Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 600

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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 (13)
“It is our great honor to welcome you! We have prepared an excellent table in the back. Please, do come in.”
Following the Waiter—whose shoes bore felt pads on the heels like those of a nobleman’s servant—I entered a private chamber within the dining hall. Moments later, I received the menu, which detailed the full course with meticulous descriptions, yet conspicuously lacked any prices. I examined each line carefully, turned it over, and fought the urge to separate and flip the cover itself. I had only heard rumors of such establishments, never imagining I would actually find myself in one.
Moreover, this time I was the one paying. I was curious about the price—no, not curious at all. It would undoubtedly be enough to render any person of ordinary sense unconscious, but I narrowed my eyes and endured, recalling the contemptible nature of Count Pleasance and the substantial sum of another’s money resting heavily in my pocket. Count Pleasance was hardly a wealthy man, yet his fastidious tastes made him a considerable spender. But was this person even real? If not, whose neck should I grab for this absurd arrangement?
The Captain, delighted, arbitrarily selected the most expensive-looking items from each course and added wine besides. Gianni, observing my hesitation, followed the Captain’s lead, and even the Second Mate quietly slipped in dishes he would never have dared glance at ordinarily. The Waiter who took the order was equally thrilled. This restaurant was the most upscale in Anaberc, yet it rarely received customers. Its menu and prices belonged in a place like Keltika, not here. Ordinarily, it survived on the occasional misguided patron who appeared once or twice monthly to cover its usual losses—and such patrons were invariably brought by passing ship captains.
Once the Waiter withdrew, the Captain spoke with evident pride.
“There is nowhere else in Anaberc that could satisfy Count Pleasance’s refined tastes.”
I wanted to tell this Count Pleasance that living this way would have him boiling potato skins instead of veal loin with pommes dauphine before he reached forty—but that person was myself. I lifted my eyebrows and dimmed my gaze, achieving a kind of dissociation, then nodded in agreement.
The result of our grandiose order was food arriving at an agonizingly slow pace—barely fast enough to avoid starving while waiting.
First came a delicate morsel of asparagus and abalone, followed by crayfish boiled to a vivid red and dusted with rosemary powder, then a puff pastry generously filled with something. The pastry resembled a kind of pie layered with meat, mushrooms, and various vegetables—a dish that would be finished in a bite or two, yet clearly demanded considerable labor. Had it ended there, all would have been well, but the Captain, eager to show off at this expensive establishment, turned to me and addressed the Waiter.
“This gentleman is a refined scholar from Keltika who has experienced many sophisticated gatherings. Might you describe the dishes to our guest, reflecting Anaberc’s pride?”
“Ah, is that so? We are infinitely honored to receive such a distinguished guest. Regarding this puff pastry, our Head Chef—Anaberc’s finest—takes great pride in this creation. He first bakes delicate pastry of more than ten layers, then gently simmers tender chicken with fresh carrots and onions, cloves, celery, bouquet garni, and pepper, all lovingly cultivated in our Backyard. He then cooks fresh mushrooms gathered two days prior with lemon juice, and blends it all with our special béchamel sauce…”
I finished eating the dish faster than the Waiter finished describing it, yet his explanation continued, leaving all four of us blinking in awkward silence. Undeterred, the Waiter completed his speech, bowed respectfully, and departed. I returned to being Maximian Rifkne—perhaps half of the Pleasance persona—and shot a look that said: never ask me to do that again. This time, even the Captain clearly agreed.
“That was, ah… truly excellent cuisine. Yes, best to leave it at that. Quite right.”
Then came salad, soup, bread, sturgeon, duck, and finally, after consuming beef tenderloin with artichoke and bone marrow gratin, even I—a reasonably hearty eater—felt uncomfortably full. In that state, I began calculating what this might cost. That concern persisted even as I consumed the shockingly sweet meringue topped with pink praline for dessert.
I had wealthy friends, and had I wished, I could have visited such establishments many times. Yet I never had. The very thought of spending three hours slowly consuming dinner nauseated me. My imagination’s limit was roughly triple the bill from the most expensive restaurant I had ever patronized.
When the Waiter finally presented the bill on a gleaming silver plate, my eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. Four… 480 elso? Four of us, one meal, and this sum? Shouldn’t nobility live five hundred years to justify such spending? Do your mouths produce jewels and your latrines yield gold?
The reason such thoughts remained silent, unlike usual, was singular: I had resolved to preserve the setting the Nenyaple Professors had so carefully constructed. Yet this trial was too severe. In a quiet corner of the restaurant, the refined gentleman Count Pleasance and the rustic pauper Maximian Rifkne grappled internally while others observed in silence. The Captain watched my expression as I studied the bill and laughed awkwardly. Gianni hesitated whether to speak, feigning distraction.
I had perhaps ordered excessively. Yet the Unknown Noblewoman’s gift of wine—supposedly called “purple gold” for its rarity—was so fine that they reasoned someone receiving such a present would surely not be troubled by this bill. They thought what they wished because I maintained my poker face through dramatic internal compromise. It was not easy. Had I not drunk the cognac served at the course’s end, I might have reverted entirely to Maximian Rifkne and improved the Captain’s face with my fists.
Above all, I lacked sufficient funds. In my imagination, such an expensive dinner did not exist, so I had brought only a single 100-elso gold coin.
Now I could hardly suggest splitting the bill, and besides, these men certainly had no money. Suggesting credit at a passing harbor restaurant would yield nothing. The only conclusion was to surrender some expensive possession and promise to return with payment. Perhaps the gold pocket watch the Nenyaple Professors had pooled their allowances to provide would suffice.
That conclusion came swiftly, but suppressing my urge to address these shameless fools proved most difficult. Simultaneously, I realized for the first time just how absurdly expensive things could be. I had spent years as a friend to Joshua, heir to the Duke’s House, and was hardly unfamiliar with costly meals or fine objects. Yet I had never desired such things nor attempted to obtain them. They were simply others’ concerns. Prices beyond a handful of gold coins were mere numbers.
Now, faced with extracting such sums from my own pocket, I finally grew curious. When I had stayed as a guest in the vast Castle where Joshua was born, what had been the cost of everything I ate, wore, and used? In that great house, where jewels emerged from one’s own Territory and taxes flowed steadily in, where servants appeared at every corner—how unimaginably wealthy must such a Family Clan be?
Yet there was something I did not know: this restaurant’s bill would astound even the finest establishments in Keltika. It was, in Anaberc’s history, the most egregious overcharge.
Gianni, catching sight of the bill I had set down, trembled slightly as he looked at me, but I had assumed the serene expression of one who had surrendered all concern. Money… sometimes it seemed to exist, sometimes not; sometimes essential, sometimes irrelevant. So why did my eyes feel slightly wet?
Yet I waited, and the Waiter did not return for payment. Was this establishment so exclusive—no, so expensive, no, so exorbitantly expensive—that one paid upon departure? After three tedious hours of dinner, I had no wish to linger further. I rose and spoke in the low, measured voice I had been practicing.
“Let us depart.”
“Ah, shall we? Yes, of course. Yes, yes.”
As I crossed the Grand Hall, my hand closing around the pocket watch in my pocket, I silently unleashed a torrent of curses. The three following me exchanged glances and wore sheepish smiles—somewhat apologetic, yet resigned to whatever would come.
And indeed, something did come to pass.
“Did you enjoy your meal, sir? It was our great honor to serve you. Should you grace us with another visit, we would be infinitely delighted. Ah, but the bill has already been settled.”
The Restaurant Owner, who had been waiting at the Kitchen entrance, approached to offer his farewell. I could not help but exclaim loudly.
“Pardon? What did you just say?”
“The bill was paid by a certain Unknown Noblewoman who has long admired you, sir. A truly gracious and generous lady. You were not aware?”
From his expression, it was clear he had received a generous tip beyond the meal’s cost. I stood momentarily stunned. The three who had followed me then opened their mouths wide before suddenly grasping their roles and began competing to shower me with praise.
“Wow, what a refined and gracious gentleman! You must have seized this opportunity to move Count Pleasance with such thoughtfulness!”
“P-Pleasance’s charm is beyond imagination, so such things are bound to happen, aren’t they? Truly remarkable.”
“Wow, wasn’t what we ate incredibly expensive? That lady must be tremendously wealthy. But I really can’t fathom the hearts of the rich.”
As the Second Mate began to say something foolish, the Captain quickly elbowed his ribs. While the Restaurant Owner, Head Chef, and Waiters filed out offering their respects, the four of us found ourselves bewildered on the street. And there, parked before us, stood a carriage. The Coachman sitting at its reins quickly descended and bowed, then spoke.
“Are you Count Pleasance? I’ve been asked to escort you to the Harbor. Please, get in.”

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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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