Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 597

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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 49.
The Velvet Invitation (10)
The Duchess drained the remaining wine in one gulp and continued speaking.
“Jealousy driving someone to hire an Assassin—what else would you expect? The world is full of such petty, unimaginable fools. After the Grand Mage Justpian’s cherished student nearly died in that incident, he reconsidered and decided to place the child in Nenyaple. He arranged for the process to appear ordinary on the surface, hoping to shield the student from others’ envy.
It was a brilliant plan, aside from the unnecessary tuition expenses. The problem was that arrogant wretch Maximian Lipkne had no intention of understanding his mentor’s true purpose. Academy studies bored him terribly. Can you blame him? A child who handles ancient artifacts from Ganapoli would naturally find first-year Nenyaple coursework beneath him.”
“So he failed out?”
“How else would it have happened? He rebelled against his mentor’s deeper intentions. He had to express ‘I don’t want to learn this’ through three years of failures. They must have had dreadfully poor communication, master and student alike. Eventually, he was about to be expelled when this incident occurred. With Nenyaple in that state….”
The Duchess suddenly fell silent and shrugged. It seemed she hadn’t intended to say more than that.
“In any case, he had to face consequences for his actions. When the Grand Mage heard the news, he apparently spirited his troubled student away. Though he’s a great Grand Mage, he’s also famous for being indifferent to others’ affairs.
So neither Nenyaple nor Symbolion could find him, and they became like a dog chasing chickens—the school simply closed its doors. He’s been placed on a wanted list, but how could anyone possibly find a child under the protection of Grand Mage Justpian? They’ll simply go through the motions of searching. As for expulsion, he was going to face that anyway, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Espin found herself needing a moment to process this unexpected information. So Maximian was actually a talented individual, contrary to appearances? Not merely a lucky corner-tavern detective who happened to find a pistol?
The rumors she’d heard aligned with this. That’s why she’d thought him worth seeking out, but upon meeting him, she’d dismissed it as mere gossip. Yet there was an unavoidable reason for him to be living in such a state? So in truth, he was intelligent, capable, and refined….
That last part troubled Espin. She would reserve judgment on that. No matter the reason, one couldn’t claim to be refined while living like that.
For the same reason, she doubted everything the Duchess had told her was entirely true. Most of all, her own instincts from meeting Maximian directly suggested otherwise. If that were the case, how much of this was truth? Originally, Espin had traveled all the way to Nenyaple thinking that if Maximian Lipkne lived up to his reputation, it would be worthwhile to employ him to search for the automaton her Older Brother had left behind. Even if only half of what she’d heard today was true, wouldn’t it be worth some effort to save this person—whether genius or vagrant?
“But Duchess, you left Nenyaple long ago. How do you know the current situation so well?”
The Duchess chuckled softly.
“That’s how it is. Even those who’ve left a school have things they want to discuss. And stories about one’s alma mater never lose their charm.”
Just then, the Silent Steward appeared hesitantly at the Dining Hall entrance once more. But he couldn’t bring himself to approach, instead glancing at the Attendant serving the meal. The Attendant came forward with a wine bottle, refilled the empty glass, and spoke.
“Madam, that Captain says if he doesn’t set sail today, his head will roll.”
The Duchess merely shrugged without responding. Since she made no gesture to dismiss him, the Attendant quickly spoke again.
“Two boxes of premium black tea for Keltika are short, and he asks if you’ll settle the debt next season.”
“The Baron simply paid less than the usage fee he owes. Tell him to go argue with Baron Kerneme, not me.”
“The Baron sent an invoice. Shall I at least bring it in for you to see?”
The Duchess struck the table sharply with one hand, her voice rising.
“I don’t need it! He’s certainly calculated it using last autumn’s prices. If you recalculate using winter prices accurately, there’s no shortage. I warned the Baron about such tricks last year. Do I need to tolerate this any longer?”
“I shall convey your words.”
The Attendant withdrew. The Duchess, as if she hadn’t been angry moments before, elegantly raised her wine glass again and murmured.
“But why would his head roll?”
The Silent Steward, who still hadn’t left, crept forward and whispered.
“It seems there’s a particular circumstance. Two passengers boarded this morning, and they insist they must reach Keltika immediately. If the ship doesn’t depart as scheduled today, they’ll apparently be quite displeased.”
“What? Passengers daring to dictate the departure schedule of a state vessel?”
“That would be correct, but these passengers are rather….”
The Silent Steward glanced at Espin, but the Duchess seemed unconcerned, so he continued.
“They appear to be Mages. That’s why the Captain is so frightened.”
The Duchess made an exasperated expression and murmured.
“I see. Ah, so that’s why—because of the school closing. Nenyaple? Or Symbolion? They think that wretch is hiding in Keltika?”
Espin caught the Duchess’s words carefully. But Keltika—why would he go somewhere so distant?
“That’s not my concern. Either delay departure until Baron Kerneme provides two boxes of tea, or correct the ledger, depart now, and bill the Baron next season. Handle it as you see fit. I have nothing to give or correct.”
The Silent Steward, apparently having been earnestly pleaded with by the Captain, withdrew with a troubled expression. Indeed, the Captain of a state vessel was merely a victim caught between the Baron and the Duchess in their power struggle. If he had any choice, he might have waited a few days while the two nobles quarreled until someone produced the two boxes of tea. But with Mages demanding immediate departure, he had no such option—a maddening situation.
The Duchess finally finished her meal. Espin gracefully praised the excellent food and thanked her for the pleasant conversation. The Duchess seemed to think the Orlanne countryside manners were quite acceptable, though in truth, Orlie was renowned for having the most exacting etiquette of anywhere on the Continent. Maintaining a good reputation in Orlie society each year was as difficult as winning the annual equestrian tournament.
Eventually, the Duchess rose from her seat and strolled leisurely toward the Garden, remarking that a walk might do her good. The air had grown quite crisp as the sun descended toward the horizon, but the Duchess, having consumed a considerable amount of wine, remained unaffected. Espin fastened her cloak and followed, her mind turning over the peculiar relationships between Baron Kerneme, the Duchess, and the Captain. From what she could gather, the Baron owed the Duchess some manner of “usage fee,” and it appeared they had agreed that he would satisfy this debt by sending goods to Keltika on behalf of the Marquis Moniz Territory instead of paying in coin. The Baron had attempted to whittle down his obligations through various stratagems, and the Duchess, growing impatient with his evasions, had apparently decided to take matters into her own hands.
A sudden thought struck Espin mid-stride, and she quickened her pace to catch up with the Duchess.
“If things continue as they are, will the Captain be able to set sail tonight?”
“With Mages aboard, he’ll have to depart even if it means sailing in darkness. What Captain would dare offend Nenyaple or Symbolion?”
“But what usage fee is the Baron paying? Isn’t he the master of the Marquis Moniz Territory?”
“Would you care to hear an amusing tale?”
The Duchess raised her eyebrows, the whites of her eyes gleaming, and gestured for Espin to sit in one of the chairs scattered about the Garden.
“Throughout the Marquis Moniz Territory, there exist numerous properties that have belonged to the Marquis by hereditary right. Three wells, a pavilion and a villa, a bridge spanning the river, dozens of trees scattered here and there, the corner of a building’s roof—all manner of things, really. These are explicitly listed in the property register as ‘possessions of the Marquis,’ which means Baron Kerneme, being no Marquis himself, cannot claim ownership of them. Thus, we collect quite substantial usage fees for their use. Most delicious of all is the fee for the river itself.”
Espin’s eyes widened in astonishment.
“The river?”
“The Gilbert River flows through his Territory. Yet because the river too is deemed to belong to the Marquis, is this not a marvel of ancient legal sorcery?”
Bewildered by this peculiar interpretation of property law from a foreign land, Espin stood with her mouth slightly agape before asking again.
“Then… if that is the case, this Manor standing upon that land need not pay usage fees?”
“One would think so, if common sense prevailed. But the Manor itself is the foremost of all the Marquis’s possessions, and King Checel himself has traditionally recognized that properties inherent to the Marquis title belong to the Marquis.”
“Then the land itself does not belong to the Marquis title?”
“Remarkably, the Marquis Moniz Territory belongs neither to the Marquis himself nor to the title, but rather—so the tale goes—to the stone tomb of the first Marquis Moniz, to whom King Johann I originally granted these lands. At this point, I see no purpose in attempting to verify the truth of such nonsense, so I simply let it be. The tomb as owner rather than the descendants! This is how the Southern Region conducts its affairs! They say that if you pour two bottles of wine into the head of a sensible Northerner, he’ll begin to think like a Southerner. That is precisely why I continue drinking.”
Having heard the strange tale in full, Espin found it both comprehensible and incomprehensible in equal measure. Yet what struck her most profoundly was the realization that titles and territories could be separated, and that they had been fragmented and scattered due to events occurring outside the Family Clan itself. If such were the case, then were there truly any rights inherently bound to any Family Clan? It was as though cards had been distributed for a game, nothing more. But if that were so, what prevented one from reshuffling the cards for a new game?
“A rather plausible thought has occurred to me.”
Espin rubbed her cheeks, flushed from the cold, and continued.
“Baron Kerneme purchased the Marquis Moniz Territory, but you said that certain things within it, explicitly designated as the Marquis’s property, still belong to the Marquis Family Clan. That means the Territory and the various structures within it are not necessarily a single, indivisible whole, correct?”
The Duchess replied with indifference.
“It would appear so.”
“And the stone tomb in question must also be located within the Territory?”
“Of course.”
“As you yourself well know, when there exists an owner and a possession, that relationship cannot be reversed, can it? For instance, I possess a hat, but the hat does not possess me. So then, who is the true owner of the tomb?”

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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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