Mattheus didn't feel anything when he read the sparse data on Obitus Energy. Maybe he was putting too much trust in his Title and skill, but Brunilda was fine despite being dosed or infused with healing magic a handful of times. And his magic tended to eradicate malignant micro-organisms.
The miasma pearl Brunilda took from Countess Marcel had remained inert but still was condensed Pelerin's Miasma. He had wondered if the low level of healing energy he used to brush across items through Marinell House wasn't enough since he recalled the necklace was one of the items he disinfected during that search for the cause of Ophelia's illness.
But a concentrated dose of healing water he had on hand acted like acid to the peal. And a stronger pulse of his healing magic on one of the inert miasma pearls Endlewood gave him disintegrated the pearl.
Mattheus had infused Brunilda with enough healing magic that night in Marinell House to probably heal a hundred people and the cat hadn't even stumbled.
No, he wasn't wary of Brunilda.
Even if he was rationalizing everything because of sentiment, the System wouldn't be able to.
The System always looked out for the well-being and continued survival of the Host, as it circled back to the System ceasing to be if the Host were to die. Always look out for number one.
Said System made Brunilda his Familiar and had a bunch of extra functions revolving around the cat. Hell, Brunilda even pointed out that the System seemed to be taking inspiration from Brunilda's abilities and implementing it through the messaging ability between the friends.
There was no reason for Mattheus to distrust Brunilda.
Even if Obitus Energy was equivalent to decay and destruction, Brunilda's Title, Guardian of the Scales, would balance it out.
Stretching out, Mattheus picked up the grimoire and decided to read it while walking around the table and chair he claimed for the night.
The twenty-year-old managed to go one-third of the way of the rather disorganized book before having to sit down, too distractedly grossed out to split his attention between walking and reading without bumping into anything. He focused and sped through the rest of the text, snapping the hardback journal closed at the end as he took an unsteady breath.
He kind of wished he had worn gloves while touching the grimoire.
Setting the journal down and away from other texts, he disinfected his hands with magic before doing so with everything the book touched or might have transferred since he retrieved the book from the private collection. Then, he pulled on gloves before placing the grimoire into his Inventory to be studied for traces later, making sure to disinfect the gloves afterward.
Mattheus, still feeling creeped out and a dirty that was more spiritual than physical, decided to take a snack break to regain his equilibrium. To further distract himself, he turned on the messaging mechanic between Host and Familiar, asking if he could share her vision.
"Go ahead." Her always clear voice sounded in reply, regardless of the physical distance.
When he tuned in, he saw that she was in a shop of some type and was actually on the counter, facing the shopkeep.
"Sorry, I'm back now," Brunilda said.
Mattheus was about to reply, only to pause when the male shopkeep spoke up. "Nothing to it, madam. So y'were saying you wanted an aquae-activated Class-4 Custom Hybrid Bike? Sent to the Avalon Royal Military Academy?"
"If delivery to the capital is too troublesome, I can also arrange alternate transportation for the bike."
Mattheus stared blankly at the red-bearded man in a leather apron. He kind of suspected Brunilda spoke to others but how in the world did the people of this world accept a talking cat so readily?
"No, we deliver. It'd be a 150 for the delivery fee considering the distance but I suppose someone who has such a fine automaton could also afford that."
"It's fine. I enjoy supporting small private businesses."
"Well, I ain't exactly running a small operation here but I think I get what you mean," the possible dwarf said before giving deep belly chortles.
Oh. Of course. With those mechanical birds and other small animals they've seen, it wouldn't be that difficult to imagine Brunilda pretending to be a robot cat. And, with available technology, the conversation could easily be explained away by short-wave radio.
"You're crazy," Mattheus said with a smile both out loud and mentally. Do you have enough money?
"Of course."
…
He spent the rest of the night with half his vision showing what Brunilda saw as she traveled the feline expressway of pipes and precarious ledges, while the other half of his vision took advantage of having access to such a large library of knowledge and read.
At the end of the time he had available to research, he changed suits (Brunilda choosing a dark-gray, double-breasted pin-stripe suit which Mattheus thought had too many buttons no matter that they "—were exquisitely carved mother-of-pearl buttons, Mattheus. Honestly.") before bringing back a bag to the library to collect books he wanted to take back because of the limited time he had.
The bag was a partial excuse, since he stuffed the clothes Brunilda told him to bring back into it, while he squirreled away a number of texts that could barely be explained away with said bag.
Vincent, who was the one to carry the carpet bag, noticed immediately the weight was wrong but said nothing. The valet even pretended to exert a bit of effort as if the bag was heavy with books.
Mattheus sighed as they got into the automobile, this time leaving the top up, his gray eyes looking out into a city he only saw in this car or through the eyes of a cat (and Brunilda's vision wasn't exactly human anymore).
One day, he would tour the birthplace of Mattheus Crown with his own eyes and feet. Maybe in the spring, if he could get away with it, during the grand exodus of landed nobles heading back to their seats of power.
…
The Court Healer managed to avoid talking to Harloch for a week since that morning when the countess was "miraculously" cured before the other baron dropped in during his office hours within the palace.
He had been talking to Lord Blake (the younger brother of the cuckolded Lord Blake, so brother-in-law to Daria Blake) who worked for the Chamberlain as an assistant, arranging a meeting with said Chamberlain. The man wanted to see how he was settling now that the discussion of the truce between Mithras and Panniore had hit a slow slump. Mattheus had planned to take advantage of the meeting to breach the topic of how to deal with personal trips if he needed to be away for more than a few days.
"Blake doesn't seem to like Harloch," Brunilda remarked. The cat was not visible but he last saw her under the desk, hidden by the gloom except for her vividly green eyes.
Interesting to know, Mattheus tucked the information away as he responded to Lord Blake ending their conversation politely.
Once it was just Mattheus and Baldroy Harloch, the healer offered the other baron tea while he topped his cup off. "Do you want some tea, Lord Baldroy?"
Harloch seemed to consider the question before replying, "I guess I will."
After they each had a cup, Mattheus decided to break the silence first. "How have you been? I remember you explained why the reforms shouldn't have gone through and I can understand it now." The twenty-year-old furrowed his brows and shook his head. "My father was for it but I guess it's because he's more an inventor than a businessman? All I see is the family money being emptied for something that works perfectly fine. All for something like a prettier capital sky."
"I'm fine. I'm fine." Harloch sighed, which suggested otherwise. "I am glad the countess seems to be well again—"
"Lie," countered the cat.
"—but her timing is inconvenient. It took me a while to deal with the money involved. Both from the Marcel side and my job in the Treasury Department."
Mattheus ducked his head, as if embarrassed. "Honestly, even with a trip to Mecane, I do not know how the curse was broken. But it does seem to be broken and unlikely to return unless another curse is cast."
Harloch waved it off. "I've long stopped questioning the hows and just put it up to luck."
"Truth," Brunilda remarked in surprise.
"Luck, hm?" Mattheus repeated a bit skeptically.
"How about you, Lord Mattheus? You have a meeting with the Chamberlain?"
Mattheus simply shrugged. "He finally has the time to personally check on me because of the talks reaching an impasse. Honestly, the two ambassadors should just hurry it up and get it over with. Either make the truce or go back to war, don't you think, Lord Harloch?"
Of course, Mattheus didn't feel that way but he had to play a bit oblivious with Baldroy Harloch. He especially didn't want the man to suspect him after considering the likelihood the other baron was a hidden Occultist.
If Harloch was the one that created the curse…
Mattheus couldn't help recall the absolutely appalling things in that grimoire. The contents had gone beyond the atrocities committed during World War II and the vivisection of prisoners and civilians. It was madly passionate and obsessive rather than clinical to the point he realized why academia made the study of Obitus Energy taboo.
What if the practice also deteriorated the sanity and mind of the practitioner?
The older man cocked an eyebrow at the question. "I'm surprised, Lord Mattheus."
"Hm?" Mattheus gave a blink of his eyes to emphasize his oblivious naiveté.
"Are the Crowns not traditionally pacifists? Well, I suppose the heir is a knight but that's only because he lacks the ability for research and innovation."
Mattheus thought of particular old memories that never failed to draw out the bitterness within him. He let the emotion cross his face before trying to cover it up.
There was silence for a moment before Mattheus spoke when it appeared Harloch was going to say something further, possibly take back his comment.
"We are friends right, Baldroy?"
"He's annoyed. Doesn't like you dropping the 'Lord' part, I suspect."
Harloch sure didn't show that annoyance on his face. "Yes, of course, Mattheus. Why do you ask?"
"My family… I…" Mattheus seemed to struggle for a moment before speaking the next words with conviction. He ignored the image of Mother He that arose in his mind. "Just because I'm a Crown and related to them by blood, does not make me like Them."
Mattheus's gaze stayed unfocused, looking as if he was staring at nothing, trying to ignore the genuine hatred he usually pushed down when it came to the topic of 'family' back in the old world. He wanted the emotion to be believable but not infect his thoughts; he needed all his wits when around Harloch.
There was no response before Harloch said with a peculiar tone. "So you really do have amnesia."
What?