Garrett had long forgotten about that. These days, he was cooped up in the Mage Tower, diving into magic studies with fervor. Meditation, memorizing incantations, perusing basic texts, learning magic
Magic was so much fun!
Ah, this Dance of Lights creates four light sources that float around. With a few more, couldn't one create a handheld lamp without shadows?
Oh, this Frost Beam, perfect for making ice in summer. If only it could drop the temperature a bit more, I could make some exquisite ice cream!
Hmm, this Spark spell is good too, producing strong light. But using fireflies as the casting material harms the ecosystem. I need to research if there's an alternative...
Garrett was immersed in his studies. But there were two slight concerns:
Firstly, his mental capacity had hit a plateau. After casting spells five times a day, he hit a wall; no progress.
Secondly, his research into magical detection, or X-ray spells, hadn't budged.
He scoured every inch of the Mage Tower except the core. Despite the search, he couldn't find a spell capable of revealing bones. Every day, he questioned life itself:
Do the laws of physics in this world differ from my previous life's? Or do I need radioactive materials? But if I find them, can my frail body handle it?
Every day was spent eating, sleeping, and researching in the Mage Tower. There wasn't a line but a single point. If he checked his daily trajectory with a mobile, he'd only see a solitary dot...
Comfortable, dreamy, a life of contentment!
But this time, Garrett was kicked out of the Mage Tower to patrol the nearby Tarl Village. It fell under the Mage Tower's jurisdiction, or more accurately, the Magic Council's ownership. Although rent collection didn't require personal intervention, monthly patrols were necessary to assert the village's affiliation.
At least the Mage needed to make an appearance...
Naturally, this mundane task, useless for magical research, fell onto Garrett, the lowest-ranked and newest mage apprentice.
Riding an old horse, swaying gently, he followed the gatekeeper towards Tarl Village. The horse was docile, requiring no effort from Garrett. Lost in thought, he meandered along the path. Suddenly, a loud scream echoed from nearby!
Someone's injured? Where? Is it severe?
He sprinted towards the sound. Arriving, he found a middle-aged man lying under a small cliff, pale-faced, with a twisted left leg. A woven basket lay five or six steps away, its rope dangling loosely. One end was tied around his waist, now just a meter long, roughly cut. The other end hung from the cliff, seemingly snapped while he was working there.
A fall from a height.
Possibly accompanied by other fractures or internal injuries.
Garrett glanced and swiftly concluded. He crouched beside the man, pressing his right wrist: "You fell from up there? Anyone else nearby? Do you live nearby?"
The man nodded vigorously. Struggling, he tugged at Garrett's sleeve: "Save mesave me"
Great, the patient's conscious, strong pulse, smooth breathing, stable vital signs for now. Garrett glanced and saw the bone jutting out from the man's lower left leg, blood oozing steadily. Open fracture, significant bleeding!
First, stop the bleeding!
Instinctively, Garrett lunged forward, extending his right hand, firmly pressing the man's femoral artery. Turning, he shouted to the Mage Tower's attendant:
"Yes yes yes yes yes!" A chaotic series of footsteps, several farmers carrying baskets and spades, stumbled down the cliffside. Obviously, the injured man's companions. One of them, yelling as he slid down:
"Old Six is hurt! Go fetch the master! Quick!"
One farmer dashed off. Another, hearing Garrett's request for a bandage, frantically tore off a long strip from his clothes.
Garrett took it, assessing its thickness and strength. It was barely adequate. He handed it back:
"Get a wooden stick! Finger-thick, as long as my hand! Place it on his leg, where my fingers are, and tighten the bandage!Is it tight? Good! Turn the stick!"
The hemp rope creaked. The injured man cried out in agony, held down by his companions: "Don't move! Don't move! Your leghey, the bleeding's reduced!"
"Young sir, impressive!"
"What young sir, he's a mage!"
A farmer with sharp eyes spotted the wand at Garrett's sleeve, correcting his companions. As one of the farmers, tightening the stick, trembled and nearly fell into the mud:
"Don't move! Hold it tight!" Garrett yelled at him. When the man complied, Garrett knelt, felt the far end of the artery to confirm no pulse, then instructed the stick-holder:
"Grip tightly! Don't move! Loosen the bandage and alert me!"
Without a tourniquet, this makeshift solution would have to do for now!
The farmer nodded shakily. Garrett ignored him, directing others to lay the patient flat and remove his clothes. He squatted nearby, questioning the injured man and his companions:
"How did he fall? Did he come down vertically or roll down horizontally?"
"Which part hit the ground first? Hands, legs, or back?"
"Did he fall face down or face up?"
The injured man and his companions answered one by one. Garrett got the information he needed, and as the man's clothes were nearly off, he began a thorough examination:
No other visible injuries on the body's surface.
Abdominal pressing, no significant pain in the upper left abdomen... upper midsection... upper right abdomen...
Just as he finished checking, footsteps echoed from the nearby mountain path. Garrett glanced and saw an elderly man, one hand holding a staff, the other leading the farmer who had gone to call for help earlier. The elder sprinted so swiftly that even his deep brown robe billowed behind, easily carrying a hefty man of 180 pounds as if he were weightless.
This old guy's impressive!
Garrett silently praised. Around him, the farmers bowed unevenly:
"Elder, save me! Save me!"
The injured man struggled. Garrett shouted at him, pressing him down and continuing his examination.
The old man arrived, placing the farmer beside Garrett, leaning over to check the injured man. Without lifting his head, Garrett replied:
"You're Garrett?" The elder's voice fluctuated slightly. Before Garrett could answer, the elder crouched, checking the area around the patient's tourniquet:
"You set this up? Clever thinking! Alright, step aside now, I'll fix this leg!"
He can heal a fracture with a single healing spell? He's way better than me! Garrett glanced aside. Yet, when he saw the elder reaching out, he instinctively dodged, yelling:
The elder paused. Garrett's rebuttal came out in rapid succession:
"I haven't finished examining! Do you know if he has any internal injuries?"
hesitated. After a moment of silence, he asked:
"I've treated people with broken legs. Sometimes, the leg heals, but a few days later, they die. Could it be internal injuries?"
Garrett murmured. There were many reasons for deaths from falls. Internal ruptures, brain damage, or, if luck wasn't on your side, a ruptured aorta. Without seeing the patient, who knew what situation you'd encounter?