Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 140

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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 140.
Two Swords, Four Names (24)
“I… Boris… I’m Rosnis.”
Rosnis was here?
As the two of us exchanged glances once more, doubt flickering in our eyes, a frightened voice came again from beyond the door.
“Please… open the door. I have something I must tell you. Please… hurry…”
Isolet had learned who Rosnis was just moments before. Was the Count planning to lower our guard by sending his daughter, only to strike suddenly?
Then Isolet’s hands moved with sudden purpose, forming an unusual shape.
I immediately recognized it as the hand signals of the Ilios Priest that she had taught me long ago. There were large gestures visible from a distance, but there were also hand signs for close conversation.
Concentrating, I began to remember them one by one. The signals came in fragments, forming a complete sentence.
I will open the door, you take the Winterer, open the window, if there is danger, jump, even if I do not come, flee.
I shook my head. I could not quite recall the signals, but I wanted to express that I had no intention of leaving her.
Yet Isolet pushed me back with an unyielding gaze and grasped the door handle. Then she signaled again, briefly.
Go, before I kill you with my own hands.

With that, Isolet drew her sword. Now signals were impossible.
As I stepped back three paces, the door flew open. A girl who had been clinging to the handle was suddenly dragged into the room.
“Ah!”
Rosnis let out a short cry. In an instant, her arm was twisted and a blade pressed against her throat.
Isolet, who had seized Rosnis, kicked the door wide open with her foot. But there was no one outside.
I closed the door in one stride as if forgetting what Isolet had said, and bolted it shut. Then I grasped Rosnis’s shoulder.
“Are you alone?”
Poor Rosnis was completely terrified, her words even stammering.
“Y… yes…”
“Please release her, Isolet. This child knows nothing of combat.”
Given Rosnis’s nature, there was no chance she had changed in the meantime. Even if she had learned something, as a girl her age, she was no match for Isolet’s blade.
Isolet released her arm and stepped back, but did not sheathe her sword. Rosnis had seen Isolet in the Banquet Hall, but the lady in the blue dress then and the sword-wielding Isolet now seemed like entirely different people.
“It has been a long time, Rosnis. What brings you here?”
Only now could I afford to look at her carefully. Over her slightly grown form, the image of a mischievous little girl overlapped.
Her lemon-colored hair had grown fuller, and her green eyes seemed slightly smaller. Still beautiful, but somehow changed—Rosnis, my former sister.
It would be a lie to say I was not glad to see her. Yet now was not the time for such thoughts.
“So you are not happy to see me. I… but I had to gather my courage to come all this way.”
Only after her startled breathing had subsided did Rosnis press both hands to her chest and let out a small sigh.
“I recognized you right away at the arena yesterday. I knew you were my brother… long before Father did.”
I took Rosnis’s hand and seated her in a chair.
“I am sorry for the shock. But there was reason for it.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
The moment I tilted my head in confusion, Rosnis began speaking rapidly.
“Yes, that you are in danger. I came to tell you that… to tell you to flee! Yes, because we were siblings, even if only for a moment… I tried to let it pass, but I could not help but worry. I know nothing of Father’s intentions, nothing of what happened between you and him. If I could, I would stop it all, but I have no such power. It is all so confusing… But one thing I can tell you. Someone may come to kill you tonight!”
It was then that Isolet spoke.
“So your father wishes to kill Boris, you overheard the plan and came to warn us—is that the story? Yet you claim to know nothing of his reasons…. How are we to believe such a tale? Perhaps you mean to send us fleeing so that tomorrow’s victory falls to another?”
Rosnis’s eyes widened, and anger kindled within them.
“That’s not it at all! I only came to help….”
“If you truly wish to help, then tell us why. I cannot fathom why you would deliberately sabotage your own father’s designs to aid a false brother with whom you share no real bond. If you wish us to believe you, speak plainly of the circumstances.”
Rosnis shot up from her chair. Her old nature had not entirely withered away.
“I don’t know who you are, but don’t presume that merely because you carry a blade you can push me around as you please. I am weary unto death of misunderstanding. You wish to hear more? Very well, I shall tell you. After the banquet ended, Father met with Kangpir Marquis and negotiated with him. That man desires his son’s victory, and Father agreed to help him achieve it. The Marquis’s household seems to believe that with my brother gone, the Young Marquis will claim the championship. But is there any basis for such thinking?”
Rosnis glanced at Boris, then continued.
“In any case, what Father truly desires—I do not know. But that they have agreed to help one another, of that much I am certain. Is there anything more important than this?”
“Forgive me if I am mistaken, but we already know what your father wants. If you claim not to know, then you do not truly lack knowledge—rather, you know something else entirely, but you have no wish to speak of it. Am I wrong?”
With those words, Isolet sheathed her blade and stepped back. Rosnis, honest as ever, could not help but part her lips slightly in admiration at the grace of the motion.
Then, displeased, she pressed them firmly shut once more.
“If you do not wish to speak, you need not. I can surmise well enough. At any rate, I now understand that you are truthful. In exchange, let me show you what your father truly desires. Boris, you have no objection?”
Boris gazed into Rosnis’s green eyes. Something about her had changed, though he could not say precisely what. Even in her recent outburst, she lacked the self-assurance and self-centeredness of before.
Perhaps it was simply growth. Just as he had changed over the years, there was no reason she should not have done the same.
Boris drew out a bundle of cloth that he had hidden within the mattress of the bed. Before Rosnis, he untied the knots and revealed what lay within.
“That is… what?”
To Rosnis’s eye, it was neither sword nor anything else she could name—a strange object altogether. Boris spoke.
“It is a blade I possessed long ago. You may not remember our first meeting, yet it was in my hands even then. Your father desires this. That is why he sought to kill me. The reason he accepted me into your household was entirely because of this. This time, too, he wants the same thing.”
“Is it truly so important?”
“Perhaps. To me, it is precious as the keepsake of someone dear, but to your father it may hold a different meaning. Still, I must tell you—I never imagined you would think of me so deeply. I am grateful, truly. I hope Isolet’s words did not wound you too greatly.”
Boris lowered his gaze for a moment, then looked at Rosnis.
“But know this one thing. Count Belnoir is not alone in wishing my death. Should circumstances place us one against one, I would never simply let that man pass. That is why Isolet is wary of you, and why I too cannot believe you will remain forever on my side.”
“….”
To Rosnis, every word sounded chilling. Boris knew this. Yet it was the only way he could offer even minimal repayment for the sincerity she had shown.
Isolet, who had been pacing the room, spoke at last.
“So it is settled then. There will be an attack tonight, and next comes the matter of escape? Being on this floor, we should be able to find some way out….”
“No. We will not flee.”
“Brother!”
Boris wrapped the Winterer once more and returned it to its place. He settled upon the mattress, gripping the hilt of the sword at his waist. His gaze fixed upon some distant point in the void, as though piercing through the past.
“Having come this far, I cannot flee in such a hollow manner. I have made a promise with you, and I have made a promise with myself.”
“This is no time for recklessness. Miss Rosnis, do you know how many will attack?”
“Father commands at least fifteen knights.”
“It is impossible, Boris. This time you must flee. There is no other choice.”
“Yes. Until now, I have done nothing but flee.”
The memory returned. Fleeing past the Jineman Estate engulfed in torchlight, past Emera Lake, past the plains of bitter remembrance and the inn in an unfamiliar city…. Fleeing from the southern fields beyond the traitor’s castle, through the mountain pass, into Lemme Land, until at last I met Nauplion. Running, always running, ever running.
Never standing against anything, leaving behind not even hatred for tomorrow, only gasping in desperation for the sake of survival.
Only after entering The Island did I first face a single enemy with confidence. It was there that I awakened to the ancient hatred that slumbered within me.
The Island had shown me who I was. Though it was no sanctuary, there I learned to challenge and to rage as a human being should. Carrying with me the expectations of those who made me myself in that place, I had journeyed here.
This time, this time at last, no—not even this time did I wish to flee.
A life lived solely for survival had reduced him to a powerless shadow. But survival was never meant to be this—he had to endure, yes, but at least he had to remain human while doing so.
“I wonder why I could never summon anger toward Count Belnoir until now, why betrayal of such magnitude didn’t drive me to madness with hatred. Perhaps it’s because anger and hatred are the privileges of the living. To truly live, merely existing is not enough—one must be alive in spirit as well. That’s what I’ve come to understand. Ah, but those were words spoken to me long ago by someone dear. Rosnis, you remember, don’t you? Walnut Teacher’s words.”
Boris rose from his seat and gripped his sword tightly once more. He saw the bewilderment written across Rosnis’s face.
“You should go now. I won’t forget your kindness.”
“Wait.”
Isolet’s face emerged from the shadows, illuminated once more by lamplight. Her expression had hardened with resolve.
“Boris, if that’s truly your conviction, then there’s something I must attempt—a test of fate. Whether you consent or not, this I must do. Miss Rosnis.”
Rosnis stood with her back to the door, her eyes moving between them. Isolet stepped forward and extended her hand, grasping Rosnis’s firmly.
“There is one thing, and only one, that you might help me with, Miss. Whether you do it or not rests entirely with you.”

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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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