No.
Absolutely not.
I hugged Dream Haven slightly closer.
"I believe the border is safer."
"From what?"
"Employment."
Father closed his eyes briefly.
"Alash."
"I already work."
"You heal wounded soldiers when they arrive."
"That is literally work."
"And then you disappear to sleep whenever the medical tents are quiet."
"Efficient scheduling."
"You'll survive."
Suspicious confidence.
I frowned.
"Why that infirmary?"
"Several reasons."
Father leaned back.
"First, you need exposure to patients outside the military."
I started to object.
He raised one hand.
Annoying.
"At the border, most injuries are predictable."
"Predictable?"
"Sword wounds. Arrow wounds. Burns. Broken bones. Mana exhaustion. Trauma from magical attacks."
I considered it.
Fair.
"An infirmary in the capital receives a broader range of cases."
"Illness."
"Yes."
"Chronic conditions."
"Yes."
"Children."
"Yes."
"Old people."
"Obviously."
I grimaced.
