The Medical Arts
A full day’s work,
Done and gone.
All poultices mixed, All bandages cleaned,
All wounds bound.
The Manor is dark. The scent of blood recedes. Cries of the wounded are deafened. All patients are still.
The battle has ceased.
The victor rejoices. The loser retreats.
The aftermath remains.
Tomorrow work shall begin anew, Treating the injured and ill. Using the skills passed down through generations, from Master to Apprentice.
Continuously.
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