Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 129

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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 129.
Two Swords, Four Names (13)
The morning of departure shone with a brilliant violet light.
Few people had gathered at the dock. Yet everyone Daphnen wished to see had come—Despoina and Morpheus, Oizis and Zero, and Nauplion.
While Enios hauled the vessel into the water, Nauplion offered each of Daphnen and Isolet a light handshake in turn. Isolet hesitated briefly before accepting. With a faint smile, Nauplion then turned to Daphnen and spoke.
“Isolet will guide the ship well with her chants, so assist her from beside. Once you enter Lemme by way of Elbe Island, you’ll find your travels far more comfortable if you follow my instructions.”
Last night, Nauplion had returned late from somewhere and, finding Daphnen awake and waiting, had entrusted him with the very sword he had wielded on the Continent. At last, he had granted him a true blade.
He had also revealed several places where showing that sword and speaking the name “Isildor San” would earn him favorable treatment.
The Winterer was likewise slung across Daphnen’s back. He had no intention of ever parting with that sword again.
Yet for Silverskull, he intended to wield the blade Nauplion had given him—a way to honor the man who had once been unable to venture forth to Silverskull, to elevate his name in his stead.
Among those gathered at the dock was Liriope. Yet she did not approach Daphnen or speak to him; instead, she stood at a distance on the slope leading up into the forest, watching from afar.
Daphnen sensed that Liriope’s expression had changed greatly. She no longer offered the cheerful kindness she once had, nor did she tease him with her usual mischief.
Yet whenever he felt a gaze upon him in Scoli and turned to look, he would find her watching him quietly—silent, expressionless, her eyes conveying something difficult to interpret.
There were two unexpected well-wishers: Ekion and his father.
He had thought they had merely come to observe, but they approached and offered their farewells. Though somewhat awkward, they made an effort to conduct themselves with courtesy that was not unpleasant. Yet somehow it appeared all the stranger for it.
When Ekion and Daphnen’s exchange had concluded, Nauplion laughed cheerfully and called out.
“Travel safely and return well! Think of Isolet as my proxy—you must obey her every command. All the hardships will fall to you.”
Daphnen answered with a wry smile.
“I shall think of it as traveling with an elderly mother.”
Beside him, he heard Isolet make a sound of exasperation—ha, ha.
Soon the vessel bearing the two of them slipped out into the sea. As it caught the current flowing toward open waters, the figures standing at the island’s edge swiftly receded from view.

“He entered Trevizo territory today, I’m told. He plans to follow the mountain range northward next month and reach the Rosenberg Gate.”
This was the innermost chamber of the Khan Commander’s residence in Ron. The Khan Commander sat in an armchair, nodding his head as though half-asleep.
But through long experience, Jonggenal, the Khan Commander’s sorcerer, knew well that when his master appeared this way, his mind was actually working with the keenest alertness.
“In truth, the report came rather late. Most unlike the Khan Commander’s usual standards.”
“Perhaps. That may well be.”
“Considerable time has passed since we lost the boy’s trail in Lemme. Of course, it’s not that they didn’t make an effort.”
“Yes, that may be so.”
Indeed, as Jonggenal said, it was most unlike Ryusno Den. The Khan Commander had never experienced a task taking this long when entrusted to Ryusno Den. By his track record, he should have brought the target back three times over by now.
“From Sansruria to the north of Lemme, and now moving southward—it seems. In any case, the fact that he summoned the Second and Third Wings this time suggests he’s caught some scent, so I hope for results.”
The Khan Commander’s Four Wings carried items imbued with resonance magic that allowed them to communicate with the Grand Sorcerer Jonggenal at any time when operating outside Ron.
About ten days after their departure, the first contact came that evening from Marinov and Tonda, who had crossed the treacherous paths of the Katuna Mountain Range and arrived in Trevizo.
Even after the report ended, Jonggenal did not leave, but lingered to gauge the Khan Commander’s mood.
As expected, the Khan Commander’s voice came.
“It seems you have something more to say. Has there been new progress in the Winterer research?”
“There’s no major progress to speak of, but we’ve obtained a record like this.”
Jonggenal had a habit of presenting matters casually when reporting to the Khan Commander. He knew well that his master despised being disappointed after having his hopes raised.
A parchment-like fragment was handed to the Khan Commander. The paper scrap, its edges severely damaged, looked like a page torn from some book.
The Khan Commander read it repeatedly for a long time.
While waiting, Jonggenal gazed out at the spring weather beyond the window and found his thoughts turning to Blado Jineman’s young daughter.
These days, he had been frequenting the Jineman Estate often without any particular business, all because of that little girl. Young Yenichka Jineman had, remarkably, captured the heart of an old sorcerer who had never experienced love or marriage in his entire life at first sight.
The little girl in the yellow skirt, tottering and running about in the backyard of the Jineman Estate, was like sunlight descending upon that gloomy manor—early spring sunlight, young and golden.
Yenichka was affectionate with people. Her first meeting with the gloomy old sorcerer had been when she laughed brightly and ran to embrace him without hesitation.
Watching her contentedly eat sweets given by a stranger, he had remarked that she was “the perfect child to be kidnapped,” but in truth, her affection seemed so beautiful to him that he could hardly bear it.
It might be that she was not truly affectionate but simply unafraid of strangers, yet such facts no longer mattered.
It was fairly well known among Ron’s upper circles that even those who disliked the gloomy master of the house would often visit the Jineman Estate to see the angelic Yenichka.
That the Khan Commander’s Grand Sorcerer Jonggenal was among them had long since become a topic of conversation.
When the Khan Commander lifted his gaze from the parchment and called to Jonggenal, Jonggenal felt a twinge of reluctance as he turned his eyes from the window.
“If this account is accurate, then Winterbottom Kit is an artifact of Ganapoli?”
“Not quite. It would indeed be an artifact of the Land of Mortals, but I cannot be certain it belonged to Ganapoli. The chronology in which Winterbottom Kit appears in the texts is far too late for that interpretation. It’s also difficult to believe it was hidden elsewhere all that time. My conjecture is that the original owner of Winterbottom Kit ventured directly into the Land of Mortals, and after experiencing adventures there, obtained this artifact.”
“That’s a remarkable story. Then something was still active in that place even after Ganapoli’s fall?”
“If that’s not the case, then we must conclude that Ganapoli’s fall caused it to remain undiscovered for a long time. But to believe that, there would need to be evidence that the people of Ganapoli knew of this artifact, and there is no such evidence.”
Jonggenal continued speaking as he received the parchment document back.
“Though many ancient documents of Ganapoli have been lost, there remain many pages with records of great artifacts. Yet in no passage have I found mention of the name Winterbottom Kit, nor even evidence of an artifact possessing similar power.”
“Could it be that Ganapoli possessed so many superior artifacts that something of this caliber wasn’t even recorded?”
“No, I don’t believe so. From what I’ve seen, artifacts of this quality are rare even in the records.”
“Then in conclusion, Winterbottom Kit somehow emerged from the Land of Mortals long after Ganapoli’s fall? No one currently lives in the Land of Mortals. How could an artifact that no one created and no one brought there possibly be lying in that land?”
“That is precisely my question. I have the strange feeling that it either rose from the earth itself or fell from the sky.”
May rain began to fall outside the window.
“The rain shows no sign of stopping.”
The boy, who had become “Boris” since landing on the island—for the continent forbade writing the island’s true name—looked up at the sky, then rubbed his eyes and shook away the rainwater.
The late spring rain was warm, but the longer I stood in it, the more my body grew chilled.
“It shouldn’t be far from here….”
The girl, who continued to use the name Isolet for reasons that amounted to little more than necessity rather than her true name, kept brushing her wet bangs upward as she quickened her pace. The grass catching around her ankles grew increasingly bothersome.
Someone had once suggested that long journeys were best undertaken in boots, but I had declined, unfamiliar with them as I was. These soft leather shoes, practical enough in the sparse woodlands of The Island, proved woefully inadequate here.
“Let’s at least get out of this forest first. Villages are scarce in this region, but there’s usually at least one near a forest of this size.”
I had traveled through this land for a long time. Even on unfamiliar roads, I possessed far more advantage than someone setting foot on the Continent for the first time.
Boris, who had wandered through many strange lands and possessed considerable experience, observed the terrain and vegetation keenly, and his judgment in sudden situations was swift. Yet even he was experiencing spring in Lemme for the first time.
“Shall we take shelter from the rain over there?”
A tilted rocky outcrop formed a shallow cave. The two of us approached and entered just far enough to escape the downpour.
We could not venture deeper. It felt rather like sitting beneath someone else’s eaves.
“Say, would it be alright if I took off my shoes?”
At Boris’s unexpected question, Isolet tilted her head in confusion before nodding absently. But the reason soon became apparent.
After walking for quite some time and being caught in the rain for a while now, my bare feet could hardly be expected to smell pleasant.
“You should take yours off too. It’s not good to keep your feet wet for too long.”
“What if we turn our backs to each other and sit?”
“That sounds reasonable.”
After turning around and removing my shoes, I lifted them upside down and water streamed out. Boris was wringing out his boot cuffs like wringing out a cloth.
Suddenly, Isolet let out a soft laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing—I laughed because it’s not funny.”
“Then why are you laughing if it’s not funny?”
“Don’t you find this unfunny situation amusing?”
Isolet set down her wet shoes and stretched her feet out into the rain. Raindrops scattered and broke apart against her pale bare feet.
Listening carefully, the sound of rain sometimes crackled, sometimes pattered, sometimes drummed, surrounding us from all directions. Grass blades trembled ceaselessly, and wind blew through the curtains of rain.
Had the damp clothes not bothered me, the sensation would have been quite refreshing. Moreover, as my rain-soaked face began to dry, it started to feel tight in places.
Yet despite all this, Boris felt at peace. It was a different feeling entirely from the days I had spent traveling with Isildor San before heading to The Island.
Looking back, I noticed a single raindrop gathering on Isolet’s chin, about to fall. It was as clear as dew clinging to a leaf. Within it, I could see my own eyes reflected, the rain-soaked forest, and a fragment of sky mirrored….
Ah, it fell.
“We still have about two months until July, so we should have plenty of time, right?”

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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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