Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 149

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

Chapter 149.
Two Swords, Four Names (33)
In Hebetica’s southern dialect, which seemed little changed, I sensed a warmth toward Nauplion.
Boris recalled old memories and smiled. Without thinking, a jest slipped out—the kind he might have made to Nauplion.
“He was far too much of a nag, so I discarded him. You haven’t heard any news of him, have you?”
“If you know something, why not share it? I’m not the only one who wants to know about that man.”
“Who else?”
“Didn’t I mention it to you once before?”
Hebetica glanced around, seemingly self-conscious of the onlookers’ gazes, then gestured for the two of them to follow her home.
As they entered her flat-roofed dwelling, built of stone and earth, a man lay sprawled beneath a blanket, snoring loudly.
Hebetica strode over and without hesitation kicked his back with her foot.
“Wake up already! How many hours have you been sleeping?”
As Boris stood watching, wondering if this was her husband and thinking what a rough pair they made, the man stirred and sat up groggily.
Yet the moment Boris saw the man rise, he understood. Husband or not, this man was a formidable fighter. There was no doubt about it.
Despite his drowsy expression, his movements as he rose were different—his posture as he sat was different. Moreover, his shoulders and arms, exposed beneath a sleeveless tunic unsuitable for the current weather, bore the marks of rigorous training.
The man soon muttered.
“This is such a pleasant village that sleep comes naturally.”
“What nonsense! Should we live in tents like the Barbarians then?”
“Hugh, well. I suppose I’ve grown accustomed to having a roof over my head.”
Hebetica turned to the two of them and gestured for them to sit. Unexpectedly, it was Isolet who spoke first.
“You’re from the Barbarians of the Nim Peninsula?”
The man then replied.
“Barbarians? I am Kamzak. We, whom you call savages, call ourselves the Original Tribes. The Kamzak Tribe is the greatest among them, and I am their son.”
Hebetica raised both hands and shrugged her shoulders as she spoke.
“Either way, it’s all the same thing, isn’t it?”
But Isolet shook her head and replied.
“So you’re of the Kamzak Tribe. I apologize for not knowing precisely. I’m Isolet. Just a wanderer, really.”
Boris had never seen Isolet introduce herself first and show such interest in another person. It seemed he too should introduce himself, so he opened his mouth.
“I am Boris San.”
He had set aside the name Misteria, which had become burdensome, and was using San as his surname once more.
“I’m Izak… uh… Hebe, what was my surname again?”
“Ducaselle. But does it matter? What’s the significance of a surname picked up from who knows where?”
Boris burst out laughing. He was reminded of how Nauplion had arbitrarily created Hebetica’s surname.
“No, it matters now. When I return to Sansru, everyone will know me by that name. If I don’t recognize my own name, what will I do?”
“So you’re planning to return? When?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Didn’t you say a beautiful wife is waiting for you?”
“There is a beautiful wife, and a beautiful house, a beautiful altar, and beautiful vessels too. Day and night I must gaze upon them and bow in reverence. It’s truly tedious. I’m considering whether I should do it again.”
Hebetica did not seem to believe Izak’s words, taking them for boasting. She turned to the two of them and spoke.
“Boris, you might remember hearing this before, but he’s my Elder Brother. Ah, of course, I’m not a Barbarian. We have different mothers. We only share the same father.”
Only then did Boris recall it as well. When Nauplion had come to this place, he had certainly mentioned to Hebetica, “Your half-brother….”
At that time, Hebetica had bristled and asked about her brother’s whereabouts, and Nauplion had said he didn’t know. That person was apparently Izak.
But Izak glanced at Isolet for a moment before speaking.
“You’re a fighter, miss. The daughter of a fighter. It’s rare to see someone like you among the people of Lemme.”
“I’m not from Lemme. I simply wander. But your words are true, and I must return the same compliment to you. You are a fighter, and the son of a fighter.”
“Yes, yes. But you’re wrong about one thing. My father is a Blacksmith.”
Hebetica asked.
“Brother, didn’t you say Father was the chieftain of the Kamzak Tribe? How did he become a Blacksmith?”
“He is the chieftain, but also a Blacksmith. Both of those things are my father.”
The manner of speech of this man called Izak was simple yet unpretentious, bearing no trace of calculation in gauging his listener’s reaction—and this pleased Boris.
“Brother, you mentioned once that Isildor San passed through here, didn’t you? The child who was with him then is this person here. Well, now he’s more of a young man than a child. If you have any news to ask about, ask away.”
Izak opened his mouth and laughed as he spoke.
“Oh, you know Isildor San? He was a good friend. I really liked him. He and I caught all the red fish in the Bolminga River. The fish came again the next year, of course. But we waited until the fish spawned. That way we could catch them again the next year. It was truly exciting.”
A smile rose to Boris’s face. Traveling from place to place, meeting all manner of people, earning the affection of so many—his master had done all this.
“Isildor San was better at spearfishing than I was. I was better at boxing than he was. We nearly became brothers, but he was too busy and left. I miss him. Where is he? Is he still alive?”
Boris hesitated and looked at Isolet. He could not tell where Nauplion was.
Then Isolet spoke in Boris’s stead.
“He wanders alone through many places. We shall soon return to him, and on the day we are reunited, perhaps he too will be able to smile a little.”

“He had lived his entire life in battle. Yet it was remarkable that his face bore not a trace of anguish.”
The breath dispersing into the night air resembled the tobacco smoke the men of this place had been smoking.
It was a brief walk before sleep. Boris and Isolet sat side by side, their chins resting on their hands, at a spot where the sloping path descending below the village was dimly visible.
Boris thought that the wound on his back was throbbing more and more, but he did not mention it to Isolet.
“So you introduced yourself first? A kind of…recognizing one’s own kind, is that it?”
“Well, rather than that, I envy that man a little. I, who have lived less than twenty years, seem to carry more afflictions than him, who has lived more than thirty. As someone walking the path of a warrior, I feel ashamed.”
“Afflictions—what are your afflictions?”
Isolet looked up at the sky without answering. It was a cloudy sky with only a few stars embedded in it.
Boris, watching her profile, thought that this time he wanted to hear an answer. There was a question he had been pondering for a long time. He had not been able to ask either of them about it until now.
“Isolet, what do you think of Nauplion…Isildor San?”
Isolet looked up at the sky a moment longer, then answered without turning her head.
“It’s something I don’t wish to speak of.”
“Does my lack of understanding not matter to you?”
The moment he spoke, his face suddenly burned hot. How would anyone know whether such a thing mattered to Isolet or not? Would she even want to be understood by him?
Fortunately, it was night, and his face was not easily visible.
“Your lack of understanding….”
After that murmur, silence flowed again. When Isolet opened her mouth, Boris was looking down at the ground, his cheeks cupped in his hands.
“Your lack of understanding, your misunderstanding—tell me of it.”
“Long ago, Isildor San told you the reasons why you could not help but dislike him. There were points in that story I could not understand. And you have also spoken of that same incident…. I remember what you said then. You said, ‘How could such an absurd thing be believed?'”
Boris lifted his lowered head and removed his hands from his cheeks. The night air touched him coolly.
“And before that incident, they said the relationship between the two wasn’t bad. I can understand that. Such things aren’t easily forgotten. But what I find truly difficult to comprehend is…”
Boris turned his head toward Isolet.
“Your conflicted attitude. Today was like that, and it’s been the same all along… I simply cannot bring myself to believe you hate him. Yet I cannot think you’ve forgiven him either. What exactly happened between you and him? It feels as though there’s some special secret between you two that I cannot possibly fathom.”
Isolet remained silent. She did not turn her head. Boris exhaled a short sigh and concluded his words.
“And I’m not even certain I have the right to ask you such a question.”
As the night deepened, the stars finally began to shine with crystalline clarity. The sky gradually cleared.
“Stop talking about rights. That’s not why I haven’t spoken of it.”
Her voice was different from the composed tone I always heard. It carried a faint tremor.
“I wasn’t deliberately hiding it. I simply disliked the subject. Or rather, I couldn’t bear to imagine myself bringing it up. Because… it’s such a foolish story. Like a broken house beyond repair, I simply left it alone. Hoping the wind and rain would wear it away until one day it turned to dust. But I’ve lived too few years for that to happen.”
Boris waited in silence. He sensed it was better not to interrupt.
“And though I truly hate to admit it, I already knew you found it strange,”
Isolet’s voice suddenly became cold and clear. She seemed to be forcing herself to speak this way.
“But because it’s you, I didn’t want to tell you.”
Suddenly, the thought struck him—what pain was he causing Isolet? Boris shook his head as he took hold of her arm.
“If it’s something you don’t wish to say, then I won’t listen. It doesn’t matter if I don’t hear it.”
“No. It’s absurd. Now that it’s you, I feel I must tell you.”
Isolet turned her head and looked directly at Boris’s face. Though shrouded in darkness, her eyes shone with clarity.
“Isildor San—no, Nauplion San and I, long ago, when I was ten years old…”
A brief silence stretched endlessly, and the answer resonated.
“We were betrothed, and then the engagement was broken.”
“…”
I hadn’t felt this way in so long. Something suddenly rose in my throat, then slowly subsided.
Should I think more about what this means? If that was then, what about now?
“Boris. Look at me.”
When I came to my senses, I realized my gaze had dropped without my knowing it. Isolet watched him with an expression as grave and unchanging as ever.
“If you respect me, then hear this story through to the end now that you’ve begun it. Either you know nothing, or you know everything—one or the other. You’ve already begun to know, so don’t turn away here. Please.”
Though her voice remained steady and quiet, Boris glimpsed something of the emotion beneath it.
Boris looked at Isolet again and nodded.
“The betrothal lasted only a single day. So that’s how this all began…”

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