Apprenticeship

Oleander nodded sagely, easily. As if it was all a matter of course and maybe even a valid argument. Mainly to keep the boy engaged.

"I have to do my best to do what I can to save every patient that comes to me. No matter who it is, or what ails them. That is my duty. It is not my job to discern who lives or dies, my job is to give everyone the chance to survive."

He gave Citadel the bowl of paste as he re-bound the patient and began unwinding a different wound.
"Here, very gently apply the paste there with this brush." He said guiding the boy to a laceration on the spine of the patient.

"No one would trust me to heal them, and in turn, I couldn't trust them to take care of me, if I got to decide who would live or die. It's not about crying over someone, it's about showing others that you would be bothered if they died or even just got hurt." He said matter-of-factly. He could see how being a child of the weepy Ignita could be translated as crying over someone when they care about them.


"Speech!"