Again, he saw it. The same dream he had seen since the first day of the simulations. He was tied to a bed, and faceless men surrounded him. In the dream, he tries to move but cannot; he tries to yell for help, but only screams come out. He pleads for mercy, but there is none to be had.
One of them approaches with a rapier and then slowly inserts it into Kanrel's stomach; he screams in agony, and his body trembles. The man pulls the sword away, and the others come flocking closer, inspecting the blood pouring out of the gaping wound.
They touch it; they put their fingers inside as he screams in agony; then again, he is stabbed, and all happens over again.
Then he would wake up, his body drenched in sweat, panting, and gasping for air. Fear made his whole body tremble as he got up to walk around the room to try to forget the things he had just seen again. When will these nightmares end?
The dreams had become more vivid; they progressed from him just being tied and unable to move to the figures approaching, until they'd insert their blades into him, and torture him.
The past week had been hell for all of them. Lack of sleep made them make more mistakes, and when Kanrel would see another novice like him, he could see the exhaustion on their faces; their sunken eyes and postures, their gazes looking far ahead, but never connecting with anything other than what was on the inside. One could smell their desolation; the smell of sweat from lack of time for bathing.
When would one of them break wholly? Was stubbornness and the human ability to adapt to the most vile of circumstances enough to take them through the pain and exhaustion, and make them live through these days of agony? Kanrel wasn't sure if he'd make it. Not another week, let alone another day.
It wasn't just him; it was all of the novices. When he conversed with his friends, he heard it in their voices; he saw it on their faces. Almost thirty times, he and the rest had lain on the bed in the simulation room. Most of those times, he had gone through pain that would leave him in shock for a while after. And seeing the others go through the same thing, repeatedly, didn't it bring any comfort? He could so easily see himself in them.
Yviev made no more crude jokes to cope with everything. Uanna lost the sparkle in her eyes and her smile. Wen became even quieter, more stern, and no longer sought out the hand mirror to see for herself if the torture had made her any less beautiful. And even Yirn had reached his capacity; even he screamed in pain, not hiding it like before.
It was especially seeing him become like the rest that made him realize the severity of it all. Yirn had been locked in place, his eyes bulging as a gaping wound tore itself across his chest; something that you'd not survive. And he screamed, and he screamed, not wanting to look but having to as Uanna came closer and began healing him. It took her what felt like an eternity to stop the bleeding and then heal the wound, only to have the contraption end up flashing yellow. Yirn collapsed after he got up. He found it difficult to breathe, and the rest had to help him get back up and cope with what had just transpired.
Guilt had covered Uanna's expression; tears swelled in her eyes, but they just refused to pour out.
Later, it could be him on that bed, going through that same pain; or someone else, and he would have to be the one to either witness it all, or try to heal it, as his friend lay there tormented by visceral pain caused first by the wound, and then by the pain that followed his attempts to treat it. Torture followed by more torture.
But somehow, through sheer necessity and the fact that they weren't allowed to say no to any of it, they survived those seven days of torture. They all gathered, like every morning, at the doors to the hospital, where the professor would open them and welcome them back in. Her expression showed no tiredness, nor any of the feelings that the novices went through. She seemed unbothered by their suffering.
Seeing her like that made Kanrel wonder if she was more broken than all of them combined. How many times had she had to lie on that to become how she was now, so unsympathetic to a fellow man's pain?
She led them to the simulation complex, where the novices were ordered to take a seat so that she could begin a short review and then a more in-depth lecture.
The novices slumped on their chairs, either too tired or too broken to sit straight. Professor Forsvarn didn't care, nor did she make any comments regarding them and their lack of enthusiasm; instead, she spoke
"I am most pleased that I've not had to experience even a scenario of being bothered by my colleagues. For this, I thank you. But…"
"Given the data that I've received, I've noticed a common theme among you all: Most of you would work on the patients alone, even when the patient had, let's say, a sword wound in their stomach."
Kanrel couldn't help but place his hand on his stomach. He felt a little sick remembering the pain he had gone through, and he wasn't the only one who subconsciously placed their hand on their own stomach. The vast majority of them did so.
"Sure, in most cases you've managed to deal with this wound, but we have to remember that in a real situation, you wouldn't have that much time to treat the wound a real human patient might have."
"So I would advise you all to actually work in teams instead of working alone. Sure, you may choose one of you to perform the 'surgery,' but the rest of you should also have a job to do during the surgery."
"In a real situation, there would be someone who would keep their attention on the patient and how he or she is doing; then this person would inform the others if there is a change in the patient's well-being."
"There would also be someone who would make sure that there was visibility inside and around the wound—one who would keep the blood at bay and shine light on the wound. One who would help the 'main surgeon' with the surgery, perhaps working on minor things and then assisting when help is needed."
"And lastly, someone who records everything down; during a real surgery, there is no magical bed to record everything that goes down, nor would there be my colleagues who would go through the data."
"The collection of the data is something that, during a real surgery, you ought to have someone do. We are priests after all, and even in a setting where we might perform life-saving surgeries, our primary job is still the collection of data."
She spoke as the novices wrote down notes on the things she had just said. She then conjured another one of their slightly diabolical smiles.
"This is just the beginning. Last week was just the easy part; now begins the difficult one. The wounds, injuries, and diseases that you just had to deal with were mostly minor ones and more or less easy for a competent priest to deal with."
"I won't tell you what you might find in your simulations at this moment; at the end of the month, during the review of your time here, I will elaborate on what you might've found."
"I'd like to say that I am sorry in advance, but I really am not."
She peered at her students, basking in the little changes in facial expressions she might see on their faces.
"Now, who of you might want to share with me how to fix a broken arm?" Her gaze hovered around the novices. No hands were raised; instead, they all seemed to shrink, trying to hide from what could be just more pain.
"You." Forsvarn pointed at a young woman at the front. The girl's eyes widened. "Come, lie down." The girl's face became a paler shade of white; she got up from her chair, and almost collapsed right back down, but managed to walk up, though her legs shook. She sat down on the bed and lay down.
"And you two." Forsvarn pointed at two young men at the back. "You'll be assisting me," she said. The two boys walked to her as well. "The rest of you may gather around and observe," she added. After a collective moment of hesitation, the chairs began to shuffle as the rest of the novices gathered around the bed and the girl who lay on it.
With Forsvarn's lead, they began casting the code. Mostly, she supported the two boys when they were incapable of casting the code on their own. "At the end of these four weeks, you should be able to cast the code on your own," she commended; then she touched the girl's forehead.
The simulation began, and the patient's expression became a mask of sudden pain. A scream unsealed her lips, and through the sleeves of her robes, black spots emerged, as blood gushed out. It wasn't just a broken arm; it was two, and both of them were fractured.
"So, I shall go first, and showcase how it should be done," Forsvarn began, she walked around to the patient's right hand; with a code, she cut the sleeve off, allowing herself view the damage.
From the patient's forearm, the ulna pierced through the skin, gushing out blood; the other half of the bone was, probably, where it belonged.
"In a situation like this, we usually have two options, one of them is quite quick, but ends with the patient losing her arm," she pointed at the elbow. "We cut the arm up to this point, then burn it into a stump."
"But that is something a quack of the olden times would do; usually in a tent after a great battle, where hundreds, if not thousands, of battered and brutalized soldiers found their way."
"In a situation like that, there wouldn't be much time to treat them all equally, so some shortcuts had to be made."
"But luckily for her, we've plenty of time to treat her properly with advanced techniques that I've helped develop through trial and error," she said and tapped the patient's shoulder. The girl let out a grunt and eyed the professor with murderous intent in her eyes.
Forsvarn chuckled, but soon continued. "What one has to do is rather simple. You connect the bones, practically glue them together with magic, and make sure that the rather important arteries and other veins aren't completely severed. Not doing so might end up making her lower arm and hand useless regardless of the effort, and we don't want that, nor does any patient; they want a working arm, they need to live a normal life."
"Normally, I would either give the patient some alcohol or stun them, so that they might survive the pain, but not in this case. Alcohol doesn't really work on us priests, and I feel that this would be a great opportunity for the patient herself, and the rest of you, to understand pain," she explained, then leaned closer, pointing at the rupture.
"So instead, I will have to gain access to the other part of the bone, as well as the different veins that run up and down the arm." With another code, the skin and the flesh around the wound began peeling away, showcasing a clearer view of both halves of the fractured bone. The girl screamed, and tears gushed down her cheeks.
"Take note that the codes that I've activated are used simultaneously and will not cause further damage that would be more difficult to heal than the prior wound," some more blood gushed out.
"You might take notice that I've not stopped the blood circulation to the limb. That is something that would be only done if the wound is bleeding too much; stopping blood circulation might lead to necrosis and other potential ailments, which we do not want; thus, I will only stop the bleeding from the wound itself." Another code emerged, and the bleeding stopped. "I'm using air to block the wound from bleeding; this could be done through other means, but I would rather see what I'm doing, so air works just fine."
"Now observe as I connect the fractured halves of the ulna, and then these two veins," she commanded, and all of the students leaned closer. She frowned. "Just not so close, I'd like to still breathe," she complained. The students shifted slightly, certainly not enough, but Forsvarn didn't complain again.
Kanrel could witness how, first, the two halves of the bone came closer, then suddenly snapped together, and soon after, the visible gap disappeared as the bone itself was regenerated. Then, the two veins were carefully connected with another set of codes. The girl on the bed cried profusely, but did not cry during the process.
"Make sure that everything is where it belongs, and if you're not sure, go to the library and borrow any anatomy books that you can find, the newer the better." She stared at what she had fixed for a while, then nodded to herself. "This next part will hurt," she announced, and as soon as she began closing the wound, the girl on the bed screamed. But it didn't take long; only a few minutes went by until the hand was as good as new.
"Quite easy, isn't it?" she asked no one in particular after inspecting the arm. Then she locked eyes with one of the boys assisting her. "You will be doing what I just did, so connecting the fractured bone in her other arm, as well as the blood vessels; and you," she locked her gaze with the other boy, "will stop the bleeding in a way that allows our 'surgeon' to work with clear vision of things."
The two boys looked at each other; they were clearly worried. The 'surgeon' hesitated for a moment, then began the process...
What had taken Forsvarn perhaps fifteen minutes took the two boys almost an hour. The girl's condition got worse throughout it all as she screamed and bawled because of the pain, and at some point, she became delirious because of blood loss. Forsvarn herself had to step in at the end to fix the operation, lest the simulation become a total failure. At the end, she announced, "You two are two of the most useless novices that I've ever had the displeasure of working with; I hope to the Angels that you are at least half as quick on the uptake so that you won't torture your fellow students in the simulation chambers in the coming weeks." She even patted the girl who had served as the patient on the head and said, "I'm so sorry for these two idiots."
The first half of the lecture was spent with Forsvarn demonstrating multiple codes and operations on multiple 'willing' participants; with multiple equally willing 'assistants,' who managed to overcome her expectations to a varying degree.
Yviev was one of the ones that she ended up complimenting, saying: "You aren't as useless as you seem."
After the first half, they were allowed an hour-long break to have some breakfast, after which the second half of the lecture began. The second half was spent reviewing the variety of codes that she had used during the four or so hours earlier. At the end of the lecture, they were dismissed and given time to reflect on what they had just learned.
Kanrel chose to spend the rest of the day locked in his own room, going through the things that he had learned just today, for they seemed far more substantial than the things they had learned in the past week.
Of course, the hands-on experience itself was important for the novices to quickly realize how they should treat their patients, as they would, in the end, have their lives in their hands. It was, as Forsvarn had put it, just the beginning. And even then, he felt out of his depth. And if things were to get even more complicated with even more painful experiences, he didn't know if he could handle any of it.
If he were able to even understand the things that he might learn, if he were able to learn anything at all.
He chose to go to sleep much earlier. And the next morning would start the same way the previous one had: with a nightmare. Now, the faceless men even asked him a question that he could not remember when he woke up.
Getting more sleep didn't really help as much as one would think. In fact, Kanrel felt more tired than the previous morning. Yet he again found himself at the simulation complex, sharing one of the rooms with his team.
They began yet another grueling day discussing how they should approach future simulations, how they were supposed to work as a team. And the first simulation of the day, Kanrel found himself as the person taking notes. Yviev as the person keeping the patient from bleeding out, if it was needed. Yirn as the main surgeon, with Wen as the 'assistant,' and with Uanna on the bed, ready to scream her lungs out when the pain would inevitably begin.
Yirn touched her forehead, and the simulation began. Nothing seemed to happen at first, but then, out of nowhere, Uanna puked blood; it dripped down the side of her face until it pooled beside her head. She tried to breathe, but her breathing sounded difficult, as if she barely got any air. Blood soiled her robes around her rib.
Yirn burst into action. "The patient pukes up blood, has difficulty breathing, and is bleeding near the lungs. I will begin by removing her garments to get a clearer view of the wound." He used a code to cut her robes around the wound. He placed it aside, revealing what seemed like a stab wound between the fourth and fifth ribs. Yirn explained what he saw; then Wen took action, forming a code to stop bleeding out of the wound for the time being. Yirn hesitated, and despite everything, he began opening the wound itself that he might get a view of the punctured lung. Uanna screamed and puked out more blood.
It was difficult to see past the ribs as more blood gushed out. Wen extended her code and tried her best at stopping the bleeding. Yviev formed a code to help Yirn see better. A bright white light emerged, but they could not see past the blood and the ribs.
At first, Yirn tried to remove some of the blood that blocked his view, but even then, he didn't have a clear enough view. His brows furrowed, and his face paled as he understood something. "I will have to break her ribs to gain access," he voiced out his realization.
He formed a code and whispered, "I'm so sorry." In an instant, a bone cracked, then once more, and soon Yirn floated away the fourth rib. Finally, he could see the puncture. It was half-drowned in blood; Yirn began forming codes to fix the lung, but more and more blood gushed out; Uanna puked again, and she barely breathed now.
Then, suddenly, the contraption above flashed white, then yellow... then red. The simulation ended, the operation was a failure; the patient was dead.
Right before their eyes, they could see how Uanna's wound disappeared, as if it had never been there, and so did the blood that had moments before soiled her robes, her face, and the pillow on which her head lay.
Uanna remained there lying down for a while, breathing in the air. She looked distraught, understandably, and so did the rest of them. Yviev finally released her code, and the light that she had produced dissipated. Yirn collapsed against the bed; his face was ashen. Wen leaned closer and checked every inch of her friend, making sure that she was alright.
Only Kanrel continued, taking notes of what had happened. What codes had been used, and what had in the end 'cost' the patient's life. After he was done, he grabbed the square that Yirn had cut off Uanna's robes, and with a code attached it where it belonged.
Thoughts raced within him. Things had gotten very complicated very quickly, and this was the first real failure that they had experienced. Things were certainly getting more difficult. "Let's take a short break," he suggested. "Then, we'll go through what just happened." The others gave no reactions; they were busy with their own thoughts.
After an hour of resting and going through their failures, they continued until each one of them had gotten a chance to lie on the bed. They didn't improve much; only their ability to recover from the shock got quicker. On that day, the contraption ended in a hue of red each time. They returned to the dorms more tired than on any day before.
The next few days were the same. No other outcomes than failure, and one of them became more frustrating than the previous. To the point that Kanrel began to wonder what the point was. None of them was, clearly, not practiced or knowledgeable enough to at least save the patient's life.
Hadn't Forsvarn made her point by now? Yet he could not quit, nor voice out his frustrations. There was no point; things wouldn't change, they'd stay the same until they would break or succeed.
As the days went by, the taking of notes became an essential part of improving, though only minutely. Together, they brainstormed more efficient codes to different scenarios and streamlined their process, even if they all ended up in failure.
By the fifth or sixth day, they got their first yellow. A week from that, they had only yellows and a couple of greens. Their teamwork improved considerably; all of them knew what to do in each role. Of course, the patient would always suffer, and the pain of each simulation got greater at the beginning of each new week.
But even when the pain got worse, they got better at handling it. There weren't long breaks between simulations; though conversation got more mechanical, and almost entirely focused on the tasks at hand.
Yirn no longer smiled; he had become apathetic, and the times they spoke about things other than just the next or the previous simulations, he mentioned having vivid nightmares.
Yviev lost her callousness during surgeries and tried her best to avert any mistakes. She didn't want to cause any unnecessary pain. But she didn't seem defeated, not at all. There was a fire in her eyes as she worked. She became more and more obsessed with perfecting each code and each operation.
Wen only spoke during simulations and reviews now. Though at times, Kanrel could hear her mumbling to herself while fiddling with a necklace she always wore.
But out of all of them, Uanna was the most affected. She no longer prayed to the Angels for salvation before each simulation. After all, the pain was the same; it never got better. And at times Kanrel caught her staring at him, in her eyes was an accusation, as if he had somehow abandoned her. As if he could have somehow given her the blessings of the Angels to guard her from the pain.
The two nobles no longer emanated an aura of pride; it had been tortured out of them. Yet, they were as brave as the others. Kanrel hoped that they would persevere. They had to; if one of them broke, Kanrel feared that they would all break.
At times, he found himself staring at Uanna and Wen; he found himself helping them more than he helped Yirn or Yviev. He didn't want any of them to suffer so needlessly, but he felt that the newer additions to their group needed him more than the other two. It might not have been the case in reality; it was just something he felt and couldn't quite explain.
Perhaps it was compassion. Not a rational one, but one carved into each and every single one of them through pain and agony. How could any of them bear to witness the same pain they themselves had experienced before, without feeling something?
When most of their simulations were successful, things got hard again. Their hope turned into ash again and again; they would have to learn what went wrong, think of better codes, and be even better at teamwork. Just to realize that there was no more improvement. Or that the improvement was so slow that it was almost useless to discuss their failures and find things to improve upon.
Professor Forsvarn had succeeded in teaching the things she wanted them to learn; now they were all cognizant of how little knowledge they really had. And she had succeeded in just two months.
This is how the rest of the month went by; now there was just one last month left. Would they survive or just break like the useless humans they were? Novices that didn't know any better, that didn't know enough, that didn't know how little they truly knew—all afraid of breaking before finding a hint of clairvoyance, making everything just another cruel waste of time.