Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 599

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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 45.
The Velvet-Lined Invitation (12)
No one could say when that “sometime later” would arrive—perhaps tomorrow, perhaps when we disembarked. In the end, the Captain could bear it no longer and shouted.
“Now see here, Sir Maximilienne de Pleasance. Is a chair the same as cargo? Cargo is supposed to be heavy enough to strain one’s back, or something of that nature, is it not?”
Maximian sprang to his feet, drew a long, deliberate breath, and flexed his knuckles while fixing the Captain with a cold stare. Throughout his life, Maximian had always sought to resolve conflicts through dialogue. He believed force was no true solution. But now, in this case—or rather, with this opponent… no, with this chair—it was worth the effort.
Maximian lifted the chair with a flourish and spoke with aristocratic disdain.
“I thought I might take my belongings for a stroll on the deck.”
I set the chair down on the deck and sat in it for a while, and as the wind grew colder, I considered returning inside. But the Captain had seized the opportunity to reinforce the cabin door by having wooden bars driven into the frame on both sides, effectively trapping the chair I had so painstakingly brought outside from returning indoors.
Upon discovering the wooden bars, I stared at them for a moment. As the cold wind blew, a clear, cold anger rose within me. Very well, Captain. From now on, this is our contest. I had not intended for matters to become so serious at first, but for the sake of this chair…
As a result, I found myself sitting in the chair on the wind-swept deck two or three times a day, dozing fitfully. By the fourth day, even the Captain seemed to be giving up, but I demonstrated unwavering resolve by spending my time in that chair. That fool Gianni, instead of worrying about my health, could have gone below to pry a glass of wine from the Captain and brought it to me to make things less cold—but the man had no sense whatsoever, not even half as much as Lucian.
Before long, the sun crossed the horizon. Gianni had gone inside, and it was nearly time for me to retire for dinner. I sniffled and raised myself halfway from the chair, feeling a twinge of reluctance. Despite the bitter cold, the comfort of this chair sometimes made me forget the chill entirely. But if I fell asleep here, I risked freezing to death. Just as I was about to lift myself from the seat, something suspicious caught my eye.
On the deck of a third merchant ship following at some distance, someone was waving their hand. As if to show me. Was it a mistake?
Had it been broad daylight, I would have seen the person’s features, but the surroundings were already dim. I could only make out that they wore a long cloak and a hat. I looked around. The weather was so harsh that no other passengers were on deck at this hour. There was one sailor, but he showed no sign of noticing the other ship. In other words, on this deck, there was only one person worth waving at from that ship—myself.
As I rose to get a better look at the figure, Gianni opened the cabin door and poked his head out.
“Sir Maximilienne de Pleasance, shall we go have dinner? Goodness, it’s cold.”
I turned back and acknowledged him, then looked ahead again—but the figure on the deck had vanished.
That was when strange things began. After dinner, the Captain’s servant brought me a flat box tied with a mint-colored ribbon. I looked up at the servant in bewilderment.
“What is this?”
“Dessert, sir.”
Until yesterday, dessert had consisted of merely a few slices of cheese, so this seemed odd. But I opened it anyway. Then I was surprised a second time. Inside were macarons in three different colors and chocolate éclairs decorated with glittering gold dust. Gianni, standing beside me, peered inside and gasped in admiration.
“Ah, this is unmistakably from Landsberry, the most famous confectionery in these parts! Someone clearly holds you in considerable favor, sir. Judging by such refined taste, it must be a noblewoman… ”
He urged me to respond with a meaningful look. But I had nothing to say. Not a single person came to mind who would send such a charming gift to Maximian Lipkne.
Moreover, I was currently traveling under a different name and identity. If someone had sent this to “Maximian Lipkne,” it would have been serious. So it made sense to assume that someone who knew Sir Maximilienne de Pleasance had sent it—but that too was strange. Was Sir Maximilienne de Pleasance really so famous? Enough for rumors to spread from a few visits to the harbor?
I questioned the servant, but he said he had merely brought a box that someone resembling a servant had handed him at the harbor where we had briefly stopped that afternoon to take on water. The servant had said it was “dessert for Sir Maximilienne de Pleasance.”
Since I knew nothing about Sir Maximilienne de Pleasance beyond the biographical notes the professors had placed in my bag, I had no choice but to accept it. So I said a few vague words to Gianni, whose eyes sparkled with curiosity, stuffed several macarons into his mouth to silence him, and returned to my cabin. But there, beneath the bed, lay a rather large box.
Rather than open it immediately, I went outside and called the servant who was cleaning the cabin.
“Did you bring that? Who gave it to you?”
The servant confirmed he had brought it, but said he had simply found a box with Sir Maximilienne de Pleasance’s name written on it sitting on the deck and moved it inside. It had been five days since I boarded this ship—it made no sense that a box with my name had been sitting on the deck all this time. But why had no one seen who brought it?
Back in my cabin, I sat on the bed and stared at the box for a long time. Staring at it would not make it confess its secrets. I nudged it with my foot—it was lighter than it looked. Finally, I made a decision and opened it. Inside were a thick woolen blanket and slippers, as if to say: stop shivering in that chair on the deck and wrap yourself warmly instead.
And indeed, when I used them that way, they proved invaluable. It was a magnificent blanket. From the next day onward, regardless of the weather, I draped the blanket like a cloak and reclined comfortably in the chair, enjoying the riverbank scenery.
It was admittedly an odd sight for a nobleman, but I possessed enough shamelessness to ignore such concerns. And my reputation aboard the ship suffered not at all. That very evening, another gift arrived—a box containing seven varieties of cheese and a bottle of premium wine called “Star Floating on the Lake.”
“My, this noblewoman certainly has refined taste in wine! Not that I say this merely because it’s near my homeland, but Rosenstier, which produces ‘Star Floating on the Lake,’ boasts the finest soil in the central region—half of each year’s production is sold out through advance orders. Even a Duke would have difficulty obtaining it without a reservation. And this is the 974 vintage, renowned as one of the finest harvests in Rosenstier’s history! Even I, living nearby, have never tasted it—it would not be an exaggeration to call it liquid gold…”
The sender had somehow become a noblewoman. Gianni continued to heap praise upon the gift, his eyes eagerly suggesting he might taste a glass, but my mind was too troubled to notice.
974 was the year that region had exceptionally fine weather, which was why quality wine was produced—the sender might have chosen this wine for that reason. But that year held another meaning: it was the year I was born. Was this coincidence? Or did it mean the sender knew not just that I was Sir Maximilienne de Pleasance, but also my true age?
By the fourth day, Sir Maximilienne de Pleasance had acquired a reputation aboard the ship as a mysterious handsome gentleman enjoying the admiration of a refined noblewoman or the most sought-after gentleman in society. Since the identity of the noblewoman remained unknown, people called her whatever they wished—but I could not fathom why “handsome” had suddenly been added to the description. It seemed people’s common sense dictated that to be the object of a noblewoman’s affection, one must first be handsome, and this collective reasoning had warped reality.
Even in such circumstances, instead of declaring that one should use one’s own eyes to judge whether I was handsome or not, I pretended indifference. But inwardly, I was gripped by unease. Was this truly goodwill? If the sender truly knew who I was, and if their identity was indeed the Symbolion Mages as the Nenyaple professors had said, why did they not simply appear and strike me down with magic? Why send these various gifts and merely observe?
Alternatively, if the sender was genuinely someone who had taken a liking to Sir Maximilienne de Pleasance, and if nobles, having nothing better to do, preferred to send gifts indirectly and play games rather than use the ordinary means of conversation when they discovered someone they wished to befriend or, by one-in-a-million chance, pursue romantically—then how were these gifts being delivered on a ship floating on a river? No one had ever seen the identity of this gift-bearer.
If I had known this would happen, I should have at least asked what Sir Maximilienne de Pleasance looked like…
That evening, when we docked at a harbor called Anaberc to take on new cargo, Gianni suggested we go ashore for dinner for the first time in a while. To reconcile with the Captain as well, I invited him. The Captain, despite his twisted feelings over the chair incident, was reluctant to part on bad terms with a nobleman, so he accepted the invitation with a show of reluctance. Thus, the four of us—myself, Gianni, the Captain, and the talkative Second Mate—left the dock at a point where the river grew quite wide and ventured into the harbor’s center.
Gianni, who had grown weary of the voyage, asked the Second Mate a question.
“How much farther to Keltika from here?”
“Ah, not long at all. You should see Gilbert Bay in about a week. The river looks slow because it’s so wide, but it moves at quite a pace. The Bluet River is unstoppable, and since it even has the honor ‘The Four Days of Lightning,’ well, haha.”
The Four Days of Lightning referred to the event when the current king, Checel I, and Duke Fontina launched a lightning campaign that conquered the Republican Government in just four days—a regime that had been established in Keltika and maintained for ten years. It was said that the rapid current of the Bluet River, which cut across Keltika, had played a crucial role. Maximian listened expressionlessly before speaking abruptly.
“An honor? For a river that devours people?”
“Well, that is to say….”
It was widely known that after the Republican Government fell during the Four Days of Lightning, Keltika had been a sea of blood for a month. Yet because the kingdom had been restored as a result, few people spoke critically of that event—especially not the Nobility. After that, the Second Mate began to gauge Maximian’s mood carefully, but nothing further happened.
The party turned down a side street and entered a restaurant that the Captain had spotted earlier and deemed quite respectable. Above the entrance hung a circular sign with a simplified hearth pattern and the words “Glory of Anaberc” written beneath it.

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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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