Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 569

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 21.
The Noble Daughter and the Detective (21)
“We’re the new students?”
Though nearly a year had passed since our enrollment, no fresh batch of new students had arrived yet, so technically the statement held true. The Young Boy raised a finger as if to say “ah, right,” and spoke.
“Ah, I see. I should have said next year’s new students.”
“But next year’s entrance exam hasn’t even been held yet?”
The Young Boy nodded without concern.
“I know. I’ll have to take that exam too. By the way, that senior’s name is Maximian Lipkne, correct?”
“It is, but why? You haven’t even enrolled yet and you’re already borrowing money from him?”
The Young Boy let out a soft laugh.
“Perhaps I will. Well then, seniors, I’ll see you at school next year.”
The Young Boy raised one hand lightly and turned to cross the Crossroads with quick steps. Shon stared at Bella in disbelief.
“Did you hear that? Does he think our school conducts entrance exams like some kind of guessing game?”
Bella watched the Young Boy recede into the distance, then shrugged.
“Well, what does it matter. The kid probably just thinks he’s clever.”
“If a clever little thing like that gets admitted with ‘oh, you have potential,’ then what kind of school is Nenyaple? Honestly, of all the days to show up—right when the November exam was being held. It’s ridiculous.”
“Who knows? He might actually be from an incredibly prestigious family.”
“What are you talking about? Our school doesn’t have special admissions where you can buy your way in! What about all those noble children who failed admission even after taking the exam three times?”
“But the heir to Anomarad’s greatest ducal house studies here, doesn’t he?”
“He took the exam too, didn’t he? And he’s genuinely brilliant?”
Bella giggled.
“True, he’s so smart you wonder why he even attends school. We have a few suspicious people like that at our academy. But they all share one thing in common—they’re all handsome. By that standard, he should pass too. He’s incredibly cute.”
Just then, as the two were talking, Patrisha returned from Lindiz Pickle Shop. She thrust four bottles of pickles into Shon’s hands.
“Here, take these. When I mentioned Senior Maximian’s name, she really gave them to me.”
Shon accepted the bottles in bewilderment. Bella whistled and glanced sideways toward where the Young Boy had disappeared.
“Whew, I’m betting that he really does enroll next year.”
Shon shook his head and spoke.
“I’m betting a bottle of olive pickle that we’ll never see him again. What are you betting?”
“Hmm, my umbrella that went off to find itself?”
Maximian Lipkne walked to the end of the Crossroads and stopped in front of a tavern called the Orange Tree. On the door was painted an image of a tree with antler-like branches, from which hung what looked like blackened coal in clusters.
“Welcome!”
As Maximian Lipkne pushed open the door, the proprietor Orange Buck, who had been laying out tarot cards alone, reflexively shouted. When he looked up and spotted Nenyaple’s most loyal patron, Maximian Lipkne, he wasn’t surprised—but the moment he saw the hat covering his head, he pointed and cackled.
“Look at that hat! You got caught in the rain last spring, never had it cleaned, left it stuffed away, and then suddenly needed it today so you pulled it out? Did you do something you don’t want anyone to see?”
Maximian Lipkne removed the hat, examined the mold stains on the back, and frowned. Then he tossed the hat onto the bar and replied.
“You said you had no talent for deduction.”
“Then what other noble reason could there be for wearing a moldy hat in perfectly fine weather? You aspiring dropout.”
“There is a noble reason, and it’s far more serious than that three-percent accuracy love fortune-telling you’re doing.”
“This isn’t a love reading. Love requires another person to be involved.”
“Ah, right. Then call it a prayer meeting for the realization of love.”
Orange Buck burst into delighted laughter.
“That’s nice. By the way, did you take the exam?”
“Yes, I did.”
“The mark of a diligent student. Anyway, you got a letter. Strangely enough, the couriers have been leaving your mail here lately.”
At some point, I had become the kind of person who was easier to find at the Tavern than at the Academy. Orange Buck rummaged through the clutter behind the bar and produced an envelope, then slipped a card he’d pulled from somewhere into it and handed it to me. I frowned as I took it.
“What is this?”
“A lucky charm card wishing for your promotion.”
“What luck. Does luck take exams?”
“Well, there’s such a thing as divination, isn’t there?”
“It’s a subjective essay question, though.”
“You talk nonsense even on subjective essays.”
“If you call it nonsense, what would the Professor think?”
I folded the envelope in half and stuffed it carelessly into my pants pocket. Orange Buck nodded in understanding and made a gesture of condolence.
“Ah, then I’ll lose one regular customer next year. What a shame, what a pity.”
Orange Buck’s lament was sincere. Of course, most of it wasn’t regret over a useless regular who was mostly indebted to me. He owed me a favor several times over for small but troublesome problems. The owner of Lindiz Pickle Shop was the same. Counting direct and indirect debts, it seemed like half the village owed me something. Starting this year, word had spread to the surrounding estates, and people had begun inviting me.
As more people sought me out and it began to affect the Tavern’s sales, Orange Buck realized there was business potential in this and decided to give it a name.
The Consultation Office of the Full-Scholarship Special Admission Student of the Great Nenyaple
I nearly broke the glass I was holding when I heard that name, but truthfully, it wasn’t wrong. I’d missed the entrance exam date and had a special admission meeting with the Headmaster, and since my patron was paying my tuition, there was nothing wrong with calling it a scholarship.
Thanks to my roommate, who laughed so hard he fell off his chair, that name was spared adoption, but people always came up with their own names anyway. After that, I earned the fitting nickname of “the Detective in the Tavern Corner.”
When my clients were villagers, I never demanded more than free drinks or a few bottles of pickles in return, and I did them quite a favor. But for me, it held no particular meaning. It was merely a pastime. Occasionally exercising my mind wasn’t so bad either—as long as the sofa had no dents to examine.
But the villagers saw it differently. Orange Buck, in particular, whose shop sales were directly affected.
“Is there any chance you’re planning to stay another year after getting a fourth-class grade? After all, someone’s fool is paying your tuition with leftover gold coins, right?”
“Come on, I already took the exam. How am I supposed to get a fourth-class grade?”
“You really don’t know your own worth. I’ve lived here since my grandfather’s time, but among all the Nenyaple students, you’re the first one as useful as you. They do magic experiments and blow up other people’s warehouses, they lose some mysterious pet and cry about it—there are plenty of those types. But you’re on a different level. Truly, you’re a type of student Nenyaple has never seen before. I’m certain of it. The Professors must know it too.”
“Yes, I’m so different that I’m graduating early. Stop with the flattery and just say what you need to say.”
Buck’s mouth drooped as he gauged my reaction, then spoke quickly.
“Right, you’re sharp. Professor Loreldin is furious because the amount of premium Movenique tea leaves I procured for her last time was too small. She thinks I skimmed some of the tea, but I delivered it exactly as I received it without even breaking the seal! Is there any way to clear up this misunderstanding?”
I spun the card listlessly between my fingers, then asked abruptly.
“Is it a container with an orange flower seal stamped on it?”
“Yeah, that’s right. You’ve seen it?”
“Aaron touched it.”
At my definitive tone, Orange Buck thrust out his chin.
“Aaron? What’s he got to do with it?”
“Aaron bought a new foal. He must have scraped together money for a year.”
“What, a year?”
Orange Buck looked incredulous. Aaron was the son of the owner of the Lower Town Lumber Mill. Since it was a lumber mill, the front yard was spacious, and cargo wagons from outside often unloaded their goods there. From there, the road up to Nenyaplo narrowed, so it was necessary to transfer the cargo from the wagons to donkeys or convert it to backpacks.
“The cargo wagons do pass by that place, but….”
If it had been someone else speaking, I might have dismissed it with ridicule, but my opponent was me. Even when it seemed like a leap, this type of deduction had never been wrong. Orange Buck scratched his head, thinking, then finally gave up and asked.
“Hey, explain it a bit more. I’m not smart enough to figure it out. I need evidence to tell the Professor something, right?”
“Just ask Aaron why he keeps getting seal wax on his sleeves. He had some on him the other day too.”
“That… was that so?”
“His treasure trove must be stashed somewhere in the Lower Town Lumber Mill. The cunning bastard only touches things worth money. Last month, my friend ordered a bag of juniper berries and wood dust came pouring out. I thought he’d learned his lesson after I warned him then.”
“R-really? What did your friend do about it?”
“Said if he gets caught one more time, he’ll repay him with six months of indigestion. That friend of mine is scarier than he looks. Especially when someone meddles with magical reagent materials.”
“Oh, you mean Juspian? Right, remember when that drunk Paola locked up the chickens and starved them? But then one day someone tore down the fence and folded the iron gate into a neat little notebook shape. That was your friend’s handiwork, wasn’t it?”
“Officially speaking, it wasn’t?”
Orange Buck nodded thoughtfully and began devising how to punish the thief. Maximian stretched and tapped the table lightly.
“So, how about you start paying back those debts you owe?”
“Yes sir, what should I pay you with? Whiskey? Or maybe a refreshing pastis for old times’ sake?”
“Not that kind of thing. I heard you recently brought in something shiny and beautiful. I’d appreciate an honest and straightforward briefing.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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