"Mr. Hermaeus, I know someone who could heal you," she said, checking the back seat through the small mirror on the dashboard. "He's skilled, a Siverian scholar from Academia Arcanum with considerable achievements in the Restoration class."
In this realm of Eleftheria, what he once thought impossible was no more. Magic existed and resided in everyone, even amidst all the technological advancements surrounding them. From Hermaeus' memories, magic was needed to support the innovations of the industrial revolution.
Humans were not alone here. Other races, such as the Siverians, also inhabited this world. Siverians were wiser, more knowledgeable in magic, and inclined to avoid conflicts. When the Septimus Empire discovered them living in the deep forests, the emperor saved them, offering them a chance at a better life.
He couldn't deny it, Hermaeus was quite the bookworm, even though this basic information had been covered in middle school. He remembered that before being hit by Clandestine and falling into the river, he had been attending the Dome of Knowledge, studying how automatons worked.
"I mean, even I couldn't resist learning about that."
"But I hope you can overlook his behavior," Clandestine continued, her focus on the road as she chuckled. "He's a bit eccentric."
By human standards, manners related to unusual creativity might be considered eccentric, but for the Siverians, it was nothing less than a defining trait. Hell, even Calvin thought they were crazily intelligent. After all, they were the founders of much of this technological innovation.
"Thanks," said Calvin, offering a small smile. "You don't have to do this much. It's a mere scratch."
"Refused. It's on me," she replied, her tone firm and uncompromising. "Just relax. I want to make things right."
Calvin sighed, realizing there was no room for negotiation. He looked outside, unsure of exactly where they were, but it was clear they had entered the city. The skyscrapers lined the sides of the road, each showcasing unique steam-powered mechanisms. A rail in the center acted as a divider, with small trains serving as public transport, awaited by crowds at the stations.
Poor Calvin, he seemed lost as if he had no recollection of this, making it a new experience for him. Calvin couldn't blame Hermaeus, though, as his economic situation was limited. His father, Antonius Claude, died during his work as an engineer, while his mother, Helena Arrinton, worked as a farmer.
Through faint memories, Hermaeus remembered having an older sister, Selina Claude. There wasn't much interaction between them, as she disappeared when he was just a child. The energetic sister he had once adored was later reported to have died a few days after his father's tragic incident. And it was all because of those machines.
Yet Hermaeus remained stubborn, secretly studying everything about these technologies, careful not to let his mother find out. Calvin was beginning to understand this behavior. Now that he was Hermaeus himself, he could feel that his love for machines would never fade, as though it was connected to his veins.
"Here we are," Clandestine voice broke Hermaeus' daydream as he leaned against the window. They had stopped beside a massive building that resembled a cathedral. "Salvator Hospital."
The structure boasted towering spires, complicated carvings, and sharp arches. At its front, the stonework highlighted a statue of the Goddess of Health, crafted on the facade. The central staircase, framed by columns and detailed vaults, was filled with patients and visitors alike.
"It's even larger than I imagined."
The atmosphere shifted as he stepped out of the car. The scent of steam lingered in the air, blending with uncontrollable noise. Across from the hospital lies a bustling market, its streets crowded with customers. However, Hermaeus was drawn to a single machine at the front door, his eyes fixated on it.
"Cleaning automaton?" he remarked, observing in detail how the machine moved and did its chores. Gears turned in unison, with puffs of smoke escaping from the spaces between its components.
"It's not your first time seeing them, right?" Clandestine approached, helping Hermaeus walk. "To be honest, I admire them so much."
Curious about what she meant, Hermaeus turned to his left where Clandestine stood. "The ones who created all of this. Their incredible inventions that link everything together. In fact, this was achieved hundreds of years ago, proving their brilliant minds are far beyond our reach."
He agreed. Among the many automatic machines, all of them were operated by a single force connected to their core. It was called the Kiver—a cube-like object with an infinite reservoir of magic. No one knew how it was created or where it came from, but it remained the most vital resource in the world of Eleftheria.
"I'd like to make an appointment with Arcanist Thalorin," said Clandestine at the receptionist's desk.
The woman on the other side was writing on a book. Without looking, she replied, "Wait a moment. I need to finish this. May I know who it's from?"
"Clandestine Everon."
The moment she told her name, the receptionist turned, a mix of surprise and a hint of fear flashing across her face. "Oh, forgive me, Miss Everon. I'll inform him immediately."
Hermaeus narrowed his eyes. There was something unusual here, especially tied to the name behind Clandestine. From this reaction alone, he could discern that she either came from an influential family or was, at the very least, someone important to this hospital. No wonder she owned such a luxurious vehicle.
"What now?" a male voice emerged from behind the double doors. "Screwed up your car again?"
"You make it sound like I do that all the time," Clandestine retorted, her hands on her hips.
"And this time, you've even caused a victim. What a mess, isn't she?" The Siverian shifted his attention to Hermaeus, who was struggling to stand upright. "You must be the unluckiest man alive, sir. Please, have a seat here."
He matched every characteristic of a Siverian. Tall and slender, their white skin with subtle undertones of light sage exuded their original habitats. Their eyes are wider than normal human, high cheekbones, sharp chin, and larger ears that tilted upright. Even though Thalorin might be older, his face retained a teenage appearance.
"Your bones need adjustment for sure," he explained after examining Hermaeus' legs. He then took a deep breath, preparing for his next move. "Worries not, I'll fix it in seconds."
Hermaeus witnessed true magic as a motif appeared on the back of the Siverian's hand, its light flowing into Hermaeus' skin. A warm, soothing sensation enveloped him, so that he felt no discomfort while his bones were being realigned. They returned to their normal state, as if nothing had ever been wrong.
"So this is restoration magic?" Hermaeus murmured to himself, awestruck. "How beautiful."