It's all one flower.

A young man raised his voice and listened.

"Ah... you're a citizen hospital doctor, aren't you?

"Yes. [Blue One Wing]... I specialize in the art of healing body wounds, I don't know how to cure illness, but what's wrong?

"Ku... air raid... what happened to the civil hospital in the air raid? You, why are you walking here?

The young man did not answer the questions of the spelldoctor, and overlapped the questions.

... is someone seriously injured inside and in need of treatment?

The spelldoctor Septentorio comes pinned to the young man's face, which is still going to cry, but he dares not answer his questions and sees a reaction.

"Citizen's Hospital has been completely destroyed and a large number of colleagues have died"

"Wasn't the city magically protected?

An elderly man leans his neck wonderfully. The spelldoctor Septentorio suppressed the bitter things he had put in and shook his head quietly beside him.

"Magic is divided into lots of specialties"

The two were inquisitive about the spelldoctor's explanation, or they stared silently into the universe and peered north from the wooden gap.

"... is that what you're saying"

"Yes, it is the work of experts who have learned the art of lineage to say [nest hanging (kakez)] that protects towns and buildings, but there are not many magically protected places that have died in half a century of civil unrest. Besides, there's nothing you can do if you're attacked beyond the power of surgery."

"Well, now... the city of Zerneau..."

"Not just the city of Zerneau, but Kulbunika, North Zakart... every city I went to was a burning field"

"How did you survive with the city like that?

Old Song man asks. Obviously buying time for his buddies to come, but to avoid contention, the spelldoctor Septentorio replied to discipline.

"I took the people who were in the same room then to Kulbunika [jump]...... I magically escaped. But it didn't work there either, so I fled into the woods."

"The woods? Even though the Warcraft is a mess?

Young people surprise.

"Yes, there is a laboratory of pharmaceutical companies in the woods, where the guards will protect you from the Warcraft."

"Ho..."

The two of them listen to the curse doctor in a stunned manner. Yo (more), too, those guards threw themselves at the militant guerrilla and left the forest of Resalub. As far as the spell doctor Septentorio knows, there are only two survivors: Oriol and Journitol.

No other shadows yet appear in the cleaned up streets. Senpai returns the question to me.

"Why are you going to Lacrimaris by now?

"After that, I was treating the wounded in a private villa, but people asked me to help support the refugees in Wangdu. The city near the border still has restrictions on access and cannot rebuild the hospital..."

I'm not lying, but I'm not being honest.

I suppressed my guilt and answered like it was nothing.

A young man hears in a voice that pushes fear to death.

"But refugee support works for free, doesn't it?

"You won't want a formal medical reward, but a safe bed and a daily meal..."

"So, what if... if I give you the eating mon, will you help my brother? 'Cause before, factory accidents were cured at a civil hospital, right?

With a mixed eye of anticipation and fear, the spelldoctor Septentorio was stuck in a response.

Assuming the hands and feet are cut a thousand times, if it stays undamaged, it can be connected back to normal. If not, the missing area cannot be restored, but life can be saved if the wound is blocked without daring. In that state, there is no guarantee that we will be able to live as before in the autonomous community of Listver, where there are no wizards.

... What are you going to do with the question of faith in the first place?

The young man yelled in tears at the curse doctor, who shut up like he had drunk a stone.

"You don't want to cure us because we're autonomous people, huh?

"Huh? Wait a minute, please. You always refuse to be treated because it's against the teachings of the saints, right?

... What are you talking about, this co?

The spelldoctor Septentorio did not think of it and asked the old man for help with his gaze. He pounds the young man on the shoulder with his free hand and shakes his neck to the side. Shot out by the tight gaze of the young man, the senile man saw the curse doctor of the people of the lake without saying anything.

"I have also been suicidal since my consciousness was restored by treating a patient who was ambulantly transported in an unconscious condition"

When the curse doctor drowned, the two breathed.

In the silence like the air had turned to lead, the two turned in cobblestone-hitting footsteps about how long they had been doing so. The spelldoctor Septentorio also looks up.

One of the earlier leads the way and the stretcher with the wounded continues. A variety of injured people follow, including an aunt who hung one arm with a borough cloth and an uncle with crutches.

"Besides, this is what I heard from a human being. He was discharged from the hospital and returned to the Autonomous Region because he had been treated for magic... and I don't know if anyone was killed..."

That's it, Medvege's face flashed in the brain of the spelldoctor Septentorio.

The driver was hospitalized for about a week.

He said his wife died in the meantime.

He was a full-time carrier, a relatively wealthy category among Barack Street residents. I don't think my family will starve to death in such a short period of time.

... was that what you said?

I think again of Medvege's predicament. Instead of the "star sign" of the Kirkurist fundamentalist group, I felt like I had figured out why I had put myself in the "star path proselytizing army" that was tolerant of faith.

The spelldoctor Septentorio turns his attention to the queue of wounded filling mountain paths. The rear tail is invisible hidden in a tree, but the number of people could be perceived to be swollen due to footsteps, whispering in the wind, etc.

A man who has led the way gives way and a crude impromptu stretcher comes forward.

A boy very similar to the young man lay with a pale face. The right leg of the trousers is cut and the plate is bracketed with a bolted cloth. For once, whether it is washed or less dirty on the feet, but no further treatment was available, the swelling of the affected area is severe, and there are numerous other bruises and new abrasions on the scab lid (scab).

"I got hit by a delivery truck at the factory. There was a hospital in the neighborhood of the factory, but it burned down in a winter fire, and I originally said this in a civic hospital, and the foreman..."

Escaping the young man's gaze, the spelldoctor Septentorio saw the wounded. Lots of eyes mixed with anticipation and anxiety and fears against faith stare back at the curse doctors of the people of the lake.

"Just like before...... it's not hard to heal wounds with surgery"

People's faces glowed brightly when the Civic Hospital curse doctor declared. The spelldoctor Septentorio squeezes out the words that follow.

"It's just that... after that... your safety..."

"Well, I've always been. Do you mind?"

"I'm not going to let Sensei take care of you that much."

A voice rose out of the line.

"If you find those hard-headed fundamentalists, it's certainly hard, but if you have any hope at all than to care about that and die today or tomorrow, it's better to have your eyes closed for a little while by the saints"

"Faith. It's our inner circle. Never mind the sensei."

"It won't be enough, but this, the price for treatment..."

My aunt put up a cloth bag that she knew she had made by dismantling old clothes at a glance. Good bags are swollen in bread, but due to their condition, you won't be able to expect the contents.

The spelldoctor Septentorio said with his eyes on a queue that lasted all the way east.

"Well... the reward is to write on paper what the Autonomous Communities have been like since the winter fires, or ancient newspapers... If there are newspapers published within the Autonomous Communities, let it be..."

"What's wrong with that?

My aunt faces the spelldoctor's offer and hands down holding the bag.

"I know someone... I'm a citizen of Zerneau, and I want to know what happened to the Autonomous Region because I have a company that had parts made for the Autonomous Region subcontract and someone who has a relationship with the Autonomous Region carrier."

"Oh, tell those people about the Autonomous Communities... if you take the newspaper to evidence and you talk, you get a lot of information. Dimensions? Okay, I get it."

One of the men with the stretcher laughed niggly.

I leave it to you from the mouth, but the spelldoctor Septentorio lets you talk and nod. Confusion and joy spread to the queue of the wounded.

"I haven't taken a private newspaper, and the letters, I can only write about the name..."

My aunt got stuck.

"Can I have that bag to put in a newspaper and a note?

"Do you want some food?

"That much, you can't carry it with you. If you have a preserved meal, you can have one."

The aunt thanked him many times and opened the contents of the bag on the cobblestone with the hands of those who were safe. A few unknown wipe bags and a pack of sturdy bread roll.

The spelldoctor Septentorio raised his voice to be transmitted to the rear as well.

"Treatment requires water. Would someone please come and suck it?

"You're really going to cure me with water and newspapers, right? Okay! Absolutely, absolutely, wait for me!

A young man grabs both shoulders of a curse doctor and screams, running beside people.

The boy, who apparently broke his leg, had a fever and was unconscious and would not answer the call, but his breathing was firm.

The men who were able to take on the stretcher gently unloaded the stretcher on the cobblestone and turned back, leaving the line as did the old man who was passing through and the man who had led the injured.

The spelldoctor Septentorio deposited his back in a roadside tree and looked up at the sky.

The sky you can see from the gaps in the branches is blue and you don't seem to worry about rain. Afternoon days are still high, but by the time you're done healing them all, the sun will be down.

... before that, whether or not I have enough magic.

The spelldoctor Septentorio regretted not bringing [the crystal of magic] out of the stronghold. Now I can't help but mourn.

"While we wait for the water, could you tell us what changed before and after the big fire?

When the curse doctor of the people of the lake heard, the aunt mourned that only her name could be written, happy to speak of the hardships and changes that had been made since the Great Fire.