Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 595

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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 41.
The Velvet Invitation (8)
Joshua would never do such a thing, but many of the students among the actors had a habit of flaunting their status as Nenyaple students wherever they went. So it was entirely plausible that someone had casually draped a school uniform jacket over their shoulders. Their inquiries had yielded no results in that small village, but by the time they descended the hillside and arrived at a considerably larger town roughly two hours away, they had found success.
“Hey, you two talking about Nenyaple!”
Someone called out to them from behind as they were leaving the second tavern and dining hall they’d entered. Following Lucian’s suggestion, they’d distributed silver coins one by one while asking questions. It seemed someone had thought of a profitable story to tell, motivated by Lucian’s promise of an additional coin for useful information.
“I saw those people looking for someone just like you!”
While Lucian produced a silver coin and handed it over, Tichiel looked in the direction the man was pointing. Three people were already approaching them, so technically there was no need to give the coin, but Lucian paid no mind to such details. The moment Tichiel saw the three approaching figures, she recognized them. They were Mages. They weren’t wearing the flowing robes or strange hats that ordinary people might imagine, but there was no doubt about it.
One of the Mages spoke loudly.
“You there! Are you also looking for that Nenyaple fellow? Where are you from?”
Observing the faces of those approaching Tichiel, Boris—who had been standing one step behind—stepped forward in front of her. When Boris appeared, taller than anyone else in their group and with an intimidating presence, not to mention the sword at his side, they flinched somewhat and slowed their pace. Their tone of voice suddenly acquired a politeness that hadn’t been there before.
“Well, we heard you were looking for the same person as us, so we thought we’d ask a few questions.”
Boris regarded them in silence. Though Boris had a straightforward nature, he was quite aware of what effect his silence could have in such moments. Lucian spoke on his behalf from beside him.
“Right! If you give us good information, we’ll give you a silver coin. Have you seen a Nenyaple student?”
They looked at Lucian, who spoke in casual tones, with bewildered expressions, but Lucian couldn’t think of a single reason why he shouldn’t speak casually to someone who didn’t appear to be nobility and was meeting them for the first time. He simply waited for an answer with a smile on his face. The Mages exchanged glances as if wondering if these people were mad, but then they looked at Boris again, and their desire to quarrel melted away, so they asked their question politely.
“Where are you from, if I may ask?”
“Us? We came from Nenyaple.”
Lucian answered with a hint of pride, and the other party’s expression turned incredulous.
“From Nenyaple? Why? You hid him there, didn’t you?”
Lucian tilted his head in confusion.
“What do you mean we hid something? We didn’t hide anything.”
“Are you still keeping up the pretense? Symbolion already knows everything and is searching for him. Ah, I see now—you’re people sent from Nenyaple to pretend otherwise, to make it look like you’re searching for him.”
Before Tichiel could even think through the meaning of those words, she asked in surprise.
“Symbolion? Who is Symbolion searching for? Joshua?”
“Joshua? Who’s that? I’m talking about Maximian Lipkne. A student with a name-and-face wanted notice from Symbolion.”
Tichiel’s eyes widened to their absolute limit upon hearing those words.
“Maximian has a wanted notice?”
4. The Peculiar Circumstances of a Marquis Family
“That’s why I told you not to go to a place like Nenyaple. I said it wasn’t fun.”
The grand dining hall of the Marquis Moniz Manor held only two people. The Duchess Moniz, who had entered her fifties, and Marceliet, a young girl who had come from Orlanne to enroll at Nenyaple. The two were in the midst of their meal. The Duchess, befitting the manor’s mistress, sat at the head of the table, while the young girl sat to her left. Beside them, chairs identical to the imposingly long table stretched away in rows, a table that could easily accommodate thirty people. Afternoon sunlight passing through the tall windows divided the table in half.
Marceliet—that is, Espin—let out a sigh.
“I knew they’d be like this. I should have just gone to Orlanne Royal Magic Academy instead. No, wait, I can’t do that. I still can’t give up on Nenyaple. I decided I had to go there when I was ten years old.”
The Duchess had a confident bearing and broad shoulders, a strong physique with considerable flesh, and she sat in a specially made plush oversized chair. With its width and the height of its backrest roughly double that of a normal chair, Espin sitting beside her appeared to be no more than twelve years old. The Duchess treated her accordingly in reality—a capable and cute child, yet one ignorant of the ways of the world.
Espin had long since realized it was better to leave the Duchess’s perspective unchanged. So she performed excellently the role of a rural Orlanne girl who admired the legendary magical academy Nenyaple. When she mentioned being seventeen, she’d glanced about cautiously, but the Duchess showed no sign of suspicion. At the Duchess’s age, seventeen and nineteen were much the same.
Espin had come up along the river as planned and arrived in Moniz around midday. Moniz served as her first base of operations because the Duchess Moniz was a close confidante of Colette’s relative. To be precise, she was the elder sister of Colette’s late husband. Before her marriage, the Duchess’s name was Katarine von Schnivalt.
Though they were separated by an age difference like that of mother and daughter, the Duchess and Colette had gotten along well from their first meeting. The Duchess had described her late youngest brother as someone who “only knew how to flutter about like a butterfly,” and it was an apt assessment of a brother who had been slender, pretty-faced, and gullible—someone who bungled everything he touched.
Colette, who had made such a brother into a functional person, was quite a pleasant conversational partner. So when she’d been asked—”My cousin Marceliet is on her way to take the entrance examination for Nenyaple, so could you perhaps invite her to pay her respects?”—the Duchess had readily welcomed her. Though she’d admitted she simply couldn’t remember the name Marceliet and had changed it to Marie instead.
On her way here, Espin had stopped in Amochia, which was near Nenyaple’s reagent manufacturing facility, completely unaware that she still had a wanted notice out on her. As one might expect, neither Espin’s nor Maximian’s names were posted on tavern pillars or the like. And her quick transformation into a young girl had proven effective—she’d attracted no particular suspicion. Above all, the people of Amochia had little interest in the two wanted individuals. They had far more pressing concerns.
Nenyaple had closed! Not a single research student remained; they’d all been sent away, and the entrance examination schedule had been canceled. They were suspending all experiments and research for the entire break—but what about the herb supply? Wouldn’t demand forecasting be disrupted? What would happen to the quantities prepared for next month’s supply? Would they refuse to take delivery? Should the herb harvesting volume be reduced? Should purchases of firewood and special materials be adjusted?
The Duchess shook her head and spoke.
“Marie, didn’t you see the children attending Nenyaple? Weren’t they all half-injured?”
Espin narrowed her eyes slightly as she answered.
“Not all of them were like that, but… there were certainly some who were.”
“Hmph, whether they’re human or fungal creatures is anyone’s guess.”
“My, how remarkable that you understand it so well when it was exactly like that.”
The Duchess was giggling when the Silent Steward approached beside her chair and spoke. This was already the second time.
“My lady, as I mentioned before, that person cannot wait any longer…”
The Duchess waved her hand dismissively before even hearing him out, her expression darkening. The Silent Steward retreated without another word. Espin glanced back at his departing figure and spoke.
“Your guest seems to have urgent business. I don’t mind if you meet with them first. I have all the time in the world.”
“It’s not because of you.”
The Duchess raised and lowered her eyebrows, then placed a piece of meat in her mouth and chewed slowly. Since the Duchess was a voracious eater, it would be unremarkable if the meal continued for another hour at this pace. Espin quickly gauged the situation and broke into a bright smile.
“Then it seems there’s some amusing reason behind this?”
“Indeed there is. That tribute ship captain will pretend to have come on his own, but it’s obvious Baron Kerneme sent him. Let him wait to his heart’s content. I have nothing but time.”
Baron Kerneme was the lord of a territory neighboring the Marquis Moniz Territory. Moreover, he was also the true master of the Marquis Moniz Territory. In other words, all the Moniz Family possessed was merely their manor.
The very land upon which the Moniz Manor stood belonged to Baron Kerneme. The territory, the manor, the outbuildings like stables and barns, even the approach road leading to the manor—all of it was someone else’s land. In a sense, the Marquis was nothing but a title in name only. The Marquis liked to joke that his manor floated half a step in midair, while the Duchess would sneer that the Kerneme Family remained merely a baron because they were so startled at beheading someone only to find the head still alive that they forgot to pick up the nameplate.
Espin knew this much, but she had no idea why the Marquis had been left with only the manor itself. What on earth had happened?
“I’m curious too. It must surely be a story about how Baron Kerneme greatly displeased my lady?”
“That’s not entirely wrong, but if that were the case, it would be a story that displeased me for about ten years.”
The Duchess laughed coldly and drained her wine glass. Espin reached for her glass as well, but thinking it was not the time to become intoxicated, she merely moistened her lips.
“Once upon a time, there lived a fool called the Marquis Moniz. During the old kingdom era, that idiot practically lived in Keltika trying to win the king’s favor, returning to his territory perhaps once a year. He even gradually surrendered family heirlooms, private soldiers, and plots of land. Then suddenly, a republican rebellion broke out in Keltika, didn’t it? That fool happened to be at Elbant III’s birthday celebration and was captured by the republicans on the spot. Along with his son.”
Espin had heard about the republican rebellion that had occurred in Keltika long ago. She understood that afterward, the republican government had persisted in Keltika for ten years before eventually collapsing under the royalist counteroffensive. It must have been around the time when Espin was ten years old.
“That fool quickly betrayed them, claiming he had always sympathized with the republican cause and even declared he would surrender the Marquis Moniz Territory to the republicans. In any case, he thought everything could be resolved by surrendering something. How do you think the people remaining in Moniz reacted when they heard this?”
“They surely told him to stop joking, of course.”
The Duchess was pleased by Espin’s clear manner of speaking. She nodded and continued.

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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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