Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 587

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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 39.
The Noble Daughter and the Detective (39)
“….”
Tichiel fell into deep thought, and gradually her eyes lost their focus.
When her gaze turned as blank as a statue’s, Tichiel saw nothing at all—instead, her mind churned through extraordinarily complex calculations. Her close friends knew this well and took care not to disturb her during such moments. It was during these spells that she burned through aprons, accidentally added the wrong ingredients to reagents she’d mixed a thousand times and caused explosions, rammed into pillars instead of doorframes, and forgot how to walk on the polished floor, tumbling down as if her legs had forgotten their purpose.
But there was a definite advantage: calculations that normally took twenty minutes would be finished in five through this process. Seeing this seemingly magical phenomenon, her classmates would whisper that “she’s possessed again,” but her close friends never said such things. They had someone genuinely possessed in their midst.
And in this moment, once Tichiel had gathered all the pieces of her thoughts, they led directly to that person.
“Lucian, Joshua left, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, I checked his chamber earlier and the door was already locked.”
“Do you know where this practice is being held?”
“How would I? Joshua isn’t the type to announce such things.”
Just then, Boris approached from behind Tichiel and handed her a sheet of paper over her head.
“Here.”
When she took it, she could see it had been posted somewhere. Though it was far too simple to be a proper recruitment notice.
We’re preparing a performance for the stage this autumn. Anyone interested, come to my chamber. Deadline: the 10th.
—Jo
P.S. Preference given to those from Tastania and surrounding regions.
The fact that Boris had brought this meant he’d arrived at the same conclusion as Tichiel. She asked him.
“We were just saying that Maximian doesn’t seem to have actually gone to his homeland. You thought it was strange too, didn’t you? But Tastania? Where is that?”
“It’s an extinct place name. He probably wrote it that way on purpose. It should be part of Arajon now.”
Lucian exclaimed with delight.
“Wow, then that applies to me! But even if he gave me 200 percent preference, he still wouldn’t put me in his performance, would he? Hehehehe. But why use such an old place name? I’ve never even heard of it before! How is anyone supposed to figure it out? Or is it just me who can’t? But Boris, how did you know?”
“I read about it in a book on regional history once.”
Boris read far more than his appearance—that of someone who only wielded a sword—would suggest. Tichiel studied the characters “Tastania” and noticed they were written with unusual elegance. Joshua had always had fine handwriting, but these characters displayed deliberately ornate brushwork.
After a moment, Tichiel spoke.
“I think Joshua wanted to meet someone who would recognize that name.”
Boris nodded.
“That makes sense.”
“Could it be related to the theme of this performance?”
“Possibly.”
“Then it’s likely Joshua set up a practice camp in this place called Tastania?”
“That’s what I think too.”
Their exchange fit together perfectly. As the two faced each other nodding in agreement, Lucian, growing restless, suddenly jumped to his feet and cried out.
“So is it far? Can we leave now? Or should we find somewhere to stay on the way? Anyway, I want to leave quickly! Anywhere!”
Whether it was Maximian’s homeland or Joshua’s performance practice camp didn’t matter to Lucian. The exams were over, vacation had just begun, and something exciting needed to happen—all he needed was for them to all depart together to some unfamiliar place.
But the other two possessed sound reason. Boris asked.
“Tichiel, what’s the thought you’ve arrived at? Do you think Maximian might be with Joshua?”
Tichiel shook her head.
“No, Maximian doesn’t like Joshua’s theatrical productions. He’s complained bitterly about how troublesome followers keep appearing because of them, and afterward he said he’d stop paying attention to it altogether. So even if Maximian knew where this camp was, I doubt he’d go. Unless something had happened there.”
Tichiel left her explanation vague at that point, but the truth was far more complex. Maximian and Joshua, who had been closer than brothers for so long, had recently begun keeping a distance that others found puzzling—and it wasn’t solely because of Joshua’s theatrical ambitions. Moreover, there was an unspoken reason why Joshua had recently become absorbed once more in stage performances, something he’d seemed to have forgotten for a while.
“Then?”
“But Joshua is different.”
Tichiel raised her eyebrows.
“If Maximian has disappeared and I tell Joshua it’s dangerous, do you think he’ll sit still? He’d tear Anomarad apart to find him.”
Boris’s eyes grew serious as well.
“Is it truly dangerous?”
Tichiel nodded with a troubled expression, then rested her chin in her hand.
“Yes, he seems to have gotten tangled up in a very complicated situation. He probably can’t even imagine how it happened. But my guess is… Maximian might never return to Nenyaple again.”
That afternoon at 3 o’clock.
Espin sat motionless atop a rocky outcrop across from the Orange Tree Tavern’s main entrance. She had been waiting there for thirty minutes. The rock was oddly shaped like a chair, and it hadn’t been there until yesterday, but since it wasn’t yet the hour when the tavern would be crowded, no one questioned its sudden appearance.
As it approached 4 o’clock, still no one showed signs of arriving. Even Orange Buck hadn’t appeared. Espin’s initially bright expression gradually grew sullen. Being stood up, regardless of the reason, left a bitter taste.
Finally, Espin rose and circled the tavern. Finding nothing, she went to the Backyard and stared for a moment at the spot where the rock had been yesterday. Then, silently, the rock rose from that place once more. Returning to the front, Espin surveyed her surroundings, pressed her lips firmly together until her cheeks hollowed, and muttered.
“Can’t even keep an appointment, detective.”
Espin left the tavern’s entrance. She passed through the Crossroads and arrived at Lindiz’s Pickle Shop, where she thrust out her lower lip before turning onto the path leading up to Nenyaple. Yesterday she’d only gone halfway, but today she went all the way.
As she drew closer to the entrance, more people loitered about. With the break upon them, those waiting for students created a more chaotic atmosphere outside the Academy than within. So Espin easily found a student to question.
“Hello? I’ve come looking for a friend who studies at Nenyaple. Who should I speak to about requesting a visit?”
Espin had a way of appearing earnest and likable at such moments, so two students readily went to fetch the Gatekeeper. But the Gatekeeper, exhausted from dealing with visitors like Espin all day, had stepped away briefly. Since he showed no sign of returning soon, the student waiting beside the bright-eyed Espin grew concerned and said.
“Who are you looking for? I can pass along a message while I’m at it.”
“Oh, thank you so much. It’s a student named Maximian Lipkne.”
The moment the name left her lips, some ten students who had been loitering nearby suddenly turned to look at Espin like fish spotting a piece of bread dropped into water. Words poured from all directions.
“You’re looking for Maximian? He disappeared.”
“That senior isn’t at the Academy. You can’t meet him.”
“He’s already left.”
“He probably won’t come back at all.”
Startled by the last remark, Espin’s eyes widened as she asked.
“Won’t come back at all?”
Since Maximian’s disappearance was the talk of the day, students who had gathered began spouting everything they knew or imagined. Maximian had vanished, it was teleportation, the Professor was angry, his friends didn’t know where he went, it was break anyway, there was no reason for him to return, he probably deserved expulsion anyway…
Espin’s jaw dropped as the absurdity of it all mounted. Did he really run away?
Unaware of the ridiculous chain of events that had befallen Maximian yesterday and today, Espin naturally concluded that he had fled to avoid her. In other words, everything he’d said yesterday about hiring her was a lie. She’d had some suspicions, but he was a student living in the Academy dormitory with expensive tuition—she’d thought he couldn’t possibly disappear so suddenly. Yet here he was, slipping away so brazenly. He’d probably taken the gun with him too.
As time passed, her surprise faded and anger surged—at Maximian, and at herself. If she’d come to find something important her Older Brother had left behind, she should have used a reliable solution without any mistakes. Why had she believed the promises of someone she barely knew? What had possessed her to find those carefree Magic Academy students interesting? He must have sensed that weakness and looked down on her even more.
Struck by this realization, Espin began viewing every circumstance with cynicism. Though she was creating new misunderstandings in the process, the truth that all her friends knew—that “things involving that fellow Maximian tend to spiral in unimaginable directions”—was something Espin couldn’t possibly have known yet.
Most of all, her pride was wounded. Four years ago, Espin had left Etoile, but she still considered herself one of them, and took pride in that fact. Etoile, the elite soldiers of Orlanne, had been deceived by the petty schemes of some detective or vagabond from Anomarad. She’d come alone, insisting she didn’t need help, and now look at her. What would Lorang say if he knew what the young lady was doing? What would Nay say?
As these thoughts burned her cheeks red and made her lips tremble between smiling and frowning, Espin calmly thanked those around her and spoke.
“Thank you all for being so kind. Thanks to you, I now know what to do. Since I’ve made a wasted trip, I should head back. If any of you happen to meet Maximian again, would you pass along a message from me?”
“That shouldn’t be difficult. What is it?”
In Espin’s black eyes, the starlight that usually danced there suddenly took on a killing intent.
“‘Next time I catch you, I’ll kill you, so wait for it.'”
“….”
It wasn’t a joke exchanged between friends. The students, unfamiliar with soldiers, flinched and froze, staring at Espin. She smiled again, bowed lightly, and said.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d pass that along.”

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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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