Chapter 48
The knight, Baron Chevalier, left with profuse thanks. Even though Garrett hadn't cured him, hadn't even started the treatment, the effort he'd put in was genuinely appreciated.
Garrett didn't pay much heed to the gratitude. Before the knight left, he held his hand, repeatedly cautioning:
"Stop smoking! When you go back, please, no more smoking! Smoking makes it harder for wounds to heal!"
"Why?"
"Just trust me!" Garrett pushed him out. Tobacco, nicotine, they caused blood vessel spasms, making wounds hard to heal. Especially post-limb reattachment, fingers were prone to necrosis. Even though what the knight needed was a wrist tendon operation, minimizing any impact was still beneficial.
But do you really want me to explain what nicotine is?
Thanks, but no, just listen to me!
Seeing off the guest, Garrett returned to his desk, starting his drafts. Making a fortune was indeed delightful. With two thousand sheets of paper at home, he could write whatever he wanted without worry, tearing one sheet after another, no more cramped writing!
He organized his thoughts, writing the medical history first, then dipped his pen in ink and continued:
Anesthesia, Hemostasis, Disinfection, Surgery.
Anesthesia: Inquire at the Temple of the God of War for available divine magic; if none, consult the apothecary. Yew, Mandrake, Aconitum, Thornapple; Check for corresponding magic.
Hemostasis: Tourniquet, Hemostatic forceps, Divine magic for hemostasis.
Disinfection: Hand washing, prepare strong alcohol, preheat and disinfect all instruments and clothes.
Garrett questioned the term "instruments." Swearing to Hippocrates, he really hadn't exaggerated. He only had two hemostatic forceps prepared and just three tissue forceps. What if there was an accident and the instruments got contaminated? How to proceed?
Divine light for disinfection?
Flame disinfection?
If only mage hands could replace tissue forceps... but that wasn't tangible, contamination might not be an issue...
Well, time to buckle down and learn more magic!
He reviewed the vocabulary he'd transcribed yesterday and today, then laid down to sleep. The next morning, he went to the City Guards' barracks, fetched his horse, mounted up, and rode straight to the Mage Tower.
The horse was borrowed from the City Guardsor rather, Captain Flynn did him a favor and allocated it for his use. He'd leave it at the stable while at the Mage Tower, paying the gatekeeper five silver coins per month, and retrieve it when back in the city. This saved him time to copy an extra 20 pages of words every day!
"You're copying books? You're in trouble! Mister Elliot said you're only allowed to read, not copy!"
The papers weren't that sturdy to begin with, and with the boy shaking them back and forth, one tore apart. Garrett got anxious:
"Hey, give that back!"
He moved to grab it, but the boy dodged left and right, giggling, then swiftly slid under the table. Before Garrett could bend down, the child shouted:
"You dare try and take it back! Someone's secretly copying books! Mister Elliot! Mister Elliot!"
The child's voice was sharp and loud, echoing throughout the lower levels of the Mage Tower. Garrett couldn't stop it in time. Just as he was about to cover the boy's mouth, outside the library, a dignified voice spoke up:
"What's going on?"
Garrett stopped, turning around. Outside, Elliot had bowed respectfully:
"Master."
Oh no... caught red-handed by the head honcho. Garrett inwardly sighed in distress, but all he could do was also bow:
"Respected Master."
"What's the commotion?" Magician Gelman stepped in. Still clad in that tight red robe, his eyes glistening, with just a glance, several scattered papers floated up and flew into his hand.
Can't escape... I was planning to show some results, then ask for help from someone, but it's only been two and a half days! Can he tell what I've been doing in just two and a half days? Can I impress this magician?
Or perhaps, is it still possible for me to seek refuge with a necromancer? Might I be hit by a fireball spell? No, probably not, this is a library after all, fire hazards...
Garrett's mind raced chaotically. His heart pounded, breaths quickened one after another, and he felt a cold sweat forming on his back. He was surprised he had the time to think about these things. Stepping forward, he stood tall, meeting Magician Gelman's gaze squarely. Speaking calmly to defend himself:
"I'm not just copying from the book. I'm, organizing and summarizing for easier memorization."
"But you're still copying!" The boy shouted. Magician Gelman,
however, raised a hand to stop his argument. With a furrowed brow, he glanced over a few papers, then suddenly said:
"What about the rest? Bring them out."
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