Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 596

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

Episode 45.
The Velvet-Lined Invitation (9)
“Exactly. The Duke’s sister, cousins, distant relatives—they all came forward with one voice to condemn him, then expelled him from the Family Clan. So what was left? Just the title and Territory, dangling in the air? After that came the struggle for control. His sister, who was clever enough, quickly seized the Manor and held her ground, so the cousins and distant relatives banded together and occupied the Territory. They must have believed that Duke Amicen would become king someday, so they attached themselves to him and received promises that the Dukedom would be theirs. But what happened after that?”
“The ‘Four Days of Lightning,’ wasn’t it? That’s when it happened, right? And it had nothing to do with Duke Amicen?”
It was hardly surprising that someone from Orlanne wouldn’t know the details of that incident. The Duchess continued, sipping her wine.
“Correct. The ‘Four Days of Lightning.’ That was Duke Fontina’s achievement. Duke Amicen? He knew nothing about it, then chased after him to Keltika too late, demanding his share, which caused internal strife and got a knife in his back. These people, who couldn’t even figure out which side to join, had one thing they were quick to notice: the moment they heard about the ‘Four Days of Lightning,’ they sold off the entire Dukedom to Baron Kerneme at a pittance and disappeared.”
That was how the Dukedom vanished. His sister, who had been holding the Manor, didn’t learn of this fact until a year had passed. No matter how chaotic the times were, it wasn’t easy to reclaim a Territory that had been formally sold. And if they tried to take it to court to determine who truly had the right of inheritance, they’d have to trace it all the way back to whether the Duke’s title stripping was justified. In doing so, they risked losing both the Territory and the Manor entirely.
But the matter didn’t end there. So whose was the title? The one who held the Manor, or the one who bought the Territory?
“Eventually a trial was held over it, but the judgment came down that there was no basis for recognizing that whoever bought the Territory also bought the title. So the Duke Moniz title went to his sister. Besides, during the Republican rebellion, there was severe internal strife in every noble Family Clan, and with the new Royal House rising up to uphold the old order, they were reluctant to rule in favor of giving a title to someone with no blood relation whatsoever.”
“So the current Duke Moniz is….”
“That sister passed the floating Manor down to her son. That’s why we’re living so well floating in the air like this.”
Espin nodded uncertainly, then asked.
“By the way, what happened to the Duke who was captured by the Republican Government?”
The Duchess drained the last of her wine and spoke.
“He tried so hard to get ahead, but he couldn’t survive three years under the Republic. They say he ended up on the executioner’s block. When they cut off the head of such a fool, instead of blood, idiot juice flows out.”
The Duchess spoke in an imperious tone with unguarded speech, and even Espin sometimes flinched at her words. Perhaps this very personality was why she got along so well with Colette.
“Anyway, Nenyaple closed its doors for the first time in a hundred years—or was it a thousand? I should have gone to see it. There must have been quite a spectacle.”
Espin looked a bit bewildered and asked back.
“A spectacle?”
“The break became an actual break, didn’t it? Especially for the Research Students—they normally have no break at all. And then what? A vacation invitation falls from the sky?”
Since Espin wasn’t a student, she didn’t quite understand the Duchess’s words. So she shook her head and spoke.
“For people already enrolled and attending, the break might be welcome, but I lost my entrance exam, so my plan to enroll next year is ruined. I made up my mind and came all this way from Orlanne.”
“Now you have a chance to think it over carefully. Why would you spend such a fortune to go there and become like a pickled olive? Do you know what happens to a human when you pickle them in Nenyaple?”
At the mention of olives, the Duchess’s eyes narrowed as old memories surfaced. Espin also grasped what the woman was talking about and made a similar expression.
“Ah, the pickled Lindiz story? I’ve tried that. Sour, salty, and spicy.”
“How was it?”
Espin suddenly empathized and furrowed her brows sharply. Without realizing it, her manner of speech from her Etoile days burst out.
“Absolutely disgusting!”
The Duchess burst into loud laughter. Her laughter rang through the entire Dining Hall.
“That’s right! Absolutely disgusting, disgusting! Nenyaple taste! Hahahaha!”
While the two laughed together, the Duchess’s attendants brought new covered dishes and replaced the empty plates on the table. Roasted quail steamed with figs and honey appeared, along with pickled apricot tart heaped with cream. There was still much of the meal to come. They had been continuously drinking wine infused with cinnamon and cassia bark, yet the Duchess showed no signs of intoxication.
The Duchess Catharine had studied at Nenyaple long ago, around the age of twenty, she said. She’d passed the exams easily enough, and in those days when she was proud of her own cleverness, she’d thought Nenyaple would be nothing special. But reality was different. Nenyaple was not nothing special, and it demanded talents entirely different from the cleverness young Catharine had boasted of.
“All I learned there was that when you’re pickled in Nenyaple, you come to like that disgusting taste. I didn’t want that to happen to me, so I escaped in my third year.”
In other words, she’d been expelled after repeated failures, but the Duchess showed no shame about it. Afterward, she’d discovered plenty of places where her own cleverness held sway. Yet the Duchess didn’t hate Nenyaple entirely. It was a place tinged with the bittersweet affection of youth.
“There’s a certain type of Nenyaple person. You can tell just by looking for a moment.
But Marie, you’re not that type. Absolutely not. I don’t hate those people. Because they like me. They’re pitiful but endearing. I’d check on them about assignment deadlines and whether they’d studied for exams, search every corner of the Campus looking for those who missed class and get lost myself, miss my own lectures, they’d call me to a party in the Garden at night and I’d conjure fire because they were cold, which ended up inviting the Professor who was sleeping, and because of that my conduct score fell short and I got held back, so they’d cry and go around collecting petition signatures….”
Lost in memories, her school days manner of speech began to slip out. As the Duchess gazed into the distance with a wistful look, Espin made a similar expression without concern and spoke.
“I have a feeling I’d end up living like that if I went to Nenyaple too. Ah, I can already feel the nostalgia welling up.”
The Duchess burst into loud laughter again. This cheeky girl seemed like she’d get along with Colette just fine. Though Espin suspected from the content of the Duchess’s reminiscences that she was essentially a Nenyaple hooligan rather than a liar, she pretended not to know and spoke.
“But now that they’ve closed the doors like this, I won’t have that chance.”
“Surely they won’t close the entire institution over a single student! That can’t possibly happen.”
“Over a single student?”
Espin tilted her head slightly in question, and the Duchess nodded as she replied.
“Well, since the student appears to be wanted anyway, I suppose there’s no harm in mentioning it. It seems a figure destined to be remembered in Nenyaple’s history has emerged. To think someone actually accomplished what I myself aspired to do—clearly no ordinary individual.”
“I find it hard to believe. How could a single student possibly inflict enough damage to force the great Nenyaple to close its doors?”
“That’s the nature of magic. Even without understanding anything, one can cause catastrophe. That’s precisely why we’re so meticulous when teaching fundamentals. This Maximian Rifkne attended school for two years, yet earned the nickname ‘King of Failures,’ I’m told. In short, he attended much like I did—but his grand finale was far more impressive than mine. Rather than being expelled alone, he shut down the entire academy!”
The Duchess burst into hearty laughter. Meanwhile, Espin blinked slowly, processing the revelation. Could Maximian Rifkne truly be responsible for closing Nenyaple?
“But if this student is wanted, what does that mean? Surely you’re not saying he fled after committing such a tremendous act? A failure managing to elude all of Nenyaple’s mages?”
“That’s precisely how it unfolded.”
The Duchess smiled enigmatically to herself, seeming to debate whether to continue, then fell silent. Espin had no choice but to drain her goblet of wine entirely. The Duchess did the same, and a servant approached to refill both glasses. After taking another sip, the Duchess finally spoke.
“Had you been scheduled to enter Nenyaple the following year, I wouldn’t have told you this at all—but since you must be disappointed and angry now, simply treat it as an amusing tale of someone else’s fortune. That student’s name is Maximian Rifkne. On the surface, he was a lazy failure, but apparently reality was quite different. The reason he dressed so miserably all the time was deliberate—to avoid drawing attention.”
Espin had certainly witnessed Maximian Rifkne’s pitiful appearance firsthand. But if that wasn’t his true nature?
“What was he really?”
“A prodigy of extraordinary talent! So gifted he had no need to attend Nenyaple at all. Born with magical aptitude from childhood, he handled magical artifacts with remarkable ease. One artifact called Capriccio—supposedly the only instrument in existence that recreates the chants of ancient Ganapoli. With such genius, surely someone of influence noticed him early? You may not know, but the Grand Mage Juspian, whose name every mage knows, happened to encounter this student and immediately recognized the talent. In his excitement, he….”
Espin stared blankly, trying to reconcile the Maximian Rifkne she’d met with this description. With that shabby appearance and that temperament…. The images simply wouldn’t align in her mind, yet her lips moved of their own accord.
“In his excitement?”
“He took the student as his disciple! A mage who has lived two or three centuries without ever accepting a single apprentice! It’s truly a momentous event! Becoming the disciple of such a figure means learning magic ten times faster than ordinary people. In essence, the path to becoming a Grand Mage opened before him. But surely the world always contains those who envy such talent and fortune in others?”
“Well… I suppose so.”
Recalling the filthy coat and moldy hat, Espin gazed unfocused at the wall opposite the dining hall, her thoughts churning. If he deliberately cultivated such an appearance to conceal his genius, it was certainly effective….

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