Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 137

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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 137.
Two Swords, Four Names (21)
Boris knew it too. Isolet was not a compassionate woman who tended wounds and offered rest—she was the lover of a Warrior who demanded that those who wounded you pay the price.
She was the sister of Warriors who drew their blades and sought vengeance before they could even mourn over spilled blood.
She herself was a Warrior and a lady of the Moon Queen, a daughter of the sword. She did not regard patience and endurance as virtues, nor did she fear soiling her hands in retribution—a being as vivid as white paper and flame.
Isolet was no one’s sanctuary. Boris understood that he could not leave her in safety and ask her to wait, even if they were to ride together across the Wasteland.
No—his own inner strength was weaker than hers. His life was scarred beyond measure, yet many scars meant his surface was not hardened.
He was a Warrior who struggled without armor. Wounds had made him strong.
Just as a shield with a brilliant surface bore scars that could not easily be erased, Isolet carried marks that would not fade. The only way to erase them was to ride together and fight with their backs to each other, trusting completely.
That was why he stood here. Because he knew that among the many names he sought to carry, Isolet’s name was one of them.
For her name, beautiful as a steel blade, he grasped his sword in this place and understood why.

Boris and four others were permitted to roam freely throughout the first floor and this level of the Castle. They were also told they could use the spacious Training Ground prepared in the basement without restriction.
Boris had no intention of seeking out the Training Ground. Yet the noble’s Castle, which he had not entered in a long time, felt strangely uncomfortable, so he left his quarters to explore the surroundings.
As he walked the corridors, he passed several portraits. All bore similar faces with solemn expressions, and many of those depicted in half-length showed figures wearing swords.
Many of the women were dressed in practical hunting attire rather than formal wear. Beauties as striking as Chloe or Lucretia seemed rare.
Pontina Castle, also called “Knight’s Joy,” differed greatly from the delicate and elegant Belnoir Castle. It was old, sturdy, and gave a defensive impression.
Yet occasionally he encountered spaces decorated in a manner that seemed oddly out of place.
The small terrace on this floor and the set of three ornate chairs were particularly so—the marble railing adorned with wisteria vines, the floor laid with colorful tiles that must have been imported from Hyacan.
It must have been a place for the lord’s family, yet something seemed odd. Did Duke Fontina not have two children, making his family four in total?
Regardless of such matters, Boris descended to the first floor and eventually made his way to the basement.
There was only one place to go in the basement—the Training Ground. Other rooms were off-limits to guests.
When Boris reached the entrance to the Training Ground, he heard voices from within and stopped.
At first, he wondered which of the five people allowed here was conversing so familiarly. But soon he realized they were siblings.
“Now, watch what your Elder Brother does. When you extend your blade, the focus should not be here, but rather….”
The sound of air being cut rang out cleanly. The Training Ground appeared quite spacious.
“See? You cannot tense your arm too much. You won’t be able to respond quickly, and your opponent will see through all your movements.”
“But if I don’t put strength in my hands, I can’t even hold the sword!”
Laughter echoed together. One voice was innocent and young—perhaps only eleven or twelve years old.
“When will our little Mirhi finally have a formal match with his Elder Brother!”
The sound of the Elder Brother lifting his younger sibling came, followed by the Young Boy’s delighted response.
“I don’t want to fight with you. Playing like this with you is much more fun!”
“That won’t do. You must be able to protect yourself. Father wishes for both you and me to become excellent swordsmen—like Father and our Uncles.”
“But you’re already skilled enough for two people, so I don’t think I need to. Instead, you can protect me, right?”
The Elder Brother did not answer. Instead, this sound came.
“You messed up my hair again!”
Another burst of laughter. Boris found himself wondering why he was listening to their conversation. He could enter, or he could leave.
Yet his feet would not move in either direction.
“Mirhi, it’s time to go now. This is not a place for me to use alone. If we laugh and make noise while occupying it entirely when the other competitors arrive, it would be impolite.”
“I don’t want to. I’d rather stay with you longer. When we go home, you’re always practicing with Father or your teacher—you never have time to play with me.”
“I’ll play with you. I promise.”
It felt like an auditory hallucination. An old memory replaying itself like a theatrical performance.
“Really? Then Mirhi will trust only you. And tomorrow you’ll definitely win the tournament, right?”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
Had I forgotten? Of course it was him. Luisan von Kangfir. Only five competitors could enter this place—not the children of House Pontina, but five specific entrants.
“I should practice more tomorrow to prepare for victory. It seems like a difficult opponent might appear.”
“But you’ll still win. Because you’re incredibly strong, and you’ve already won four times. Right? And our Father is the greatest in our country! So you have the highest chance of winning.”
“You never know until you face it. You shouldn’t be overconfident. Father is remarkable, but I still have much to learn.”
At that moment, Boris made his decision. He turned his body and climbed the stairs leading to the first floor. By the time I had calmed my violently racing heart, I was already standing before the door.
I repeated it like an incantation. They are simply who they are.
They have nothing to do with me. They’re merely brothers—what other connection could there be? I’m different from him. Just a few words… were merely similar.
That’s… a conversation any brothers could have.
When I opened the door and entered, not only Isolet but also a servant had come in. The servant brought two sets of clothing—garments to wear when attending the banquet.
Before Isolet could even properly unfold the dress brought for her, she cut in sharply.
“I’ve never seen such wasteful clothing before.”
Boris deliberately kept his mouth firmly shut to compose himself and picked up the dress.
It appeared simpler and more practical than what I wore at Belnoir Castle. Considering that they were commoners, it seemed they hadn’t sent such extravagant garments. Yet to Isolet, who had grown up on The Island, it was sufficiently luxurious.
“I’ll wear my original clothes. Please take this back.”
“That’s impossible. You cannot attend the Duke’s banquet in such attire.”
The servant replied coldly, glanced at the dress, and spoke.
“It would suit the young lady well. Why refuse? No matter how common your birth, there are limits to disrespect when entering the Duke’s manor. If you absolutely refuse to wear this dress, I’ll assume you won’t be attending the banquet.”
The answer came exactly as expected.
“Do as you wish. You invited us to the banquet—I didn’t ask to come.”
“Very well. I’ll take it back then. A meal for one will be sent to your room.”
At that moment, Boris raised his hand to stop her.
“Wait, just leave it. I’d like to discuss this a bit more.”
The servant glanced at Boris, then looked at Isolet again and shrugged.
“The banquet begins promptly at seven o’clock. I’ll come to fetch you a bit early, so please be ready.”
Though polite, her voice was clipped and formal. After the servant left and the door closed, Isolet closed her eyes, then opened them and spoke quietly.
“All right, let’s talk.”
Boris shook his head. Then I turned Isolet’s dress over, examining it from all angles.
It was unfamiliar since it wasn’t the white dress Isolet usually wore well. Yet the elegant gown with its pleated blue satin skirt and silver-gray sash seemed like it would suit her nicely. Compared to the garments nobility typically wore at evening banquets, it was quite modest in appearance.
However, Boris didn’t mention any of this. Isolet was not a Continental—and if she felt it was extravagant, then it was extravagant.
“I respect your opinion. I have no intention of forcing you. But I have absolutely no desire to leave you here alone to dine while I attend the banquet alone.”
Isolet looked up at Boris from where she sat, then turned her head away and thought for a long moment. Then she spoke.
“It would be problematic if you didn’t go, but truthfully, I’m not comfortable with you going alone either. After all you’ve experienced, are you seasoned enough to handle any situation by yourself?”
Boris smiled.
“No, I’m not. There were far too many things I couldn’t manage, and I solved half of them by running away. It would help if you were with me.”
They were still a boy and girl not yet twenty years old. No one could know what they would face in a gathering of nobility—a world where the most subtle intrigues were said to circulate.
And then an ominous premonition descended upon him.
Just before entering the banquet hall, Isolet whispered with a smile, her voice soft.
“In a way, I suppose I have the stubborn streak of a child too.”
Boris lowered his head—truly, he was trying to hide his expression. Every time he saw Isolet’s face, uncomfortable in her evening dress, a smile threatened to escape, and he found it impossible to suppress. It wasn’t amusement; it was his heart racing with anticipation.
Though he had been drawn to her beauty, seeing her in this unexpected way made his pulse quicken, and he found himself wanting to gaze at her constantly.
Once seated at the assigned table by the attendant, I realized that Boris was not alone in his desire to look at Isolet.
The banquet hall was filled not only with the five competitors for tomorrow’s event and their entourages, but also with nobles who were guests of Duke Fontina. Consequently, the surroundings were populated with well-dressed noblewomen and young ladies.
Yet without a single necklace or jeweled ring, Isolet—like a girl from a storybook who had wandered into some strange world by mistake—drew the gaze of countless people.
As the attendant who had guided them cleared his throat lightly, gleaming silver utensils reflected the faces of those around them.
The space across from the two seated side by side remained empty, and beyond it, a colonnade obscured by round pillars came into view.
Boris kept his head lowered, wary of whether anyone might recognize him. He did not look about.
Even when living in his hometown of Trabaches, foreign guests would occasionally visit, and during his time at Belnoir Castle, at several open gatherings—particularly at Countess Belnoir’s birthday celebration—many Anomarad nobles had seen his face.
Though his appearance had changed considerably, the possibility that someone might recognize him was not entirely absent.
As he sat thus, handmaidens approached with refreshments, pouring an apricot-colored beverage with a tart aroma. When Duke Fontina, whose bearing was that of a hospitable man, entered alongside his beautiful duchess and the Young Beauty, everyone rose from their seats and expressed their gratitude.
“Thank you all for coming. I hope you will enjoy yourselves at ease. In particular, I hope this becomes a place where the lady who is our guest of honor and the four gentlemen can find respite from tension.”

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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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