Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 20

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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 20
The Winter Sword (20)

The previous night’s rain had left the road treacherous with mud, so Count Belnoir’s party had halted their carriages at the Lakeside. But through someone’s carelessness, a carriage door that should have remained shut suddenly swung open, and Miss Rosnis’s trunk of dresses tumbled entirely into the water.
Rosnis, who had descended from the carriage early to take the air and wander about, had already soiled the hem of her own dress thoroughly in the muddy water.
Willa, the senior lady’s maid responsible for attending to Miss Rosnis during this journey, swore that the moment she discovered who had failed to properly close the carriage door, she would wring their wrists. Given Willa’s sturdy frame and physique that surpassed most men, there was no small chance her threat would be carried out.
“If you dislike it, then continue wearing that dress, Rose.”
A savior had arrived. Count Belnoir’s party, who had ventured into the village, had returned. There was one person to whom even this temperamental young lady—as difficult as a dozen children her age combined—would listen obediently.
Count Belnoir adored his daughter dearly, calling her by the affectionate name Rose and giving her whatever she desired, but he would not tolerate rudeness or misbehavior. Many of his employees respected the Count for his fair judgment, even in matters involving the servants.
“Father, it has dirt on it….”
She attempted to protest with a touch of coquetry, but soon realized it was futile and reluctantly accepted the dress Willa offered.
Rosnis’s words were not entirely wrong. It was the dress of Camia, a girl who ran errands. Still, being a lady’s maid in the Count’s household, it was not such a shabby garment.
Once Rosnis had dressed, she was thoroughly displeased with the skirt—plain and unadorned, reaching only to her knees.
Right beside her stood Camia, a maid of the same age. Rosnis vented her frustration upon the girl.
“Get away from me! Seeing you standing there makes me furious!”
Camia quickly scurried away toward the rear of the carriage. Standing beside the young lady in an identical dress was not a wise idea.
“Rose, stay inside the carriage so you don’t soil your dress again in the mud.”
Rosnis was a girl who accepted what was right only when her father said it. She nodded and opened the carriage door.
Willa lifted the young lady and placed her inside the carriage, then closed the door. She turned her head and exhaled a long sigh.
The procession consisted of three carriages alone. Count Belnoir had departed his homeland of Anomarad and traveled to the Trabaches Republic to meet a powerful Elector who was a distant relative through his wife’s side.
Since Count Belnoir’s estate was closest to Trabaches, aside from Tia, which was a colonial territory of Anomarad, he could not afford to neglect relations with this nation.
Yet maintaining such relations was no simple matter. Trabaches was perpetually unstable politically, and no one could predict when a house bound by friendship might collapse and be destroyed.
Southern Anomarad had long been renowned as the birthplace of grapes and almonds, and truffles—delicacies that made even gourmands salivate at the mere mention of their name.
The eastern and western ends of the Panojarae Mountains were called Arajon and Belcruze respectively. Both regions were famous for their blessed climate and beautiful pastoral landscapes, and both were rich in local specialties.
Count Belnoir’s estate belonged to Belcruze.
Since there were wealthy merchants in Trabaches, they could hardly fail to covet such delicacies. Maintaining trade routes with them was an important duty of the Count. Though the capital had a king, authority of this magnitude belonged to the Count as master of his territory.
Hugh, the secretary who had been guarding the party during the Count’s absence, approached and bowed. The Count spoke.
“Well, there were no problems, I trust?”
“Of course not, my lord. Did your business proceed well?”
“Yes, it went well.”
Hugh nodded and changed the subject.
“I sent men to inquire, and it appears we shall reach the border of Tia in about four days. Once we enter Tian territory, we should have no difficulty arranging comfortable lodgings for the young lady.”
The minor knights and lords of Tia, harboring no desire to offend the great power of Anomarad, always treated Count Belnoir with utmost respect.
“Yes, it has been a long journey, and Rose must be weary. She has always been accustomed to staying at home.”
“Even so, she has borne it quite well. She should return to her usual pleasant disposition soon enough.”
Hugh’s words were not entirely truthful. Rosnis displayed kindness only to a select few, and Hugh was included in only about half of those. Yet, being faithful to his duties, he did not concern himself with it.
The muddy road had dried sufficiently, so the carriage procession began moving again. They were scheduled to arrive at Gwale, the largest fortress in the vicinity, before evening fell.
Since they had no prior acquaintance there, he had no intention of troubling himself with a formal reception from the fortress lord, but there should certainly be several respectable inns. He intended to find one, console the melancholy Rosnis with good food, and gather more reliable information about their uncertain circumstances.

“Look at that kid over there.”
“What’s a child doing wandering around alone like that?”
“Where did he get something like that?”
Gwale, despite its size, resembled an estate more than a city, and its inhabitants could distinguish neighbors from outsiders at a glance.
The proportion of outsiders remained constant. Among those who had entered today, the most conspicuous were a foreign nobleman’s procession—three carriages with twelve mounted knights in attendance.
The tall man leading the group rode a magnificent white horse, and such people had predictable destinations. Undoubtedly the finest establishment in Gwale: the Saffron Gate Inn. In central Trabaches, including Gwale, saffron—a premium spice—was one of the few commodities that turned respectable profits. The Saffron Gate Inn’s finest dish was smoked salmon lavished with saffron, though only on days when merchants arrived laden with smoked salmon.
“He looks exhausted.”
The object of the townspeople’s murmurs was a foreign boy walking alone through the bustling street.
Had his appearance been shabby, they might have dismissed him as a vagrant beggar, but his attire suggested a lost young nobleman from a respectable household—which was suspicious. Yet what caught the eye most was the unexpected possession the boy dragged along.
It was unmistakably a sword.
The white scabbard shimmered with dozens of hues even under the light cast by shop lanterns. It was far too large for a child to carry, and far too fine.
The boy wore a leather belt for the sword, but the blade was so long it proved useless. Even at his side, the scabbard’s tip dragged along the ground—his frame was simply too small.
Even had he known he drew attention, he could not have helped it. Such a sword was no light burden for a young boy.
Those watching the boy were not merely ordinary passersby. Throughout the street, others observed his movements with deliberate intent.
Camia, the young maidservant of House of Belnoir, had ventured onto the street at Rosnis’s insistence, hoping to find a new dress. As she strolled leisurely, taking in the sights, her eyes caught the boy dragging the sword.
The sight was so peculiar that Camia stared for some time, and without thinking, began following him.
When Camia stopped before what appeared to be a modest but reasonably sized tailor’s shop, the boy also halted, gazing toward one side of the street.
Turning to look, Camia saw a shabby inn. Having grown up in Count Belnoir’s manor, she assumed only rough ruffians occupied such establishments.
Without thinking, she spoke to the boy.
“Hey! Places like that aren’t for children. It’s dangerous.”
The boy did not turn immediately. His gaze shifted slowly—very slowly—toward Camia’s face. When their eyes met, Camia flinched.
She had thought him her own age, but his eyes were not those of a child. Having spent twelve years watching the expressions of those around her, Camia had developed a keen eye for reading people.
The boy’s eyes were sunken. It was not merely the hollowness of hunger, but a shadow layered beneath—a darkness.
Young as she was, Camia did not yet understand that such eyes belonged only to those who had witnessed scenes they should never have seen, and yet survived.
“It’s fine.”
The brief reply fell. The boy turned and entered the inn. Camia stood bewildered for a moment, then collected herself and entered the tailor’s shop.

It had been five days since I left my brother’s side.
The money my brother had left me from selling Mother’s belongings still remained, though only barely. Yet during those five days, I came to understand with painful clarity just how vast a shadow he had cast over my life.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t known this before. But there was a chasm between imagining it and confronting the reality of his absence.
On the first day, I begged at a remote farmhouse to conserve my funds.
The woman guarding the house regarded me with suspicion, but once she recognized that I was truly a child with nowhere to go, she gave me a bowl of something resembling gruel.
After devouring the gruel hastily and entering the barn she indicated to sleep, evening came and her husband returned home. Without asking questions, he simply told me to rest easy and went inside.
As I lay awake with too many thoughts, a man’s voice drifted through the wall to my ears.
He didn’t appear to be a beggar by any measure, and there were people who would take such children, find their parents, and sell them for coin.
Of course, they could pocket some money when handing over the child. And if those people couldn’t find the parents? Then they would sell him to Anomarad where slavery existed, or hand him over to some Mercenary Band.
Either way, it seemed a profitable business. Most likely the latter would occur, but claiming they would find the parents eased the conscience somewhat. From what I heard, the woman seemed tempted as well.
I waited until the couple fell asleep, then quietly slipped out of the barn. I walked through the night to escape that place.
I startled at every large bird that fluttered upward around me. Once, when I lived at Jineman Manor, I had gone hunting with my brother and brought back a bird or two, but I had become someone entirely different.
When night fell, I tried to start a fire, but no matter how hard I tried, it wouldn’t catch. I did exactly as my brother had shown me, yet the spark went out with a hiss before it could properly ignite.
Huddled tightly, I endured the night and walked again the next day.
I had no idea where I was going, not even which direction to head. Wintersword, my only inheritance, grew heavier with each step.
I ate nothing all day. The small animals like rabbits I once caught with my brother, even bird eggs, were nowhere to be found in my sight.
The berries I picked and ate without knowing what they were tasted only sour and astringent. Yet I consumed them all without even feeling the pain.
The next day, arriving by pure luck at a village, I couldn’t decide whether to go to another farmhouse and beg again, or to seek out an inn.
In the end, I went nowhere and bought only a little bread, finding a secluded corner. The harvest hadn’t begun in earnest yet, so the warehouse for storing grain stood empty. But the warehouse held not even a bundle of straw.
Now, indifferent to the hard, cold floor, I tore off a few bites of bread and lay in the corner, closing my eyes.
Before dawn broke, I awoke. Suddenly one side of my chest ached, and tears streamed down my face.
But I wiped away the tears and chewed the bread again with a dry mouth.
I had already given up on finding my great-aunt. It wasn’t only because of the distance. Having been born and raised in Trabaches, I understood how meaningless a relative from a different faction was—how they were less kin than actual enemies.
Then where should I go?
After thinking alone, I concluded that I had nowhere to go, and if anyone would hire me as an errand boy, I could only attach myself to them and survive.
Origin, pride—such things were useless in this state. As my brother had said, survival was all that mattered.
If I were to find work, a larger city seemed better, so I left the village and set my sights on Gwale Castle, which I had heard of before.
And so on the fifth day, I arrived at Gwale.
“A room, please.”

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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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