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The White Cloud Guild was very old but relatively small, with only one single branch. It was near Eternal, but despite its modest size compared to the other trade guilds of the First Hundred, it was not inferior in wealth to some of them. The same was true of its influence and ties with the imperial elite. The reason for such success was that the long-dead founders of White Cloud had mastered a very narrow but highly sought-after niche of services at a very high level. Mental healing. Working at the intersection of alchemy, artifacts, and mental magic, they were able to work with the damaged mind like few others on the continent. In the vast majority of cases, they were able to almost completely correct or largely offset the effects of all sorts of Hypnomancers, Seductress, Slavemancers, and other masters of changing and corrupting human or non-human minds. However, very little was known about the specific methods of the guildsmen - they jealously guarded their secrets, taking non-disclosure obligations from all clients or even applying partial memory wiping. Understandably, such specialists could not but cause certain fears of those in power, although they almost always worked with the involvement of priests of the Just, who certified all agreements, oaths, and obligations. After all, one who knows how to cure knows how to cripple. Still, there were enough people willing to put a relatively small guild under their control or to take over its assets. But its founders and their descendants were no fools.

White Cloud was under the direct patronage of the Ruling Dynasty of the Empire of Ages, having made a vassal treaty certified on the altars of three different celestials. The then Emperor rightly thought that having a loyal guild of such masters in direct subjects was a very good idea. Protection of the Ruling Dynasty in exchange for priority services at a very favorable rate for the Eternals. Such patronage saved White Cloud from the threat of a direct forceful takeover, and the experienced mentalists were quite skillful in underhanded games and intrigue. Again, they preferred not to leave their home walls unnecessarily, and there, on their territory, they quite reasonably felt safe enough. But still, they had their detractors, even if they tried not to be obvious.

After the Fall, when the city had been saved and a relative order had been restored, a queue of potential clients lined up at the gates of the guild's main building, which resembled a huge white marble palace. All the guild specialists, who were not that many, given the extremely strict and high requirements for level and skills, found themselves loaded with work as if for several years ahead. If not for a decade. It was also complicated by the fact the absolute majority of the clients requiring immediate service were not simple people (or not people) at all. Others simply could not afford White Cloud's services. Some had money, some had connections, some had both, and some had the third. And all of them demanded, begged, pleaded, offered money, returned favors or commitments. Just serve our victims as soon as possible! Today, now, yesterday! The guild member in charge of compiling lists and prioritizing had aged a dozen years in a couple of weeks, trying to figure out the best queue for treatment.

Cint Quiliy was very fortunate in that regard. A descendant of nobility who had made a career in the army and received the epic title and the class of Legate of the Emperor from the now-deceased Emperor in addition to the first commander class. In his time, he had done White Cloud a weighty favor. To be more precise. His entire clan did it, and he as the current head, had the right to demand a return favor, in the form of extraordinary service to one patient of his choice. Everything was official, according to the contract, signed and certified not just anywhere, but in the first temple of the Just. And now it was time to claim it. On the fateful day, he and most of his family were outside the Eternal in a country estate. Only the son and heir remained in the capital's ancestral mansion with his small retinue, domestic servants, and part of the House Guards. He would find out later how a pair of female cultivators had infiltrated the ranks of the thrice-tested maids, and he would pay the responsible party back in full. If those idiots are still alive. Cint was saved from total disaster by the vigilance of his son's senior bodyguard, who suspected something amiss in the behavior of the two girls, who had been quite modest and decent until that day. But still, the two devilish bedfellows managed to get the young man into bed and get down to business.

The family mansion in the capital survived the Fall at the cost of irrevocably losing most of its centuries-old defenses, almost all of its household servants, and guards. By the time the city returned, the mansion had been overrun by cultists and their masters, and only the maximally fortified family vault, where the surviving defenders and the heir had retreated, held on. The latter, in addition to the previous blow to the brains, received a flurry of defeat as well as some devilish compulsion of unknown nature. It was good that his bodyguards managed to knock him out by giving him a special potion that put him into a deep, dreamless sleep. He'll have to give them a special bonus for that. The survivors. As soon as the main problem is solved.

"Let it be!"

The high priest of the Just One, a man of considerable age and strength, placed his palms on two identical scrolls of expensive enchanted parchment, where the same text of the treaty was written in calligraphic handwriting. As soon as his palms touched the scrolls, the mark of the Just One flashed on them, only to be absorbed into the material a moment later and become invisible to the eye but no more powerful. One of the scrolls was taken by a guild representative dressed in a plain white robe, while the other was taken by the scrolls of Cint, an elderly halfling twenty-third level twenty-three with the rare Lawer class. Finally, this bureaucracy was over with.

"Excellent. Gentlemen, please follow me."

Cint, along with his wife, his closest retinue, and his straitjacketed, sullen son, followed the guild representative. As he walked through the corridors of their palace, he involuntarily touched the protective amulet hidden under his clothes. Still, it was uncomfortable to go into the lair of the masters of mental magic. Even despite the scrupulously written and four times checked contract, signed and certified by the Just. Apparently, his wife and the others were also uncomfortable. Fortunately, the walk was short. Soon, they were all led into a rather spacious room. Most of the opposite wall from the entrance was occupied by a huge, almost panoramic window, behind which another room could be seen. In the center of the wall with the window, on two work tables were placed numerous incomprehensible artifacts. Somehow, they resembled samples of dwarven machinery Cint had seen a couple of times before. There were also several chairs prepared in the center of the room, arranged in rows. One of Cint's requirements was to be present in person, for which he had to pay extra. But it was more reliable. Inside the room, four people were already waiting for them. A tall, gray-haired man in a white robe embroidered with golden patterns and a young woman with long brown hair wearing the same white robe but with only a couple of golden elements. A teacher and a student. Next to them stood two seemingly very sturdy young men in simple but also white robes.

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"Greetings, honorable Cint," bowed the eldest of the guildmen.

"Please have a seat. We will begin the operation immediately. But before we begin, I would like to remind you once again of the requirement of confide..."

"Yes, yes, I remember everything perfectly! No one and nothing. Get on with it!"

"Right away. Let's start patient prep."

The two sturdy young men with the guild representative accompanying Cint took the heir from the attendants and, with quick, polished movements, placed a silver mind-stabilizing hoop on his head and injected him with some sort of sedative alchemy. Afterward, they removed the straitjacket from the instantly relaxed young man and changed him into a simple white gown.

"Done."

"Uh, great. Get him to the O.R."

Under the watchful eyes of his parents and retinue, the young man was taken to a room visible outside the window. There, he was gently laid on a wide and long altar of white granite facing the ceiling. Apart from the altar, there was nothing else there at first sight. After making sure the young man was lying almost motionless and staring at the ceiling, they left the room in a hurry. The gray-haired mentalist and his assistant sat at the tables filled with strange artifacts and began to touch various protruding crystals and small levers. There was a low humming sound, and the incomprehensible machinery lit up with various lights and shimmering crystals. The gray-haired mentalist nodded contentedly and turned to Cint:

"We will now proceed to the first stage of treatment, a full diagnostic test. But first, I'd like you to listen to me to avoid misunderstandings. The methods of treatment that we use may seem to you... a little strange and unconventional. But I assure you, they have been proven effective and reliable for centuries. These methods were developed by one of the Summoned Heroes of antiquity who participated in the foundation of our Guild. According to his words, which, by the way, have been repeatedly tested for truth, they have been successfully used to treat and diagnose mental trauma in his homeworld. Over the years, we have honed them to perfection. Therefore, so that you do not see, I will ask you to sit in silence and not distract me and my student in any way. Outside interference in the process can have the most negative consequences for..."

"Yes, yes! We get it, get on with it."

"Great. Thank you for your understanding."

Turning back to the strange devices, he turned to his assistant:

"Here we go. Let's go to number nine."

"Wouldn't an eighth be better?"

"Mm-hmm. No, the ninth will give the most complete picture for a man of his height and weight."

"Roger. Beginning preparations."

Touching another crystal, she spoke in a confident voice:

"Dieterius, I'm going to ask you to relax as much as possible and don't move. We're going into action."

Apparently, her voice was transmitted into the room with the altar. A moment later, several glowing magic rings appeared around the heir's arms, legs, head, and torso. Then, he was slowly and smoothly lifted into the air a meter above the altar, on which complex symbols were also illuminated.

"Very well, don't resist manipulation!"

The young man's body, hanging in the air, was carefully turned over a hundred and eighty degrees, face down. Then, his legs and arms were bent, so he seemed to be standing in the air on his knees and elbows. At the same moment, a hatch opened in the ceiling of the operating room, and a strange contraption that looked like the iron limb of some factory-made golem descended. Only it ended not with a claw or a hand but with large, covered glowing runes, shiny with oil and slightly vibrating...

"Okay, aiming... This is about to get a little messy. Penetration!"

With a sharp movement, the limb drove the phallus-like thing straight up the young man's ass. He jerked and cried out, but the magic rings held him still. At the same moment, the mentalist's devices increased their luminescence by an order of magnitude, and a parchment with some obscure symbols on it began to slide out of one of them. Between the senior mentalist and his assistant appeared a full-length translucent image of Cint's son, complete with all auras, energy channels, and subtle bodies. Two three-dimensional images of his brain appeared separately.

"Okay, very good... Uh-huh... Mm-hmm... Right there, see?"

"Yes, I fixed it. And also here."

"And right here in conjunction with this area."

"I see it. And right here..."

"Uh-huh. Okay, let's, for now, go for second speed, just be careful."

"I'm on it."

At the assistant's command, the manipulator began slow reciprocating movements, pulling the phallic thing about a quarter of the way out of the body, shaking from the vibration. The glow of the devices intensified again, the speed of drawing and writing on the scroll sliding out of the device increased, and on the volumetric images of the body and brain, some areas were colored pink.

"Aha, that's how it is... I see. Fixing it... Okay, there's a disturbance right there!"

"Marked. And these areas are also affected. I don't know what's going on here."

"Strange... Hmm... Some tricky devil stuff, multiplied by personal complexes. Let's go into third speed and a half-turn. And then reverse in fourth speed with a full fixation."

"Roger."

Pausing for a moment, the gray-haired mentalist turned to the patient's parents and their attendants, who were sitting in chairs with completely dumbfounded faces, eyes goggling, and mouths open.

"Don't worry, honorable Cint! Whatever crap they put in your son's head, we'll find it."

Behind his back the young man hanging in the air continued to be rhythmically and powerfully pegged in the ass by the mechanical limb, gradually increasing in depth and tempo.

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