Seeing that the other person refused to give up their spot just because they arrived a few minutes earlier, Ferrinac reluctantly said, "Colonel, if you're willing to give up your spot in the hospital for me, I can pay you 500 florins."

"No, I don't want your money."

"800 florins."

"No deal..."

Ferrinac gritted his teeth, pulling Hedwig aside with a limp, and lowered his voice, "I can offer you three 'square armor' plates in exchange for the hospital spot."

"Square armor?!" Hedwig's eyes lit up. He knew that this was the mysterious new armor used by the French army, capable of stopping bullets—a lifesaver in critical moments!

Ferrinac nodded. "Brand new."

Hedwig was tempted—these "square armor" plates were strictly kept secret by the French army and couldn't be bought, no matter how much money one had. The few that had appeared in the Austrian army were mostly taken from fallen French soldiers.

Seeing his hesitation, Ferrinac gritted his teeth and added, "Four plates. That's all I have."

"Deal." Hedwig finally gave in.

He had seen the "square armor," and four plates could almost cover his entire chest. He figured his injury could hold out for a few more days, and if he stayed near the French field hospital, he might still get in if a bed opened up. Getting those "square armor" plates was like gaining an extra life, making the trade worthwhile.

Ferrinac gestured for him to get into the carriage and took out a thick cloth-wrapped bundle from a box. "Be careful not to let the French see these."

According to the French army's regulations, any such items obtained by others had to be returned, or the French would use force to get them back.

Hedwig unwrapped the cloth and saw the square, metallic objects inside—exactly the bulletproof plates used by the French Imperial Guard. He carefully checked them, confirmed they were genuine, and rewrapped them, momentarily forgetting the pain in his wound. "You can take my spot. I wish you a quick recovery."

Ferrinac nodded, though it pained him to do so, and stepped out of the carriage. Those "square armor" plates could sell for 500 florins each in the Austrian army, and even then, they were hard to come by. Rumor had it that Marshal Lacy himself had tried to get some from the French General Kellermann but failed.

Pushing past Perna, Ferrinac addressed the medic behind her, "We've reached an agreement. Doctor, please admit me."

The medic looked at Perna with a complicated expression and then bowed slightly to her. "What do you think?"

Perna sighed. In this era, women had low social status, so she was used to this sort of thing. She turned to Ferrinac and said, "Please lie down over there. I need to examine your wound and disinfect it."

Because beds in the field hospital were limited, foreign patients had to be checked first to determine if they truly needed treatment.

Ferrinac looked at her in surprise and addressed the medic, "Do your laundresses also inspect wounds?"

"Ah—" The medic could no longer keep a straight face, and his tone became hostile. "Watch your words. This is Dr. Perna, our head doctor!"

"What? She's a doctor?" Ferrinac was wide-eyed. "And the head doctor?!"

The medic gestured behind him. "This field hospital was established by Dr. Perna. She's also the Crown Prince's personal physician."

Perna blushed slightly. In reality, the Crown Prince had his own royal physicians, and she mostly stuck around him under the pretense of routine check-ups.

"I see... Please forgive my rudeness, Doctor," Ferrinac said, tipping his hat respectfully to Perna.

Even after entering the field hospital, he felt uneasy, worried that offending the head doctor might lead to subpar treatment for his wound.

He quietly instructed his aide, "Prepare a gift of 500 florins. Hopefully, this will appease the doctor."

Inside the hospital, Ferrinac soon noticed that most of the medical staff were women, all dressed in white uniforms with small, swallowtail-shaped caps.

Soon, a young girl, probably about eighteen or nineteen, with large, pretty eyes, came to his bedside and smiled. "You're not French, are you? Do you understand French?"

"I do. I speak French."

"Oh, that's great," the girl said. "I'm Annaï, your nurse. I need to take your temperature."

"Nurse?" Ferrinac repeated the unfamiliar word.

"You can think of it as someone who helps the doctor take care of you," Annaï said with a sweet smile. "Now, please open your mouth, and don't bite down on the thermometer."

As he watched her walk away, Ferrinac found his mind filled with thoughts of her lively eyes and her graceful figure.

Ten days later, after receiving careful treatment at the French field hospital, Ferrinac's wound had not become infected and had even started to scab over.

In reality, there wasn't much treatment involved—just regular disinfection of the wound and some "Crown Prince's Blessing" medication. But for an injured soldier in this era, this was top-tier medical care.

Elsewhere, doctors often used unsterilized bandages—perhaps taken from the body of some unfortunate soul who had died of infection—to dress wounds, leading to more infections. Even clothing, bedding, and water could be sources of infection. Unless a soldier was exceptionally healthy, even a minor wound could be fatal.

However, in Perna's field hospital, she strictly followed all of the Crown Prince's instructions: blankets, clothing, and bandages were regularly boiled for sterilization, medical instruments were soaked in 75% alcohol, the environment was disinfected daily with alcohol, and only boiled water was used for cleaning wounds and drinking.

As long as vital organs were not injured, more than 70% of wounded soldiers recovered. In other countries, this rate was less than 20%.

With the introduction of the Crown Prince's improved hemostatic forceps and fishhook-shaped sutures into surgery, the recovery rate was rising to 80%.

This high recovery rate made soldiers even more fearless—everyone believed that if they got injured, a few days in the field hospital would have them back on their feet. This directly enhanced the combat effectiveness of the Imperial Guard.

Moreover, the field hospital regularly featured song and dance performances by the nurses.

Before joining the Imperial Guard, over half of these nurses had worked in "service" industries since most women in this era were reluctant to work in healthcare. Perna had to recruit from the "fallen" ranks.

As a result, many of these girls were quite talented—they had been trained in such skills by their previous employers.

For the soldiers, getting injured and ending up in the field hospital almost felt like a reward.

In a secluded corner of the field hospital, Annaï sat on Ferrinac's lap, her arms around his neck, whispering something in his ear and occasionally letting out a soft laugh.

Suddenly, a French lieutenant with his left arm in a sling burst out from behind a nearby tent, pointing an accusing finger at the Austrian and shouting angrily, "You scoundrel! Let go of Annaï!"

(End of Chapter)

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