TITLE: In Which Arthur Faces the Formidable Chiropractor

SUMMARY: King Arthur receives a bill from Camelot's only chiropractor, of all things. As soon he figures out what that even means, someone will have to pay, and it isn't him.

WARNINGS: Not to be taken too seriously ;)

"MERLIN!" Arthur bellowed from the table in his chambers, despite the fact that Merlin was sitting next to him, writing Arthur's speech for tomorrow's council meeting.

"Yes, sire?" he said, looking up.

"Do you have any idea what this is?" Arthur asked, flapping an unfurled roll of parchment in the air.

"It's an unrolled piece of parchment, sire."

"Merlin what did I say about trying to be clever?"

"That pretending to be something you're not is poor manners."

"Yes, do try to learn a little etiquette, Merlin, even if it's completely hopeless. I know what this is, I just want to know WHAT THE HELL THIS IS," he cried, pointing to a written sum.

"That is a number, sire, used in this instance to demonstrate a value of currenc—"

Arthur quickly rolled up the parchment and hit him upside the head with it. Merlin rubbed his head, and mouthed, "What?" as if a great injustice had been done.

"Merlin," he said, enunciating each word, "You are going to find me this person, this, this,"—he squinted at the bill—"this chiro-practor, who dares charge me this preposterous sum. You will find him and have him come here posthaste to explain the meaning of this. I've never heard of a chiprotractor in my life."

"A what, sire?"

"A chirpocractor," he mumbled, slightly embarrassed. "What are you waiting for? Get him now!"

"Right away, sire," he said in all mock seriousness.

After an inordinate amount of time-can't that toad of a servant do anything right—a knock sounded on Arthur's door.

"Enter."

A man of middling height shuffled in, with too much padding in the middle and too little hair on top. He wore a non-descript, brown robe that perfectly matched what was left of his non-descript brown hair.

"Are you the mitochondriac?" Arthur demanded.

"Ah, the chiropractor?" He asked in his high strung, scholarly voice.

"That's what I said."

"Yes my lord, I am he."

"What is the meaning of this?" He held up the parchment. "Who are you, what the hell is a protractor, and how dare you charge your king this ungodly sum!"

The man shifted nervously. "A chiropractor, sire."

"Yes, that's what I said!" Arthur exclaimed, as if the man was incomprehensibly slow.

"Of course, excuse me. My name is Paro Os, a physician specializing in bonesetting. My practice is quite popular, especially in the lower town which has a higher population of people working hard labor that tends to wear the body down, especially the back."

"Bonesetting?" Arthur squinted at him disdainfully.

"Yes the manipulation of bones that have been offset by one circumstance or another, usually by injury or repetitive motion. I set them to their rightful place. I've uh, dubbed my professional designation as 'chiropractor', you see." He chuckled as if he told some particularly clever joke.

Arthur buried his head in his hands and said under his breath, "Oh God, he's worse than George."

"Worse than who, my lord?"

"Nevermind. So what does this have to do with me? You can't seriously expect me to pay when I have never seen you, nor used your services in my life. I should have you thrown in the dungeons for your presumption!"

The physician gulped, wiping his perspiring brow. "Well, you see, sire, I was told to, uh, open a tab—so to speak—in your name."

"WHAT?"

"Now, now," he said, lifting his hands. "I was told that you, um, ran a place of employment based on equality and that you provided healthcare benefits to your employees. Meaning that you, as their employer, would pay for at least part of the services rendered to them by a physician."

"That is the single most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, and I have a talkative idiot for a manservant. Surely you jest!"

"No, I say this in utmost seriousness. And the patient also insisted that you would pay—what did he call it?—ah yes, that you would pay workman's comp."

"Workman's comp?" Arthur asked derisively.

"Yes, the fees an employee incurs for getting treatment for injuries, mental and physical, obtained during time of employment. That is why emotional distress was taken into account when I balanced out the fee."

"Oh dear lord in the heavens above give me strength—it's Merlin isn't it," he stated dryly.

The doctor shifted uncomfortably. "I'm afraid so, sire."

"You have got to be kidding me! I'm going to strangle him! I'm going to assign him chamber pot duty for the entire castle from now until kingdom come! I'm going to put him in the stocks so long he'll grow a beard on that womanly face!"

"I'm afraid that will just result in you incurring additional fees for emotional damages, not to speak of the life insurance you would need to pay to his relatives should you actually succeed in the strangulation. Frankly, my lord, I'm a little concerned about your work environment conditions."

"My what?"

"It's just that, I've been treating Merlin for an entire month now—"

"Merlin racked up a bill this large in just a month? How is this even possible? I could buy Guinevere's entire wardrobe for a year with this amount!"

"Well, I've had to put him on a rather aggressive treatment plan. He's been seeing me three times a week."

"And what is he exactly seeing you for? The man lazes around all day—when he's not whiling away in the tavern—why would he need his bones set or whatever it is you do?"

"Well, I really can't tell you this, my lord. See, there's this thing called HIPAA—"

"YOU SHALL TELL ME NOW OR I WILL RUN YOU THROUGH WHERE YOU STAND."

The physician gulped. "Merlin, uh, he actually, has some odd injuries."

Arthur sobered. "What do you mean?"

"Well, that's why I wanted to talk to you about the working conditions, my lord. The curvatures of his neck and upper and lower spine are off. The direction would suggest repeated front-facing trauma, like a major force throwing him against a hard surface in a chronic fashion. The force of these impacts appear to be significant, as if done by an unnatural source."

Arthur looked uncomfortable. "He has been pushed by uh, magic, against a wall a time or two."

The physician stared at him. "That would account for most of it…"

"And he did take a hit by a mace to the chest once," Arthur admitted, grimacing.

"Yes, that would definitely leave lasting trauma."

"And he is used as target practice once in a while—"

The physician gave him a disapproving look.

"—But I provide him with proper armor and shield and he's even started to fight back!" he said quickly.

"Yes, it's good to hear that he's being provided proper personal protective equipment, or PPE as I like to call it."

"And the man falls all the time, let me tell you," Arthur continued. "He has this amazing talent for tripping on air—the likes of which I've never seen before. Oh and I do find him sleeping in the oddest places. Like this one time, he was sleeping in the stables on the ground with his face in a pile of—"

"Yes, yes, all of those incidences would indeed affect his neck and spine placement."

"So tell me, doctor," Arthur asked, the set of shoulders betraying his apprehension, "is he, is he alright?"

The physician looked at him for a moment. "Yes, I believe so, or at least, he will be."

Arthur let out an imperceptible breath.

"With a little more rest, his prognosis looks promising."

"How much rest are we talking about here?

"Oh, I would say about a week with absolutely no intensive labor of any kind."

"I can give him half a day off."

The physician looked scandalized. "My lord, the damage to his back could be permanent if he isn't given time to rest and heal properly."

"Fine. One day off."

The physician scowled and then sighed. "Very good, sire."

"And as for the bill, I will need some time to deliberate further on how much of it you will receive, if any. You are dismissed."

"Oh, before I go, if I may sire…Merlin did mention that perhaps you should be looked at as well? He says that you have taken quite a few blows to the head and that has left your mind a bit addled?"

"GET OUT!"

The physician bowed his head quickly and left the room.

Paro Os, chiropractor extraordinaire, couldn't help the giddy smile as he shuffled down the hall. He touched the transfiguring potion in his pocket reassuringly and practically skipped in pure glee. He knew that there was no way that Arthur would pay the bill, but that hardly mattered. This whole ordeal took a bit more effort than his regular passive aggressive schemes against Arthur, but by Gaius's eyebrow, it was worth it.

He was going to get a whole day off.