“The best way to gain someone’s trust is to pretend you know what you’re doing. The worst way? Actually not knowing what you’re doing.”
Dr. Viraj Mehta was many things—a physicist, a caffeine addict, an occasional troublemaker—but one thing he absolutely was not? A doctor.
Which was deeply unfortunate, considering that Hannibal Barca himself had just ordered him to prove his medical expertise by treating a bleeding soldier in 218 BCE.
Rule #1: If You’re Going to Lie, Be Ready for the Consequences
Viraj stared at the injured man in front of him. The soldier was sweating, groaning, and clutching his upper arm, where a deep gash oozed blood onto the dusty ground.
Okay. Deep breaths.
Viraj had exactly three pieces of useful knowledge in this situation:
1. Blood loss was bad.
2. Infections were worse.
3. Screaming ‘I have no idea what I’m doing!’ was not an option.
He had to think fast.
Rule #2: Use What You Know (Even If It’s Not Much)
Viraj crouched beside the soldier, trying his best to look like he did this sort of thing all the time.
“Alright,” he muttered under his breath. “How hard can battlefield medicine really be?”
Answer: Very.
The ancient world did not have antiseptics, antibiotics, or sterile medical tools. What they did have was a lot of guesswork, superstition, and horrifyingly bad ideas (looking at you, medieval ‘cure everything with leeches’ crowd).
Viraj needed to improvise.
He took a deep breath and started thinking like a scientist.
Step 1: Stop the Bleeding
“Okay, uh… bandages. I need bandages,” Viraj said, gesturing wildly.
One of Hannibal’s attendants handed him a strip of rough, dirty cloth. Viraj winced. Ancient battlefield hygiene was a disaster waiting to happen.
No antiseptic. No gloves. Just whatever cloth was lying around, probably last used to wipe someone’s sword.
Great.
“Alright, we’re gonna work with what we have,” he muttered. He pressed the cloth firmly against the wound, applying pressure to slow the bleeding.
The soldier groaned in pain.
“Yeah, I know, buddy. I wouldn’t like this either,” Viraj muttered. “But unless you want to pass out, we’re doing this.”
Hannibal watched, his expression unreadable.
Step 2: Prevent Infection (Or at Least Try)
Viraj’s modern brain was screaming at him. He needed alcohol, iodine, or literally anything remotely sterile—but this was 218 BCE. The best they had was…
“Wine,” Hannibal said suddenly, as if reading Viraj’s thoughts.
Viraj’s eyes widened. Oh. That could actually work.
Wine had mild antiseptic properties—not great, but better than nothing. He nodded quickly. “Yes! Pour it over the wound.”
A nearby attendant handed him a clay flask, and Viraj did his best to clean the gash, hoping it would at least kill some of the bacteria.
The soldier hissed in pain but didn’t protest.
Viraj exhaled. So far, so good.
Step 3: Stitch It Up (Without Modern Anesthesia, Because Life Is Unfair)
Viraj suddenly realized something very, very important.
He had no idea how to stitch a wound.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. He had read about suturing techniques before, but reading was very different from actually stabbing someone’s skin with a needle and hoping for the best.
The soldier was watching him expectantly.
So was Hannibal.
Viraj gulped. There was no backing out now.
Step 4: Guess. Hope. Pray.
“Alright,” he muttered. “How hard can it be?”
He took the needle and thread from an attendant. His hands shook slightly as he made the first stitch. The soldier gritted his teeth but didn’t scream.
Viraj took that as a good sign.
It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t remotely professional. But after a painstaking few minutes, the wound was stitched and bandaged.
He sat back, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Hannibal finally spoke.
“You are not entirely useless,” he said, his voice unreadable.
Viraj let out a nervous laugh. “High praise. Really.”
Rule #3: If You Impress a Warlord, Expect Consequences
Hannibal studied him for a long moment. “A man of science and medicine… and yet, you appeared out of nowhere.”
Viraj’s stomach twisted.
Hannibal wasn’t just a brilliant strategist. He was dangerously observant.
“I will ask again,” Hannibal said slowly. “Who are you, really?”
Viraj forced a smile.
“Well,” he said, “that’s… a long story.”
---
Next Part: Lying to Hannibal Barca—A Beginner’s Guide to Not Dying in 218 BCE
"History never looks like history when you are living through it." — John W. Gardner
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