With both Edwin and Hadrian agreeing that they were going to take care of the children, the choice was clear. They went to the mayor, got the three adopted under Edwin’s name, as Hadrian was an outlaw, and bought a covered carriage and two horses.

The back of the carriage was full of fodder for the horses, and Hadrian even braved the sunrise inside. At nightfall, he came out refreshed and barely awake, singing the praises of the comfy seats inside.

And so, they gathered their things and got back on the road soon after. Edwin was driving the carriage with Luciano next to him. He felt that now it was as good as time as any to begin teaching the boy. But he felt he needed to speak plainly, least he snuffed out the boy’s enthusiasm to become a healer.

“Lucy, do you know what the most important thing about healing is?” Asked Edwin. The boy smiled brightly and nodded.

“How to mix good medicine and to be able to heal with mana,” said the toddler. He knew a thing or two about healers, and he was sure his answer was correct.

“No, Lucy. It is to recognize pain. When you have a tummy ache, how do you know it is a tummy ache and not, let us say, a toothache?” Asked Edwin, waiting patiently for the boy to come to his own conclusions. Healing was part detective work, after all.

“It hurts right here and my intestines make grr,” said Luciano as he pointed at his stomach. After his parents died, sometimes they ate moldy food. And so, he was somewhat of an expert of tummy aches.

“You see? You instinctively know how to figure out where the pain comes from. But, as a healer, you can’t feel the pain of your patients. What do you do then?”

“I ask them where it hurts, and they tell me,” said Luciano. Edwin took out a candy from his pocket and handed it to the boy. Luciano’s face lit up, and he unwrapped the hard sugar circle, and he ate it in one big bite.

“Correct, Lucy. Now, sometimes the patient doesn’t know where the pain comes from because he hurts all over. There are these little people in all of us, called neurons, who give messages to the brain when something happens to our body,” said Edwin, and he took out another piece of candy. “Can you guess through what they travel?”

“Are all neurons the same? They only tell the brain when there is a boo-boo?” Asked Luciano instead of answering.

Edwin saw the tactic for what it was, he had used it on his mother when he couldn’t answer many a time. He smiled and gave the boy the candy. Asking questions was a sign that Luciano was interested in their conversation. That was as good as a correct answer.

“No, there are elf neurons who release dopamine. They are always happy, but elegant. Then there are the serotonin halflings, who are chipper and always have a joke or a clever riddle to share. Then there are the calm acetylcholine humans, who smooth their muscles before a fight and can calm their heartbeats just like that,” said Edwin, and he snapped his fingers.

“Are there evil neurons? Like orcs or ogres or…” And the child lowered his voice, so only Edwin could hear. “Wraiths?”

“No neuron is evil. They warn us of our sensations. But to answer your question. The orcs are the glycine neurons. They have strong stomachs. The glutamate neurons are the wraiths. They have a mean streak a mile long and a long memory to back it up. The gaba neurons are the ogres. What are ogres known for?” Asked Edwin, pulling out another piece of candy.

It was important that Luciano knew the traits of the different species that resided in their world. Some of Edwin’s mother’s patients had been ogres and some elves, second and third class citizen because of their species and so not allegeable for a healer’s time.

“They are forceful and can block their pain with mana,” said Luciano, and he snatched the candy before Edwin could tell him whether he was wrong or not.

“Correct, Lucy,” said Edwin, smiling at the boy, so he could put him at ease.

“The ogre neurons are responsible for the blocking of impulses between cells in the body. And just like the world won’t be the same without ogres, neither would the body without gaba neurons. Those that have lazy ogres in them suffer from mood swings, epilepsy and constant, incurable pain.”

“Eddy, what is epilepsy?” Asked Luciano. Then he hopefully looked at Edwin’s pocked, from which all the cherry flavored candy had come from. Edwin pretended not to notice, and he decided to make the boy work for the treat. Bribing, it seems, was effective with all kinds of children. Himself, when he was Luciano’s age, included.

“It is a neurotic disorder. The gaba neurons don’t do their job, so people have seizures. Some stare off into space, others fall to the ground and twitch. There are some that feel great fear when they have a seizure. Some outgrow the condition, other need surgery and medicine to live their lives,” said Edwin.

He remembered his first epilepsy patient. A small girl who would scream and twitch every five hours, like clockwork. In the end, he had operated on her, and she had gotten better.

“Lazy ogres are the worst,” said Luciano with all the wisdom of his five years of age. “Can’t they be forced to work with mana?”

“The brain is a very delicate organ. It consists of three parts. Let us say, a scholar named Cerebrum, a warrior named Cerebellum and a guild hall manager called Brainstem. Can you guess what they do?” Asked Edwin. Luciano extended his hand for a candy, and Edwin snorted.

“Answer first, Lucy.”

“Cerebrum does the thinking, I think. Cerebellum does the hard work, moves the muscles and the like. And Brainstem does the administrative work that we all do without thinking. Like, hm, breathing.”

Edwin gave the candy to his star student and went in a detailed explanation about the three parts of the brain. He really needed a study plan. Or he was going to go aimlessly in every direction of the wide field of healing.