Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 14

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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 14
The Winter Sword (14)

Yefnen suppressed his pity. After all, Joachim had played his part in stealing the Winter Sword from him as well.
“Around midnight, you’ll find Yanika at the Northern Entrance of Village. By then, she might have already blown off the head of that annoying Romabak. Given her temperament, she’d do it and have plenty of reason to spare.”
Yefnen wrinkled his brow in disgust at their crude camaraderie. The saliva sliding down his throat tasted bitter.
“Even so, Yanika won’t be alone. The mercenary company that bought you will be there. Since they didn’t receive you, they’ll demand answers from Yanika, and when you appear in that situation, she’ll think herself justified in handing you over to them before disappearing. This is all I can tell you.”
Yefnen gripped the short blade and pulled it free with all his strength. Blood had congealed on the steel. The blade was not of fine quality—had he not driven it with such force, it would not have pierced through the palm and into the table. Joachim’s wound was correspondingly ragged.
Joachim remained silent, disarmed as he was. Yefnen spoke from above his head.
“If I fail to find the Winter Sword, I will surely regret this action. But go now. Let us never meet again.”
Joachim left the Tavern with his palm wrapped tightly.
Seeing the blood spilled across the table and floor, nausea rose in Yefnen’s throat, but he forced it down. It was unavoidable. There was no other way.
As he stepped outside, Yefnen called for Boris.
“Brother….”
As promised, Boris had witnessed everything. He had climbed atop the boxes stacked in the Backyard, slipped into the kitchen, and feigned begging while watching his brother’s every action.
Yet even having seen it all, he could not easily believe it. Yanika, who had thrown him apples, and them, speaking of ancient kingdoms for a single golden bracelet….
It was not that he trusted them from having seen them only briefly. There had been no enmity between them—they were not friends, but they had certainly conducted themselves like amicable neighbors, and he had done the same. So why such an act? Simply because they had suddenly coveted the Winter Sword?
No…. If they had shown even the slightest interest in the Winter Sword when they sat together by the campfire, Yefnen would have noticed. But they had not.
Then what was this result?
Could it be that they had been targeting them from the start? Had they approached under the guise of helping, methodically disarming the brothers’ suspicions, and cunningly deceived them to steal their treasure?
The brothers emerged onto the dark street. Boris pointed in the direction Wills had disappeared, then fell silent. After a long moment, Yefnen spoke.
“It’s bitter.”
A short phrase, yet it contained everything. Boris did not answer.
“It will only grow more bitter from here. More and more, all of it….”
Yefnen discarded the short blade. He lacked the courage to carry it further.
By nature, he was a tender-hearted youth. Had it not been for the terrible secret he bore alone, no amount of coercion could have driven him to such an act.
He was anxious, suffocated, anguished, and afraid. That all he could offer his brother was this. And that even this would not last long tormented him.
Yefnen looked at his blood-stained hand, then extended it toward Boris.
“Look.”
Boris’s eyes grew hollow as he gazed upon his brother’s hand.
“I can do it too. Not just Father—I can also kill a person.”
“….”
“You can as well.”
A sharp pain pierced his chest. Boris looked up at his brother. And he saw that his brother wore the same expression as he did.
“Those who cherish something will do whatever it takes. So cherish yourself. More than any treasure, more than the Winter Sword or anything else. Just as I can do anything for you, you must be able to do anything for yourself.”
Boris could not answer. An uneasy premonition gathered in his chest, slowly but unmistakably.
“Guard yourself with all your strength. So you do not die, are not abandoned, do not suffer, do not become wounded….”
Survive.
Endure in this unbearably harsh world and survive to the very end.
At midnight, the brothers stood at the edge of the village.
Boris felt the cold of Yefnen’s hands wrapped around his shoulders. It wasn’t just his hands—his entire body pressed against him was frigid.
They crouched atop the low roof of a farmhouse some distance from the Northern Entrance of Village. There would be people beneath, so they couldn’t afford to make a sound.
Boris reasoned that his brother’s chill must be from the damp night air.
Summer was waning. Tonight was particularly cool. Above their heads hung a moon that would wax full in a few days, suspended like a pendant’s ornament. Stars scattered across the sky formed the broken string of beads that once held it together—lost by someone long ago.
Yefnen’s eyes found their target.
“….”
Now came the difficult part. Though he hadn’t yet witnessed her skill, one thing was certain: Yanika Gos was no simple, straightforward person as she’d first appeared. Caution was paramount. More so, because he couldn’t fathom what sort of person she truly was.
Beneath the moonlight, Yanika emerged. With the same light gait as the day they’d first met, she approached and exchanged words with the guard stationed at the village’s edge. She nodded, then turned and gestured to someone.
Against expectation, Romabak appeared—still alive and walking.
This would be troublesome.
Yefnen found himself more concerned with Romabak’s poison-coated crossbow than with the still-unidentified Yanika. Yet strangely, there was no sign of Wills.
Yanika and Romabak settled side by side beneath a tree, conversing with surprising familiarity. The words were inaudible, but the bright moon illuminated their forms clearly.
Yefnen continued waiting. He hadn’t spotted the Winter Sword among Yanika’s belongings. There was a blade at her waist, but not the distinctive white scabbard he knew so well. Yefnen would have to be blind not to recognize it.
Then Boris nudged his brother’s arm.
“There.”
Mercenaries began to emerge at last.
The first arrivals alone numbered ten. More kept coming. Giants of imposing stature, men wielding scythe-like weapons with long hafts, figures draped in robes, warriors crowned with horned helms….
In the barren desert nation of Recordable, mercenary companies of varying sizes—from dozens to hundreds—were commonplace. Some developed into elite organizations with such influence that they wielded power over Recordable itself, or so the tales went. Yet most were merely uncertain bands, hastily assembled and just as quickly scattered.
Wherever coin flowed, they would march. The only place they truly shunned was the infamous Land of Mortals.
The most renowned mercenary companies commanded such prestige that nobility and even royal houses paid exorbitant sums to employ them. Their results justified the expense. Save for naval warfare, desert warriors proved themselves in every conflict—displaying relentless determination, martial fervor, exceptional survival rates, and a cruelty exceeding necessity, all of which satisfied their employers.
This company, though appearing to number only dozens now, might command a far larger main force. Caution was warranted.
Yanika rose and called out loudly toward the mercenaries.
“So, you have business with me?”
Though darkness obscured precision, the gathered mercenaries appeared to number around fifty.
Yanika and Romabak had dispatched twenty men in a swift ambush before, but these were no street thugs—they were warriors tempered by war. Should conflict erupt from provocation, they would be at a severe disadvantage.
A man stepped forward from the mercenary ranks. He stood a head taller than Yanika, his leather-padded shoulders as broad and thick as a horse’s flank. His bald head gleamed, bare of any helm.
Another approached and raised two torches. Now Yefnen and Boris could observe them clearly.
The bald man who appeared to be the leader wore no armor. Instead, protective guards were affixed to each joint of his body—shoulders, elbows, wrists, knees, heels. In his hand he gripped an elongated spear.
Yanika stepped forward.
“What an infinite honor to meet Captain Deraki of the Golden Spearpoint in person.”
Yanika bowed deeply in courtly fashion, exaggerating her gesture. Captain Deraki offered no reciprocal courtesy, speaking bluntly instead.
“Compensate for the loss.”
Yanika straightened and placed her hands on her hips, rolling her neck in a full circle. Despite being a woman, the audible crack reached even Boris’s ears.
“Loss? What loss?”
“The ones you sold escaped.”
Captain Deraki’s voice was ominously deep. Two mercenaries behind him approached and placed their hands on their sword hilts—an intimidating gesture. Dozens more stood at their backs. Yet Yanika showed no sign of retreat.
“Ah, is that so? But isn’t that your own fault for arriving late? Or perhaps those guarding them were simply inept and let them slip away—hardly my responsibility.”
Before Captain Deraki could counter, Yanika pressed on swiftly.
“Either way, we completed the transaction according to our usual terms. We did our part. What happened after that isn’t our concern.”
It appeared that Yanika’s Adventuring Group had engaged in this sort of human trafficking before—selling captives to mercenary companies. Watching from above, Yefnen’s brow furrowed deeply.
Captain Deraki spoke.
“It never came into our hands. That alone is an undeniable fact. You will compensate us for the loss.”
“Don’t be unreasonable….”
Romabak cut off Yanika’s words and interjected. His tone carried a servile laugh.
“Come now, let’s not be like that between us…. Yes, Captain Deraki. How exactly do you wish us to make up for the loss? At least let us hear the terms.”
“There are two ways. First, hand over double the money we gave you. Our schedule was ruined waiting because of you, so compensation is necessary. If you dislike that.”
“If we dislike it?”
Yanika’s displeasure was already evident.
“Then you will join the mercenary company and work to pay off the debt.”
“What!”
Just as Yanika was about to cry out in indignation, Romabak quickly stopped her. This was not the moment to provoke the mercenary company’s ire.
Both of them knew well the grim rumors that surrounded Captain Deraki of the Golden Spearpoint. While Yanika spoke carelessly, whether from confidence in her abilities or her temperament, Romabak was quick to read the situation. He spoke in a deliberately gentle voice.
“If there is a loss, it is only natural that we provide compensation. It has not been merely one or two years since the Golden Spearpoint and we began trading, has it? Is that not so? However, as you know, neither Yanika nor I are suited to serve in a mercenary company. Those of us accustomed to wandering alone would only hinder your operations, Captain. We would merely poison the atmosphere of the company. And while it is not entirely our fault, demanding double compensation does seem somewhat excessive. Might we not resolve this by simply returning the money we received?”
Captain Deraki shook his head before Romabak had even finished speaking.
“No. Either pay the money, or work.”
Yanika began to step forward with trembling shoulders, but Romabak stopped her again. He too was frowning, considering an alternative. He made another proposal.
“Then we will add half of the original payment on top. In less than a night, that is one and a half times the amount. It would be difficult to earn such profit anywhere else.”
“Romabak! What are you saying! Why should we give them so much money?”
“Yani, please….”
But Romabak failed to restrain Yanika. She roughly shoved his shoulder aside and stepped forward before Captain Deraki, squaring her shoulders.
“I’ll return your money. Take it and get out.”
Captain Deraki spoke again.
“Double.”
“What kind of fraudulent law is this! Has the Golden Spearpoint grown so arrogant? Do you think Yanika Gos is someone to mock? Let’s see if you face any consequences for acting this way!”
After her outburst, Yanika huffed and cried out again.
“You petty bastards, here’s your money!”
A heavy purse came from her pocket and was hurled to the ground. A subordinate mercenary approached, picked up the purse, opened it, and counted the gold coins together with another mercenary.
There was no need to count each one. Captain Deraki opened his mouth, and this time his voice was nearly a roar.
“Whatever schemes you ruffians concoct, the Golden Spearpoint has no interest. If you will neither surrender money nor yourselves, I will kill you.”
The moment Romabak sensed the threat to his life, he quickly stepped backward and readied his crossbow. Yanika also leaped back in retreat, but still hurled a sharp retort.
“Try and kill me! Will it be that easy?”

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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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