As the hours wore on the battle began to wind down. In a warehouse in the outer city's northern reaches the cracks of gunfire and other such sounds of battle slowly became less frequent and more distant. In its place their was increasingly the sounds of the wounded. The are had been designated a field hospital shortly after it has been secured. There was the hospital ship Relief out in the bay and the troopships could fill a similar role, but those were for wounded Infrastructural Soldiers. This facility (like three others) was for the many recently freed slaves who'd been wounded in the fighting. Among it's staff was Medic Vera Doslonovich. This was her first deployment and so far it had been demanding, both physically and mentally.Of any group in this fight their casualties had been by far the worst. The leaflets had helped spur them into action once the walls had been breached as had Infrastructurals moving into, but in truth most of them were just itching for an opportunity to get out of bondage. A casual inspection showed why this was the case. The slaves ranged size from tall to short and in color from pale through red and various shades of brown to almost black, elders (though they were scarce) to children. A few had some half decent clothes (including some stolen items and armor) though many wore rags and what looked like garments made of old sacking. But regardless they all bared scars. Almost always on their wrists and their backs. Others had had ears cropped, fingers or toes cut off.Things had been more hectic earlier that day when a flood of critical patients came in. That was stressful and not pleasant, but she had butchered hogs, done dissections at the academy of medicine and had assisted with a few training accidents beforehand. Now things were less stressful. The magical healers could handle the remaining big cases while she and the rest of the Medics focused on the less critical ones, such as a fellow who'd come in armed with a pistol and a Stevedore's hook carrying one of his friends who was worse off.She and a few other medics had insisted the man stay for treatment when she saw the wounds on his arms even though he seemed eager to get back at the fight. Eventually he'd relented after his burden had told him something in a language that she knew about eight words in (including a couple of curses). The cuts he had on his arms were deep and while they were not too bad now they could easily get much worse. She'd given him a needle full of painkiller, applied topical anesthetic, cleaned the wounds, sowed them up and dressed them with healing potion soaked cloth. Fairly simple work but it was neatly done. In a couple of days those cuts would be sorted out. The other wounds on his body and his mind that had he had suffered in captivity were another matter. She then moved onto the next patient.The Infrastructural Army Medical Corps relied on magic more than any other branch of the service. The Central Committee had deemed healing to be one of the most important applications of magic and had invested considerably in the training of healers. She fully agreed with that call. Even so there was still plenty of need for orderlies, nurses, surgeons and other such tasks which could be performed just as well if not better by well trained mundane people. She was making a difference, left untreated those arm woulds could have turned very nasty, but as day gradually gave way to night went by she wished she had been born a mage so she could have done more here. She had wondered why the Central Committee had decided to attack this remote sweltering gods forsaken island beforehand, but any doubts she might have had about this operation had withered when she'd seen all those scars. Now she had a cauldron of anger stewing in her directed at the Avesians. A Purge was a mercy far too good for them.Previous- Infrastructure: Part Two Hundred and Fifty Six Next- Infrastructure: Part Two Hundred and Fifty Eight