Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 146

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

Chapter 146.
Two Swords, Four Names (30)
At that moment, Luisan cried out as though he had read Boris’s very thoughts.
“Look only at me! I ask for nothing more than that justification!”
“….”
Between the crossed blade tips, a wind carrying heat passed through. Boris made his decision in a single instant.
I had always known from the beginning what I must do—I who could not distinguish between cruelty and magnanimity, between pity and forbearance.
Now I bore responsibility not merely for my own life. There was Isolet, who believed in me; Nauplion, who desired my victory; and countless other names. Could the past truly be worth exchanging for all of that?
Ah, yet it was a past difficult to erase. Trabaches in memory. Because I understood so well the existence of a younger brother who cherished and followed his elder, the heart of such a brother….
Unbearable, foolish sentimentality!
Clang!
Thus when the blades tangled once more, Luisan encountered what he had sought. He witnessed the dance of a sword bearing knots like a net at every point. Before he could even comprehend it, his wrist was pierced, and blood welling from his elbow spattered in drops upon the earth.
His throat was threatened, and his head. As he threw his head back, the blade that seemed to slip away instead crashed savagely against the bone of his right wrist. As though mauled by a tiger…. And the sword fell from his grasp.
It was approaching again. Luisan tried to close his eyes, but he could not. From afar, people were crying out. The Master of Ceremonies, his supporters, his father and family—all were shouting.
He watched Boris’s blade drawing toward his right arm.
And….
A cry nearly a scream echoed in his ears.
Before nightfall, the drawbridge of Pontina Castle was lowered. The gates rose fully as though the master were departing, and the guards rendered maximum honor.
A magnificent carriage dashed past the place where the remnants of the scattered spectators had not yet been cleared away.

“I noticed because that girl has special feelings toward you.”
“What do you mean? Rosnis has never treated me as anything more than an older brother—and even then, only a fleeting, false one.”
“That would be so. What I spoke of is something similar to that. An older brother, yes, but only briefly; ultimately someone who will never become a true brother. A close acquaintance from childhood, one might say.”
“What does that mean?”
Two figures walked across a cool, barren meadow. September had nearly passed, and after crossing the Rosenberg Gate, the weather changed immediately upon emerging from the mountain range.
“It is like a young girl’s fantasy. Had they truly become family, she would likely have shown no such interest. Or perhaps she would have been jealous, thinking he threatened her position. But someone in such an ambiguous position is neither a rival nor merely interesting—they inspire curiosity, a desire to test their feelings, to probe their heart.”
“You speak as though from experience.”
It was meant as a jest, but Isolet’s expression hardened slightly. Yet soon she relaxed her face and spoke.
“In any case, that is how I deduced what topic that young lady wished to conceal. Seeing her arrive with certainty of the attack, she must have overheard a conversation between your father and Kangpir Marquis. And given that count’s nature, he surely made some proposal to the marquis—yet he never spoke of it to you. What could that be? There is only one answer.”
“What is it?”
“A marriage arrangement.”
Boris’s expression became one of disbelief. Or rather, he seemed unable to fathom how the conclusion came so easily.
“This Count Belnoir wished to seize the Winterer, but if he attacked alone, he feared the matter might be discovered and rumors spread. After all, it was not in the middle of a meadow but within Duke Fontina’s castle, and there was no guarantee everything would remain hidden. If a respectable nobleman attacked a common boy, people would wonder why, and in their curiosity, would not the Winterer’s existence be revealed? He would not wish to create rivals. Especially not a rival as formidable as Duke Fontina.”
Certainly, if Duke Fontina learned of the Winterer’s existence and desired to possess him, few could stand against him. That was also why Boris had struggled to conceal it when meeting the duke.
“You said the count commanded some fifteen subordinates, did you not? That would have been sufficient for an attack alone, yet he inexplicably drew in Kangpir Marquis. The attack on a common boy to aid the marquis’s son’s victory—it sounds reasonable and trivial enough that the crime seems minor. Of course, Duke Fontina would be angered, but if that were properly smoothed over, the matter would resolve itself.”
Isolet raised her eyebrows and continued.
“Yet Kangpir Marquis is no fool either, is he? He would surely wonder why the count suddenly came forward to help. For that reason, the count needed to present some condition of his own—one he would have to fabricate if necessary.”
“So…you mean he proposed something like: I will help you, so what if we arrange a marriage between your son and my daughter?”
“Precisely. From what you have told me, this count seems to be someone who has long made a habit of peddling his daughter well.”
Indeed, the count had once before involved Boris, claiming that due to his betting mistake, Rosnis and a simpleton boy were to be married, and asking him to resolve it.
Watching how she was subtly concealing the Winterer’s existence by bringing up Rosnis’s marriage again, I realized she was no ordinary schemer.
“How did you even come up with something like this? And how are you so certain about it?”
“Work backwards from the optimal lie that Count Belnoir would need to tell and would be comfortable telling. Then the situation becomes simple.”
Boris tilted his head in confusion before asking again.
“But why couldn’t Kangpir Marquis attack directly? Why did he have to accept Count Belnoir’s demands and complicate things?”
“First, if two nobles are involved, it’s easier to make excuses to Duke Fontina if word somehow gets out. But more than that… his subordinates already suffered considerable injuries in the first attack the night before. So he needed fresh attackers. You don’t think he could have brought dozens of soldiers when visiting Duke Fontina’s Castle for an event like Silverscull, do you?”
“And you’re the one who injured those first attackers?”
Isolet simply smiled. Gray mountains were slowly passing beyond their shoulders.
The more I heard such stories, the more curious I became about how much strange knowledge resided in Isolet’s mind. How could she understand the affairs of a continent she’d never even lived in so effortlessly?
Born and raised in a lord’s household, I was slower in judgment than her and couldn’t see through their schemes the way she did. She had no information except what the occasional Pilgrims passing through the Continent happened to share.
“In any case, it was a bold gamble. What would you have done if Rosnis hadn’t accepted our request, or if she had but Miss Chloe turned away?”
“The matter with Miss Rosnis was truly left to chance… but from what I observed in the Banquet Hall, the Duke cherishes and trusts his daughter Chloe greatly. The Duke has a son from his first marriage, doesn’t he? The fact that he keeps her by his side, setting aside his older son, speaks to her intelligence. That daughter didn’t seem to find her father difficult to approach either, and besides, I wasn’t without cards to play.”
“Ah, that reminds me. I’m really curious—what exactly is this favor your Father supposedly did for Duke Fontina?”
Isolet laughed softly.
“That’s a secret. It’s Father’s affair, after all.”
A few strands of white hair gleamed in the autumn sunlight. It was the second day since we’d been traveling alone together after having company for so long, so we had much to discuss.
A full month had passed since that evening right after the Silverscull finals ended—we’d skipped even the celebration and departed in the carriage Duke Fontina provided.
The Duke’s incomprehensible generosity remained a mystery.
Lending us a carriage to safely leave Pontina Territory was as promised, but when we reached the territorial border, another carriage was waiting.
When Boris, who didn’t trust people easily, grew suspicious of the carriage’s origins, the person who emerged was Giorgio da Pontina—the Duke’s son, whose face we’d never seen before.
Giorgio was completely different from what Boris had vaguely imagined. His appearance and manner of speech were far removed from Chloe’s refinement and elegance.
With black curly hair grown long enough to cover his nape and a lengthy beard he’d grown for amusement, he was quick with jokes, disliked formality, and had quite a temperamental disposition.
In any case, judging from how all the servants the Duke had sent along with the carriage hurried to bow their heads, his identity was genuine.
Giorgio asked me to travel with him as far as Rosenberg Gate, saying he had business there and would give us a ride along the way.
I’d wanted to ask if this kindness was the Duke’s instruction, but Giorgio didn’t care for such topics.
He was free-spirited and cheerful, but from what I felt during our travels, he was also quite stubborn. His willful behavior seemed deliberately exaggerated to some degree.
Yet for whatever reason, the un-noble Giorgio was a pleasant person to travel with.
We traveled with Giorgio and a few servants as far as Rosenberg Gate, where we parted with regret at the gate.
A few months earlier, using Silverscull as a pretext, we’d entered Lemme Land appropriately when another unfamiliar group was waiting. These were merchants who said they were heading to Grantibo west of Eltibo and also requested our company.
Only then did I persist in pressing them for answers, and discovered they too were a merchant caravan arranged by Duke Fontina or Giorgio.
Around that time, I finally understood why things had turned out this way. Men sent by Count Belnoir had been tracking us all along.
With Giorgio gone, there was no better way to evade pursuit than to travel among dozens of merchants. We gladly accompanied them to Grantibo, and we’d parted ways just two days ago.
“Oh, by the way, Isolet, after the awards ceremony ended that day, you went out alone for a bit saying you had something to do. What were you doing then?”
The silver skull we’d received as the championship prize was wrapped in cloth and packed in my backpack along with travel supplies.
Isolet pulled a gold coin from her pocket, held it between her thumb and forefinger, and smiled.
“Remember that rich boy I bet money with you about? You said you knew him.”
“You mean the Kaltz family’s son?”
“Yes, that’s right. Lucian Kaltz.”
“Lucian Kaltz… he probably made some good money, didn’t he? I can’t imagine why he’d bet money on someone like me. Is that luck too?”
Saying so, Boris laughed as well. Since such a major upset had occurred at Silverscull this year—the first in decades—the gambling grounds were absolute chaos when the finals ended.
Naturally, it was Lucian who had made the real “gamble” on Isolet’s advice, and he had walked away with the highest winnings. If Boris was the champion within the tournament, then Lucian was the champion without.
Boris was well aware that the entire Castle had been abuzz with talk of it.
“Well, actually, I placed a wager on you myself. Consider this a dividend for my business partner.”
Isolet flicked a gold coin with her finger, and Boris caught it deftly. Another followed, and when he received it, yet another came flying. Boris’s eyes widened in surprise as he spoke.
“How much did you win?”
“Let’s see… I still have a handful more left.”
“Huh, I never knew you had this side to you, Isolet.”
“It would be troublesome if you already thought you knew everything about me.”

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