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You look upon the coins that Robert has brought before you. With a gesture, you reach out with your magic and let it seep into the metal like water into dry sand. The coins resonate with your mana, drinking deep as gold does. Of all metals in the world, gold most readily absorbs magic - even moreso than mythril, though it does not share mythril's superb conductivity. Its ability to hold magic power and absorb the vital essence of life is what makes it such a superb medium for this particular bit of spellwork. The fact that it does not corrode under natural means makes it an even better medium for medical artifice like this. The coins begin to shine as brightly as stars, though they have not yet absorbed enough magic to deform and flow as you need them to.
"You have what you need?" Robert asks. His eyes look a bit nervously at the now-glowing coins.
"Yes, their purity is sufficient," you tell him. With a breath, you send a thread of magic to the iron ball hidden in your cloak, the sweat of exertion running down your brow. The spell to replace the heart is a dual layered spell of Iron and Gold, and you need to keep the Baron's blood flowing while you work - so this has pushed you to your limits. "<span class="mu-s">May the crucible be shaped from the master of all metals. King of Elements, from whom all are born and to whom all shall return at the end of time, become thou like adamant and draw gentle gold through the die of thy unshaking will.</span>"
The ball of iron flows like water through the air, shaped by your will into a three-dimensional magic circle, wherein equations drilled into your head by an old friend who drilled <span class="mu-i">you</span> as a reward for getting them right are written out in the Alfheim Notation. Power flows through them, making the iron glow like hot coals fresh from the forge, but with your will no longer forcing it to flow, the lord of all metals does not so much as droop. You can feel the heat of the World Tree's might flowing through the iron, the equation written out in the shape that it has taken preparing to resolve.
The bangle on your arm glows hot, managing the flow of Yggdrasil's power through the three spells you now cast concurrently. You do not push yourself as you had against the blight, so you are not at risk of setting down your roots just yet.
"<span class="mu-s">Mother gold, untarnished queen of beauty, lend thy ageless body as a catalyst of good health</span>," you command the gold, which has finally drunk its greedy fill of magical energy. Glowing like the stars, it flows slowly. Where Iron and Mithral - both splendid conductors of magic - flow like water, the gold flows more like honey. Slow and viscous, it moves at your will, its weight heavy against your mind as it tries to fall back to the earth. "<span class="mu-s">Embrace the heart with your compassion. Carry the blood, and see it nourished with new life. Spread, spread, spread, and follow now the instruction of thy beloved grandson Iron, whose immovable wisdom shall see the child before me healed!</span>"
