Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 396: Meeting The Saviour

Her?

General Joash Marcus frowned. Perhaps he just heard incorrectly. How could Commander Angus address Kane Mendel as her?

The people who came with him were ushered into two-story row houses with lofts made of wood and bamboo and had thatched roofs. Those were temporary dwellings offered to those who sought refuge in Calma. They were charged a minimal fee for maintenance so others in the future could have a place to stay. If the refugees have no copper with them and were too poor to pay, then they could use labor to pay for the rental.

Calma was a bustling city, and there were a lot of job opportunities for everyone. For as long as one was not lazy, he would never go hungry and would always have a roof over his head.

Hope Hospital

Lara was making her rounds at the hospital when a sudden commotion erupted in the emergency wing. Raised voices and hurried footsteps pierced the usual calm, and without hesitation, she moved toward the source.

As she entered the emergency area, she found her Aunt Delia leaning over a pregnant woman in visible distress. Sweat soaked the woman’s brow, and her breathing was rapid and shallow. A middle-aged woman stood at her side, wringing her hands anxiously, while a man paced nearby, his eyes fixed on the pregnant woman with concern. But when his gaze locked on Lara, recognition and confusion flickered in those deep black orbs.

"Auntie, is she in labor?" Lara asked, quickly assessing the scene.

Delia looked up, her face tight with concern. "Yes, but the baby’s in a breech position. Her contractions are intensifying."

Lara’s tone turned clinical. "Has her water broken?"

"No," Delia replied.

"Then let’s move her to the OB section—quickly."

Almost on cue, a male attendant burst in and began pushing the bed, which rolled smoothly out of the emergency ward toward the right wing—an area designated for OB and pediatric cases.

The older woman and the man followed closely, both looking startled as they noticed the bed gliding more effortlessly than expected. They hadn’t realized there were wheels underneath—another quiet innovation from Hephastus—little things that made everyone’s lives easier.

Delia, who had borne six children herself, had spent the last two years immersed in studying prenatal care and childbirth techniques. With no books or formal teachers, she had relied on experience, shared wisdom, and sheer determination.

Lara, meanwhile, had contributed in her way. Drawing from memories of high school anatomy classes and fetal development, she had tried to sketch the growth of a fetus from fertilization to full term. Her cousin Barett, who had a natural gift for the arts and painting, had refined the drawings. With Delia and a circle of experienced midwives—women who had guided life into the world and witnessed its loss during miscarriages and still births—they had produced surprisingly accurate depictions of pregnancy stages and childbirth complications, including breech deliveries.

What amazed Lara most was how these women, lacking modern tools, could discern a baby’s position using only touch. Their intuition, sharpened by generations of experience, often proved more accurate than machinery.

A piercing cry from the laboring woman snapped her back to the moment.

The man in the tunic—styled like a scrub suit, designed by Mona based on Lara’s sketches—was now holding his wife’s hand, whispering to her in a voice thick with worry and love.

"We need to stop the contractions," Delia said, her voice firm but unshaken. "I can see the leg—it’s entering the birth canal." She had gently pushed it back to prevent injury to the baby, who had yet to see the light of life.

Lara nodded. Swiftly, she moved to one of the glass-fronted cabinets lining the delivery room, selecting a small herbal pill—one of Samuel’s creations.

In the past two years, Samuel had devoted himself to refining traditional remedies, entrusting the martial arts school to Jethru. He and Lara focused on medicine. They had rigorously tested the pills—first on animals, then on consenting human volunteers.

Lara crushed the pill into warm water, stirred in honey to mask its bitterness, and handed the concoction to the man.

"Stop staring at me and have her drink this immediately," she instructed, her tone clipped and urgent.

The man blinked, startled. "I... I’m sorry." He took the aluminum cup and gently helped his wife sip the liquid. When she was done, he passed it back, his eyes still studying Lara with a look of quiet reverence.

As a nurse stepped forward to take the cup to the wash and sterilization area, Delia asked the man, "What’s the patient’s name?"

"Nala Maro," the man replied. "She is my wife. I am Raynor Maro."

Delia gave a nod. "We’ll do everything we can."

Soon, the medicine began to take effect. Nala’s body relaxed, and she drifted into a restful sleep.

Delia and two other midwives began their careful work, taking turns gently trying to reposition the baby.

Lara turned to leave—but was stopped by the man who had given her that penetrating gaze earlier. He stood in her path, his brows furrowed, voice uncertain.

"Were you... the one who saved me at Meander Pass? Two years ago?" His eyes searched her face. "I remembered a soldier—Kane Mendel, but he looked just like you."

Lara paused, surprised. So he was the Estalis soldier she had rescued that day. And Nala must be the sister in law that his younger brother talked about at that time.

"Yes," she replied. "That was me. You said her name is Nala? Then this child must be your second?"

She studied him. He was taller than her, probably about 185 centimeters, broad-shouldered, and his skin was darkened by the sun.

"She gave birth only two years ago," Lara added, arms crossed. "Her body hasn’t fully recovered. You’ll wear her out. A woman needs time to heal before bearing another child."

The man—Raynor—flushed crimson. His mouth opened, then closed again. He loved his wife deeply—how could he not show his affection?

"Felix has written a guide on family planning," Lara continued, her tone firm. "If you can read, study it. You must learn how to avoid pregnancy, for her sake."

Raynor’s face turned a deeper shade of red. He shifted uncomfortably, staring at the floor. Lara couldn’t help but chuckle at his embarrassment. Despite having children, men of that era still found such topics too sacred to speak of aloud.

"You’re an Estalis soldier," Lara said, shifting the subject. "Why did you come here? Was it only to seek help for your wife?"

Raynor’s jaw tightened. "We escaped. Estalis is no longer ours. Zura owns it now. The last king was a tyrant—but at least he protected our sovereignty. The current one sold our kingdom to secure a throne propped up by foreign hands."

He hesitated. "If only the rightful heir is found... there might still be hope."