Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 141

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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 141.
Two Swords, Four Names (25)
Isolet’s plan was truly remarkable. No—it seemed not merely ambitious but outright impossible.
Yet Boris did not object, nor did he voice any alternative opinion. Just as he himself had made a decision bordering on recklessness, even suicide, he believed she too had the right to choose her own path forward. If that were the case, he had to support her, whatever it might be.
Moreover, he trusted in Isolet’s resourcefulness—a talent he himself utterly lacked. She was not someone who would devise plans without a sense of responsibility.
The first phase fell to Roznis.
What ultimately persuaded the initially hesitant Roznis was, quite by chance, the four-leaf clover pouch she still carried with her.
Upon seeing it, Roznis changed her mind in an instant, and the three of them swiftly slipped from the room and climbed to the third floor. Their only possessions were their respective weapons and the Winterer wrapped in cloth.
“Honestly, I’m not confident about this. I’m not close with that young lady at all.”
They stopped before Chloe’s chamber—the room of Duke Fontina’s daughter. The two concealed themselves in the shadows, and when Roznis knocked softly, a young maidservant peered out.
“Is Miss Chloe retired for the evening? If not, tell her that Roznis da Belnoir has come on an urgent matter and wishes to speak with her briefly.”
Sensing from her confident tone that something significant was afoot, the maidservant answered obediently and disappeared inside.
The moment the door closed, Roznis exhaled a long breath. Chloe, renowned for her difficult temperament, was unlikely to welcome a visit at such an hour.
As the niece of Queen Anliche, Chloe was all but a princess in the Keltika Royal Palace, where there was only one prince.
It would have been fortunate had her mother, an old friend of the Queen, still lived—but the Countess Belnoer, who had boasted formidable connections among the Keltika court nobility, had passed from this world before Roznis ever needed such influence.
Yet as a noblewoman herself, there remained at least some possibility that Chloe would receive her at such an hour. For her brother—now a commoner, and worse, still a young boy—there was virtually no way to meet the Duke’s daughter at night.
Roznis herself did not know why she was helping Boris, or what meaning that old, playful gift held.
Perhaps it was merely vicarious satisfaction. She had thought herself capable of doing anything, yet in the end had done nothing, while her brother—bound to her by false blood though he was—had ceaselessly sought paths forward even in the face of adversity. Did she simply wish to believe in that connection?
“You may enter.”
It was a success. As Roznis disappeared inside, the corridor darkened once more.
Waiting for her return felt like an eternity. They were gambling now. The outcome was unpredictable because they knew nothing of who Chloe, daughter of Duke Fontina, truly was.
“Isolet, there’s something I want to ask… If you said you’d trust Roznis because of me…”
It was a question that had occupied his mind since earlier. The Isolet he knew was not someone who would so easily entrust her fate to another’s hands.
“No. There was sufficient basis for it.”
“Basis?”
“I think I understand why she cannot bring herself to speak of your father’s true intentions—the conditions of his negotiations with Kangpir Marquis.”
“But she said she didn’t know?”
“I didn’t say she didn’t. I said I didn’t think it was me.”
Then the door opened again. An elderly maidservant emerged.
She approached Boris and Isolet, then gestured softly as if she already knew where they were, speaking in hushed tones. Soon they too entered the chamber.
Chloe’s room was far less ornate than expected. There was no trace of a young lady’s refined taste reflected in it.
Seeing that the dark walnut cabinet with its deep night-colored finish held more books than display pieces, Boris found himself unconsciously recalling the room he had used in Belnoir Castle. That too had been an adult’s chamber.
Before them stood an antique wisteria table and chairs. Golden tassels hung from the curtain rod at the window, embroidered with white flowers. Roznis stood beside it with a somewhat stiffened demeanor.
A cool breeze drifted in through the slightly open window. Beneath it lay a long bench carved with rose vines. There, a girl in a jade-green dressing gown reclined at an angle, observing them.
Her face was paler than when seen in the banquet hall, and her eyes—a deep blue as if painted with a brush—possessed an incongruously vivid brilliance.
Though he had heard they were of similar age, Boris felt a slight start upon sensing in her full lips and cool gaze a fascination no less mature than that of a grown woman.
The rumors that had circulated in the arena were only half true. A rose, yes—but one as blue as her eyes, and not yet in full bloom. The tart and sweet fragrance of lime-orange, the sharp and cool scent of mint, and above it all, a layer of arrogance thin as frost. Truly, a rare and singular allure.
“The young lady wishes to hear your purpose. She will consider offering her assistance only if you explain everything without reservation,” the maidservant said.
Chloe remained silent, lifting her chin slightly as she regarded the two of them.
Boris stepped forward and looked down at the Duke’s daughter directly. The encounter in the banquet hall mere hours ago now seemed like a distant memory.
No—it was as if he himself were a warrior who had wandered the wasteland all night only to stumble upon a palace that materialized from nowhere, while Chloe appeared like an ancient princess granting the wishes of a visitor who had arrived after a hundred years.
“I wish to meet Miss Chloe’s father, Duke Fontina. I am certain that if you would convey but a single word on our behalf, the Duke would surely consent to see us.”
The corridor stretched endlessly. Yet the wait proved even longer.
Before the final step of the circular landing that led to Duke Fontina’s study, they waited for Chloe to return.
Roznis still wore an expression of disbelief. Even after he had explained everything, Chloe had said nothing—until Isolet whispered a secret word in her ear, whereupon she rose without hesitation and went to the Duke’s study.
“Brother seems to have changed quite a bit.”
Roznis nervously rubbed the carpet with the tips of her toes—a habit she had indulged in occasionally in the past.
“Your old room at our house, the one you used to occupy—it still stands empty. After Mother passed away, I moved into the room beside hers to care for it. Oh, you didn’t know Mother had passed, did you?”
“She passed away?”
There was little emotion in the question. The Countess was now merely a faded memory. Yet he wondered if Roznis’s transformation might somehow be connected to the Countess’s death.
The girl who stood before him now was not the small tyrant of Belnoir Castle that Boris remembered. The years had granted her thoughtfulness and compassion, but at the cost of the vitality and confidence she once possessed.
“Where have you been all this time? Did you return to our homeland?”
“I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you. But from what I can see, you’ve changed quite a bit yourself. Back when we lived together… Oh, Lanji! How is that boy? Is he still at our house? And Lanzumi?”
Why had he only just remembered? The moment Lanji’s name crossed his mind, his heart raced violently, and his words tumbled out faster.
Roznis looked up at Boris and spoke quietly.
“Lanji is no longer at the manor. It’s been a long time now. Lanzumi is gone too. He left so suddenly that I didn’t even know he was gone for quite some time.”
As she spoke, Roznis’s eyes narrowed, but it was a sadness far different from what he remembered.
“It’s just like when you left. I’ve asked Father, but he never explains anything. Then again, Father has never told me anything that truly mattered. Even as his daughter, I know nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Have you heard anything about what happened to him since then?”
“No. Well, when I went to Keltika… no, that’s nothing….”
“Keltika?”
Roznis hesitated briefly before continuing.
“Last year when I was in Keltika, I heard a story about someone similar. But the name was different… and the only things that matched were his age and appearance, so it was probably someone else.”
“What kind of person was he?”
If he heard this, he would know for certain. Roznis spoke.
“A student at the Royal Grome Academy. A commoner who is friendly with noble boys… and apparently attends parties sometimes.”
Boris shook his head. That could not possibly be Lanji.
“So you only care about what happened to Lanji… and have no interest in how I’ve been?”
For a moment, her old tone resurfaced. Roznis stepped back and offered a mischievous smile as she once had. But those days could never return.
After speaking, Roznis glanced at Isolet, then returned to her composed expression.
Isolet had surely heard their conversation, yet she remained expressionless, her gaze fixed upward toward the top of the stairs.
There were only three people in this castle who could enter the Duke’s study or bedchamber unannounced at such a late hour, and whom the Duke would nonetheless receive with favor. It was Isolet who had decided that approaching through Chloe was the wisest course.
Even now, Boris found it difficult to discern what Isolet was thinking. He wondered how she, raised on The Island, could read the thoughts of continental nobility so effortlessly.
The Duke might already be asleep, or he might refuse to see them even after hearing Chloe’s explanation.
Yet Isolet showed no anxiety. If anything, she seemed more confident of success than when she had first asked Roznis to fetch Chloe.
Light appeared at the top of the stairs. Chloe’s golden hair caught the glow of the lamp she held aloft, shining with a reddish luminescence. She spoke briefly, her lips parting.
“Come up.”
Roznis spoke suddenly.
“I should go back. If I’m away too long, Father will grow suspicious. It’s better for me to be in my room—better for you, brother. I wish you luck. And… I hope we can meet again.”
The towering door swung open, and the two figures vanished as if drawn into the study of the most feared and powerful person in this castle—the highest authority in Anomarad after the King himself.
“Come closer.”
Leaving Boris behind, Isolet crossed the study and positioned herself before the table at its far end.
Duke Fontina stood by the window in a deep crimson gown, a crystal glass held in his hand. It was peculiar, yet his present bearing commanded far greater dignity than when he had been resplendent in finery at the banquet hall.
Then he had been the gracious host bestowing kindness upon his guests; now he resembled a king ruling over the castle itself. His frame was substantial, and his gown trailed across the floor.
“The daughter of my benefactor. Truly.”
I had heard the word “benefactor” countless times during my travels through Lemme, always in connection with Nauplion’s sword.
Yet according to the Duke’s words, this “benefactor” was Ilios Priest.
What manner of kindness could he have rendered?
“I am merely grateful that you remember.”
The Duke set down his empty glass upon the table with a slight shrug of one shoulder.
“Your words sound as though forgetting a debt of gratitude were the natural course—do I appear to be such a man? At the banquet, I could only verify your claims by your faces and names, so I did not believe everything you said. But now that Chloe has conveyed those words to me, I am certain. Tell me, then—in what manner do you wish for me to assist 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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