Emergency Curse Removal Ward

I hate my job. Mind you, the kingdom is paying 20 coins an hour to sit here and I'm getting credit toward my apprenticeship, so I can't complain too much. It's just that my job sounds so much more glamourous than it actually is. Everyone thinks medicine is this amazing field of study where you save tons of people's lives every day. Personally, I've yet to feel any sort of sense of accomplishment.

Some sort of merchant walks up to me, grasping his arm and wincing in pain. "Witch's curse?" I ask, looking up at him. He rolls up his sleeve to show me that his arm is a solid shade of blue. Standard case of Cerulean Chromocapilarium. Probably caught it when he triggered someone's anti-theft charm, but I'm required to give him the benefit of the doubt. He's faking most of the pain, too, but I let him have his fun.

"Sword of Healing," I say, looking down the corridor to see if Sir Saepe is was back from lunch. That's the only cure I've ever offered. I have yet to encounter anything that a standard sword of healing can't cure. They could eliminate my position entirely, and just have Saepe stab anyone who enters. But, no, they want someone to fill out the paperwork they require from us, so they can ignore it and put it in extra-planar storage somewhen.

"I'm sorry?" he said, looking quite alarmed. I sigh. He's a foreigner; probably a pampered brat who had Daddy's cleric treat his wounds with fancy incantations. It's impractical and old fashioned, so of course the wealthy still swear by it. It's a great way to show off one's wealth. But for peasants, the Paladin style of holy magic is all they've ever known.

"It's very hard to explain, sir," I say, launching into a scripted speech, "but if you would be kind enough to trust our hardworking staff, we'll..."

"Hard working staff!?" he cut in. "This place is a shack in the middle of a dumpy village! There are only two of you!" Thankfully, the merchant yelled in a shrill enough voice to catch Saepe's attention.

"Sir, this is a house of healing. I'll thank you to keep your voice down." The merchant turned red in the face, but his sharp intake of breath was enough time to allow Saepe to cut off the irate rant before it had started.

In one swift move that I've yet to grow tired of watching, Saepe unsheathed his sword and plunged it directly into the merchant's chest. He choked out a gasping breath, and then fell to his knees, clutching his heart.

"Treatment administered," I said, holding back all of things I'd wanted to say. "Thank you, and have a nice day." I watched with a smirk as he slowly began to register what had happened. The broadsword had left no mark, as if it had been an illusion; but his blue arm curse had been dispelled by the thrust. The merchant left highly confused, making bewildered inspections of his cured arm, and then of his unpierced shirt and unharmed chest. I couldn't help but laugh.

Okay, so I lied. I love my job.