Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 134

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

Chapter 134.
Two Swords, Four Names (18)
Luisan lifted his gaze to his Uncle’s face, then turned his attention to his Father.
The man known not only as Keltika’s finest swordsman but as one of the Continent’s greatest—Kangpir Marquis, called “His Majesty’s Blade” for his unwavering loyalty to the King—sat in silence, his chin resting on his hand as he stared down at the empty table.
“Why do you ask? It was only a brief exchange—I’m hardly in a position to judge his true skill. But do you know that boy? Who exactly is he?”
Luisan was a cautious young man. He would never hastily dismiss an opponent simply because he had crossed blades with a younger boy a few times.
Yet dissatisfaction was evident on his face.
His Father and four Uncles were the people he respected most. Though their hierarchy was clear by age, their swordsmanship far surpassed that of nobles from other houses.
Why would such men take such interest in a country boy they’d never met? Why did they speak of him as though he were Luisan’s equal?
“That boy’s name is Boris Misteria. Did you know that?”
Luisan shook his head.
“No. I didn’t pay much attention, so I wasn’t aware.”
“Then remember it from now on. That boy is of Misteria. If I’m not mistaken, he will be your greatest obstacle to victory—the tournament’s most formidable opponent.”
“Pardon?”
As Luisan’s eyes widened in confusion, his Father, seated across from him, finally spoke.
“Yes, Misteria. What a strange coincidence, wouldn’t you say? How amusing. Truly amusing.”
“Father, do you know that boy?”
“Whether I know the boy or not, how could I ever forget the name Misteria? You know well that I once entered Silverskull and claimed four consecutive victories.”
Luisan straightened his posture without thinking and replied.
“I know it well.”
“At the fifth Silverskull, when I was nineteen like you are now, I faced a fifteen-year-old boy in the finals—and I lost to him. It was not a defeat decided by mere fortune or the condition of my body that day. The difference between him and me was as stark as the difference between a wolf and a tiger.”
Luisan pressed his lips firmly together and glanced around at his Uncles.
His Father’s bitter defeat—the day his five-consecutive-victory record, unprecedented in Silverskull’s history, was broken—was an old family taboo. He had never once heard his Father speak of it directly.
As Luisan grew, he had heard people around him mention it once or twice, but he had never learned the full story.
Now that Luisan had reached the age to compete in Silverskull and had claimed victory after victory, he felt the family’s expectations growing to an almost unbearable weight.
When he achieved his fourth consecutive victory, he remembered his Father’s expression—and from that moment, he had resolved with absolute certainty that he would achieve five consecutive victories.
“To this day, I have never encountered a genius who surpassed that boy. I have always wondered how he grew, what extraordinary skill he must possess now.”
His Father’s voice was calm, yet an inner fire burned within it.
“Yet he never returned to Silverskull after that one time. I heard no news of anyone like him anywhere. I sometimes wondered if perhaps he had died young. The Continent is not so vast that it could hide the existence of such an exceptional swordsman.”
Luisan understood what his Father was saying. When his Father fell silent, the young man nodded and met his Father’s eyes—eyes the same color as his own—directly.
“Is that person Misteria?”
“Yes, precisely. That boy is his successor.”
….
Silence fell. With his head bowed, Luisan felt his blood beginning to boil.
The family’s shame, his Father’s wound—he had never imagined an opportunity to cleanse it would come in such a manner.
To have the chance to personally defeat the one who had scarred such a great man’s past—was this a dream? The answer to years of prayer?
Fate had arranged the stage once more with this strange coincidence; now only the dance remained.
His second Uncle, a man of grave temperament who spoke only when necessary, examined Luisan’s face before opening his mouth.
“Luisan, we cannot yet be certain of everything. That boy’s appearance differs markedly from the Misteria I remember. Moreover, that man wielded dual swords, while this boy carries only a single longsword. If he were truly his successor, he should possess the same swordsmanship. I cannot dismiss the possibility that this is merely a misunderstanding.”
When Luisan looked up, he saw his Father shaking his head.
“That’s not it. There are far too many coincidences for such a conclusion. Why did he appear precisely this year, when Luisan stood on the brink of a five-victory streak? Moreover, the entry roster lists his age as fifteen—whether true or false, it’s fifteen. A commoner without a single family crest to submit to the ceremonial officials. He’s revealed nothing of his origins, his background, or even his parents’ names. He knows no one in this place….”
“Elder Brother, that’s not quite accurate. I heard that last night at the gambling tables, someone wagered a considerable sum—fifty thousand elsonas—on that young boy. I made inquiries, and it appears he’s the only son of Demerin Kaltz, a major merchant from the south. It’s possible someone is backing him.”
“It’s certainly curious. But it doesn’t matter. Luisan, what matters is one thing alone. Do you understand me?”
Luisan answered with unwavering resolve.
“Of course, it will be so.”
The brief family council ended, as Luisan needed rest for tomorrow’s match.
Yet after leaving the tent, a few hushed words passed between the uncles, and the youngest uncle nodded in acknowledgment before vanishing into the darkness.

Early the next morning, Boris awoke to find Isolet—who always rose first—sleeping with exhaustion etched across her face.
Rather than wake her, I decided to let her rest longer. I changed clothes and began a slow warm-up. After preparing for a meal, a servant bearing the House of Orleans’ breakfast appeared outside the tent.
Two bowls of warm soup, fresh bread, cheese, thinly sliced and toasted ham, two strips of bacon, an apple, and a large cup of milk were brought inside.
From today onward, meals were provided only to those advancing to the main rounds—the breakfast was considerably better than yesterday’s.
“Isolet, wake up and eat.”
Isolet’s eyes opened. Seeing the fatigue still lingering in her gaze, Boris offered a teasing greeting.
“So you lulled me to sleep like a child, but couldn’t sing yourself a lullaby?”
Isolet had sung a gentle chant the previous night, allowing Boris to fall into deep slumber. That was why waking this morning left him feeling remarkably refreshed.
“Mmm…. So the lullaby worked for you?”
Isolet sat up, rubbing her eyes, and smiled awkwardly as she spoke. Fresh from sleep, her features not yet fully sharpened by consciousness, she possessed an unexpected loveliness—something I could never have imagined before our journey together.
The assembly trumpet sounded before breakfast was even finished. The ceremony for the thirty-five main-round contestants to draw their tournament brackets began before the gathered crowd.
There, Boris encountered Hector.
“….”
No words passed between them. I had been repeatedly warned that on the Continent, islanders must not acknowledge one another, yet Boris had nothing to say to him.
Soon enough, swords would answer for them—why waste breath on petty displays of hatred?
For Hector, who had departed before Boris’ own journey began, this meeting must have been unexpected. Yet he, too, remained silent.
But as he disappeared among the other young boys, Boris thought he glimpsed a smile upon his face.
Isolet, as yesterday, mingled with the crowd to observe the bracket assignments. Then, from behind, several people pointed toward her with startled voices.
“Sir, there! That girl! That short blonde hair….”
Isolet’s keen ears caught the situation immediately, but she was not foolish enough to turn around. Instead, she slowly slipped deeper into the crowd.
“You mean the girl with the twin swords? Is it really true that this slender young woman dispatched seven men yesterday?”
“She’s no ordinary swordswoman. According to those who fled, they couldn’t even touch her garments. And these are men accustomed to night raids….”
“Using those twin swords?”
“Of course! They say the blades moved so fast they couldn’t even see them—though how much of that to believe is questionable….”
“With such skill, why didn’t she enter Silverskull?”
“Who knows?”
The man, arms crossed as he listened to the report, eventually ordered them to continue watching before slipping away through the crowd toward the tents.
The man who had been conversing with him tried to track Isolet with his eyes, only to realize she had already vanished, leaving him bewildered.
“Where did she slip off to now?”
The broad arena where the preliminaries had been held yesterday was now divided into three sections. The main tournament began at ten in the morning.
Boris’ first opponent was a young man, likely no more than twenty, with an imposing build. He looked down at Boris and clicked his tongue dismissively.
Yet the match ended in an instant. It took Boris only three breaths to position his blade at his opponent’s throat.
“Boris Misteria, victory!”
Instead of cheers, a wave of disappointed murmurs rippled through the crowd. Only Lucian had wagered on this unknown Misteria with neither illustrious parentage nor an established reputation, so the spectators’ disappointment was hardly surprising.
Having won early and found himself with spare time, Boris wandered through the other matches. The first familiar face he spotted was a girl with short black hair—she had been on the same team as him yesterday.
Moving with the precise, disciplined grace of a soldier, she wielded her sword to keep her opponent at bay, then suddenly accelerated and drove her blade forward in a devastating strike.
Her opponent, facing a wound that would pierce through her chest, conceded defeat and dropped her sword.
“Charlotte Beatrice de Orleans of House of Orleans, victory!”
This time, thunderous cheers erupted, shaking the spectator stands beyond the wooden barriers.
But then something unexpected happened. Rather than celebrating, the girl turned to the herald with an irritated expression.
“I made this abundantly clear yesterday—it should be Grand Duchess, not Duchess! It seems Anomarad is filled with nothing but those who peddle cowardly schemes!”
Those nearby gasped in shock at her words. Though the girl held the rank equivalent to a princess of Orlanne, this was unmistakably Anomarad.
Only someone of extraordinary boldness and pride—or someone utterly ignorant of diplomacy—would dare speak such words aloud.
Orlanne had originally been a Grand Duchy. It had been so since the days of the old Kingdom of Anomarad, and remained unchanged even during the brief period when the Anomarad Republic stood.
Therefore, its ruler should rightfully be called a Grand Duke. The girl’s complaint was not without merit.
However, when King Checel’s new dynasty took power in Anomarad, the Grand Duke of Orlanne had not come in person to swear fealty, and so the King had placed the title of Grand Duke in provisional abeyance.
Though Orlanne served Anomarad, the Grand Duke—proud from long years of internal independence—had done nothing beyond sending letters of correspondence since then.
Had Silverskull not been a traditional competition symbolizing peace across the Continent, there would have been no reason for Orlanne’s nobility to participate in games held in Anomarad.

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