It was late morning when they received the signal from Bayle, along with a guard escort for them. They left the ship, wearing their full arms and armor this time, and allowed the escort to lead them back to the palace and the diplomat's residence. The streets were much busier, with men and women all speaking in hushed and worried tones, much like they had been only a few days ago when Michael had first arrived. There was also a larger number of soldiers, militia, and guard in the streets. They weren’t arresting random people, which Michael saw as a good sign, but they were clearly out in order to make sure that the peace was kept.They stopped at a large building outside of the palace and the guard sergeant that was escorting them turned to Michael.“Sir, before we reach the palace there were a number of injuries sustained through the night by guards, soldiers, and civilians. It was indicated to us that you may be able to heal them.”Michael smiled, he’d been intending to ask Bayle about any injured himself. He wasn’t surprised the spymaster had anticipated him.“I’d be happy to,” he said and the guard opened the door for him to head inside. The building immediately brought back memories of the infirmary back at the academy. Long rows of beds, medics moving from spot to spot in crisp uniforms, and an alchemist station at the far end. He noticed two healers as well, one was panting heavily as she sat on a chair, drinking a restorative draught and the other was concentrating over a guard with a broken leg, sweat heavy on his brow.“Do the injured here include loyalists to the old king or are they being held separately?” asked Michael even as he began to channel healing energies into his hand, feeling Sarah’s grasp in it as the power built.“They are not. Please focus your energies on those that are here.”Michael shook his head, he could feel the injuries on a lower level. Burns, broken limbs, spear wounds, torn flesh, (...)