Instead of Arya, I prefer her mom (Chapter 40) (Patreon)

It was a while before the atmosphere lost its tension. Fortunately, alcohol was involved, which helped the process tremendously. Bertram was no slouch, knocking back one glass after another, while Cedric took a more moderate approach. He certainly didn’t think it a good idea to dull his senses, not in his situation.

The performers had finally taken stage below, and a compartmentalized window, almost like a sliding screen door, allowed the three of them to view from their box.

“For gods’ sake, I don’t understand why Jamison doesn’t just propose to her! She loves him, surely Antoinette would accept in a heartbeat…!”

Currently, Bertram was heavily invested in the story, his expression twisting and turning along with the plot. The tipsiness only added to his emotional volatility, and Anne, who seemed the more reasonable between them, had to keep him from toppling over the balcony.

Cedric listened to the proceedings with half an ear. Frankly, he didn’t think much of this theatre. The acting was stiff and janky, the script was terribly clichéd, and the rowdy crowd below was so noisy he barely caught one out of every two words.

“…and that pompous fool Hercule, who does he think he is? The two were betrothed since childhood, how can he interfere with their relationship? It was practically destined!”

Swirling some wine in a glass, Cedric glanced curiously at Bertram. Perhaps he was this invested in the story because he identified with the protagonist?

Turning his attention to Anne, he whispered so Bertram couldn’t hear.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but do you two have an arranged marriage?”

Anne, who’d been patting her fiancée(?) on the back, smiled at Cedric.

“Yes. We’re already married, truth be told.”

“…I see. Well, congratulations.”

Cedric mentally updated his profile on the two of them, leaning comfortably against the sofa.

There was a lull in the conversation, but Anne didn’t return her attention to the play. Instead, she pursed her lips, evidently wanting to say something, but unsure how to broach it.

“…you know, neither Bertram nor I think you are the dishonest sort. He can be impulsive, but I believe him to be a good judge of character.”

It seemed to come out of nowhere, but Cedric sensed she was still hung up about what happened earlier. Not surprising, as she seemed a sensitive girl.

He smiled, shaking his head.

“Thank you, but sir Beaufort’s reaction was entirely understandable. If it were me, I certainly wouldn’t believe someone my age to be a medical professional. It’s not an exaggeration to call the field bottomless—there’s always some ailment that blindsides or baffles you. Experience certainly helps with that, and, well, that really only comes with age.”

Anne glanced at Bertrand, seeing he was still engrossed in the play, before looking at Cedric strangely.

“How old are you, in any case?”

“I turned fourteen about three months ago.”

Predictably, his response only added to the young lady’s confusion.

“From your features, I suspected you were around that age, but… well, it really is difficult to believe. I don’t mean to pry, but where exactly did you learn your craft?”

Cedric shook his head, letting out a self-deprecating sigh.

“It’s not that I can’t tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

However, before Anne could protest, he continued.

“I understand that isn’t a very satisfying answer, and it certainly doesn’t help establish any trustworthiness on my side, but…”

Cedric hesitated a moment before shrugging.

“…well, it’s not like you’ll be using my ‘services’, so whether I’m authentic or not, from your perspective, it shouldn’t really matter. That is, aside from potential social consequences, like earlier. I do apologize for that, by the way. Though, it seems like you have a fairly good relationship with the sir and lady Beaufort, so I doubt their impression of you will worsen.”

Anne’s expression only grew stranger as he continued talking. Toward the end, she was frowning to herself, looking at Cedric like he was some strange creature.

“You are an enigma, Mr. Merlinson. Aside from your qualifications - I’ll assume their authenticity for the time being – you seem very… oh, I don’t know, mature. You say you are no-one special, but I believe anyone would doubt that claim. Your attire, your manner of speech, your demeanor: they testify, if not of your status, at least that you have an extraordinary background.”

Cedric actually felt a little embarrassed about receiving such a high evaluation, but as stated previously, what was the point in acting humble? His magical abilities alone would set him apart from most of the population. His knowledge, while lacking compared to the more educated earthlings, was substantial in this time-period.

Even the elves, advanced as they were, didn’t have more than a rudimentary understanding of germ theory.

“Well, thank you, I suppose.”

Anne let out an unladylike snort before shaking her head.

“It’s a shame. If the issue wasn’t so sensitive, perhaps it might even be a good idea if sir Beaufort-…”

It was at this time that Bertrand’s attention wandered away from the play, attracted by their ongoing conversation. At this point, his face had gotten rather red from the alcohol. Not surprising, given he’d about a bottle-and-a-half in him.

“You two are talking so intimately among yourselves, and Anne is flattering you so much, I’m starting to wonder if I should be concerned.”

Despite his words, Bertram’s disarming smile and the way he casually grabbed a few snacks before chewing noisily showcased his joking demeanor.

Anne smacked his arm, seeming displeased about his uncultured way of eating.

“Close your mouth, Bert. What would father say if he saw you acting out of sorts?”

“Your father isn’t here, now is he? Even if he was unhappy, I’d certainly-…”

“…-you’d ‘certainly’ what? He’d beat you black and blue before hanging you from the estate walls by your ankles.”

Bertram grumbled to himself, wearing a wronged expression. However, he quickly diverted the conversation away from his in-laws.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

He leaned forward, wanting to empty the last of the plum liquor, but Anne stopped him.

“I think you had quite enough for tonight, Bert. I won’t have you keeling over in the street on our way back.”

Bertram grumbled, staring longingly after the bottles now moved out of his reach. However, despite his inebriation, he maintained some level of self-awareness.

“…very well. Anyway, I wanted to ask our companion something: are you currently employed?”

Cedric raised his eyebrows, meeting Bertram’s insistent gaze. He couldn’t help feeling the man wanted something from him.

“Yes and no. I’m busy with research, but I’m not currently attending to any ‘patients’.”

Bertram nodded, scrounging under the table before withdrawing a box. Flipping the top, he exposed a selection of thin cigars.

“I would like to hire you. What do you say?”

“…”

The sudden proposition caught the young ‘doctor’ off guard. Tonight was getting more and more eventful, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Anne, responding to Cedric’s hesitation, pinched Bertram’s cheek.

“Like ourselves, Cedric’s likely wants to spend the evening recreationally. First the quarrel from earlier and now you, wanting to talk business—if you were him, wouldn’t you find it bothersome?”

Bertram sent her a wronged look before sighing, his expression turning apologetic.

“Yes, you’re right. I couldn’t help myself. I’m not so addled as to not see the impropriety, but…”

He chewed on his lip, looking Cedric up and down.

“…if you do have some skill, then it would be stupid of me not to take a chance.”

Cedric felt he somewhat understood where this was going. These up-and-coming young nobles were always looking around for exceptional retainers. Basically, they tried to establish their own support before assuming the family’s responsibilities.

However, he really didn’t have any interest in this kind of nonsense. He had more important things to occupy his time with, and with his abilities, money wasn’t an issue either. There was no reason to play the part of a lackey.

“Well, I think know what you’re getting at, but I’m afraid I have to refuse. Like I said, my research is keeping me busy.”

Bertram didn’t conceal his disappointment. With a grumble, he adjusted his vest, his eyes gaining an intense look.

“Not to sound arrogant, but you know who I am, right? I’m the Cornwallis’ heir. As the only and eldest son, I’ll eventually become the family head.”

Cedric nodded, trying to keep himself from smiling. It was almost pitiful, he thought—how much faith people put in status and wealth. Back on Earth, one could make a case for such confidence being justified, but here? It was no substitute for real power.

Of course, these rich kids had probably been coddled their entire lives. They didn’t have a clue how helpless they really were—not that he held it against them.

“I’m aware, but unfortunately, it can’t be helped. I’m thankful for the offer, and I’ll certainly let you know if I change my mind.”

Bertram held his gaze for a moment before turning his head, smiling helplessly at Anne.

“I really do have a good eye for people, don’t I? To my great disappointment, it seems the follow-through is where I’m really lacking. What, it’s been three this month, if my memory serves!”

Anne clarified, glancing between her husband and Cedric.

“We’ve been keeping an eye out for skilled, dependable people, but those are usually the hardest to recruit. Most are either independent, already employed or uninterested. It’s incredibly vexing.”

Regarding this particular issue, Cedric knew exactly how they felt.

“Oh, I agree with you entirely. Good help is difficult to find.”

Thinking of his own ‘hirelings’, who’d likely already dwindled to a total of one, he leaned forward, taking a cigar. He almost lit it on instinct, but at the last moment, he remembered to ask for matches.

“You don’t have a light on you, per chance?”

Bertram nodded, happy to oblige.

“…I almost want to keep pressing the issue, suggest a casual co-operation if nothing else, but I already made enough of a nuisance of myself. That said, you’ll at least stay over at the manor, won’t you? No strings attached, you have my word.”

Cedric dragged on his smoke, tasting the aromatic, almost sweet flavor. Maybe it was alright to accept. After a late night out, he’d be sleeping in until afternoon in any case. Besides, his ‘dungeon’ couldn’t be infiltrated without alerting him, and not by anything less than a small army.

“Oh, what the hell. I suppose it won’t hurt.”

Bertram and Anne smiled, gladdened by his acceptance.

“Excellent! The bed in the guest room is incredibly comfortable. Why, I often find myself there when I can’t sleep and need a change of scenery…”

For the rest of the evening, the three of them continued chatting idly until the late hours. When the play had finished and the drinks and snacks were devoured, they headed back to ground floor, leaving the servers to clear the clutter.

If the husband and wife had any doubts about Cedric’s status, they evaporated toward the night’s end. A middle or lower-class person would be ill-used to such lavish comforts, and being waited on hand-and-foot, but he didn’t seem out of place at all.

Naturally, as a person from the modern world, Cedric experienced many more luxuries besides. And, while not having been wealthy, he’d associated with more than a few during the course of his career.

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