A Very Different Case

…

Mattheus sat down in the compartment before leaning forward, hands threading through his dark hair as he slumped.

"… Master Mattheus?" Vincent voiced unsurely upon seeing the baron's bowed figure.

"Vincent. I would like to be alone for a while."

He felt a small tap from a paw at a point in his arm. There was a pause before the valet acknowledged his words and closed the door of the compartment.

"Brue…"

"This is an aspect of being a doctor, Mattheus. You know this."

"Yeah. I… yeah."

Knowing theoretically that doctors couldn't save everyone didn't mean that Mattheus would immediately come to terms with it though.

And, in a way, as far as he knew, his skill Miracle Invoker could defy death. He had a cheat most other doctors could barely fathom.

It still made Mattheus angry that he might need to resort to essentially resurrecting the dead, though.

Mattheus would have needed to fail first.

He felt like he was completely fumbling when it came to Ophelia Marcel's case after today, where she had ended up losing half a kilogram of muscle mass since he last checked on her a few days ago. When the staff and the countess were doing exactly as he ordered when it came to diet plan.

The man had to increase his visits with the countess.

The curse was viciously consuming the woman alive.

He had been worried it might have become immune to his healing magic, similar to how bacteria and viruses could gain resistance to drugs. Instead, the healing magic continued to work but the curse seemed to become more malignant, as if it were sentient.

Or maybe it was a different curse. A stronger version.

"Talk to me, Mattheus. What is going on in your head right now?" the cat asked.

Mattheus closed his eyes. "Do you think it's a different curse? That would imply whatever it is tied to can be easily accessible, right?"

"Hm. Maybe. But it is unlikely. Didn't your records state a persistent lack of change even while taking steps to improve her condition? That sounds like it's steadily increasing in potency instead."

He sighed. He was afraid Brunilda would say that.

"I… wish I didn't need to touch something to channel healing magic," Mattheus admitted. If he could just blanket a room with his energies, things would probably have been solved ages ago.

"It's possible, since I don't think your Title has fully manifested its complete potential, but you can't do it now, so it's better not to dream of what-ifs."

Mattheus grunted.

After a moment, he inhaled before letting go of his hair. Another second passed and he moved to lean back on the bench.

There was a barely audible thud he felt more than heard as the back of his head tapped against the wall.

"Brue."

"Mattheus."

His lips quirked at her cheeky parroting response before he focused on the ceiling of the compartment again. Searching for something to distract himself from Countess Ophelia Marcel's illness, he focused on an issue that he could address, unlike the curse of the former.

"Earlier today. I forgot to ask but there was a moment with Harloch. When I commented on how violent Artorius Morgaine is and that the Duchess wouldn't have it easy if she were to vie for the throne with him. His expression was…"

His friend made a noise of comprehension. "Ah, that. Mm. Well, there is no other way to say it but when you two skirted around the topic of succession, from what I could discern, Baldroy Harloch seems to want New Albion to go to war."

Mattheus jerked his head and looked down so he could meet the cat's green eyes. "What?"

"He wants conflict. The larger the better. So. War."

"But why?" He was flabbergasted. "Because of money or…"

The cat tilted her head. "I am not sure. I would have to dive deeper into his thoughts to know."

…

After a rather restless night of tossing and turning, where he spent his thoughts split between Countess Marcel's curse and why someone would want a war to happen (unfortunately able to come up with way too many reasons to even begin to pick one), the twenty-year-old was not sure what to expect when he took a carriage to Chelsea.

He didn't think he'd get lost though.

Mattheus checked the time before putting his pocket watch away. "Hm. I'm late."

There was a bit of a ruckus outside from when they abruptly stopped but it seemed to have quieted down. A moment later, there was a tap on the door.

"Lord Crown?" Vincent inquired.

"Yes, what is it?"

Brunilda, who had been with him in the carriage the entire time, still appeared to be sleeping in her blanket. While he wasn't sure if she were actually asleep, it was pretty convincing.

"It turns out one of your patient's staff members was waiting for us in front of the store and he will direct us to the Vengulls residence. We should arrive soon."

"Ah. Carry on then," Mattheus replied.

He took the unmarked carriage out this morning, which explained the confusion. The staff had probably expected a carriage that stood out a bit more. Not one of the many that blended into the high street.

Mattheus took to resting his eyes again until they seemed to stop for good after fifteen minutes.

"We've arrived, my lord," Vincent informed him after opening the door.

"What time is it?" Brunilda asked, sounding very much awake.

The tall baron grabbed his walking stick and left the carriage before putting on his hat. He took his watch out of his pocket again while Brunilda climbed a still Vincent like a cat tree before settling on the valet like a giant and fuzzy parrot.

"Nine twenty-seven," he replied to his friend's inquiry.

Of course, it sounded like he was stating the time, and the staff member wrung his hands anxiously. "I am so sorry, milord! It took me a while to realize your waiting carriage was the one I'd been told to guide to the Boss's home. I should've noticed sooner!"

Mattheus blinked a bit owlishly. "Ah…" he murmured awkwardly. "No need to apologize, good man. I was just noting down when the consultation began."

Complete bullshit but it wasn't like he could say he was telling a cat the time without sounding like he was touched in the head.

Brunilda cut in before he could continue to reassure the poor man. "Ignore it. It is better to move on, Mattheus. You are not used to how ordinary citizens typically react to nobility. And your reputation has… gained a life of its own in the slums and working class."

Pale eyes darted to the cat with barely hidden alarm over her last remark. She never mentioned that before! What did the feline mean about a reputation when he's only really interacted with very few people?

Damn it! Don't look so smug either!

Brunilda knew exactly how much of a bomb that information was to Mattheus. And the timing was such that he couldn't exactly demand elaboration like he really wanted to.

"Doctor Crown, I apologize for not personally meeting you," Mark Vengulls said as soon as the small group entered the foyer of the rather nice townhouse.

"It is fine. I wish I could take in the lovely home more but I suppose something happened, judging by your state of dress?" Mattheus handed his outerwear and cane to Vincent as he assessed the rather messy state of the naval officer on shore leave.

It was a lovely place though. All the terraced houses on the street had front gardens. By his standards, it's less excessive than what the noblesse show off but still a wealthy neighborhood in the city. Especially when the wealthy shopping area was just a few minutes away.

As for Mark Vengulls, the man's shirt was loose at the collar and his sleeves rolled up. His vest was also unbuttoned, showing off the wrinkles of the dress shirt that hinted at the fact he either slept in it or did not sleep at all.

The dark-haired man with white streaks at his temples looked at Mattheus a bit helplessly. "Yes, Parvati, my sister-in-law, told me it was just food poisoning and Jack was just weathering it out. But when I came here yesterday to tell them of your visit, his condition seemed to have progressively worsened and… well. I'm not sure it was food poisoning after all. I'll leave you to decide though, considering you are the doctor."

As Mattheus followed the man, not making any presumptions for now, they were soon joined by a rather beautiful woman that looked like she hadn't slept well for days. She turned out to be the wife, Parvati Vengulls.

"—he's in here, Doctor," Parvati said as she finished giving him a summary of her husband's illness from her perspective.

Mattheus glanced inside, his hand already reaching for the pocket square of his jacket to cover his nose. He spotted the poor man in the bed once he took a few steps in.

"Oh dear," he couldn't help but say.

…

"Thank you so much, Doctor Crown!" Jack Vengulls exclaimed as he came into the parlor where Mattheus waited after healing the man. After a quick wash and no weeping beautiful woman thrown over him, the merchant looked like a different man. "I wouldn't know what to do if that illness ruined my good looks. Wouldn't be able to barter as well, definitely not."

Mattheus chuckled. "You certainly look of a healthier color, Mister Vengulls. And I simply saw you at the request of your older brother."

Mark Vengulls, who had been sitting with Mattheus during the short time when Jack cleaned up, sighed. "I apologize for my brother," he said long-sufferingly, even though there was an almost smile on his lips. "He's inherited the Vengulls's quirks in excess."

"Business sense, Mark. It is simple business acumen," Jack gave a wide but charming smile full of straight white teeth that contrasted with his golden-brown complexion.

It was almost a shocking difference from the ashen face when the merchant had been sick. The rash also did not do the man any favors.

But a severe fungal infection that escalated through food poisoning was relatively easy to heal for Mattheus, who was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. There had been no alert for quest completion. The biopsy he took from the man sat heavily in his suitcase.

"Speaking of business…"

"Jack…"

Mattheus laughed a little. "It's fine. It is in a merchant's blood to do business."

The merchant's dark eyes shined, showing a flash of quick wit. Jack sat down, letting the maid pour him a cup and top up the others, before speaking.

"I've heard a bit from my brother and rumors but experiencing your skills for myself is… Well, it's truly miraculous, my lord. Do you just use occult energy or mayhaps you also use concoctions of some sort?"

Mattheus hummed and seemed to consider his reply, while his eyes darted to Brunilda for a moment.