by Pirateaba
She fell asleep before she could finish the rest. But the words echoed in her dreams. Only, now the word humanity was wrong. She had to protect people. But she was a soldier, too. She might have to fight.
She couldn’t do that. She had sworn a higher oath. Even if she was in another world, another place where magic existed and people leveled up like a video game, she had her oath.
It was the only thing she had left.
[Doctor Class Obtained!]
[Doctor Level 1!]
[Skill – Lesser Resistance: Disease obtained!]
—-
“So you’re a [Doctor]?”
That was the question Geneva received at least ten times the next day, as she found herself marching across a dirt road and into increasingly thick underbrush. The 4th Battalion of Raverian Fighters set out to join the fighting.
In truth, Geneva had no idea where they were on this continent, or where they were going. She wasn’t even sure what they were fighting for, which amazed the soldiers who decided to speak with her on the march.
She was in 6th Squad, under Thriss himself. Their group—and indeed, most of the battalion—was Human. Oh, a few Centaurs, Dullahan, Lizardfolk, and even the Minotaur marched with them, but Geneva understood that species generally stuck together, even in mercenary groups.
“It’s easiest to coordinate attacks if everyone’s the same species for the most part. ‘Sides, we Humans have to stick together, right?”
So proclaimed the red-haired young man who’d been the first to join Geneva on the march. He shouldered the pack he’d been given with only a little difficulty and kept stroking the hilt of his sword with clear excitement. Geneva heard a snort and saw the three men and two women walking with them laughing at him.
“Ignore Lim. He don’t know what he’s talking about. We’d be far better if we had a few more Dullahan in our company. They’ve got armor for skin; all Lim’s got is a big mouth and a bad shoulder.”
“Hey!”
Lim looked hurt as Geneva laughed. The woman who’d spoken—Clara—had dark skin, reminiscent of a Native American’s, which made Geneva more and more convinced that she was in some twisted version of the Americas. Somewhere around Brazil or maybe the Amazons—the plant life and constant, intrusive humidity and heat seemed to suggest it.
“I’m surprised you wanted to join up with the Fighters, though, Geneva. Don’t [Healers] generally stay away from the fighting?”
“I guess. But I don’t have any money, and this was my only option.”
Clara nodded sympathetically.
“Still, if you won’t be fighting you’ve got a better chance than Lim. What’s a [Doctor] do, anyways? Don’t healing potions make your class obsolete?”
“Maybe.”
That’s what Geneva had been worrying about. She shook her head.
“Healing potions don’t work on everything, though, right?”
“True.”
A man with a thick beard and bald head nodded sagely. He had several scars that made Geneva wonder whether they’d been healed naturally or whether the healing potion hadn’t quite worked.
“A good healing potion’ll put together some broken bones and mend skin and even your guts, but a bad one only does a bit of healing. ‘Sides, do you think we’ve got enough potions to fix everyone up? Thriss made a big show earlier, but if you’re counting on being healed up every time you take a hit, you’d best run away now. Only way to stay healthy is not get hit.”
The other soldiers nodded and Lim looked worried for a second.
“But we won’t be in that much danger, right?”
“Hah! Against Centaurs? They might have trouble in the jungle, but get them on a flat plain and they’ll pepper you full of arrows so fast that you won’t even have time to reach for your shield.”
“Centaurs ain’t the problem here. I’m more worried about the Magehammer Company. They’ve got some nasty mages.”
“They’re not all going to be mages, are they?”
Again, everyone laughed at Lim. He flushed and turned red, but eyed Geneva sideways. She pretended not to notice—he couldn’t have been more than sixteen, and she was twenty four, going on twenty five.
“They’ve probably got mostly warriors and only a few mages in each squad, if that. And we’ve got our own mages so we needn’t worry about being completely alone. But mark me, there are going to be some nasty spells out there.”
“We’re not going to be fighting them the entire time, though, right?”
“Of course not! Do you think we’re going to kill them down to the last man? No, we’re trying to push back their company. If we kill enough of them—or take enough land, their Commander will probably sign a peace treaty. Then we all get paid and we can get drunk for a week or two.”
Clara lectured Lim as Geneva listened with rapt attention. She’d been in this world, in Baleros, for a week, and she’d survived mainly by pretending she knew the basics of this world. But she was still woefully undereducated, and the people marching with her were the first people she could candidly ask questions of.
“The Magehammer Company is trying to protect a goldmine that Centaur tribe found. That’s what I heard. They’re going to split the profits, but surprise, the Burning March Company claims that’s their mine because they’ve got the contract on this area.”
Several other people nodded sagely. Lim looked confused.
“But who’s right?”
“Who cares? We get paid to fight, not take sides. Don’t go making an enemy of a Company, boy.”
The bald soldier cuffed Lim. From what Geneva understood, Baleros was a continent unique in that despite there being nations and countries and kingdoms and so on, much of the fighting was done by mercenary groups, ranging from smaller troops like the Raverian Fighters to huge Companies comprised of multiple regiments of soldiers who were almost constantly embroiled in conflict.
“Of course, the Companies are like nations themselves.”
Clara looked surprised when Geneva asked her about it.
“New to Baleros, are you? Well, there are countless companies who have their own cities and towns where they base themselves. They have contracts and earn income from protecting places, and they send out their own armies to fight. The big ones have influence, representatives in other nation, even entire merchant organizations that cater only to them!”
Geneva nodded.
“I’ve heard the Four Companies of Baleros are the biggest. But I don’t know anything about them…why doesn’t everyone join up with them?”
“The Four Companies? Well, sure, if you’re an officer or a veteran they treat you well. But you can get better pay and opportunities to loot and level up in a mercenary group. Besides, when they go to war, people die by the tens of thousands.”
The bald man shook his head and spat. He was called ‘Old Man’ by a lot of the soldiers, but his actual name was Fortum. He used the spear in his hands like a walking stick as he talked, his mouth a mix of yellow teeth and conspicuous gaps.
“They’re all somewhat equal—well, it’s not as if they fight against each other most of the time. That would upset the balance, and if two of the Great Companies fought, the other two would attack the winner, if there even was one. But now that we’re mentioning it…Lim, you know the Four Great Companies, right? Tell the young lady about them?”
“Me?”
Lim jumped and blushed. He cleared is throat nervously.
“Well, there’s the Armored Legion—the Dullahans—”
“Dullahans and a lot of bastards in armor. They base themselves in the north, mainly. They’ve got at least eighteen cities under their protection.”
Fortum interrupted Lim.
“Well yeah, but their leader’s a Dullahan, right?”
“As if they made a difference! They’ll take anyone with good armor. I doubt you’d get much work with them, Geneva. All their troops are tough as nails and their Dullahans have metal armor.”
&n
bsp; The Old Man nodded to some of the Dullahans marching in a squad ahead of them. Geneva looked, and saw those Dullahans had ‘skin’ made of wood, not metal. She’d been surprised when she saw that, but apparently while Dullahans were all covered in armor save for their head, the quality of that armor varied.
“Not a lot of treatment needed for people wearing armor, right?”
“Maybe.”
Geneva could just imagine the injuries that might occur. Crushed bones, pieced armor—she shuddered as she imagined trying to restore a smashed hand without equipment. She wasn’t even sure she could help someone who got cut by a sword here.
“Anyways, they’re always at odds with the Flowing Wind Company. Mainly Centaurs, but they have a lot of mounted soldiers as well. They specialize in fast strikes—one second you think you’re safe and the next their armies will come riding down on you during the night. Not so great in jungles and higher up, though.”
Baleros wasn’t all deep forest and jungles. It had wide open plains and wonderfully scenic landscapes—or so Geneva had been told. If it was anything like America, she expected the northern part of the continent would be far colder.
She’d been born in Wisconsin, and although she was Italian by heritage and had often visited her homeland—this humidity was killing her. She would give anything for a bit of snow. Apparently it was winter, but for some reason it was delayed. She’d heard Winter Sprites mentioned in this context, but Geneva still had no idea what that meant.
“The Armored Legion and Flowing Wind companies are specialized, but the other two are more diverse. The Forgotten Wing for instance—”
“That’s the army with the Fraerling who leads them, isn’t it?”
“The Titan himself. Yeah, they rose into prominence two decades back. Crushed countless other companies, and their second-in-command is the Titan, the greatest [Strategist] in the world.”
Fortum nodded, and Geneva wondered what a Fraerling was. The Old Man cleared his throat.
“Mind you, their Commander is just as terrifying. The Titan leads their armies while the Three-Color Stalker takes down enemy officers. They haven’t as many long-term contracts, but they’re a rising force, and they’ve been fighting with the Iron Legion. Now, the last company—”
“Ambush! Centaurs in the trees!”
Someone screamed the words from up ahead. Geneva looked up, and then, suddenly, there were arrows.
Geneva stared at shadows as they burst from the trees. She felt something blur past her face, and then someone tackled her from the side. Lim’s terrified face hovered above her as Geneva hit the ground and all the air rushed out of her lungs.
Stunned, she saw a Centaur covered in warpaint and nothing else leap over her. He had a bow in his hands and he nocked it and fired three times. Three soldiers around him fell, crying out, and then he was running into the trees.
He had raven hair, and tanned skin. And he had a bracelet which shone with magical light. The Centaur’s galloping footsteps faded, and only then did Geneva sit up.
The first thing she heard were screams, and confused shouting.
“Attack, attack!”
“Go after them!”
“No, hold position! Get some potions out here!”
“They’re all dead!”
“Where are the archers!?”
“Potions! I need—!”
And then, a voice from next to her.
“Clara!”
Lim stared at one of the fallen soldiers. Geneva looked over and saw Clara was weakly grasping at a shaft buried in her collarbone. It felt as though the ground had dropped underneath Geneva.
Arrow wound. A deep shot. Probably hit bone; not bad blood loss yet, but Clara’s eyes were wide and she was gasping. First stage of hypovolemic shock?
Lim staggered over to the female soldier. He choked as he stared at the shaft in her body and reached for it.
Geneva was still in shock, but her training and instincts took over.
“Don’t touch her!”
She snapped at Lim as he reached for the arrow. Geneva looked around. Fortum was watching out for the archers, but other soldiers were already charging into the forest.
“Fortum! Help me lie her down.”
He hesitated, but then abandoned his spear and helped Lim lie Clara down. She was gasping and her face was white as Geneva studied the arrows.
Geneva had gone through a surgical rotation in medical school, but while her lessons had included information about how to fix up people with bullet wounds and knife wounds, no one had even thought to include a seminar about arrows. But the basic principle Geneva understood. She could either leave the arrow in and let it fester, or get it out.
The only problem was in how to get it out. Geneva had nothing like a scalpel and she was well aware of the dangers of infection. The arrow tip might be poisoned for all she knew. She had to get it out, but if Clara died then what was the point? Moreover—she’d have to cut down to the arrowhead itself to extract it.
She had butterflies in her stomach, but Geneva’s mind was cold. You had to be cold to work as a surgeon. And quick, too. There was no room for hesitation in the emergency room or the battlefield.
“I need a knife, and hot water. And a healing potion.”
She could bypass the injury she was about to inflict on Clara by using a potion. But there was still the issue of infection—did a healing potion erase bacteria or was that still an issue?
“Sergeant Thriss!”
Lim shouted desperately, and then the big man was running to them, a healing potion in his hands. He looked down at Clara, and then at Geneva.
“Can you save her?”
“I can.”
Geneva said it instantly. Even without a healing potion, the wound wasn’t that bad. And with it, she could take the arrowhead out. The only issue was whether the trauma of the surgery would be too much for Clara.
When she asked about the issue of infection, Thriss shook his head.
“The better type of healing potion gets rid of poison and all kinds of nasty problems, but we’ve only got cheap stuff.”
“Fine. Then I need a fire now.”
“[Mage]! I need a mage over here!”
Thriss roared and a man in robes ran over. He blinked when Geneva demanded a fire, but he immediately boiled the pot of water just by putting a glowing hand on the metal. Geneva dunked the knife Fortum handed her in the water and tried to breathe slowly.
She only had a knife. She needed—she needed clamps, forceps, retractors—she needed a damn scalpel. This dagger had all the precision of a baseball bat. And she needed something to dig around in the injury with.
“I need a spoon. Or—a metal knife. Something small I can work with.”
Lim went running, and Geneva knelt by Clara. The woman was trying to sit up, but Geneva held her down.
“Clara? It’s going to be okay. Alright? But I need to get that arrow out of you, so it’s going to hurt.”
“You can help me?”
Clara smiled at Geneva, but there was worry in her eyes. Geneva nodded and tried to smile. Clara should be under anesthesia, but she was bleeding and there was no time.
“Here!”
Lim came back with the things Geneva had requested. She dunked them in the boiling water and took a breath. Thriss was watching her, and Fortum was staring with concern at the arrow.
“The healing potion’ll close the wound, but the shaft has to come out. It has to be cut.”
She nodded at the older man.
“Hold her down. Clara? I need you to hold still, alright?”
Clara clenched her teeth.
“Okay.”
Lim’s face went pale as Geneva drew the dagger out of the boiling water. She barely felt the scalding heat; her entire concentration was on Clara’s bleeding wound. Go in fast; avoid major arteries and veins. Dig the arrowhead out and make sure it hadn’t fragmented, then use the healing potion. Time was her only enemy. And pain.
&nb
sp; “I’m going to start.”
So saying, Geneva slowly began to cut into Geneva’s shoulder, next to the shaft. The woman inhaled, and Geneva paused as she saw the blood.
But she’d done this before. She’d cut open people and cadavers. But never—
Never when they were alive.
It was so hard. But she had to do it. People thought doctors swore the Hippocratic Oath when they learned to practice medicine. There was that famous line, ‘Do no harm’. Primum non nocere.
Bullshit. Doctors had to cause harm. It was the only way to do surgery. The only way to save lives.
So Geneva began to cut. She sawed flesh apart and Clara screamed. Fortum and another man held her down as the woman herself tried not to move, and Geneva cut fast and deep.
“Oh dead gods. Lords and ladies. Nonononono—”
Lim was right in Geneva’s ear, reacting viscerally to the surgery. He backed away, hands over his mouth, and then Geneva heard retching and splattering. He’d vomited! Of all the—
“Goddamnit! Get him out of here!”
Geneva shouted and Thriss pulled Lim away. The vomit stank in the hot air and Geneva was worried it would attract bugs. But she didn’t hurry her movements; she was working as fast as she could and didn’t dare rush for fear of causing more damage.
Cut down. Through tissue. She didn’t have time to remove the blood, even if she could. No sponges. Clara was screaming, but there! There was the arrowhead.
It was deep. And now Geneva could see it was touching bone. But she’d opened a path so she gently tried to remove the arrowhead by pulling the shaft out.
She had to get the arrowhead out. It was a sharp object, unlike a bullet or something the tissue could heal around. Even a healing potion would probably only form an abscess around the arrowhead until Geneva could get it out. It was better to slice up Geneva’s flesh to retrieve it rather than leave it in.
If it was lodged in the bone, she’d have to pull it out with her crude forceps. Geneva prayed as she gently twisted and pulled the shaft out. Clara was moaning, deep and agonized. But Geneva’s attention was all on the shaft. She could feel the arrowhead moving, coming up and then—