Instead of Arya, I prefer her mom (Chapter 39) (Patreon)

Given the Cornwallis family’s eminence among Teirm’s upper-class, Cedric knew them despite his short stay. As luck or perhaps fate would have it, they were among his ‘victims’. Making use of the pirates while they lived, he helped himself to some of their wealth.

Cedric didn’t exactly rob them blind, they were too rich to make a dent in any case, only skimming some off the top. The same went for his other marks. To the wealthy upper classes, the theft was only a minor annoyance, so their response was subdued. Cedric could’ve emptied their safes, but inciting them into turning the city upside down seemed a bad idea.

Standing behind said Cornwallis while he socialized, Cedric’s emotions were rather complicated. Despite knowing his actions wouldn’t impact the young scion, he couldn’t help feeling a faint sense of guilt. He almost wished Bertram’s friendliness were a façade, if for no other reason than absolving himself retroactively.

Upon entering the establishment, the fellow was instantly recognized and hailed by an older man, finely dressed with salt-and-pepper hair. They chatted about business and politicking while Cedric and Anne listened politely.

“Since you’re here, Bert, you and your friends may as well join us. No need to feel embarrassed, it’s just lady Margaret and I. Besides, the caterers overdid it as usual. Left to ourselves, the staff will be rolling us out at evening’s end, just like a pair of wine-caskets! Ho-ho!”

Bertram glanced to his left, confirming with Anne. Receiving an affirmative arm-squeeze in return, he smiled at the middle-aged gentleman.

“It would be our pleasure, sir Beaufort. I’m ashamed to admit it, but since we looked in on impulse, we’re without a reservation.”

He didn’t ask Cedric for his opinion, but that was to be expected, given he was basically a coattail-passenger. If it weren’t for Bertram, the youth wouldn’t even have been let in.

Sir Beaufort smiled, indicating with a gloved hand. To the right of the opulent vestibule where party-goers milled, a hallway extended, its lacquered and polished floor shining in the soft yellow light.

“Follow me then. And mind the stairs at the end—they can be a hazard if your eyesight is as poor as mine.”

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About five minutes later, four people were seated in a comfortable room. Its decorations were luxurious yet tasteful, furnished with a pair of leather couches, a wooden armchair and a long table. One bottle of wine, a bottle of apple cider and a smaller plum liquor stood there, with glasses arranged neatly. There was a tray of snacks as well—jerky, cheese, salted nuts and dried fruit.

“Oh, it sure is wonderful to see you again, my dear. You too Berty, and your friend; you certainly must introduce me.”

A prim lady sat next to sir Beaufort, smiling at their guests. She was beautiful despite her age, with light-blonde hair hiding the grey, and faint crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes.

Anne smiled politely, pouring a thimble of apple-cider for lady Beaufort before claiming her own seat.

“The pleasure is ours, ma’am. I believe we haven’t seen each other in a year, perhaps longer—not since the ball in Uru’bean. Are you spending the spring in Teirm, or…?”

Cedric listened to them talk with a glass in his hand, feeling rather surreal. Why was he here? What was he doing? In a meeting between what where clearly family-friends, what could he possibly contribute?

Sir Beaufort seemed to have sensed his conundrum, giving him a smile.

“We haven’t been introduced, lad. You already know my name. May I know yours?”

Caught in between sips, Cedric hastily swallowed his wine, dabbing his mouth with a handkerchief.

“I apologize. My name is Cedric. Cedric Merlinson.”

“Might I know how you and Bert are acquainted-…?”

Bertram, gentleman that he was, spotted Cedric’s conundrum, quickly intercepting sir Beaufort’s question.

“Actually sir Beaufort, we just met. Anne and I found him standing outside. He seemed like an interesting sort, so I invited him along.”

“…I see.”

Sir Beaufort looked oddly at his young acquaintance before glancing at Cedric. His eyes lingered for a moment, stroking his short beard before humming thoughtfully.

“Indeed, he does have an extraordinary look about him. ‘Merlinson’… Not a name I recall, I’m afraid.”

“One’s name isn’t everything, Eustace. Why, your very own grandfather earned his title by-…”

Lady Beaufort suddenly chipped in from the side, sending her husband a reproachful look. Evidently, she didn’t approve of his poorly-disguised attempt at investigating Cedric’s background.

They quarreled for a short time while Cedric sat there helplessly. He hadn’t bargained for such an eventful night, and almost wished he’d stayed inside. Then again, thinking of those dreary, damp and dark tunnels, maybe not…

Yet, it seemed he wasn’t entirely in the clear, because Bertram sent him a look, soon after the couple’s little quarrel ended.

“I must admit, I do find myself wondering. Are you from Teirm? How do you keep yourself busy on weekdays?”

Cedric smiled politely over the rim of his glass. He wasn’t surprised that the question popped up. It was only reasonable that they were curious. And, thinking it over, Cedric was coming to an understanding of what exactly his role was. He was an idle curiosity for these people, similar to an interesting stone, or a strange flower found near the roadside.

“I’m not from Teirm, no. I only arrived recently with a few friends…”

He paused briefly, the word ‘friends’ feeling similar to a mental hiccup. Aside from that, he wasn’t sure whether to just lie or tell a partial truth.

“…as for what I do, I suppose I’m something of a doctor. Difficult to believe on account of my age, I’m sure, but it is what it is.”

To Cedric’s surprise, the immediate, knee-jerk reaction of disbelief didn’t come. It was only sir Beaufort, who’s eyes showed a faint flicker of suspicion. The other three seemed mostly curious.

“Oh my, I knew such a handsome and sharp-dressed young man couldn’t be ordinary. But to think you were apprenticed to a doctor—how fascinating!”

Lady Beaufort was practically fawning, her expression full of admiration and interest. Her reaction was familiar to Cedric, no different from any middle-aged or older lady when spotting a promising young man. Having suffered the same attention in his past life, he knew she was probably already matchmaking inside her head.

Sir Beaufort cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

“He certainly does strike me as an extraordinary young man. I’m suddenly curious about which master he’s apprenticed to. Perhaps I’d even recognize their name.”

The comment, though innocent-sounding enough, seemed to have some hidden meaning. At least, Cedric judged as much when Bertram and Anne stiffened

Lady Beaufort once again jumped to Cedric’s defense, sending a mildly scolding look her husband’s way.

“Tonight is an opportunity for everyone to unwind, and matters of body and mind can be so dreary. Given his profession, I’m sure the young man has more sad stories than happy ones-…”

“Now hold on a moment, Margaret. Let the boy answer. He’s not at the age where he needs to be mothered.”

Sir Beaufort sipped some of his plum liquor, pursing his lips. Over the rim of his glass, the gaze he directed at Cedric was piercing.

Making eye contact with the senior, Cedric considered his answer carefully. He didn’t really know why he was being grilled over his claim, but it seemed a serious matter to sir Beaufort. After a moment’s consideration, he decided to be straight-forward. He wasn’t a good liar anyway, and worst came to worst, he’d just leave.

“Truthfully, I already graduated. I’m not an apprentice anymore.”

He was, of course, referring to his past life, not this one. He wasn’t a medical doctor, but something similar to a male nurse. The former included far too much studying for his tastes, and the latter, while being an arguably inferior profession, was still extraordinary compared to the practitioners of this day and age.

His company were less circumspect about their doubts this time around.

“Goodness, already graduated! I’m not above a bit of grandstanding myself, but aren’t you too blatant about it?”

Sir Beaufort’s features assembled into a proper frown, his grip tightening minutely around his glass. His reaction was interesting—instead of being smug about catching Cedric in a ‘lie’, he seemed genuinely offended.

The others exchanged glances among themselves, with Bertram looking a tad embarrassed. He’d invited Cedric, after all, and if he were exposed as a quack among these present, it would reflect badly on him.

Cedric reclined against the sofa, sighing to himself. He’d really gotten himself into it now.

“I am being truthful. Currently, I have no master. I practice my trade without supervision, and I’m not bad at it either, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

In for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying went. Not only did he dislike lying, but he wasn’t one for false humility either. Certainly, with his past life’s memories and experience, he would be far more effective than the local bloodletters.

Anne’s mouth was slightly open, looking at him in astonishment. Perhaps she wanted to assist him, to salvage Bertram’s reputation if nothing else, but Cedric had dug a hole far too deep for her to pull him out.

Lady Margaret’s response was perhaps the strangest. Instead of paying attention to him, she glanced at her husband, her gaze filled with helplessness, and perhaps some pity.

Sir Beaufort seemed to be visibly restraining himself, his hand tightening around the glass till it seemed about ready to break. Suddenly, he got up, releasing a long, tense breath. After setting is liquor on a nearby cabinet, he combed his hair with one hand before giving them a forced smile.

“My apologies to you and your guest, Bert. I’m getting old, and I feel it’s becoming harder for me to keep up with young people these days. The lady and I will be retiring for the evening. I’ll tell our man you’re using the box.”

Lady Margaret smiled apologetically before she got up as well, taking her husband’s arm.

“Please pardon us, and do enjoy the evening.”

Bertram’s expression was difficult, struggling with how to say goodbye tactfully. When he got up, raising a hand to wave, the two elders were already out the door. Though they closed it behind them, sir Beaufort could vaguely be heard, swearing in the hallway.

“…a graduated doctor my ass!”

There was a period of awkward silence as the three people in the room didn’t make eye contact, still reeling from what just happened.

Eventually, Bertram sighed, flopping down in his seat before pouring himself some of lady Margaret’s apple cider. Smiling ruefully, he looked at Cedric, a red haze on his cheeks.

“Tell me, are you really a doctor?”

Anne, though she preserved her kindly aura, seemed equally interested in the truth.

Cedric’s eyes were a little cloudy, still not exactly sure what’d just happened. Sure, his claim was extraordinary, but the old man’s reaction felt overblown to him. Was there something about high society he didn’t understand?

The evening was getting weirder and weirder.

“…actually, yes. I wouldn’t call myself an absolute expert, but I’m fairly decent.”

Bertrem held Cedric’s gaze for a while. He seemed to find some honesty there, because he soon huffed before relaxing.

“Be that as it may, I’m afraid, well-…”

He was about to continue when Anne chipped in, her tone faintly apologetic.

“What Bert means to say, is that the situation is a tad complicated. Putting it mildly, lady Margaret and sir Eustace, they-…”

“…-have suffered at the hands of less reputable members of your craft.”

Bertram finished her sentence for her, smiling at the demure girl.

“Even saying that much is overstepping myself, but I wouldn’t have anyone thinking badly of the Beauforts.  One would be hard pressed to find more respectable people.”

Cedric gave a single nod, shrugging inwardly. He suspected there might be something more to the issue, and it seemed he was correct. Not that he cared all that much, to be honest. In the end, these people were complete strangers to him.

Eyeing the food and drink, he decided that, although his evening had taken an odd turn, he may as well enjoy himself. He’d be back to his ‘doctoring’ soon enough, and there’d be little time to unwind when the time came.

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