Chapter 61
No matter how arrogantly Lanze spoke, Morigen Hu maintained a smile.
It was undeniable that she had grown interested in her granddaughter.
The Marquis was a person who rarely smiled. Even with deliberate attempts to be charming, it was difficult to draw a reaction from her.
Even when Lanze requested access to summoning-related materials, the Marquis responded gently.
“You don’t really seem like the… studious type.”
That, in itself, was a rather kind attitude. In fact, it wasn’t a complete refusal.
“If you were to be adopted into the family, that might be different. But I can’t show you the family secrets. Still, if it’s the Lesvar research papers, that depends on you. Go there in person and get permission.”
The Marquis’s household provided them with a carriage and even gave poor Heine an overcoat.
Gunne accompanied them as both escort and guide.
Just three days after arriving in Morigen, they were heading even farther north, but the three of them were in good spirits.
Lanze was happy because she got what she wanted, and Erna and Heine were pleased that Lanze had handled matters without making a fuss.
Whatever was said at the luncheon, at least this time there had been no quarrel.
In that sense, Morigen Hu was clearly a more refined person than Eirik Swanheild.
It took almost two days to reach Lesvar, a region commonly called the shadow of the mountains in the north.
As its name suggested, Lesvar lay buried under the towering shadows of majestic mountains. The mountains encircled the west like a folding screen, making midday dazzlingly bright, but evening fell unusually quickly, even considering it was winter.
“Fortunately, the snow didn’t block the road.”
As they entered the Viscount’s estate, Erna murmured softly. Gunne caught the remark and explained:
“Snow removal on roads is the most important task for northern mages. Due to manpower issues, it’s limited to the main routes; remote areas make do with sleds.”
Since they had traveled on well-maintained roads from the Marquis’s estate, Lesvar was clearly considered a key hub. In the past, that was because of frequent conflicts with foreign tribes; now it was due to resources obtained through advanced technology.
Introduced as the Marquis’s granddaughter, Lanze and her party were naturally welcomed, but the Viscount of Lesvar did not come to greet them.
It wasn’t intentional rudeness—the position was currently vacant.
About half a year ago, the Viscount of Lesvar had passed away, and the succession dispute had left the title unfilled.
Naturally, Lanze thought of Simone and turned to Gunne with a question.
“They didn’t choose a successor?”
“No. In fact, the problem is that there was a clear will.”
Gunne held back, saying they would soon understand, as people from the Viscount’s household entered the drawing room.
To be precise, one man—and one other thing.
The man, likely in his mid-thirties, had nothing particularly striking about him, but the other figure immediately drew all eyes.
“A doll?”
An automaton even more exquisite than the one Lanze had seen in Simone walked beside the man.
Its glossy hair and frangipani-yellow eyes held an eerie sense of life. If she hadn’t previously studied the structure of automata and their peculiar magic circulation, she might have mistaken it for a human.
Indeed, Heine had yet to realize that the girl before them was not human.
The man pushed the automaton behind him and approached Erna.
“I received word of your arrival. You resemble the Marquis—a true beauty.”
There were more than a few things wrong with that remark, but his basic sense of propriety was fundamentally flawed.
Even with Gunne seated beside the comfortably lounging Lanze, the man assumed Erna was the Marquis’s granddaughter and rubbed his palms together obsequiously.
The only reason was that Erna better matched the image of a lady in his mind.
Even as Erna gave no reply and icy stares rained down on him, the man didn’t realize his mistake.
Meanwhile, the automaton rose and walked toward Lanze.
Lanze found the silent automaton far more interesting than the man, so she spoke first.
“Hello.”
It was only a brief greeting, but the automaton bent its knees in a graceful curtsy.
“Miss Swanheild, welcome to Lesvar.”
“So that’s how they introduced me. Just call me by name.”
The man’s expression changed as if he had finally realized his blunder.
Rather than waste time listening to his excuses, Lanze continued her conversation with the automaton.
“Do you know why we’re here?”
If the automaton had received word from the Marquis’s household, then it clearly wasn’t an ordinary servant.
The automaton shook its head slightly.
“No. I was told only that you would explain upon arrival.”
At that moment, the man pushed the automaton aside again and interjected.
“My lady, you should tell me. Matters of Lesvar must go through me.”
But this time, the automaton resisted and did not yield. It even rebutted him directly.
“Until a formal decision is made, the Viscountcy is vacant. Currently, the acting administrator appointed by the late Viscount is handling affairs. You have no authority.”
Are they… fighting? Lanze turned to Gunne in confusion.
It was her first time seeing a person and an automaton argue—and come to think of it, they hadn’t even been introduced properly yet.
As for the man, his behavior was certainly unpleasant.
Erna frowned after being subjected to an unsolicited remark about her appearance, and Heine seemed to share her feelings.
“So who are they?”
When Lanze asked, Gunne bent close and whispered:
“The late Viscount’s son and… an automaton from the Lesvar collection.”
“Then why do they hate each other?”
Of course, the automaton didn’t seem to harbor any ill will toward the man. Though it imitated human form and reactions, it wasn’t truly capable of emotions.
Any sense of displeasure in its demeanor was only an interpretation by the observer—the automaton was simply following its directives.
The man, on the other hand, glared at the small automaton as if he wanted to destroy it.
The story was too complicated for Gunne to answer easily.
Deciding to postpone explanations, Lanze addressed both the man and the automaton:
“Whoever’s in charge, I’ll get straight to the point. I came for the books and old research materials Lesvar holds. Can I access them?”
Both the man and the automaton stopped arguing and answered at the same time:
“Of course you can.”
“That is not permitted.”
As the two exchanged sharp looks, Lanze rubbed her lips, feeling troubled.
She had expected refusal, but not this bizarre disagreement between the son and the automaton.
In fact, the automaton seemed far more trustworthy than the man.
The man’s answer, though favorable to her, was far from normal—what kind of person casually offered a stranger unrestricted access to family secrets?
And according to the automaton, it wasn’t even clear if the man had the authority to approve it.
Even as Lanze and her companions watched, the two resumed their quarrel.
“How dare you butt in! Do you know who this lady—”
“I know Miss Swanheild is the Marquis’s granddaughter. But regarding access to materials, unless we confirm the Marquis’s written authorization, even the acting administrator cannot grant approval.”
And so, this was the situation.
The Viscount of Lesvar, a vassal of Morigen, had passed away six months ago.
She had one son and one daughter by blood, but had raised a nephew as her heir.
However, the nephew died in an accident last year, and the eldest daughter had gone missing long ago, leaving the son—who had been living away—as the apparent new successor.
But the will revealed at the funeral complicated matters.
“The Viscount named that automaton as her heir.”
Since there was no immediate resolution, they adjourned and Lanze’s group moved to their guest rooms, where Gunne explained the story of the Viscount’s son and the automaton.
Everyone was baffled that the automaton had been designated as heir.
“It might surpass a human in some respects, but managing a domain seems impossible, doesn’t it?”
Lanze muttered, recalling the man’s face.
“…She must have really disliked her son, huh?”
Gunne confirmed with silence. Even the Marquis, who trusted the late Viscount, had never spoken highly of her children.
“Still… can a title even be granted to an automaton?”
Erna asked, following Lanze’s thought. She too agreed the son seemed unreliable, but the will was baffling.
“The Viscount anticipated such concerns and included safeguards. The sensitive mining operations are already managed by the Marquis’s household, and administrative tasks are handled by dispatched officials. The remaining responsibilities were to be shared between the automaton and the representatives of the residents—this was written in the will.”
But the Viscount’s son had declared his intent to contest the will, even in court, and the other vassals were unsettled, delaying the matter further.
The Marquis, burdened with executing the will, temporarily appointed the automaton as acting administrator to avoid a formal succession.
After hearing this, Lanze had a bad feeling.
She didn’t tell me any of this beforehand, and said permission depends on me…
Sure enough, Gunne now delivered the Marquis’s hidden instruction.
“Her Excellency wishes to see if you are fit to inherit Lady Videllia’s legacy.”
“How… exactly?”
“She won’t decide the method or the answer. Please determine who is most suitable to succeed the Viscount of Lesvar.”
