The baroness and the lady knight left in a huff. Then, Garrett and Viscount Gard sat facing each other, starting their negotiation:
"I need men aged 18 to 40."
"They canât be that old. If they canât become knights by 25, theyâll either transfer to civilian positions or leave the guard."
"Then letâs go with young men aged 18 to 25. They should be robust, not too thin or fat."
"No problem. They should be first-level warriors and below knights, right? How many do you need?"
Garrett quickly calculated and, without hesitation, made an audacious request:
"Letâs start with two hundred."
"Two hundred!" Viscount Gard jumped up. The royal guard protecting the palace, even if you count the noble children, didnât have two hundred people who met the criteria! To meet the needs of Nordmark, theyâd have to include soldiers as well!
"Oh, two hundred isnât a lot," Garrett said calmly, smiling as he waved his finger at the excited viscount. "Not everyone can donate blood; at least their blood type must match the queenâs, right? With four blood types, assuming a quarter for each, thatâs 50 people. Each person donates 400 milliliters, totaling 20,000 milliliters."
"Twenty thousand milliliters?!" Viscount Gardâs eyes nearly popped out. He pointed a trembling finger at Garrett, his fingertip quivering as if performing Brownian motion in the air.
"Donât scare me! Twenty thousand?! How much blood does a person have? I read a paper from Black Crow Swamp, and a person weighing a little over a hundred pounds has about 5,000 milliliters of blood!"
"Thatâs correct." Garrett looked at him innocently. Although the statistics were from Black Crow Swamp and a bit sarcastic... well, among the various schools, Black Crow Swampâs style seemed the most fitting.
"Iâve seen cesarean sections where the most dangerous ones required a transfusion of 10,000 milliliters of bloodâequivalent to replacing all the blood in a personâs body twice. Assuming each person donates 400 milliliters, Iâd need 25 people to meet that blood volume."
Viscount Gardâs lips trembled as he wanted to ask about the dangerous situation but didnât dare. Garrett continued to explain earnestly:
"Then, I canât just prepare 25 people, right? We need some extra in case the people you find arenât suitable!"
"What if we donât do the surgery?"
"According to previous statistics, normal blood loss during a natural birth is between 300 to 500 milliliters; for a cesarean section, if the surgeon is skilled, it can be controlled within 200 milliliters." Garrett answered smoothly.
"The kind of dangerous situation Iâm talking about is very rare. But if it happens, whether itâs a natural birth or a cesarean section, it will be dangerous. Moreover, this is for the queenâs surgery; we must be fully prepared."
Viscount Gard left in a daze. Garrett called after him:
"Hey, remember to tell them that everyone must undergo a physical examination before donating! Those who refuse or fail the exam cannot donate blood!"
"Do they have to be examined?"
"Not necessarily," Garrett thought. "If they donât undergo a physical exam, each person should receive a Remove Disease spell to ensure theyâre healthy and free from any transmissible diseases."
Remove Disease, a third-tier divine spell, costs 750 gold coins per casting. For two hundred people, even if the range is narrowed to the fifty selected by the blood magic, one spell per person... ĆĂÎŐÎČĐĆ
37,500 gold coins.
Viscount Gard quickly caved. Compared to such a large sum, it was better to have the young men stripped and examined by Nordmark, then have their blood tested.
He floated away, gathering the guards, selecting people, and arranging the physical examination. Garrett also reminded him:
"Qualified people can join without gifts! Unqualified ones cannot join even with gifts!"
"..."
Could he say that this was unnecessary, and the gifts could be used to cover the examination costs?
Apparently not...
Garrett was preparing for the queenâs examination, conducting physicals for the royal guard, and preparing everything for the surgery. Meanwhile, across the strait, another noble was contemplating whether to invite him for surgery:
"Count Ostend, I believe youâve verified all this information." The lobbyist sent by the Magic Council sat confidently in front of him.
"You should have confidence in Nordmarkâs medical skills, right?"
Count Ostend, the lord of the northernmost of the seven cities forming the defensive chain on the other side of the Hall Strait, had a well-fortified castle in a crucial location, backed by vast lowlands crisscrossed by rivers and dotted with dikes.
If the Kent Kingdomâs mages crossed the Hall Strait and Count Ostend agreed to cover for them or even turned a blind eye, they could enter those lowland cities and quickly disappear from the Radiant Churchâs stronghold.
Since the council obtained information from Viper Arezzo that Count Ostendâs youngest son had been secretly harmed by the church, they had been working on this lead for over a year.
First, they sought evidence to make him understand the cause of his sonâs death. Then they found ways to let him know that the council might have a solution for his eldest sonâs condition. Especially that this Nordmark mage might have a way.
After months of effort, smallpox, blood transfusion, heart surgery, and cesarean sectionsâone achievement after another, and one top journal article after anotherâwere gradually presented to Count Ostend.
His attitude finally shifted from disdain to slight interest, and he allowed the councilâs representative to sit in front of him for an hour, presenting facts and reasoning eloquently. Yet, he still had some doubts about Garrettâs abilities:
"Can he really achieve this? Did he do it himself? Even for a legendary mageâs disciple, can someone accomplish so much in such a short time? Isnât there a grand healer behind him?"
"Of course itâs true!" The lobbyist replied earnestly.
"Well, the queen is about to give birth, and she specially invited him from Nevis to perform a cesarean section. You can verify this yourselfâif it werenât his invention and if he werenât the best at it, why would they invite him?"
Count Ostend fell silent. After a long while, he lightly tapped the table and pushed the journals back.
"Letâs wait until after the queen gives birth!"
In other words, if Nordmark performed the surgery himself, everything would be negotiable; if not, there was no need to discuss further.
The negotiation results from Ostend were transmitted to Nevis, then through the councilâs emergency line, directly to the capital. That night, Garrett received an urgent order:
Ensure by any means that the queenâs cesarean section is performed by him!
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