The First Magic World War

Chapter 333: 318, Field Hospital Knighthood

Charles got up early in the morning, paid his respects to Earl Brittany first, and watched over his subordinates as they delivered breakfast and the earl’s favorite black tea before he busied himself with work.

Although his status limited his access to many high-end luxuries, he still managed to get everything done properly.

In recent times, the Earl had not praised him, but had also not shown any signs of anger.

During this period, Charles’s Westwind Knights had become active again, establishing camps in nearly all areas of Southseraph. These camps hardly participated in combat; their main purpose was to carry out rescue operations. They provided assistance not only to the people of Southseraph but also to the wounded soldiers from Fars, Inglima, and even the Black Phoenix. Many of the Black Phoenix’s wounded, abandoned by their own troops on the battlefield, were found by the Westwind Knights, taken back to the camps, and treated for their injuries. The knighthood had seemingly transformed into a battlefield medical unit and was highly commended not just in Fars but also in Inglima and among the ranks of the Black Phoenix.

Charles even offered free novels to the wounded soldiers to help them while away the time!

The emissary from the Lionheart Dynasty had pleaded with various empires to spare Charles’s life, and he was not ungrateful. Thus, he decisively “changed his profession.”

Charles went to a nearby camp which was established strictly according to modern medical practices. Although Charles was not a professional, most of the emergency medical responses were common knowledge on Earth—while not universally known, very few would be completely unaware of them.

For instance, using boiling water for sterilization and clean white cloth for bandages were common; however, alcohol really wasn’t available—the Old Continent didn’t have cheap alcohol, and high-end champagne was beyond Charles’s budget. The low-alcohol fruit wines and beers were useless for disinfection purposes and could even encourage bacterial growth, but despite these limitations, the survival chances of many injured soldiers were significantly improved.

After inspecting the camp, Charles sighed softly. Even though he was working hard to save lives, the number of wounded soldiers taken in by the Westwind Knights each day was still growing.

The battlefield in Southseraph was snowballing; the more intense the war became, the greater the number of troops each side committed. This in turn expanded the scale of the conflict—it was a vicious cycle.

Charles felt somewhat sorrowful, but he also knew that he couldn’t do more. After inspecting the camp and collecting his thoughts, he proceeded to another camp.

He did his utmost, but in the span of one day, he could only inspect two or three camps.

That evening, unable to return to his own quarters, he rested in a camp instead.

In the middle of the night, Charles suddenly heard commotion. He quickly got up and saw that an Inglima army had entered the camp. He called out loudly, “I am Charles Mecklen. Which friendly force is this?”

A military officer stepped forward, speaking politely, “So it is Mister Mecklen, Archives Commissioner of the Red Dragon Palace and Literary Advisor of the Yuquan Palace! We are the Firefly Knights. We just fought a battle with a unit of the Black Phoenix and have a great many wounded. We cannot take them with us—could you please take care of these brothers?”

Considering that Charles’s position in Inglima was even higher than in Fars—being a 22nd-tier third-class councilor, someone far beyond the insurmountable class ceiling, and a favorite in the presence of His Majesty Alfred Guillaume, the fifteenth Emperor of the Inglima Empire—the officer was very courteous.

Charles promptly responded, “Quickly bring the people in. Have you taken everyone from the battlefield, or has anyone been left behind? Regardless, please inform me of the location. Our Westwind Knights will help clean up the battlefield.”

The officer was overjoyed, “I’ve heard Mister Mecklen is a good man. Our battle took place in a forest about fifteen kilometers to the southwest. We won, and the Black Phoenix retreated in a hurry, not even having the time to rescue their people.”

Charles nodded and said, “I understand. He had the knighthood welcomed in, took all the wounded into care, and conducted an inspection.

As someone from Earth, Charles knew that there are some unethical armies that would commit shameless acts, such as infiltrating such wartime hospitals and then massacring doctors and nurses. Therefore, it was necessary to inspect the wounded to verify they were indeed injured, ensure they carried no weapons, and also to impose strict requirements on the armies that delivered the wounded.

After admitting this batch of wounded, Charles arranged the camp’s defense before hurrying off with his men. It wasn’t long before they found the battlefield, where there were about a hundred corpses, along with dozens of injured soldiers of the Black Phoenix. The Inglima officer was somewhat kind-hearted and had given a special reminder.

Charles had the bodies of soldiers from both sides buried onsite, well marked and recorded for the families who would come later to retrieve their loved ones’ remains. Then, he returned to the camp with the wounded.

What Charles didn’t know was that he was being watched from high above by the youngest member of the Sacred Order from the Black Phoenix Dynasty, Andre, who sighed and muttered to himself, “Charles Mecklen, you truly should only be writing novels and practicing medicine, not going to the battlefield.”

“In consideration of your aid to the Black Phoenix soldiers, I’ll let you go this time. You won’t be so lucky next time; I’ll certainly take you as a prisoner.”

Andre knew that if he intervened and took the wounded away, it would only increase the burden on the marching troops. Now that the fighting was too fierce, caring for the wounded was extremely difficult.

Charles’s Westwind Knights, having “reclassfied” as a makeshift war hospital knighthood, were also highly praised within the Black Phoenix army. Whenever they encountered the Westwind Knights, the Black Phoenix army would often choose to avoid them.

Charles was unaware that he nearly became a prisoner. He brought back the injured soldiers of the Black Phoenix to the camp and then organized the treatment.

After tending to two batches of wounded, day had already fully broken.

Just as Charles was about to catch up on some sleep, he heard some commotion; a knighthood had surrounded the camp, and someone shouted loudly, “People inside, come out and surrender immediately, or we will launch an attack.”

It had been a while since Charles last fought, and he was also somewhat surprised by these words. He led a group of Labyrinth Guardians out of the camp, relieved to see that they were wearing the Knighthood uniforms of Fars, and said, “I am Charles Mecklen, a Twenty-fifth Class Level Five Civil Affairs Officer of the Empire, from the Patrolling Army of Lucavaro District…”

Before Charles could finish stating his first official position, someone from the opposing side shouted, “Shut up! We have heard of someone harboring soldiers of the Black Phoenix, and that’s why we came to conduct a thorough inspection. We’ve already searched three campsites and indeed found a large number of wounded soldiers from the Black Phoenix. Are you Charles Mecklen?”

“We are looking for you.”

Upon hearing that three campsites had been thoroughly inspected, Charles was furiously angered but did not argue. Instead, he simply asked, “Which department are you from?”

The reply came, “You do not have the right to know that.”

Charles waved his hand and commanded, “Black Phoenix Army is attacking, charge!”

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