Kays Translations

Chapter 52: The Viscount’s Authority (Rishaku)

The accusation of treachery—the very reason for my summons—had finally been cleared. But even with that heavy burden lifted, one thorn still remained: the issue of the letter of disownment.

Still, the greatest problem had been solved. From here on, it was best to leave things to Mother and to Vessel-san. They would handle it far better than I ever could.

“Let’s discuss this matter together with Mother and Vessel-san,” I suggested. “It concerns him as well, after all.”

“I thought he came merely as your guardian,” came the response.

I shook my head lightly. “No. There’s… another reason he’s here.”

If the suspicions were gone, then the rest would fall neatly into place once Vessel-san took the final step. After all, everything had been arranged so that this would be the conclusion.

The door to the next room opened, and Vessel-san stepped back inside, his boots making a faint sound against the polished marble. Moments later, Mother appeared as well, led in by a maid.

“—Mother!”

I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. The emotion that had been building in my chest burst free, and I rushed forward, throwing my arms around her.

“Al,” she whispered, her voice trembling faintly, “I’m sorry… for making you worry.”

I shook my head hard. “No, I’m fine. I really am.”

Only then did I realize how much I had missed her. It had been just three weeks—but for me, those days had stretched endlessly, heavy with uncertainty. Even with Stefana and Rugena by my side, the absence of my mother had left the world feeling colder, lonelier.

“Stefana, Rugena,” Mother said, turning to them with soft gratitude, “thank you for protecting Al.”

“It was an honor to be of service to Tine-sama,” Stefana replied with a shy smile.

“Arthur-sama is our lord, after all,” Rugena said proudly, hands planted on her hips, her chest thrust forward.

Their contrasting reactions made the air lighter—just for a moment.

Then another voice spoke up, gruff and amused.

“Don’t you think I deserve a word of thanks too?”

Mother’s eyes curved with amusement. “Of course, I’m grateful to you as well, Vel.”

“O–oh? Well, in that case…” He looked startled by her sincerity, taking an awkward step back before crossing his arms to hide his embarrassment.

When our reunion’s warmth had finally calmed, the three of us—Mother, Vessel-san, and I—took our seats on one side of the parlor’s sofa. Across from us sat the Viscount and his son, Ditnell, their expressions unreadable beneath the flickering lamplight.

Mother was the first to speak. Her tone was calm, but there was a quiet strength beneath it.

“Then, Father… shall we begin our final discussion?”

The Viscount nodded stiffly. “First, I must apologize,” he said, lowering his head deeply. “For placing false suspicion upon you.”

For a moment, silence blanketed the room. Even I was stunned. No one had expected a noble of his rank to bow so deeply—even in guilt. It was a rare sight.

Mother’s eyes softened only slightly. “If the suspicion is gone, then I shall collect my belongings and take my leave.”

“Wait,” the Viscount said quickly. “The letter of disownment has been rescinded, and you’ve returned to the estate. From now on, you may stay in the main house.”

His words rang hollow—an attempt to pull her back into the family’s fold. It wasn’t kindness; it was control disguised as reconciliation.

“The signing ceremony has not yet been held,” Mother said firmly. “And I have no intention of residing here.”

“That’s nonsense,” the Viscount replied, his voice rising. “The ceremony is merely formal. The disownment has been annulled. You are once again Martine Kaupels. And, as I wrote in my letter, Arthur shall also be entered into the Kaupels register as a member of our bloodline.”

Technically, he was correct. The rescission had been officially recognized the moment the certificate was issued. The ceremony that followed was merely a symbolic gesture—a way to publicly show reconciliation through a formal signing and a small celebration.

But the letter had also mentioned something else. It said that I would be granted a small cottage on the estate. A cottage—nothing more. This time, though, it seemed the Viscount truly intended to bring us back into the family.

And I understood why. He’d gone too far. This was his way of covering his tracks.

“Even so,” Mother said, her expression unchanging, “I have no intention of marrying Zernike-sama.”

The Viscount nodded. “Indeed. I shall formally decline that proposal myself.”

“—Father, what?!” Ditnell shot up from his seat, eyes blazing. “That’s not what we agreed upon!”

Of course. Zernike had used Ditnell as a pawn to manipulate the Viscount, all to seize the secret of our glasscraft. Now that their plan had failed, he must have been desperate. Without the marriage, Ditnell would lose both his influence and Zernike’s support.

“You promised that if she was proven innocent, you’d have her wed Zernike-sama!” Ditnell cried.

“You seem quite desperate to have me marry him, Ditnell,” Mother said coolly.

“I—I’m not desperate,” he stammered. “But Zernike has supported our house for years. Should we not return the favor?”

Mother’s eyes sharpened. “You speak of debts, yet you were the one who received his support. Not I. If you wish to repay his kindness, do it yourself.”

Her voice was cold, but her words burned with truth.

“I was accused falsely,” she continued, her tone cutting through the air. “And that falsehood began with Zernike-sama’s careless words, did it not? Tell me, Ditnell—do you still insist I marry the man responsible for that?”

Her rebuke left him silent. Whether Zernike’s words had been careless or deliberate, no one could say. But his insinuations—that Mother had sold the glassmaking secrets of the Kaupels house to Baron Merlot—had started the entire tragedy.

“…Fine,” Ditnell finally muttered, sinking back into his seat. “I’ll say no more.”

The tension in the room lingered like smoke. Before the Viscount could speak again, Vessel-san’s calm, low voice broke the silence.

“Tine,” he said, turning to her, “I’ll leave the final decision to you.”

That was the signal. He was asking whether she would play her final card.

If she used it, she could break free from the Viscount’s control—but not without a cost. Mother hesitated only for a heartbeat before she rose gracefully from the sofa, stepped before Vessel, and knelt, bowing her head.

Seeing that, Vessel stood, reaching into his inner pocket. A gleam of silver caught the lamplight as he drew forth a medallion.

“I, Vessel Vanni, second son of the Margrave of Vanni,” he declared solemnly, “hereby proclaim, in my brother’s stead, that Martine Kaupels shall be elevated to the rank of Rishaku (a Non-hereditary noble title) under the Vanni Margraviate. From this moment forward, she shall be known as Martine Felde.”

“Martine Felde,” Mother replied, bowing deeply, “humbly accepts this honor.”

The ceremony was brief, yet the weight of his words filled the entire room. He placed the medallion—bearing the Vanni crest on one side and the new Felde crest on the other—into her hands.

So this was what she had asked of him. Mother had foreseen the Viscount’s intent to reclaim and remarry her and had searched for a countermeasure. Running away would only have condemned us to hardship.
Marrying a commoner would change nothing. And there was no time to find another noble to align with.

Thus, she chose another path—to claim a title of her own.

Among the higher nobility, there exist privileges that lesser nobles cannot claim. The most well-known is the right to take concubines—up to two besides the official wife—to ensure the family line never dies out. Not that it’s particularly effective; unofficial lovers are common enough to make the rule meaningless.

But there is another privilege: The right to grant a non-hereditary title, known as a Rishaku.

A Rishaku title is peculiar—granted not by the king, but by high-ranking nobles themselves. It carries no inheritance rights, no stipend, and almost no privileges, but it marks its bearer as an independent house. Often, second or third sons who cannot inherit their family titles receive it upon leaving their noble homes.

Unlike honorary titles, however, a Rishaku makes its bearer legally distinct. They may form their own household, bear a new crest, and—most importantly—stand beyond their former lord’s authority.

And so, with that single declaration, Mother had severed all ties with the Kaupels Viscountcy and founded a new household: House Felde.

The Viscount and Ditnell stared in stunned disbelief. Then, realization hit, and they both exploded in protest.

“How dare you act on your own!” the Viscount thundered. “You abandoned this house—do you think pity will redeem you now?”

“Yes!” Ditnell added furiously. “And how can a woman possibly hold a title?”

Their outrage was laced with arrogance—and ignorance. The Rishaku title had no hereditary claim, and its holder could indeed be female.

Mother waited calmly for their shouting to fade, then spoke once their breath had run short.

“This is what I wished for,” she said quietly. “When you brought me back here, Father, you called me the shame of our house. You refused to let me live even in the annex.”

“That was…” The Viscount faltered.

“And you, Ditnell,” she continued, turning to him. “You often said that parents who make their children unhappy are unworthy of the name.”

I blinked in surprise. So the Viscount had actually said such a thing? Ditnell’s expression confirmed it—he knew those words too well. I knew them, too. I’d heard them myself, countless times.

“I believed it,” Mother said softly. “I thought I had made Arthur unhappy because I couldn’t give birth to him properly.”

“Mother…” I whispered, my chest tightening. “I’ve never thought I was unhappy.”

She knelt and wrapped me gently in her arms.

“I was afraid,” she confessed in a trembling voice. “Afraid that if people learned the truth about Al, they would pity him and despise me. So I tried to compensate. I read to him, taught him, filled him with knowledge—so that I could convince myself I wasn’t a bad mother.”

So that was it… She had always blamed herself, believing those efforts were just her way of proving her worth.

“But you never abandoned me,” I said softly.

“When it was discovered that Al had no attribute,” she continued, “they decided to send me back here. Even the maid who escorted me said I should leave him at an orphanage and start over.”
Her eyes shone with pain. “But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear the thought of being apart from him.”

I clenched my fists. I had never known that—never realized how much she’d endured to stay with me.

“But now,” Mother said, her voice regaining strength, “I finally understand. If I am to remain by Al’s side, then I must become strong. That is why I chose this path—to begin a new lineage with my own hands.”

It was not a mere estrangement by letter, but a complete severance—a rewriting of our family’s history. From this moment on, there would be no return.

Martine Kaupels was gone. Only Martine Felde remained— A mother reborn, standing proudly as the founder of her own house.

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