Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 125

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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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Chapter 125.
Two Swords, Four Names (9)
Daphnen’s body recovered with remarkable speed.
Within five days, he had naturally returned to his ordinary routines. He ventured out to Scoli, resumed his chanting lessons with Isolet, and resumed striking wooden swords against Nauplion.
Daphnen refused to appear idle or discouraged by his inability to journey to Silverskull, so he deliberately threw himself into his sword training with renewed fervor.
Nauplion took up the Winterer once more. Yet the visions glimpsed during his slumber had altered Daphnen’s perception of it. If one cannot escape something, one should embrace it—or so the saying went. If this was a blade he could not abandon….
A month of sleep had rendered my body considerably lighter—a change worth noting.
When playing with the spirits, including Endymion, I existed as pure soul, so agile and subtle movements came naturally, unsurprising in that state.
Yet even after returning to flesh, as though that spectral ability lingered, my feet grew swift when pushing off the ground, and whenever a target appeared, my wrist holding the wooden sword reflexively gained elasticity.
Though my accuracy fell far short of my master’s, Nauplion now struggled to intercept my speed.
While Daphnen puzzled over the cause of this sudden improvement, Nauplion appeared quite satisfied. Simultaneously, he seemed to contemplate something, though he kept it unspoken.
Yet as I struck, blocked, and slashed with my wooden sword, I reflected: with this, my rematch against Hector had come to nothing, and Nauplion’s ambition to restore his honor by journeying to Silverskull had likewise crumbled to dust.
Though only eleven had departed for Silverskull, the Island’s atmosphere had grown subdued. Those who left must have been the louder voices.
Yet among those who remained, there were those who had not forgotten what they desired.
“That boy has merely awakened. The latent danger has not diminished one whit, has it? That dreadful object still resides within the Island, and we are condemned to eke out our days in perpetual dread of annihilation!”
The one who spent his days in anxious agitation was Priest Peloros himself. To make up for the time lost sending his eldest son to the Continent, he met with people almost daily.
Since Daphnen’s awakening, he had wandered the village each day, insisting that the boy bearing the Winterer must be either banished to the Continent or even eliminated entirely. His visits to the Regent had become noticeably frequent.
Had Daphnen never awakened, perhaps Peloros would not have gone so far as to advocate for the boy’s punishment.
But now, distinguishing between blade and blade-bearer had become merely wasteful. They were one and the same evil, and must be destroyed accordingly.
Priestess Despoina made no effort to conceal her weariness as Priest Peloros, visiting for the third time, repeated his familiar arguments.
She was genuinely tired, and rendering a sound judgment was far from simple.
“I understand your position well enough. So you are requesting a public trial regarding Daphnen?”
“Indeed. The Priest of the Orbit, Phaisma, told me I was free to pursue a trial if I wished. Therefore, I humbly ask that you, Priestess, would second my motion.”
“Second your motion?”
It required no imagination to picture how much Phaisma had been pestered by him. Peloros’s true intent was transparent.
On the Island, to prevent frivolous trials, only those of monastic rank or higher possessed the authority to initiate one.
Should a commoner wish to open a trial due to grievance or injustice, they had to seek out a monk or priest, explain their position, and request that they sponsor the motion.
There were seventeen monks, five Scoli instructors, and six priests—so convincing any one of them would open a trial.
However, once a trial commenced, the monk, priest, or instructor who initiated it had to serve as the accuser, making it impossible to grant such requests lightly.
As a monk, Peloros could of course initiate a trial directly. Yet when a monk opened a trial concerning his own affairs, a second from another monk or priest was required to prevent arbitrary action.
If that second came from a priest, it was the ideal choice. And if that priest was the Priest of the Staff—the wisest on the Island—the trial would be half-won before it even began.
“Well, I suppose there is no need to mention this, but… more than ten monks have expressed their support. While Priest Phaisma will render the verdict, he cannot ignore such public sentiment. In short, the question is not whether guilt exists, but what punishment to impose upon the boy—that alone is the matter at hand.”
When Despoina did not respond, Peloros’s brow twitched. Yet his tone remained courteous.
“Personally, I regard banishment to the Continent as the most lenient punishment, though some have advocated for harsher measures. Surely this gives you sufficient grounds to make your decision, Priestess?”
Peloros was not unaware of Despoina’s favorability toward Daphnen.
Yet a matter concerning the Island’s safety could not be handled through personal sentiment. And should Despoina refuse to second him, if Peloros prevailed in the subsequent trial, she would face accusations of having lost her objectivity.
Even without Peloros stating it so plainly, Despoina understood that should a trial occur, Daphnen’s position would be overwhelmingly disadvantageous.
And if Daphnen lost and received a banishment order, she suspected Nauplion would not remain idle.
He might well declare he would leave with him. Yet that could not be allowed.
Despoina believed Nauplion’s wound could not be healed beyond the Island. She herself had been the one to persuade him to return from wandering the Continent.
Much time had already passed, and the end was not far away. Because of this, I could not leave him to die in a distant land.
And Despoina cherished Nauplion more than Daphnen.
“I will give the matter of reinstatement further consideration. I shall provide you with a definitive answer by tomorrow. In exchange, please refrain from making the same request to the other priests until then.”
“Would there be any doubt? I am not someone so lacking in courtesy.”
Priest Peloros left Despoina’s House in good spirits. Yet before he could take three steps, he encountered Nauplion, who was just arriving to see Despoina.
Both stopped in their tracks. Though Priest Peloros was considerably older, he flinched like a caught thief before the expressionless gaze of the Priest of the Sword, his cheek twitching.
“You seem quite busy these days.”
With those words, Nauplion entered Despoina’s House.
Left behind, Priest Peloros stared at the closed door with displeasure, then spat sharply onto the ground.
The moment Priest Peloros departed, Despoina saw Nauplion enter and released a weary sigh. As he pulled a chair toward himself to sit, she raised her hand to stop him from speaking.
“I already know what you’ve come to say. I too have grown weary of helping your boy.”
If only Nauplion would separate Daphnen’s fate from his own in his mind. Daphnen was a resilient child—one who would survive without breaking even if sent back alone to the Continent.
Of course, she understood that such a decision would be cruel to one still so young. Yet Nauplion’s situation weighed more heavily. She could never send them together.
“Priestess. Or rather, Sister Desi.”
Despoina’s face brightened slightly, then grew sorrowful once more.
She had grown old, and wrinkles were beginning to appear on the face of the small boy she had cared for like a youngest sibling.
“When you first began to grow facial hair, I recall being unable to suppress my laughter for some reason.”
Though he was not one to groom his beard meticulously even on ordinary days, his cheeks appeared particularly rough today. Nauplion stroked his chin once, then smiled.
“When you gave birth to your first child, I must confess I was secretly jealous of that boy. Did you know?”
For a moment, they gazed at each other in silence. Nauplion parted his lips. His voice was slow.
“Lately, I feel my soul and body burning suddenly bright, like a candle before it goes out.”
Despoina’s words caught in her throat.
“You….”
“You need not speak. I know my own condition best. Perhaps that is why I cling to him all the more.”
Despoina shook her head vigorously. Though she tried to resist, her voice came out in broken fragments.
“Nauplion, no. You cannot give up on anything. Your life is your own, separate from that child’s. They are distinct.”
“Of course. Yet if I could, I would give him everything. If any regret remains in my life, it seems to be only that I cannot watch over him for longer. There is still so much I wish to teach him….”
As their eyes met, Nauplion smiled bitterly.
“But it will all end regardless, will it not? As it does for everyone, eventually? I have had such a long reprieve, yet now perhaps one or two more years remain before the end. It may even be this very year.”
“Nauplion!”
The smile vanished. Nauplion interlaced his fingers and rested his chin upon them, then lowered his head, then looked up at the ceiling once more. It was an old house. The ceiling that had seemed so impossibly high in childhood remained vivid in his memory.
“I hope that boy and Isolet will find happiness together. They suit each other well.”
“….”
Before Despoina’s eyes, memories of the past unfolded.
Stubborn people. The Ilios Priest, Nauplion—she recalled those days when neither would yield even a single step.
How desperately she had wished for a peaceful resolution. Yet in the end, an unbreakable wall was erected…. And things were lost….
Despoina extended her hand and placed it upon the back of Nauplion’s hand. The blue veins that rose on her wrinkled hand trembled gently.
“What do you wish for?”
A childlike smile appeared at the corners of Nauplion’s mouth—a smile that evoked his boyhood.
“You have always granted my wishes so readily, Sister.”
Despoina nodded. Nauplion’s words continued.
“Priest Peloros said he would initiate a trial, didn’t he? My objective is to prevent that trial by any means necessary. I’m prepared to resort to any negotiation or coercion to achieve it. I’ve gathered all the evidence. Please judge for yourself, sister.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Daphnen didn’t fall from the Cliff by accident. There was conspiracy involved. Someone on The Island—someone who wanted him dead.”
Despoina blinked several times.
“You seem to be suggesting Hector. But I cannot suspect him without clear evidence.”
“Hector is probably not the one. While his desire to kill Daphnen would be the strongest, he’s not the type to resort to such underhanded methods.”
“Then who would do such a thing?”
“Would you like to see the results of my deduction?”
At that moment, a servant outside the room announced that a new visitor had arrived. As Despoina tried to dismiss the visitor, Nauplion waved his hand to stop her and asked directly.
“Has Zero from the Library arrived?”
“Yes, he says he must see you.”
“Tell him to wait a moment. I’ll call for him shortly. He’s brought materials for me.”

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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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