Hints of Foul Play

A week later, neither Mattheus nor Brunilda found any hint of whatever could be causing Countess Marcel to be ill. All the locations Ophelia Marcel frequented over the year were searched with a fine-toothed comb with nothing to show for it. Mattheus had even tried to tackle the issue from another angle.

In the end, he still came back to the diagnosis of long-term poisoning—specifically something very similar to lead poisoning. While cancer and other diseases could also present with these symptoms, Ophelia was missing vital markers that pointed at those other possible diagnoses.

He had even drawn her blood and manually double-checked his scan results just in case the skill had been acting on the fritz for some reason or another.

But no, there was nothing even after a week.

The explanation it was accidental or coincidental was becoming increasingly unlikely. Long-term environmental poisoning? Sure. But when one could not find any trace of what was poisoning the patient both in her labs or the locations and food she came in contact with?

Impossible.

"It's that, isn't it?" Mattheus voiced as he stared emptily at all the results and notes for Ophelia Marcel's case.

Brunilda didn't say anything but he got the impression of encouragement, gently prompting him to keep going.

Pale eyes looked away from the papers and met his friend's feline gaze. "To quote Sherlock Holmes, 'Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.' And, in this world, magic is actually very probable."

"Magic, hm?" Brunilda murmured thoughtfully. "I only know the different Colors. You're the one more familiar with the mechanics of the occult and alchemy. Is it possible to do that and leave no traces?"

"I'm not sure how it would be done just yet but I'm pretty sure it's more than possible, especially if you're creative. The occult is essentially the science of this world, after all, and we both know a lot of damage can be done if we mix some household cleaning products together."

"Hey, those gallons of bleach and ammonia came in useful for the System's need for materials at least!" Brunilda protested, even though Mattheus technically wasn't teasing her about her packing her Inventory like a paranoid survivalist.

He continued, not bothering to remark he wasn't making fun of her. "And, you see, the thing is, it should leave traces. I just can't see them. I don't exactly have something to give me eyes that can see into the spectrum inexplicably energy is at, after all. But…"

"Ah. Endlewood?"

"Yes," Mattheus agreed, the two friends on the same wavelength.

He sprung up from his seat, becoming a whirlwind as he buttoned his suit vest and cuffed his shirt. Stuffing the notes back into the folder, he grabbed his jacket and everything else he needed to head out.

The lab door opened with a bang.

"Vincent!" he yelled for his valet as he headed toward his suite for a coat.

Barely two minutes later, the brunet appeared, slightly out of breath. "My lord, you called?"

"I'm heading out to seek Doctor Endlewood's expertise," Mattheus stated as he let the valet help him tug on his coat, having gotten a sleeve caught in the rush.

Silver eyes darted to Brunilda. The cat seemed to understand and told him where he could find the other baron. She kept track of important people with a combination of her abilities Weighing of the Heart and the one that summoned long and thin lengths of cloth (traditionally to blind people but Brunilda obviously got creative to get around being a cat and closed doors). It came in handy during times like this.

"Should we have someone call ahead to see if Baron Endlewood is at his residence? Or whereabouts he is if out?" Vincent asked as much.

"No need, he is traveling and should be back at his residence by the time we arrive. It should be fine as we are family friends to skip a few steps of courtesy."

"Understood, sir. Should I get Miss Brue's basket?"

"I'm good."

"She's fine," Mattheus passed on to his valet.

…

As Doctor Endlewood was technically his mentor and senior, Mattheus felt no hesitation in sharing the case and the notes he had so far once Endlewood came back from wherever he had been.

Endlewood hummed. "I see. I see… So you suspect you might find an answer in her aura scans? I suppose I should have done this earlier but here. You can take my spare machine."

Mattheus gained a look of surprise. He had kind of implied he wanted a specialist to check on Ophelia Marcel, so didn't think Endlewood would just give him the equipment for him to use.

Maybe he was busy? Or was that just not done in this world? But that didn't sound exactly right…

The older man looked at Mattheus over his spectacles. He gave a look of mild amusement. "Why are you so surprised? Take it as a congratulatory gift to my student of a very short mentorship period. You should have one spectral reader in any case, considering you are now Court Healer."

The youngest Crown's eyes widened. The other man was giving him his spare machine rather than just lending it? He had noticed that the ones Endlewood used compared to the hospitals were very different. They were custom models while the older baron seemed to have designed a model better for mass production for use by others.

"Your father has mentioned you have essentially relearned all the theory you lost from your amnesia. As for practical… considering your change of Color, no one is expecting you to be kneading fire when you can already heal with the unique mystical energy you're generating. You had mostly been known in academia for the theoretical rather than alchemical and engineering, in any case."

Albert IV had said as much but it felt a bit different coming from someone not blood-related.

Yet, personally, Mattheus knew he was capable of wielding more than just healing magic thanks to the System. He couldn't just give up the idea if he knew it was possible, just set it aside for now.

"Be proud, Mattheus. Now, I'll see you again at the party at the end of the month, alright?"

He could do better, eventually.

…

Putting Ophelia Marcel behind the machine revealed that there were actual traces of disturbances in her aura. It proved it was related to the magic of this world but didn't exactly scream out anything obvious.

Mattheus hit the books, quickly going down the list of aural illnesses (the book written by Endlewood himself, the preeminent expert in the field) and just as quickly eliminating them as possibilities.

From what he could tell of the web-like cracks before the amorphous state of a person's aura softened the absences by filling in the empty areas, it was created by outside influence rather than anything derived from the individual herself.

The Court Healer sped through texts and journals, eventually narrowing it down to a curse.

A curse. So named because the only intention of a curse was to cause harm to the victim or target.

It was becoming apparent that Sophily's paranoia was not so much overthinking, after all.

"Ah, shit. Not again."

…

"Mattheus, darling, do you prefer this steel-blue or ultramarine?" Honoria asked.

The soon-to-be twenty-year-old, who had a stack of books nearby, looking up and just pointed at the ultramarine. He didn't even bother asking what it was for though he had a vague understanding his mother was currently on decor.

Mattheus had been dragged out of the library in the Crown residence within the capital by his mother to "help" with the party preparations.

He was apparently going to have a ball for his twentieth birthday and he had no choice about it. Logically, he supposed it made sense since he was officially introduced to society and Honoria had not thrown a ball personally yet this season. It would be the biggest celebration he's had for a birthday, though, even if Mattheus thought his birthday was just an excuse for his mother to throw a ball guaranteed to be the talk of their social circles for the year.

Honestly, since Honoria Crown waited a few days before she pulled him away from the library, he wasn't that bothered. He had spent most of his time going through some of the books in the library and was reading peripherally related texts at this point. His mother didn't truly need his input either and was dealing with most of the planning.

All he needed to do was have a fitting for the outfit he was to wear on the day of the party and show his face for a few minutes. Maybe make a light speech thanking the people coming to celebrate the occasion with him.

If it weren't for the party and Countess Marcel's continued illness, Mattheus would have taken a train to Mecane. He wished he could head over to the family estate which no doubt had a better selection of research when it came to curses than the sparse choices in the capital residence.

"Steel-blue goes well with your eyes but I suppose ultramarine fits better with the theme," Honoria commented and seemed to nod. "Now, which do you prefer?"

Mattheus looked up again and stared blankly for a moment at candelabras that looked not that much different from each other. Thankfully, Brunilda, who had been much more interested in the party preparations than staring at him read, told him which one to pick again.

The young baron parroted what his friend said and hummed when Honoria remarked about how he had a point, mind already back at trying to figure out if a curse could be done at a distance or that there was something at Marinell House that was the cause.

After all, he knew he cured Sophily Marcel whenever he visited her and pulsed healing magic through her aura. The issue was that it kept coming back.