[After a few back and forth retorts from him and the vendor--a haggle and a underlying threat of taking his business elsewhere--Claude takes a small step back, smiling and holding up the bottle of milky liquid as he turns to Bernadetta.]

Here we are! [A wink] One bottle of a concoction supposedly potent enough to allow a healer to tend to one hundred men! Accelerated magical recovery that which would give Saint Cethleann a run for her money, don't you think?