Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 598

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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 50.
The Velvet Invitation (11)
The Duchess stared at Espin with an expression of bewilderment before simply shrugging her shoulders and speaking.
“He’s a baron. When the baron purchased the Duchy, the tomb was already within it.”
Espin shook her head.
“That’s not quite right. Think about it. The baron merely purchased the Duchy. Everyone knows there are many things within it that don’t belong to the Duchy itself. Above all, the tomb is the property of the Duchy’s owner—how could it possibly belong to the Duchy? It’s like a hat possessing its wearer. From what I can see, that tomb currently has no owner.”
Of course, Espin’s logic was half sophistry, but the current relationship between the baron and the Duke, between the Duchy and the ducal manor, was itself bound together by equally absurd and paradoxical reasoning. There was no harm in adding one more layer of sophistry. Espin continued.
“Under cover of night, go to that ownerless tomb and transfer the coffin within to the ossuary inside this manor. After all, it’s your ancestor’s tomb—there’s nothing preventing it, is there? And since the essence of a tomb is the coffin of the deceased, not a pile of stones, you could argue about who truly owns the tomb now. If you argue your case well before a judge, you might recover something far greater than two boxes of tea.”
The Duchess wore a stunned expression. She had never considered such a thing. If it were possible to reclaim the Territory lost a decade ago in such a manner… Various emotions flickered across the Duchess’s face before Espin suddenly asked, as if remembering something.
“By the way, I’m curious about something. The Merchant Ship Service—can anyone board it?”
“Not just anyone.”
Reading from the Duchess’s face the meaning “I wouldn’t send just anyone,” Espin smiled brightly.
“I’d like to ask you for a few small favors, if you don’t mind?”
5. Suspicious Kindness
It was a brilliantly clear day in December. From a distance, the river appeared a pristine blue, but up close it was somewhat murky. Three ships moved across its surface—merchant vessels of roughly equal size.
All three were sailing ships, yet their sails hung limp and folded. Not because the wind blew contrary, but simply so. No oars were deployed either. This region was known to be the domain of small water sprites that devoured anything that fell into the water, so nothing was to be cast into it. Naturally, no one swam. The ships, surrendering themselves to the river’s current alone, moved with the sluggish pace of clouds drifting across the sky.
But that was merely what observers from a distance might imagine. In truth, it was a world where few boatmen seriously believed in such ancient superstitions anymore. The real reason they didn’t row was that just ahead, the river would merge with the great River Noajilber, where rapids would begin. Meeting the rapids at high speed would cause the hull to pitch dangerously, risking unnecessary damage. Besides, the slow section wasn’t particularly long.
On the deck of the second of the three ships sat a lounge chair that would have been equally at home in a noble’s Salon. Its walnut frame curved with elegant lines and was upholstered in crimson velvet, with footrests of unusual length. Thus, when reclined at an angle, one’s feet naturally kicked through the air in a most comfortable posture.
A man sat in exactly that position in that chair. From a distance, he appeared to be enjoying his travels, resting peacefully while gazing at the water. But up close, the reality was different. The man lay wrapped in his overcoat down to his feet, a muffler wound tightly around him, yet still unable to bear the cold—he sniffled as he tried to sleep. Or rather, as he attempted to sleep.
“Achoo!”
His efforts were being thwarted in multiple ways. First, a strange scratching sound came irregularly from beneath the ship. Second, a seasonal bitter wind blew without cessation. Third, there was a human beside him speaking.
“Sir Maximilienne de Pleasance, I cannot but admire your steadfast resolve. Truly, you are a paragon of the robust nobility. Yet I must express some concern regarding the potential effects of this admirable conduct upon your health.”
Maximilienne de Pleasance—or rather, Maximian—had boarded this ship five days ago. Since it was a merchant vessel, there weren’t many passengers, and those of lower station who might covet valuable goods were forbidden from boarding in the first place. Conversely, nobles traveling south who were returning to Keltika considered the Merchant Ship Service one of their better options.
It was far more pleasant and swift than being jostled about in carriages or on horseback, and the merchant vessels didn’t demand excessive fares. Moreover, there was occasionally the pleasure of meeting someone of similar age and taste with whom conversation flowed easily, thus building acquaintance.
Well, the age and taste weren’t similar at all. Maximilienne de Pleasance was twenty-five years old, and supposedly liked old things like an elderly man—but that was all just a cover! A cover, I tell you! Conversation with him isn’t enjoyable at all! You’re the one who finds it fun!
This was merely an internal outcry; Maximian was performing the role of the refined Sir Maximilienne quite well. The gold-rimmed spectacles, calf-leather shoes, and teal silk cravat that Professor Loreldin had placed in his bag suited him to an almost suspicious degree. The only thing that seemed odd to his companion was his hair, which was rather free-spirited for a nobleman, but it passed off as the fashion in Orlanne.
That was it. That was the most difficult part. Maximian was making considerable effort to act according to the false identity the professors had painstakingly prepared for him. But the problem was that this identity happened to be an Orlannian whom he’d never met in his life, requiring him to constantly exercise an imagination he didn’t possess.
Professors, was there really any need for this? The one saving grace was that his companion had never met an Orlannian either, so he could simply fabricate the details as he went.
“Oh, please. In Orlanne, this weather would be considered warm. Everyone goes down to the Riverbank to catch the breeze, eat ice cream, walk their dogs, play pétanque, and…”
“Oh, pétanque! I’ve only heard the name of that game, but you must have played it. In fact, you must be quite skilled at it. I’d like to learn it someday. Do the Orlannian nobility enjoy pétanque?”
“Of course. When people gather and there are no pétanque balls available, we sometimes use the pompom from a passerby’s… hat instead.”
Gianni da Palmi’s eyes widened slightly, but thinking his companion had made a refined jest that he’d failed to understand, he simply nodded. He was the type of person who despised being perceived as lacking in social awareness above all else.
Gianni, twenty-four years old, claimed to be the son of a baron’s Family Clan and said this was his first time traveling to Keltika. Maximian introduced himself as twenty-five with considerable discomfort and slight guilt, and Gianni believed him without the slightest suspicion—which annoyed Maximian from that very moment. Gianni, like a young man experiencing his first journey to the Kingdom’s Capital, found everything in the world fascinating.
Thus he meddled in everything from the cargo loaded on the merchant vessel to the goods being transported at someone’s request, managed to wager the chair the Captain had personally purchased on an endless wine-fueled game of Bridge, and somehow ended up with Maximian taking it. It was solely because the wine had been so long in coming, but…
The next day, Maximian naturally tried to return the chair, but the moment he sat in it, he abandoned that plan. It was far too comfortable. Not knowing such a chair existed in the world, having lived his entire life on a sofa with two sunken spots, he felt a touch of sadness at the realization that he’d wasted his life.
But the problem was that the Captain had purchased this chair with exactly the same thought. The next day, the Captain opened another game of Bridge and pestered Maximian to wager the chair, but Maximian flatly refused. The Captain then claimed that Maximian had paid the boarding fee but not the cargo transport fee. Maximian acknowledged this and tried to pay the transport fee (the professors had given him quite generous travel funds), but the Captain smiled and replied that the cargo hold was full and could accept no more cargo.
Ah.
Maximian had a particular talent for refuting arguments of this sort, but he had to maintain the refined persona of Sir Maximilienne, so he began with a genteel approach.
“Ah, I see. Setting aside for a moment the question of how one defines the cargo hold of this ship from here to there, your argument does raise a certain philosophical problem. If that’s the case, where exactly was this chair before last night?”
“Why, until yesterday it was a fixture of this ship. Part of the vessel itself, one might say. But from now on, wouldn’t it be the passenger’s cargo?”
“When this chair was part of the ship’s furnishings, it had a designated place. But once it becomes cargo, that place disappears?”
“One cannot place cargo in a space meant for the ship’s fixtures. Cargo is merely goods entrusted to us for transport, whereas fixtures are items we carry to ensure smooth sailing.”
“Are you saying this chair was absolutely necessary for smooth sailing?”
“Surely that is a matter for the Captain to decide?”
Maximian found himself facing an opponent far too clever for the refined Maximilienne de Pleasance to handle with ease. Speaking with the bearing befitting his nobility, he allowed his patience to fray visibly—a subtle aristocratic display—while feeling compelled to demonstrate a measure of fairness toward that fellow Gianni da Palmi, who was watching this exchange with barely suppressed amusement.
“I see. I have come to fully understand the Captain’s definitions of fixtures and cargo, and this has been an enlightening lesson. However, your explanation has raised a curiosity: do not passengers aboard this ship possess personal belongings such as luggage? Surely those are not cargo?”
“Of course they are not.”
“Yet when personal belongings become too cumbersome to carry directly, they are treated as cargo, are they not? Am I correct?”
“That is correct. Precisely so.”
“But even if something is personal luggage, a passenger need not carry it constantly throughout the ship, need they? A bag can be quite heavy, after all—surely you would not demand that a guest hold their luggage even while dining? You are not such an unreasonable man, are you?”
“Well, that is true, but…”
Maximian removed his gold-rimmed spectacles, which he had polished until they gleamed that very morning, and set them upon the table. Then, speaking as a man who could see nothing before him, he continued.
“Tell me this: are these spectacles cargo or not?”
“Of course not. You have merely set them down for a moment.”
“If I were to forget these spectacles and depart, returning tomorrow to retrieve them, would they then become cargo?”
“That would not be the case either, but…”
The Captain began to sense the creeping presence of sophistry and furrowed his brow. Yet since his opponent bore the title of “Knight,” he appeared to rank at least among the lower nobility, making it difficult to simply dismiss him and leave. Maximian naturally retrieved his spectacles and placed them back upon his nose, then pointed to the chair beside him.
“Then I shall leave my chair here for the moment and return for it presently.”

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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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