Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 132

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Chapter 132.
Two Swords, Four Names (16)
It was something I had heard in passing from Rosnis’s tutor back at Belnoir Castle. It was strange how it suddenly came to mind.
At the same time, I recalled what Walnut Teacher had said. When he mentioned that Duke Fontina had a beautiful daughter, Rosnis had grown jealous and didn’t know what to do with herself.
Rosnis. Now that I thought about it, it had been quite a long time since I’d remembered that name. I thought I’d completely forgotten it.
Yet I still carried the gift she had given me. It was a small pouch embroidered with four-leaf clovers.
In truth, I had completely forgotten that Rosnis was the one who gave it to me. It must have been on the morning I departed for the false duel.
Back then, Boris had entered the secret exhibition hall that Langie showed him and received such a tremendous shock that he barely remembered what Rosnis had said. He simply accepted the gift she offered.
Now the four-leaf clover pouch contained a silver medal that one of the Forest Keepers had given me when I first entered The Island.
I had to keep it to remain safe from several defensive spells placed on The Island. The medal’s power allowed me to traverse the vast forest in an instant and find doors in the walls surrounding the village.
Therefore, I could not remove it from my body, and so I naturally always carried that pouch with me.
As we passed through the Drawbridge, a magnificent sight unfolded.
Across the wide expanse from the Drawbridge to the Main Fortress, colorful tents were packed densely together. Through the gaps between what appeared to be hundreds of tents, people dressed in all manner of clothing milled about noisily.
The tents obscured the actual location where the tournament would take place.
Boris murmured softly.
“I suppose worrying about running into someone here was needless.”
Isolet shaded her eyes with her hand and looked around, then replied.
“If you want to hide, just lose in the preliminaries.”
Boris let out a small laugh.
“You’re not serious, are you?”
Just then, Isolet pointed at something she’d spotted and turned to look at Boris.
“Let’s go there. It looks like where they’re accepting entries. And I’m not serious, but it is true.”
The Silverskull tournament this year, opened by Anomarad’s most powerful authority, Duke Fontina, was said to be the greatest success in its history. By the afternoon of the next day, all manner of rumors had reached my ears.
The biggest topic of conversation was undoubtedly the favorites to win. Their distinguished families, magnificent tents, and carriages also became subjects of gossip.
The next topics fell into one of three categories: exaggerated rumors about how many people had gathered from where, dark horse contestants who were gaining attention, and finally, the remarkable beauty of Duke Fontina’s daughter.
Chloe da Fontina, the Duke’s daughter, was the same age as Boris, and her reputation had grown considerably since the years Boris spent at Belnoir Castle.
According to what people were saying, when the young lady appeared on the balcony, it felt as though a star brighter than the sun had risen, and some even claimed to see the illusion of flower petals scattering from her skirts.
When the girl turned and went inside, the men who had been staring blankly became dejected, and for a while afterward, neither work nor practice came to mind.
Surprisingly, it was Isolet who had heard such stories and relayed them to Boris. She seemed to find this tale quite amusing, as she wore a constant smile.
“I can’t believe it. People gathered in a place like this are easily swept up by rumors.”
“If you don’t believe it, go see for yourself. They say she appears on the balcony at the same time every evening. Ah, I’m curious too. Want to go see together?”
“Isolet, you really are….”
I had something I wanted to say, but ultimately couldn’t. After spending every day with someone like Isolet, how could another beauty easily capture my eye?
However, here Isolet wore her hair shorter than a boy’s and dressed in pants with leg wraps, with two swords slung across her back, so at first glance she appeared to be nothing more than a handsome young boy.
In that guise, she moved cheerfully between the tents and gathered various pieces of information.
That the rules of Silverskull hadn’t changed from last year, which blacksmiths who had come from various places for this opportunity had the best skills, how many people had applied for the preliminaries so far, how many of them were nobility and how many were commoners, and even who the strong favorites to win the tournament were.
Though this was the first time I’d seen so many people gathered, Isolet didn’t seem intimidated at all; rather, she seemed to be enjoying herself. In some ways, she adapted faster than I did.
Night was falling. Tomorrow the preliminaries, which were rumored to be brutally difficult, would finally take place, so the contestants retired to their tents early.
Attendants and grooms who had accompanied noble youths, as well as spectators, wandered late into the night between the tents, seeking rumors or entertainment. Drinking games and gambling tables were set up all around, drawing their footsteps.
However, aside from those playing common dice games, in one section a serious gambling operation centered on betting on the tournament favorites was drawing people in.
After Boris retired early for the night, Isolet—who had been wandering alone between the tents—discovered the place.
It was a den of savage men, drunkards, and swindlers, yet she who gave no thought to protecting herself moved boldly through the gathered crowd, lifting her head with undaunted confidence.
A smile bloomed on her face moments later. The scene differed little from what Father had described in his lifetime.
He had said that compared to the people of the Continent, the daily lives of Island folk were almost priestly in their restraint. The reek of cheap spirits, the indiscriminate spicing of food, the wasteful burning of lamp oil without a second thought, the rough shouts of those who refused to yield, the coarse jostling of bodies whether they collided or not.
Yet how did that compare to the cruel animosity that Island people, isolated as they were, displayed whenever opportunity arose?
“Five hundred goblun here! For the lady from Orlanne!”
“Ah, here’s a fellow about to cause trouble, eh? Two goblun coins make a hundred elsors—didn’t you know? And you’re betting on some scrawny girl with nowhere else to put your money?”
“Mind your own business! That girl is a sure contender for victory! If that old donkey-seller hadn’t squandered everything to that swindling tavern keeper, I’d have wagered far more!”
“That’s why you bet on the long odds—that’s how you make real coin, you fool!”
“I’m putting mine on the Marquis’s son! You’ve got to trust bloodlines that run true from the top—that’s how you don’t throw away hard-earned money. Here, a hundred elsors!”
“Ah, let’s keep the stakes modest! With a hundred elsor coins changing hands, who’d dare to join in?”
“All you’ve got is copper rattling in your pockets? If you’ve got no real money, stop your whining and get out!”
“What? You dare disrespect Trevizo the Wildcat over a few coins? Want me to show you what these claws can do?”
“A hundred goblun on the Hyacan royal!”
Colonial dogs are all cowards, aren’t they? How pathetic they must be to grovel before another’s nation like that…”
“Ah, we’ve got someone from Tia here too! Can you lot shut your mouths?”
“Come over here, you green whelp! Today I’ll teach you what Wildcat claws taste like!”
“Eight hundred goblun here on the Marquis’s son…”
It was entertaining spectacle. As the stakes accumulated, the numbers chalked upon the blackboard climbed higher and higher without restraint.
The person called “the Marquis’s son” held the highest odds—the lowest payout. He was famous enough that everyone knew of him, yet no one spoke his true name, making it impossible to learn it.
The next most frequently mentioned name was “the lady from Orlanne.” She managed to learn her name was Charlotte. From the questions that often passed between them, she gathered that she was a princess of the Orlanne Duchy.
Beyond these, names like “the Hyacan royal,” “the Arajon longlegs,” and “the Narvik sailor” were called out regularly.
The payout structure here awarded half the total to first place, with smaller distributions to those who had wagered on semifinal contestants, so unfamiliar names were often called.
The number of semifinal contestants depended on how many advanced from the main bracket, so at present, it remained uncertain.
Those who wagered received one wooden token per hundred goblun, each branded with a hot iron mark. It seemed they would later claim their winnings with these tokens.
All of it was strange and fascinating to Isolet, who had been born on the Island and was seeing the Continent for the first time.
At first, she had considered placing a small wager herself, but quickly reconsidered. Her voice was not particularly loud in ordinary circumstances, and to place a bet, she would need to be noticed—yet she feared her appearance would draw more attention than necessary.
Most of those gathered here were older men; if she spoke, anyone would immediately recognize her as a girl.
Then a spirited young boy’s voice reached her ears. Shouldn’t the boys here have retired early for the preliminary matches?
“Ah, well, since we’ve come this far, I should increase Father’s fortune a bit before we leave. In your opinion, who should I wager on, Banana?”
“That would certainly be safest on the Kangpir Marquis’s son, young master. However, your father’s wealth grows steadily and quietly without your involvement in such matters. There’s no need for you to participate in this. And please, I beg you, stop calling me by that ridiculous fruit name. I have told you I dislike that long, slimy fruit.”
“Listen, Father is a brilliant merchant. He believes one coin is better than none. So if I earn money, he’ll surely be delighted. And you’ve tasted banana—how can you not know how delicious it is? It’s an absurdly expensive fruit that only grows on islands south of Hyacan! I’d wager you’re the only servant who’s ever eaten one.”
“Still, please don’t call me that in front of others!”
“Don’t worry. We’re behind everyone else. They’re all turned away from us, watching the gambling.”
“Sigh, young master, please…”
Isolet turned her head slightly and surveyed the boy conversing with his servant.
A boy about Boris’s age, with blonde hair that stuck out in every direction in a manner that was rather endearing, was struggling to crane his neck through the crowd.
Dressed in noble finery with a thin sword at his waist, he clearly appeared to be a Silverskull participant, yet it was puzzling why he remained here so late into the night.
“Ah, but the Marquis’s son has such poor odds! Even if you win betting on him, you barely break even. Father said you need risk to make profit. Hmm… should I pick one of the lower odds? Hey, Banana! Stop daydreaming and look carefully! We need to finish this quickly and get to bed so I don’t doze through tomorrow’s crucial preliminaries.”
“If you wish not to doze, young master, you should simply go now and sleep quietly.”
“Come on, you’re sulking because of what I said earlier? Ah, I meant well by it. You know I like you, don’t you? So then… that’s it! You pick someone too. I’ll cover the cost. Come on, wouldn’t that be fun? What do you say?”
The way he cajoled, pressed, and soothed the servant—who was both larger and older-looking than himself—was far from ordinary.
A noble’s son would likely have simply crushed the servant’s feelings with sheer force, but this boy, being a merchant’s son, seemed fundamentally inclined toward negotiation.
It wouldn’t help much in establishing authority, but when one possessed such a mischievous nature as he did, perhaps this approach was the best option.
Sure enough, the elderly servant fell for the promise of possibly winning money through gambling and found himself studying the odds board earnestly alongside the young master.
Isolet, who had been watching the two of them bicker back and forth while selecting people, ventured to speak.
“Young Master, do you truly wish to embark on an adventure?”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————