Teaching battlefield first aid to a war god priest?

Since it was a lecture, it naturally couldn't be held on the training grounds. Captain Leon raised his hand, politely invited them, and the bald Bishop smiled in agreement, heading towards the military camp's council hall together.

The priests followed in a rush. Gret took the opportunity to fall back a few steps, trailing behind and walking with the Young Priest John. The Young Priest immediately leaned in and said in a low, urgent voice:

"I told the Bishop!"

"About that Knight's business?"

"Yes!" the Young Priest nodded quickly. Gret smiled and patted his shoulder firmly:

"Thanks a lot!"

The City Guard's council hall wasn't too big, nor too small. In the center was a long table, its surface clearly split from a single tree trunk. Apart from being planed smooth, it wasn't even varnished. On the wall directly opposite the entrance hung a very large map. If everyone squeezed together, it could seat about twenty people.

The bald Bishop and the City Guard's Captain entered first. Seven or eight priests poured in with a whoosh, immediately filling half the meeting room.

Gret, sandwiched between four squadron leaders, naturally followed them in. The junior captains and warriors behind them wanted to squeeze in too, but the squadron leader at the very back glared and reached to close the door.

"Wait!"

Knight Flynn stopped them in time. He glanced at Gret, seeing the young man constantly looking back, and couldn't help but smile. He beckoned to Captain Karen, who hadn't managed to get in:

"Karen, you come listen too!"

There was a small commotion in the crowd. The warriors who hadn't been granted permission pushed and shoved, complaining with half-joking grumbles:

"Captain, this isn't fair!"

"Captain, we want to listen too!"

"Captain, this is a life-saving technique!"

Captain Karen pushed his way forward amidst the envious glances of his comrades. Gret looked left and right, seeing Brother Raymond and the others far away in the crowd at the main hall entrance, unable to squeeze in. After thinking for a moment, he turned to find the Captain:

"Captain, what I'm going to talk about is very useful for everyone, it can help everyone save their lives as much as possible when they get injured. So, could you…?"

He swept his palm outward:

"Find a bigger place?"

Of course, that was possible! The Captain readily agreed, and the bald Bishop had no objections. The group, a vast procession, left the council hall and moved to the main hall. Before they even arrived, the aroma of hot food and dishes wafted from the direction of the hall.

Gret's stomach rumbled twice, betraying him.

…How could he have forgotten? The largest room in the military camp, the main hall, was used for ceremonies and served as the dining hall during normal times…

The warriors and priests sat below to listen to the lecture, while Gret took his place on the podium without hesitation. Without a blackboard or chalk, he made do with what he had, gesturing on his own body:

"We use our lungs to breathe. When the lungs are working, it's like a bellows used for a fire. Pulling it open is inhaling, pushing it out is exhaling. If the lungs are damaged, sometimes a one-way valve can form. When inhaling, everything leaks into the chest cavity, and when exhaling, it can't be pushed out…"

He explained as simply as possible how Tension Pneumothorax occurred and how to handle it during first aid. Before the bald Bishop could ask more questions, his tone deepened, and he picked up the pace:

"On the battlefield, there are many causes of death. However, besides being killed instantly, many are due to not receiving timely treatment from a priest after a severe injury. Now, I will talk about how to provide first aid for which type of injury."

The warriors' spirits lifted!

The junior captains and ordinary warriors were especially excited. The Captain and squadron leaders, as noble Knights and the backbone of the battlefield, always found it easier to get treatment. They, commoners, were not so lucky. Sometimes, a small cut on a nobleman's hand was more important than their broken arms and legs…

They could have survived! Some comrades, if they had received timely treatment, could have definitely survived!

"Little Gret is pretty good!"

A junior captain next to Captain Karen nudged him and whispered.

"Just like his father," another junior captain added.

"That's right, the Captain was just like this back then, always finding ways to take care of us…"

A group of middle-aged men whispered amongst themselves, their eyes filled with admiration and nostalgia as they looked at Gret. Gret nodded at them and continued in one breath:

"There are many causes of death on the battlefield, but they can be mainly categorized into three types. First, excessive bleeding; second, cardiac arrest; third, inability to breathe. Let's first talk about how to stop bleeding quickly on the battlefield…"

There was a stir in the main hall.

Cardiac arrest, inability to breathe – these, in the eyes of the warriors, were basically fatal severe injuries, or could basically be judged as already dead. When such a situation occurred, most people's first reaction was to give up.

Only bleeding. How many people had watched their comrades bleed uncontrollably, unable to stop it, unable to plug it, becoming weaker and weaker, their strength fading, and finally closing their eyes forever…

Little Gret was going to talk about how to stop bleeding?

That's great!

"Wait a moment!"

Suddenly, two or three voices shouted out simultaneously. Everyone looked towards the sound and saw two people from the second row of squadron leaders jump up anxiously:

"Little Gret, slow down a bit! We need to take notes!"

The main hall fell silent for a moment. Then, it erupted in laughter.

Gret couldn't help but laugh too. He waved at Knight Flynn, who had jumped up, and tried hard to tighten his muscles, preventing himself from bursting into laughter:

"Uncle Flynn, could you also get me two large sheets of paper and a board to hang up? For what I'm about to explain, I'll need to draw some diagrams, it'll be clearer with pictures–"

He drew diagrams with his hands while explaining, occasionally calling someone up to help demonstrate bandaging. Everyone listened with rapt attention. As it approached dinnertime, the kitchen sent over bread and cured meat. Everyone made do with vegetable soup and continued listening.

Just as he finished explaining the methods for stopping bleeding from the head and arms, a distant clamor arose. It grew closer and louder.

Gret looked up towards the entrance of the main hall, and at the same moment, several Knights stood up abruptly, their hands on their swords, turning their heads.

"Who?!"

"Who's there!"

"Cap, Captain!"

Thump-thump-thump-thump, a series of footsteps. A City Guard soldier, as if his life depended on it, ran in through the half-open hall door, leaning on the doorframe, panting heavily:

"Captain, people from the City Lord's Mansion are here to arrest someone!"

"What?"

"What's going on!"

"The City Lord's Mansion is arresting people, why are they coming to us, the City Guard?!"

The hall immediately erupted in a noisy discussion. Over 100 City Guard soldiers whispered amongst themselves, some in shock and anger, others bewildered. Some were so confused they blurted out:

"Don't we usually do the arresting?"

Pfft…

Gret stood steadily on the podium. He could roughly guess why people from the City Lord's Mansion would come to arrest someone at this time. As expected—

The main door burst open with a bang. A finely dressed envoy, flanked by two guards, strode arrogantly into the hall.

"By order of the Temple, we summon Gret Nordmark to come for questioning—"