The Best Medicine
By Kent Steichman
I think we’ve all been there before. You’re out on a quest, could be a sidequest, or you might be hot on the trail of your nemesis after he kidnapped your significant other, and it’s just starting to wear on you.
You’re low on hit points, your white mage is tapped out, and you’re a stiff breeze away from having to reload at the last save point when you reach town. After a night at the local inn, you’re right as rain, and ready to take on the world again.
For years, the therapeutic secrets of the hotel industry have been a well guarded secret. It turns out a good night’s rest is all you need to recover from anything from low HP to a bout of poison to being turned into a frog to, strangely enough, being put to sleep.
So how is it that these seemingly humble innkeepers can manage feats of medicine for only a few gold pieces that the best doctors and white mages in the world need at least a high level Cure spell and a Remedy to do?
None of the innkeepers I asked wanted to say a thing about it. In fact, most of them said nothing except to offer me a room, so I figured, what the heck, it was only a few gold, and maybe I could gain some insight into the situation.
I checked into my room, and after wondering just why there were three other beds, I set about looking around the place. Nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary as I checked the room, except they’d blocked HBO. Cheap buggers.
An idea struck me, that the healing must obviously happen in the middle of the night, so if I stayed up the whole night straight, maybe I could “catch” whatever it is in the act.
So, I settled in for the long haul and ordered some movies to watch. About half way through the third Captain Qwark movie, my eyelids were getting heavy, and I checked the clock to see it was past 3 am. Figuring that either I was on the wrong track or I’d missed whatever it was that did the healing, I decided to call it a night.
But as I put my head down on the pillow, I could swear I heard some sort of fluttering sound coming from the flower pot in the corner. I kept my eyes closed, lest whatever made the sound leave.
“About bloody time,” I heard a tiny voice muttering to itself from the pot, and I felt dust falling over me as it cursed under its breath. When it was gone, I felt like a million gil, refreshed and ready to take on the world.
So, there you have it, I suppose. Fairy magic.
Honestly, I liked it better when it was a mystery.