"I'm not sure I want to heal though." Even after hearing all of that, She just wasn't sure if she wanted to spend her entire life around smelly herbs. Hunting and fighting just seemed like too much fun.

Instead of starting to play like her siblings might do, Cerise-tyke wailed when Elias-tyke landed on her. This made Reisi smile as he lifted Elias-tyke off of his sister. Cerise-tyke was still crying, but Reisi shook his head. "That's enough of that you're not hurt. Elias was just trying to play." Cerise-tyke had always been similar to Almast and it seemed like she may carry her mother's dislike of violence as well." He set Elias-tyke down beside Cerise-tyke. "You certainly are going to be a strong mercenary one day, but the best mercenary is gentle as well as strong. Look at Commander Mars for instance. He was a mercenary before he became the commander."

This drew a small laugh out of Venus. "You don't need to take medicine just to speak with tykes. If it helps, you can just imagine them as a new cadet that is asking you questions. They will be cadets eventually anyway and the tykes will love being addressed as cadets." Speaking with the tykes was something she did every day so she didn't quite understand someone being nervous around them, but she did know that it was quite common among those that were not used to being around the little ones.

It had taken a moment for Guider Superior Roon to arrive. When she did, her paws were stained an odd red color. No doubt from some of berries or flowers she had been playing with. The blue-green eyed she-cat came into the tunnel, her eyes wide and happy. “I almost forgot!” She murmured under her breath. Having once been a raiser, the She-cat found a special place in her heart for all the little tykes.

“Hello little ones!” Guider Superior Roon greeted, her sing song voice filling the tunnel.

Limavady stared at the tyke.

Septimus stared back.

"Healing with herbs is the practice of fools saving fools no matter what kind of honey you pour over it." He remarked, flicked his tail, then shot a side-glance at Viviana. "Everything dies, one day or the other. If you come down with the cough, or break your leg, it is your own fault for being weak. To have someone save you is as much a miserable, embarrassing thing as it is to be caught with your head stuck through a hole. If you become so ill or beaten that you cannot even hunt or fight for your postmates... You become a leech, sucking the life out of your friends and family. It is better to die than live as a useless, sickly disgrace, or toy with herbs while there is no one to heal, or play with tykes while others die by the jaws of coyotes." Limavady was the unfiltered kind of cat, but he meant every word he spoke regardless of how cold he may have sounded. The tom was angry to see the next generation take more of an interest in the easier paths, angry to see them readily waste their lives underneath the soil while the brave and courageous chose to die for them!

"Roon is right Limavady. There is nothing wrong with taking an interest in medicine or caring for tykes. My own mother was a guider. Raisers and guiders are the lifeblood of the Regime. Where Mercenaries protect us and scouts feed us, guiders make sure we are healthy. They treat our wounds and cure our diseases. Raisers have perhaps the most important job of all. They are the ones that raise the next generation of soldiers. They instill the ideals and traditions of the Regime into our little ones before they ever begin their training. Just because someone does not hunt or fight does not make them useless." Mars was a bit tense as he came to stand beside his aunt. Although he was trying his best to keep his composure, he could not let that little speech slide. He would not allow such ideals to enter the minds of the next generation, especially when the tyke Limavady was speaking to was his own kin. He doubted Diana would appreciate Limavady saying such things to her son. Thankfully Mars was a bit calmer than Diana would have been about it, but that didn't mean the comment hadn't upset him.

Meanwhile, Cerise-tyke was sitting quietly behind Roon watching the older cats speak with a wide eyed stare. Was the commander scolding the Scout Superior? She was almost certain he was. It wasn't something the little she cat had expected really, but at the same time it was interesting to watch. It would be something to speak with her siblings about later.

He was used to the opposition. He usually had the unpopular opinion, so it came as no surprise to him. The brown tabby-striped Angora watched with his green, venomous eyes as Roon and The Commander responded like so many others had before. Ruffled feathers, attitude, tensed muscles. They allowed him to get under their skin so easily that he thought it was funny, but he would not snicker or smile until they turned their backs. Right now was for making a point; he would laugh at them later.

"Each sector can have it's own 'importance,' however," His nose wiggled like he was sniffing at something already dead, "A cat who does not know how to use their claws is just another sitting duck in the face of danger. Raisers are weak, Guiders are weak. You could say cats like me exist only to make sure you don't die, otherwise, what kind of system are we? This is our way and you are allowed to be weak for your own respective reasons. For as long as I can remember, our system has kept you alive. Fine. I need you to keep tykes out of my way, I need you to babysit the ill until they die so that I don't have to. Fine. But I can hunt for myself, I can fight for myself. Those are the important things when you are met with the risk of death. That is why I chose my path. I would survive without you, and yet you would not survive without me. You were never taught, and tykes should be afraid of never being taught. These things define the strong from the dependent, and dependents die first in crisis if Mercenaries and Scouts can't help it. Nature is cruel and real and unrelenting... That is the truth. So it goes."

Raiser Superior Lark had heard the whole outburst, and sat with a carefully composed expression. She had no personal defense against his words- Lark was a weak cat, by the Regime standards. She had failed hunting and fighting and instead had thrived in the raising of kits. To hear such harsh words from another superior was a blow, but a blow that she was careful not to let the tykes see. “Everyone has different talents, Limavady.” The small calico spoke after a moment. “Maybe you should remember that we Raisers are looking after your pregnant mate, should anything go wrong with her pregnancy.”