building owner who had first approached them during the altercation between Drystan and the guards of a nearby Healer’s House. He had proven far more useful than he initially appeared.

Not only had he offered valuable insight into the workings of the local system, but upon Kyren’s request, he had swiftly secured a vacant shop lot for the Blue Mantle Company’s operation.

He navigated his network smoothly, handling the lease, managing the necessary procedures, and prepping the premises all within a single day.

The building itself consisted of two adjoining shop lots, which had once served as a treatment centre before its previous occupants relocated elsewhere.

Much of the furniture and larger equipment had been left behind, allowing the space to be quickly repurposed with minimal adjustment.

The ground floor had been fully opened for operations—partitioned into treatment spaces, preparation areas, and a waiting area—while the upper floor served as their temporary lodging.

From above, the constant hum of activity carried through the structure was impossible to ignore.

At first, the building owner had raised a brow at Kyren’s unconventional plan. But once presented with a favourable offer, he acted without hesitation.

Swift, pragmatic, and keenly attuned to opportunity, he handled every detail with precision, making the entire process remarkably seamless.

Now, he stood at a distance, a wide smile stretching across his face as he watched the growing crowd.

The more people gathered, the better it was for his tenants.

Though most who came were of modest means and could not afford costly goods, the surrounding shops, particularly those selling food and drink, had quickly adapted. Prices were lowered, portions adjusted, and simple offerings made more accessible.

With the long queues, customers lingered.

And with time to spare, they spent.

Even with lower prices, the large number of people guaranteed consistent and promising profits, a small gain that was multiplied many times.

It appeared that the free service was truly benefiting everyone... it seemed.

***

’Cling!’

The sharp sound rang through the Healer’s House, cutting through the steady rhythm of work and drawing Rafe’s attention.

He turned at once and saw his sister-in-law bending down, reaching for a fallen forceps.

"Elis!"