Such a cute little village.

Voluna glanced out of the window in the inn's taproom, where the clouds hung low in an overcast sky that bore an astonishing resemblance to aging gray diapers. It hadn't started raining yet, but the air seemed too heavy and humid to risk further travel; wet clothing was highly unpleasant. An occasional rumble of thunder through the sticky air only solidified her resolution to call it quits for the legwork today.


So instead, Vol was in this nice little inn; worn by the years, but not falling apart by any means. But she was, in fact, doing something, instead of sitting in trees, mocking people or killing imaginary unicorns to sell their


Crafting a specific potion, as a matter of fact. That lovely padded case was so useful for carrying glass, and she couldn’t help herself.



…well. That was a lie. She could, but didn’t particularly feel like it.


Three squat, empty half-bottles sat on the table in front of her; two full of an amber liquid and stoppered with a cork and some white wax to seal the liquid inside.


Vol was in the process of filling the last bottle from a far larger one, rectangular in shape, with a short, squat neck. The bottle was labeled “aqua vitae”, though it wasn’t exactly the immortality-inducing water of life hailed in legends.


It was not an instant healing potion, either; in moderation and over a period of time, it would promote good health and general well being. Too much would promote deadly growths in the face and throat, disorders of the liver, brain and kidneys, and a multitude of other problems commonly associated with drunkenness.


Because it was, in fact, alcohol. Single-malt whiskey, in fact. A particularly nice whiskey.


And strong enough to knock a patient out, either because they required a sufficient tranquilizer before they could rest and recover properly—or because they simply weren’t going to make it.



The last one full, Vol set the bottle down and sealed this last; the rest of the cork stoppers were tucked away, along with the excess wax. She left the burning candle alone, though, because that one wasn’t hers.

The big bottle, however, stayed out, along with a little ceramic cup she had requested earlier.


One couldn’t tote the health benefits of a medicine without having used it themselves, now could they?