CHAPTER 667: GARRETT: CAN I GO A FEW MONTHS LATER?

Queen Amelia unconsciously shrank back.

From the age of three to sixteen, she had grown up in the temple, raised by the clergy. Although the Grand Temple afforded her the treatment of a princess and nobles often visited her—

Still, the obedience and even reverence for the High Priest were deeply ingrained in her from a young age.

—I am the Queen.

The ruler of this country.

The descendant of the Spring Goddess, a monarch blessed by the divine!

With these thoughts, Queen Amelia tried to bolster herself, straightening her spine and lifting her chin high. She smiled slightly, looking directly at the High Priest, striving to be both authoritative and amiable:

"Your Holiness, I have never at any time rejected the aid of the Spring Goddess’s temple. From a young age, I believed in the Spring Goddess and was educated in the temple, always admiring the servants of the goddess."

She paused briefly. Since her coronation, the whispers of ministers and royal tutors echoed in her ears:

You are the Queen, the nominal supreme ruler, but this does not mean you hold the ultimate power.

The temple, the Magic Council, warriors, nobles. In this world where great power converges, you must navigate these forces diligently—

The Queen’s gaze shifted from the High Priest to Nurse Mary, who had always cared for her. Her eyes, gentle and silent, carried a hint of mournful pleading.

"Mary," she said softly, "I am willing to rely on you wholeheartedly. But, my mother died in childbirth—"

Her hands, as delicate and white as elderflowers, twisted together, her blue eyes brimming with tears:

"Is it not possible to have someone save my life if divine magic fails, just in case?"

You are a young girl, merely a first-level priestess. Showing weakness in the face of power sometimes has its advantages—the court tutors taught her.

Sure enough, Nurse Mary was momentarily stunned, her presence diminishing as she shook her head at the High Priest.

The High Priest closed his eyes tightly, as if he had aged decades in a moment. He opened his eyes, sighed deeply, and bowed to the Queen:

"Your Majesty, for many years, the temple has served and protected you devotedly. Just because of a few papers and a rumor from a thousand miles away, have you lost faith in the temple’s power and loyalty?"

Queen Amelia choked slightly. Such words must not be spoken, admitting distrust in the divine magic of the Grand Temple, seeking another expert, was akin to breaking with the temple and the nobles closely intertwined with it—

Even though the kingdom had many other powers, antagonizing the Spring Goddess’s temple was a loss she could not afford now.

She could only smile, try to smile, and attempt to reassure him. Fortunately, the Queen was prepared and not alone; behind her, Lady Bradley, the court lady-in-waiting, stepped forward and said softly:

"Her Majesty has not shunned the temple’s presence; she only wishes for an additional safeguard in an emergency. As for tradition—"

Her voice suddenly became forceful:

"Should the dignity of the Queen and the royal traditions, even be placed above the safety of Her Majesty and her heir, and the peace of the kingdom?"

This was almost a stern rebuke. The High Priest’s face stiffened, his eyebrows raised. Seeing the tension rising, Nurse Mary stepped forward, slightly bending her knee:

"Your Majesty, your concerns frighten us. We too are deeply saddened by the passing of the former Queen and understand your fears about your first pregnancy. Regarding your wishes, I must say that the temple has noted the emergence of new techniques and has already sent people to learn—"

Nurse Mary and the court lady haggled back and forth, back and forth. Ultimately, it was decided that the Spring Goddess’s temple would send people to learn the technique of cesarean section, and if they could fully master it, the Queen agreed to have the female clergy of the Spring Goddess’s temple be entirely responsible for her childbirth care.

Of course, one prerequisite was that those sent to learn must gain the recognition of the Oak Grove Clinic; another was that this new technique must also be approved by the Queen.

And that Mage Nordmark should also be called upon, just not until absolutely necessary.

After appeasing the Spring Goddess’s temple, the Queen still had to exchange views fully with many royals, other important nobles, and royal advisors. Some agreed, some opposed, some were non-committal, merely advising the Queen to proceed cautiously.

And the most vehement opposition came from the Queen’s royal husband, Prince Anthony. This red-haired man paced back and forth on the carpet in front of the Queen, his hair standing on end as if about to ignite, his cheeks taut and veins bulging on his fists.

"What’s the matter, George?" Queen Amelia asked softly:

"Do you also oppose this? Don

’t you want me to give birth to our child safely and return to your side?"

"I’m sorry, Amelia." Prince Anthony, or rather, the youngest son of the Duke of York, the great-grandson of Queen Amelia’s great-grandmother, paused in his steps, turned around, and walked slowly to the Queen’s side, kneeling on one knee, his cheek pressed against his wife’s abdomen:

"I’m just... sorry, my dear, please forgive a man’s narrow-mindedness and jealousy. I just... I can’t stand the thought of another man touching your body... I know this is for your safety, and I will control myself..."

The Queen smiled as she stroked his hair. One strand at a time, pressing down, letting it bounce back up, pressing down again with her fingers. Her voice was soft and almost dripping with moisture:

"My dear, it’s just because you love me too much. I’m sorry, I don’t want to be touched by others either, but as a monarch, I must take up my duties—and now, the highest duty is to survive..."

The couple nestled together, whispering intimately. Meanwhile, a thousand miles away, the Queen’s request, or rather plea, was conveyed by the chief of the royal mage corps, Archmage Seymour, to the council, and then to Garrett.

"Am I to deliver the Queen’s baby?"

Garrett received this message just after finishing a surgery, his surgical gown and hands stained with fresh blood. As he cast a cleaning spell on himself, he reflexively asked the messenger Aurora:

"What did the teacher say?"

"The Lord of Thunder’s idea is to let you decide for yourself." Aurora had of course inquired before coming. The Magic Council also dared not consult the legendary mage without prior consultation. Then, the Lord of Thunder’s opinion was:

"Whatever he wants to do. Whether he wants to go to the capital to see things for himself or stay in Nevis, it’s all the same to him."

"Is that so..." Garrett pondered. "What did the council say?"

The review committee’s view, in general, was that they hoped Garrett would consider the council and the royal family’s good relations and make the trip, but they weren’t forcing him. No one could force a legendary disciple.

"Hmm..." Garrett weighed his options, looking around his clinic.

He knew that the Queen was about five months pregnant, which meant, at the very earliest, she wouldn’t be due for another two months. With two months, he could perform many more surgeries, accumulate much more experience, which would be much more convenient than being in unfamiliar surroundings in the capital...

"Can I go two months later?"

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