The Brokenhearted Doctor.

The theater that they were supposed to present was not far from the hotel they were staying at. Karl wore his formal suit and carried his doctor’s kit. He had a serene expression as he entered. Unlike the doctors on the seats. Karl was broad-shouldered, tall, and had muscular limbs. His eyes green eyes and brown hair paired with his well-defined face made him somewhat different from the rest.

Karl stared at them then coldly at the cadaver on the operating table. He understood immediately and all the emotions and self-control holding him back were broken.

He spread his arms in front of the assembly.

“I came here because of a silly reason,” he chuckled. “To get a permit because the folks of the medicine association of our fine alliance will not permit me to sell medicine. So I traveled over six hundred miles from the United Provinces, Avaios City to here.”

Karl coughed.

“Of course you are all present here because you want to hear what I have experienced. If the director, in his letter, is truthful. Then I will not have to pay for my license and I will be able to return to my hometown.”

Karl scanned the theater.

“Who here has fought in a war?”

Half of the theater raised their hands. The rest were either too old or far too unfit to not have the trace of a soldier.

“I see. Then some of you may know the struggle. In this war we fought not knowing what may happen. I’ve served for eight years. Me and my blood-brother Danil Baumann served as combat medics. We acted more like Field Doctors because of our previous experiences. Nonetheless, my brother was the one who treated others while I threw myself on the fray.”

Karl’s shoulders sagged.

“I am not a good Doctor.”

Karl stared at them.

“But if you came here to listen to the soldier. Then you must know what I did. Of course, one of the reasons you want to put me into this theater is because you are curious.”

Karl found himself unable to hold back. The usual Karl who would talk only little. Who was reticent and calm did not exist in the moment. There was grievance in Karl’s voice as he spoke.

“Your lips are zipped. When folk would ask me how I feel to be so talented at butchering people. I always told them that it didn’t matter. They speak as if killing is something that I cared about. I pull the trigger, feel the recoil, and that’s that. When it comes to close quarters, it makes me care. Have you looked at a man’s eyes as he lay dying? But when you do it so often you lose that care. You numb yourself so that you could move on. If you don’t fight, you’ll get killed. I don’t want to mention my methods. I simply knew how to handle a gun or a knife. I made use of everything so that I could keep my brother safe. Winning the war. Keeping the soldiers out of the line of fire was nothing more than a secondary objective to me.

“I cared more about my blood-brother. I cared more about his survival. I was killed because I was ordered. But I wouldn’t dare to justify myself for that. Soldiers die. Soldiers live. Those who do survive are left cripple or helpless because of forces that are not in their control.”

He stared at the floor.

“I carried men to their safety. I saw brave women who helped men get back to their feet and some die because they fought. In war there is confusion. In war there is a loss of morals. Others turn into monsters. The rest becomes unfeeling. Perhaps, you people think of me as one. I fought hard and from all the soldiers that I killed. They granted me a pension, and a medal for it. If they were not soldiers. They would call me a monster.

“You folks came here to listen to what a field doctor… a combat medic had done. There is no grand tale that I could tell you. Only that I survived because I was simply faster and stronger than my peers. I had a good firing hand. I knew how to shoot and was lucky enough to survive those eight years of perils. Some of you will understand me. Some of you would think that I really must be a monster. But I came here to ask for a permit and because the medicine community does not allow me to easily get hold of it. I was able to see what I didn’t want to see while coming here.”

Karl took out a scalpel. He stared at the corpse on the table. “I’m no good Doctor, nor a better surgeon,” Karl looked at the tattoos on the soldier’s arms. His face no longer has any sign of recognition. Nothing more than a preserved cadaver ready to be used by medical professionals.

“This body… it’s no longer useful. You want me to diagnose this. And I can tell you how he died. How he must have dodged shrapnels and bombs. Only to lose their life because of a bullet to the head.”

Karl traced the bullet wound on the cadaver’s temple. His fingers traveled from the temple to the chest of the soldier.

Karl quietly glared at the Head Director of the Health and Medicine Director of the United Provinces and The Alliances.

“How many are there!?”

Karl said with gritted teeth.

“How many of my brothers -- my comrades in arms are in your storages!? Tell me! How many of them!?”

“Enough,” the director stood, “to fill an entire morgue. They can’t be identified.”

“Can you bury them?”

He didn’t answer. Karl squeezed his eyes. He clenched his fist and looked at the audience who felt the roar of his voice. He then wiped his face. He breathed in and out loudly to his audience. He stood straight like a sharp sword. He eyed the audience and then his cold voice spoke with sorrow.

“I implore you to bury them. I am not so ignorant to know that you would listen to me, but bury them with the honor they deserve. They fought for the Alliances. They fought for their homes and whether they should be identified or not. I insist that you bury them… give them some damn rest.”

Karl leaned on the operating table. He sucked in breathe and looked around again.

“You are better doctors and surgeons than me. You only want to watch here because you are curious why a man would come here in the first place. You are not here for Doctor Karl Von Alden. You are here for Second Lieutenant, Karl Von Alden, the Soldier Hundred, the Magic Shooter. The Butcher of Gustav Sallen. I implore you not to listen to the Soldier… but listen to the Doctor who is hopeful that you’d give him a permit.

“After the war I have been fine. I managed to get a job of my own. And I’m under the employment of Viole’s Postal Company, as their company doctor. I supervise the health of the many delivery men, porters, and couriers of the company. So many of us are soldiers of war, who have come home after the war.

“Some have lived normally. Some have ambitions that allow them to be superior. It is not the wounds that kill good and strong men,” Karl pointed at his head. “It is the mind that betrays them. Our body is our temple. It is strong and sturdy. I have seen the limits of how the human body can take punishment. You would not believe it. How bodies are able to ignore pain. How it could march miles. Bear the burden of battle.”

Karl snorted.

“But it could easily get crushed by the world welcoming them. Their limbs were replaced with prosthetics. And even in their homes they bring their war with them. Some might say that they are cowards. That they are weak-spirited men. I refuse to believe that a man who would rush forward in the name of his country and friends could be called cowards. The mind continuously absorbs data from their surroundings. The mind reacts to it. They are compelled to decide. It is a continuous battle. Their bodies might not fail them, but when the mind gives up. Who commands the bodies?”

Karl thought of the folks he met. How some were able to continue as if it didn’t matter. Some who were so engrossed with their ambition that they merely thought of the war as a stepping stone to their successes. And there are those who have become lost, unable to decide what they want after. Some continue on with a brave face. Hoping for a better world, unable to stop themselves from doing whatever they can to help.

He thought of the folks he had met. The brave folks and then the folks who he saw the other day. Folks who had lost their minds. Whose minds were defeated before their bodies were. He could not call them weak. Not when the mind is fragile.

“You understand how important the mind -- the brain is. How we intend to focus on the illness of the external body more than the mind. Yes, we lack the technology to do it. We are still too far. But maybe one day we can study them. It will come. We have flying machines and instruments that could communicate from a distance. Inventions that are thought to be impossible.”

Karl pointed out.

“Please raise your hands if you have heard of the Verloren Einsen Company.”

The medical professionals that gathered raised their hands. There were a lot who heard of the famed company.

“My father is Kaden Von Alden. A good friend of Dr. Isidor, the modern founder of the Company until. You must have heard that the Company has recently perished. Have you heard how they died?”

The crowd didn’t know. They only know that they died, but not how they died. Karl could see this in their eyes.

“They died protecting a little girl who did not have time left. A girl who only has a few days in this world. A little girl who was happy enough to spend the last of her life staring at the fireworks-covered sky. There were so many ways they could go. They were old men who held ideals that are called foolish by others. But they are also one of the best minds there was. They could have run away, but they didn’t. Only because they thought of the little girl as their patient. Someone that they need to give time to. These silly old men died for that. The entire company is done. They went quietly all for the sake of one single patience. They did not heal her body. But I can at least say that they have saved her mind and soul… despite the cost of it. My father and Uncle Isidor could have done more. They could have contributed more.”

A silence descended in the theater.

Karl looked at them again.

“I thought that after such a grand tragedy. The world would be able to move on. But instead when I traveled here for my permit to sell medicine and become a true practitioner. I saw what I didn’t want to see. Good men losing their minds and taking the easy way out. Poverty. Children who have no one. I thought about it, that after such a war. There might be some happiness. No, it was simply my hope. And that hope is simply gone.

“If you came here to listen to my presentation and know what had happened in the field. Then I’m sorry that you listened to me rambling instead. To the directors, to my seniors, I hope that you would forgive me. Nonetheless, I had decided that all the knowledge of the Verloren Einsen will be copied, shared, and be given to those who need it. Danil Baumann and I will allow it. It will be a shame to lose it. I don’t care what you do with it. I only hope that you would make good use of it to improve the medicine practices of our alliances and countries.”

Karl scanned them before taking his leave.

He wanted nothing more than to leave this theater and then be out of this city. Whether they would give him his permit or not was the least of his concern.

End

karsev

Thank you for those who have been reading this and reached this chapter and the end of this book.
I hope to see you readers again once I start writing  on a new book again.
Thank you for reading!