Chapter 683: Writing an Article to Reveal the True Face of the Hospital!
"Who is criticizing the hospital?"
Padma looked towards the sound while supporting herself on the door fra. The voice belonged to a young woman in her twenties, dressed in a neat, light gray dress and wearing rectangular glasses. She pointed across the room, with faint ink marks on her fingertips and knuckles.
Does she often deal with writing?
A scribe, a tutor, or perhaps a low-level spellcaster?
Padma wondered silently. Opposite the young woman, a girl taking care of a postpartum mother adjusted her clothes and raised her chin high:
"Just because she’s in pain, you want to give her pain relief? Did she pay? It was explained at admission that paynt is required, don’t you know?"
"Can you just watch her suffer like this?" The young woman with glasses grew more furious:
"It’s clearly just a small effort—As healers, as those spreading the Queen’s grace and caring for mothers, do you have no sympathy for a fellow woman in labor?!"
The girl’s face turned bright red, her hand clenching and unclenching, a faint glow flickering at her fingertips. She was holding back from slapping her when a bright voice suddenly sounded from the end of the corridor:
"What’s going on?!"
"Joanna!"
The girl rushed over aggrievedly and quickly explained the situation. Joanna approached slowly, listening, then lifted the mother who had collapsed to the ground:
"Co, let’s go back to the room and lie down, you’ll feel better." She spoke softly, lifting the mother like a doll without apparent effort:
"Let check your condition... Hmm, your heartbeat is fine, your blood pressure isn’t too high, and the baby’s heartbeat..."
Her eyes glanced over several glowing screens by the bedside:
"The baby’s heartbeat is fine too. Don’t worry, everything is normal. Just hold on for a few more hours, and you’ll be able to give birth soon."
Her clear voice carried from the ward into the corridor. The corridor was quiet, only the light footsteps of nurses could be heard.
Padma sighed in relief, supporting her sister as they were about to turn back to the room when they heard a second scream from the ward:
"Ah—"
"Don’t be nervous, adjust your breathing, don’t waste your strength." Joanna’s voice ca at the right ti:
"Co, breathe with my command—inhale... exhale... inhale... exhale..."
"Can’t you give her pain relief?"
The young woman with glasses spoke out angrily again. Joanna ignored her, focusing on guiding the mother’s breathing in the ward. After a while, she ca out, closing the door gently:
"Do you ask why I don’t give her pain relief?"
This level 5 priestess of the Church of Nature looked solemn. Three red marks on her cheeks added a touch of dignity and mystery to her.
The young woman instinctively shrank back, then stepped forward, raising her voice:
"Yes! She’s in so much pain, and you don’t care if she lives or dies?!"
"First of all, no one doesn’t care if she lives or dies." Joanna said calmly. Her eyes swept across the faces of a few mothers who were still in good condition and watching, nodding slightly to them:
"When I arrived, I confird that her condition was relatively good and she should be able to give birth naturally. If her condition worsens, a cesarean section would be necessary, and soone will take her there."
"But she’s in so much pain! You—you’re just money-grubbers!"
"So what?" Joanna responded quietly:
"The spells of spellcasters are always limited and must be used in more important places. For example, examinations, or post-cesarean section treatnts. Pain relief, which is not so urgent, will always be pushed back."
Endlessly eting patients’ demands would eventually exhaust spellcasters. Even the Church of Nature, serving the poor daily, must know how to conserve their strength.
And when supply is short and demand is high, these less urgent needs follow a different set of rules.
—For example, money, power, or things that can’t be bought with money or power.
"And the hospital has already waived many fees." Joanna’s bright eyes turned to the young woman:
"The examinations just now, three level 1 spells, should cost 150 gold coins according to standard prices, but we didn’t charge a single copper. If it cos to a cesarean section, 2000 gold coins, the hospital will also waive it."
Her voice remained calm, not raised because of her confidence. With her statent, whispers started among the nurses, midwives, and family mbers in the corridor:
"Seems so."
"Indeed, they’ve waived a lot. If we had to pay for everything, it would be very difficult for our family..."
"They’ve waived thousands of gold coins, they wouldn’t bother with just a few dozen... So, it’s really by the rules?"
Various strange looks were directed at the young woman. She was both ashad and angry, her cheeks flushing as she suddenly turned and ran out like the wind.
"...I’m so angry!" At the editorial eting that afternoon, she complained with a face full of grievance to the editor-in-chief and her colleagues:
"They don’t care about these mothers at all! When I said a few words, they ca back with a bunch of excuses! Aren’t they all working with the Queen’s money, why do they need extra charges? I must expose them! I need to write a big article!"
"This article may not be possible." Across the table, an elderly editor with graying hair adjusted his tortoiseshell glasses and said in a deep voice:
"There are no free spells. Spellcasters have no obligation to cast spells for free. This is a consensus for everyone, at least for all spellcasters. Miss Blade, challenging this consensus might be difficult."
Several editors and reporters nodded simultaneously. Spellcasters, among the kingdom’s most noble, ford a group that even the Queen could not ignore—writing an article criticizing them?
Not to ntion how many would find the article absurd, if it caused a stir, any spellcaster group could trouble them!
Miss Blade pressed her lips tight, her eyes flickering behind her glasses. As she was struggling to find a way to convince them, the editor-in-chief suddenly coughed and knocked on the table:
"It may not be impossible. Miss Blade, what is the background of the mother you saw?"
"She’s the wife of a Royal Navy officer. Her husband is on a mission at sea." The young woman answered imdiately. The editor-in-chief lowered his head in thought for a mont, then gave a short laugh:
"You write it first and show it to . Focus on her husband fighting for the Queen, while his wife suffers in the Queen’s hospital."
"Editor-in-chief!"
"Mr. Kraiser!"
"How can this convince people?"
"What if a temple cos after us..."
Several editors and reporters spoke simultaneously. The editor-in-chief smiled confidently:
"Get an artist to illustrate it, the picture must be impactful. Rember that previous piece ’Demanding Money with a Corpse’? Use that direction! Find the best artist!"
Miss Blade hesitated and nodded. The editor-in-chief looked around proudly:
"As for retaliation—what’s to fear? Our paper has changed nas and moved locations many tis. As long as the paper sells well and attracts enough attention, we’ll have a new address and everything else we need!"
Heh, there were big shots requesting this kind of article, and they were worried about not having impactful facts!
This Miss Blade has potential and should be well-nurtured!
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