Chapter 59
―I’m sorry, but… we don’t know much about that organization either. I’ve heard the name for over ten years now, and all I know is that their main field of research is summoning.
The information Claire gave them was not much different from what Petra had mentioned after the entrance exam.
Still, Claire’s attitude was far from casual. Having heard everything that had happened so far, she spoke in a serious tone.
―We’ll have to look into it. I had heard news of the incident, but I didn’t think such matters would be involved.
Her answer gave Ranje a sense of reassurance.
Up until now, Petra had lacked the resources of the capital and couldn’t be away from Simone for long. Claire, however, had spent most of her time here, so there was much more hope to be placed in her.
But surprisingly, it was Eirik who provided concrete information.
―If you’re talking about the entrance exam, then yes, that society is definitely involved.
As though he had finally shaken off his hesitation, he spoke smoothly.
―Around that time, my father received a request from Chairman Baden, asking to select candidates for the Mage Academy more strictly and to introduce an external society to the headmaster. I don’t know what happened after he made the connection… but clearly, it was more dangerous than we thought.
It was such an absurd revelation that Ranje’s mouth fell open, while Erna clenched her fists.
―Grandfather did that?
Erna could easily guess how the story had played out.
When telling her to give up on enrollment didn’t work, he must have quickly joined hands with Baden to sabotage the exam.
―Since you know about this, that must mean Uncle is also involved.
Erna glared sharply, but Eirik did not make excuses.
Ranje and Erna both knew just how fiercely Eirik had shouted at Count Swanheild over this matter, but Xavier too remained silent. He didn’t even try to hide how pleased he was to see his cousins cornering their father.
Avoiding his niece’s gaze, Eirik looked off into empty space and changed the subject.
―I’ll investigate that society with Claire. You two should lie low for now.
Ranje’s lack of objection wasn’t because he agreed with Eirik.
He didn’t like being told to behave, nor did he have any fondness for Eirik to even pretend to listen.
But when there was a reasonable point, that was different. Investigations conducted as students had obvious limits. If they had allies, maybe there was no need to poke around recklessly.
Trusting Eirik felt a bit foolish, but he, too, understood the seriousness of the situation.
If Count Swanheild had foolishly taken Baden’s bait, then the chairman himself was a staunch traditional imperialist. And once Eirik heard Ranje’s account of Lenart’s story, he couldn’t help but grow uneasy.
If the Emperor had some scheme and was using Swanheild as a pawn…
It wasn’t a sudden suspicion—he had been worried ever since learning of the count and chairman’s meeting. His nephews and nieces clearly saw the same problem.
The wisest choice was to cooperate.
―Shall we make peace?
Ranje asked, and Eirik nodded.
Thus, the uncle and nephew who had hurled great spells at each other thirty minutes ago reached an agreement on a common goal—a touching scene indeed.
Erna, however, openly made a sour face.
Perhaps realizing once again how un-submissive his nieces and nephews were, Eirik carefully added:
―It might be worthwhile for you to research summoning itself.
―That’s just your way of telling us not to cause trouble and to do our homework, isn’t it?
Given the limited resources available to them, it was highly likely their efforts would be fruitless.
The school library was locked for now, and the specialists in the field belonged to the very society in question. Military research divisions might handle such esoteric topics, but those were equally out of reach.
The only option left was to comb through the archives and old documents of long-established families. Swanheild was impossible, and Simone had already been checked by Petra.
―You do know your mother’s family is from the north, don’t you?
Just when Ranje was debating whether to simply give up, Eirik unexpectedly provided a lead.
―Generally speaking, the origin of summoning is thought to lie with the northern mages of Resbar. Their descendants serve the Morigen house.
That’s right—he still had maternal relatives.
As Ranje tilted his head, vaguely realizing he had more family out there, Claire elaborated.
―The Marquis of Morigen has been wanting to meet you. Not only to see you in person, but also because, like today, there are matters that need to be settled.
She nodded toward the treaty she hadn’t yet put away.
―If you reach out, they won’t refuse your visit. That would be your chance to find the materials.
As Claire promised, the Morigen house soon sent an invitation. Ranje’s prompt letter had been answered not with a reply but with an open invitation.
He wrestled with doubts—was the welcome genuine, or could it be another trap?—but instead of lingering, he boarded the train.
For a moment he wondered if it might be better for Erna to stay in the capital, but remembering their ultimate goal, he decided to bring both her and Heine along.
Even Erna, who tended to interpret her brother’s actions charitably, found it hard to imagine him carefully combing through books.
There was also the fear of some strange incident occurring before they could even gain access to the archives. Given what Eirik had done, they couldn’t assume Morigen had no one capable of the same.
“It’s much colder here…”
The instant they stepped off the train, the air was biting enough to make them flinch.
As Erna shivered in the unfamiliar chill, Ranje pulled her close and adjusted her hat, speaking in a boastful tone.
“See? I told you it’d be cold. Aren’t you glad you dressed warmly?”
This wasn’t a joke—he had nearly frozen to death once, and had learned his lesson. Now he looked like a walking quilt.
“At the last station… it wasn’t this bad, was it…?”
Having ignored Ranje’s warnings, Heine was struck so hard by the cold that he was too dazed to even complain.
No matter how stylish a coat might look, in this region it only made him look foolish.
Remembering his northern posting with Lenart and his own brush with death, Ranje gave him a pitying look. Not that pity did him any real good.
Fortunately, Erna lent their pitiful friend her scarf.
The snow had stopped, and with the wind stilled, it looked survivable as long as they stayed by a stove.
Inside the station, a stove was easy to spot—just look for the cluster of people gathered around it.
Those people eyed the newcomers with a mixture of wariness and curiosity.
Foreign visitors were rare here, and the three of them did not fit the usual type.
Ranje’s outfit was overly bundled, Erna looked younger than her age, and Heine drew attention simply by existing.
Yet when they saw Heine’s coat, they shifted aside and made space.
The sisters slipped him into the circle, then checked the time.
Outside was pitch dark, but the sky had cleared enough for the moonlight to shine on the clock tower.
“It’s quite late.”
Before leaving the capital, they had sent word with their letter, including the expected date of arrival. They’d made the date, but not the hour.
“Let’s find an inn. Arriving a day or two off schedule is common.”
Given the distance, punctual arrivals were rare.
The marquis’s household surely knew about delays and would not be waiting.
With the sun long gone, finding a carriage was difficult.
The sisters turned to ask for directions to a nearby inn.
Just then, someone stepped forward from a corner.
Dressed in black, the figure had been invisible at first. But as she approached, her towering height was unmistakable—almost as tall as Heine, who himself stood a head above the rest.
“Are you Lady Swanheild?”
She looked between the sisters before settling her gaze on Ranje. Her voice was harsh, as though scraped from the ground—whether from long silence or simply by nature.
Ranje, who disliked that title, hesitated before asking back:
“Did the marquis send you?”
Though she didn’t answer directly, her reaction was confirmation enough. She nodded.
“Yes. I’ve been waiting to escort you to the manor.”
She handed them a letter, perhaps to ease suspicion. Seeing the seal and handwriting was enough for Ranje, who didn’t bother opening it.
Sliding the letter into his inner pocket, Ranje held out his hand.
“I’m Ranje. Please just call me by name.”
“Gunnr.”
The introduction was brief. Gunnr then turned her gaze toward Erna. There was something in her demeanor so unusual that even Ranje noticed immediately.
He wrapped an arm around Erna’s shoulders, pulling her close.
“This is my sister, Erna.”
Erna froze, staring up at Gunnr.
She hadn’t expected a warm welcome when deciding to accompany Ranje. She knew perfectly well the Morigen family had no reason to like her. She had braced herself for justified hostility.
But Gunnr’s eyes did not hold the emotions she had imagined.
Those black eyes, darker than the night outside, were endlessly calm.
It was not a friendly calm.
To be angered by a log or a stone is the mind of a madman. Gunnr, with a perfectly sane mind, looked at Erna as one looks at something utterly insignificant—something with neither value nor ability to harm.
Compared to Count Swanheild’s blatant contempt, Gunnr’s composed indifference was far more frightening.
“Miss Baer, then.”
Even the choice of surname was not out of malice.
Erna had been given the name of the Morigen marquisess, who was thought to be her grandmother. As a vassal, Gunnr could not address such a name casually.
Once the formality was established, Gunnr returned to business.
“A carriage is waiting. The night is cold—let us depart at once. Do you have any luggage?”
Ranje gave Erna’s shoulder a light squeeze, then turned his head.
“No, it’s right over there.”
Heine, who had been guarding their bags while warming himself, looked back at them. Catching the tension in the air, his brow furrowed with concern.
“…Is he a servant?”
“He’s a friend.”
At that, Gunnr’s expression finally changed for the first time.
