53 Unexpected Answers 2
“I know you will call me an old fool, but I think I have the solution to your problem.”
“If you are referring to your little protégé, you are more than a fool, you are certifiable. I tried, Ainz tried, I could write a book with the names of all those who tried.
I can only hope for Krishna Manohar, the god of healing, to return soon. Only he can save me from this anguish. The only reason he is not here yet, is because that goddamn lunatic is nowhere to be found.
He is doing his experiments in some remote village, forsaken by both humans and gods. He even left his communicator behind, to not be disturbed. My mother always said that bachelors are unreliable, and damn if she was right.
If that b*astard had a wife, a husband, even a cat, someone would know where to find him!”
“I completely agree with you. Only a married man truly understands the burden of responsibility.” Count Lark suck up to her.
“But allow me to say that you are underestimating my protégé.” Lark ignored the ferocious snarl from the Marchioness and pushed forward.
“As I told you more than once in the past, he is blessed by the light. I’ll share with you a family secret, he actually helped my daughter with a similar problem.”
“Your daughter was cursed?!” The Marchioness rose an eyebrow in disbelief.
“Sadly, yes. It plagued her life for years.” Count Lark knew that the best lie was the one shrouded by a half-truth. Keyla had always called her acne a curse, after all.
“What do you have to lose? If I’m wrong, we’ll leave, and you will never hear from me again, outside official business.”
“Is that a promise?” It was too good to be true.
“I swear on my ancestors. If he fails, the only things we will ever talk about are County matters.”
After shaking his hand to seal the deal, Marchioness Distar had him contact Nana, which in turn called Lith.
When he arrived to Nana’s house, Ainz was already there, waiting for him.
He was a man in his mid-twenties, wearing a full black robe that covered his entire figure except his head and hands. He had long fingers, pitch black hair and eyes, with some odd black shades that seemed to devour sunlight at contact.
Ainz had sharp, and intelligent features, with a blood red gemstone embroidered on his chest.
“Aside from the tacky gem, that’s the kind of man I would gladly marry one of my sisters to. Too bad he is too old, noble and tacky.” Lith thought.
Ainz gave him an odd look, but his eyes didn’t betray any emotion.
“My liege requires you help, young magico. Do you know how to fly?”
Lith nodded, swallowing back a snarky remark.
“Then go in that direction as fast as you can.” Ainz pointed at north, northeast.
“I’ll follow you closely.”
Lith pretended to cast a personal spell, wriggling randomly his fingers and counting backwards from ten to seven, in English. By mimicking the Ry, he coupled his best flying spell with the slipstream effect one, reaching a speed close to 500 kph (311mph).
It took Ainz only a bit of effort to catch up with him.
“Not bad! Purple mana core guys are really impressive.” Both Solus and Lith wanted to see with their own eyes what someone with such talent was capable of.
“Impressive! So young and he already has devised some personal spells. Maybe the old lunatic isn’t so crazy, after all.”
When they reached the Marchioness’ house, Ainz moved so fast through all the barriers and guards that Lith didn’t manage to take a proper look around. He had to spend all his energies just to keep up with his pace.
Before he realized it, he was in a fancy parlour. Both nobles stood up at their arrival.
“That was fast, Ainz.” The Marchioness seemed pleasantly surprised.
“The young one seems to have more than one ace up his sleeve.”
“Is this commenting my skills supposed to be subtle or something? Seriously? How stupid to you take me for?!” Lith was seriously pissed off, but the looks from the Count and his guilty conscience kept his mouth at bay.
The Marchioness gave Lith an abridged version of the story, dragging him to her daughter’s bedroom without giving him the time to think or even express his opinion.
“I get it already! You don’t have any faith in me. Quit dragging me around like a f*cking parcel!” Lith thought.
He was seriously considering failing on purpose, just to get even with her, but from Lark’s troubled face, his instinct could tell that there was more at stake than the life of a girl.
Just from his countenance, Lith could deduce that the Count had exerted a lot of pressure just to get him to that spot. Lark had faith in him, and judging from the Marchioness expression, she was clearly expecting, if not straight wishing, for Lith to fail.
It wasn’t the time to stand on the side-lines anymore, he believed that if the Count assumed he could do it, there shouldn’t be any risk playing his “blessed by the light” card.
After catching his breath, he performed more finger wriggling while counting up from one to three, in English, while activating Invigorate on the poor girl.
It was a beautiful young woman in her early twenties, with only cotton gauzes to cover her chest area, compressing a huge wound, ten centimetres (4inches) wide that cut her diagonally from the left shoulder to the right hip.
After a few second, he could only say.
The Marchioness scoffed, everyone before him had said the same word.
“And it’s not a curse. Just some kind of magically laced poison.”
“What?!?” The Marchioness lost control, stamping her feet on the floor.
“You heard me.” Lith was tired of being looked down upon, treated like some illiterate barbarian. “It’s a slow release poison that disrupts the effects of light magic, turning any attempt to cure it into a new wound. Simply brilliant.
It’s almost impossible to cure such condition.”
“Almost?” The Marchioness knitted her eyebrows. “Are you saying you can cure her?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “It will take about a week to make the proper adjustments to one of my spells. It’s the same thing I did for Count Lark a few years ago, just more complicated.” They hadn’t arranged together this speech, it was the truth.
It was just like Keyla’s acne, only instead of removing natural impurities, he had to remove the artificial ones in order to make the healing possible.
“Kid, my daughter’s life is no joke. I tried, Ainz tried.” She pointed to the black obsessed mage. “Are you sure?”
“She tried?!” Lith thought. “Solus, didn’t you tell me she had just a red mana core?”
“Indeed, and is still red.”
“Try scanning her clothes, accessories, anything that doesn’t have any mana.”
“Her barrette!” Solus exclaimed. “It has no magic flow, but that’s impossible! This means that even items capable of hiding one’s talents do exist.”
“Forgemaster is definitely a specialization we have to take.”
“Pretty sure. I will be back in a week and…” Lith tried to move, but the Marchioness stood in his way.
“If what you say is true, you’ll stay here and cure her as soon as you are finished, not a second later!”
Lith was enraged even more, he was being taken hostage by a grief-struck madwoman abusing her power, but remained silent. Both Count’s Lark and his family were in danger.
When Marchioness Distar noticed Lark’s shocked gaze, she had already gone too far.
“It is never wise mistreating a healer, my liege.” Ainz used one of his personal spells, sending in her ear a whisper that only the Marchioness could perceive.
“Healers tend life, but how you relate to them changes their attitude and care toward their patients. If Manohar is unavailable in the future, if this Lith can actually do what he says, do you really want to make an enemy out of him?”
“Please, save my daughter.” The Marchioness said with a deep bow. “If you manage to heal her, I will send you to whatever academy of your choice. I swear to the gods.”
“This is much better.” Lith thought.
The following week was pretty stressful for him. Being paranoid, he was sure the Marchioness or one of her servants would spy on him 24/7. Lith had to sleep every night, and spent the following days pretending to experiment with hand signs and accents.
He could actually cure the girl right off the bat, but that would have been too fast. Lith had followed Count Lark’s advice, preparing himself for revealing at least part of his talent.
When Manohar was his age, he had solved a similar case in less than three days. Lith didn’t want to appear as good as him, so he took as reference another contemporary great healer whose records were stored in Soluspedia.
“I can’t be too much of a genius, but being average is out of question. To achieve what I want I must be treasured, but not envied or used as a paragon. Scoring 90/100 is more than enough for my needs.”
A week later, he entered again in the young lady’s bedroom, under the eyes of her family and Ainz.
Lith first put his hand on her sternum, taking control of her mana flow and forcing the poison to move in a single spot before extracting it.
Then, he made it float in a bubble, before dripping it in a vial he had made prepare beforehand.
After that, Lith executed his best healing spell, closing the wound in one go, without leaving a mark or a scar.
The girl immediately regained a healthy pink colour, her breathing turned from quick and shallow to strong and steady.
Marchioness Distar couldn’t believe her eyes. She quickly unwrapped the gauze, barely giving Lith and the male side of the family the time to turn around.
Doing it left him full of regrets.
“Be strong, old man. We are still physically young, there are still plenty of wonderful breasts waiting for us in this new world. Think of it as an investment. It’s better to start our relationship with our new backer with a clean slate.”
While the Marchioness was hugging her daughter, sobbing, Ainz took the poison to analyse it, while Lith exited the room, waiting for the permission to go back home.