Winters did not have the habit of drinking, but he could not bring himself to say "no." He suddenly rembered the flask given to him by Alpad, which he had always carried with him.
Winters imdiately took out the flask and placed it in Colonel Jeska's hand.
"Oh, this flask." Colonel Jeska felt the shape of the flask, unscrewed the cap, and took a small sip.
Then, he fumbled from his bosom and took out a twill cotton bag: "I have a gift for you, Winters."
"No, I can't accept this." At this mont, Winters couldn't bring himself to accept the Colonel's gift.
"Just open it and see." Colonel Jeska seed to be smiling.
Inside the twill cotton bag was an oiled cloth package, and inside the oiled cloth package were maps, many, many maps. From the Great Wilderness to Paratu, all were personally drawn by Colonel Jeska.
"I have no use for this thing anymore, it's yours from now on. The ability to work with maps, don't let it slide, it will be of great use," Colonel Jeska said calmly as he lay on the military cot, as if to conclude an affair of his heart: "Go now, let rest for a while."
...
Caman found Winters in an uninhabited corner of the dical post: "Is Lieutenant Cherini going to have an amputation?"
After wiping away his tears, Winters turned around: "Yes."
"Take to see him."
The dical posts for officers and soldiers were not in the sa place; Caman had been in the soldiers' dical post, while Colonel Jeska and Andre were in the officers' dical post.
Winters took Caman and burst into the surgery tent; Andre had already been placed on the operating table and was about to be cut open.
Caman, ignoring the surprised gazes of others, went straight to Andre to examine the wound.
"Montaigne Lieutenant, what are you doing?" the chief dical officer asked discontentedly.
The chief dical officer, without a military rank, had a status equivalent to a field officer's and was far more venerable than a Centurion.
Winters stood silently in front of the chief dical officer, not knowing what Caman intended to do.
"Don't let them saw off my arm," Andre's desperate plea echoed in his ears.
If it really ca to amputating Andre's limb, Winters would rather Caman be the one to operate.
"Get out! I'm about to perform the surgery!"
Winters did not move an inch.
"Do you want to kill Lieutenant Cherini?" the chief dical officer rebuked sharply.
Suddenly, Caman spoke up: "Take him to my place!"
Winters nodded, and four fearso soldiers barged in, lifted the operating table, and headed out of the tent.
No one dared to block their way.
Andre was carried back to Caman's surgery tent, where his vital signs were growing weaker.
In a haze of consciousness, Andre still murmured pleas: "Don't saw... don't saw off my arm..."
Caman put down the tent curtain, completely covered the windows, and drove everyone away—including his dical assistant.
Apart from him and Andre, only Winters was left in the tent as an assistant.
"More lights!" Caman demanded.
Winters ignited a fire spell, lighting all the oil lamps in the tent.
Caman held out a nondescript black wooden box.
Upon opening the box, a set of silver surgical instrunts glittered under the lamp light.
This set of instrunts was exceptionally delicate, more so than the bloodletting set Winters had seen in the dungeons of Sea Blue City; there were as many as twelve sizes of tweezers alone.
Caman chose one of them: "Give light!"
Winters held up an oil lamp, illuminating Andre's wound for Caman.
Caman squinted his eyes, beginning to pick bullet fragnts out of Andre's wound with the tweezers.
"Not bright enough! We need more lamps!" Caman's tone was undeniable.
Winters picked up another oil lamp.
"Still not bright enough!"
Winters put down the lamp, took out his spellcasting materials, and unreservedly unleashed a Luminosity Spell.
Dazzling white light instantly filled the tent, even reaching blinding intensity.
"Like this! Keep it steady!"
Caman worked swiftly, picking out fragnts of lead from the ghastly wound on Andre's right arm.
It was an extrely delicate task, akin to carving on a walnut.
So fragnts were so small that they were no bigger than a grain of wheat. So were embedded in the flesh, requiring an incision for removal.
Caman placed the extracted fragnts in a dish, roughly assembling them into the shape of a bullet, with only a part missing.
After checking the wound three tis, Caman confird there were no remaining bullet fragnts.
"That's all of them," Caman muttered to himself: "The defects in the lead bullet in the dish should be the parts that shattered when it broke through the arm armor, not entering Mr. Cherini's arm."
Winters was at the brink of his spellcasting limit.
The consumption of the Luminosity Spell was not particularly large, assuming the spellcaster controlled the power output. If driven without reserve, no spell could last very long.
Hearing Caman's words, Winters suddenly relaxed his spirit, and the bright orb in his hands dimd by three shades.
"Hold it steady! It's not over!" Caman barked.
Winters clenched his teeth and pushed himself to the brink once more.
One second Winters felt as if he were thrown into the mouth of a volcano, the next into an ice cellar, the phantom pain making his body uncontrollably tremble.
The light in his hands grew even more dazzling than before—even becoming more intense.
It was not that Winters had broken through his limits in the face of danger, but rather he was no longer able to control the magical power output and could only push it higher in desperation.
Utilizing the inevitably brief light, Caman rapidly excised the dead, rotten, and scabbed tissues from Andre's wound.
The scalpel transford into a precise carving knife, as Caman shaved away the necrotic parts, preserved the intact parts, and reorganized the muscles along their natural lines.
"I cannot hold on any longer!" Winters yelled.
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