Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 210

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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 210.
Choose the Dawn (22)
Bunin’s face betrayed his disbelief at Boris’s sudden announcement. The pleasant wine from the Spring Fair had sobered him entirely. After a long hesitation, he asked again.
“You’re truly certain about this?”
“…Yes.”
For Boris too, it was a decision laden with regret. Though in the moment of choosing he’d had no time for doubt, the sorrow of leaving Gwale behind weighed heavily upon him.
He had never imagined that the quiet life he’d grown accustomed to over ten months would end in such a manner.
“I had hoped you would stay much longer…”
“I had hoped the same, sir.”
Yet upon hearing the reason for Boris’s decision, Bunin nodded in understanding.
Several thousand elso was a sum even he could not grasp without selling the Blacksmith’s Shop itself. When told it was the sole keepsake of his only family, how could he fault the desire to reclaim it? As a man who had lost family, the two shared a kinship of sorrow.
Shortly after, Bunin smiled with his characteristic warmth and spoke.
“No, perhaps it was something special that you remained here at all. From the moment I first saw you, you didn’t seem like the sort to live quietly in such a village. I’m glad you’re going to a better place. Give them my regards. And know that if circumstances change, you’re always welcome to return.”
His departure was set for the very next morning.
That evening, Boris spent nearly all his money to purchase a pair of silk gloves, which he brought to Tonya as a parting gift.
Tonya too could not hide her bewilderment at the sudden decision. Boris presented the gift and spoke.
“When you have your wedding celebration, please invite me.”
“…”
She could only offer an awkward smile. Just as when he’d first arrived, he had to depart abruptly. Tonya could not even manage a proper farewell, tears welling in her eyes.
The next morning, just as he had five years before, Boris boarded a carriage with strangers bound for Anomarad.
“Shall I teach you?”
“No. I’m not interested.”
Late spring sunlight glimmered upon the terrace built entirely of white stone. Beneath the white table lay a line of blue and white ornamental pebbles. Along the railing, large, elongated green plants cast their shade.
The space was as broad as a modest room, with five chairs arranged about it. Yet only a single servant and two young boys were present.
The table overflowed with colorful fruits, pastries baked with raisins, sweet puddings, and more upon each plate. Weak steam rose from a floral teapot.
Yet nothing had been touched.
“You dislike parties, find the market merely adequate, find puppet shows tedious, show no interest in delicacies, care nothing for magic, don’t know card games—what is it you actually enjoy?”
“Not much.”
Lucian Kaltz spread both hands with an expression of exasperation, tilting his raised chin in a slow circle.
Unaware of why his mother, Lady Kaltz, had assigned Boris to him, Lucian had been greatly anticipating what sort of boy she’d brought—a peer his own age. He had never imagined the boy would be so utterly dull.
He’d looked impressive when he won the Silverscull Tournament, but as a companion for play, he was… disappointing.
“Oh, that’s right! You’re the Silverscull champion! You must enjoy swordplay, at least?”
Boris, who had been gazing at the landscape beyond the terrace railing, turned his gaze toward Lucian.
Lucian’s eyes sparkled, thinking he’d finally captured Boris’s interest.
“I learned a bit of it myself, you know? Shall we spar? What do you say?”
Boris regarded Lucian’s face for a moment, then lifted one corner of his mouth in a smile—a gesture of acceptance.
“Excellent! Then wait just a moment. Hey, Banana! Go ask if the Training Ground has been cleared, will you? Hurry!”
Lucian bustled about pushing the servant along, thoughtlessly grabbed a pastry and ate it, spoke with his mouth full and choked, drank tea to wash it down and cried out that it was hot, then suddenly decided he needed to change into clothes suitable for swordplay and dashed off into the manor.
Watching Lucian’s antics, Boris’s mouth gradually curved higher, and once everyone had vanished, he finally burst into laughter.
“Hahahaha…”
There was no one to hear his laughter. Only the birds in the branches fluttered away.
It had been five days since I arrived at Demerin Kaltz’s grand estate, nestled in the countryside south of Anomarad.
Unlike the antiquated Belnoir Castle, this grand manor emphasized practicality, beauty, and modern design—yet remarkably, it consisted of only a single floor. The only place with stairs was the Tower at its center, and radiating from that Tower, the single-story buildings sprawled out in a maze-like pattern.
Even Boris, who had lived in the Castle, took some time to grow accustomed to this house’s structure. But what proved even harder to adjust to was Lucian’s temperament.
Boris had met Lucian twice before. Once on the road to Rosenberg Gate when heading to cross into Lemme, and another time at the Silverscull Tournament grounds, of course.
I had suspected he was spirited, full of vitality, and somewhat irresponsible—but facing him directly, it all exceeded my imagination. Both his recklessness in not thinking ahead and his overflowing energy.
Exceeding imagination did not mean in a good way; it meant it was difficult to handle. So Boris unconsciously kept some distance and was careful not to get drawn in.
Yet the more I saw of him, the more amusing it became. This was Lucian’s house and Boris was a kind of employee, so establishing authority and giving orders would all be possible—yet Lucian knew nothing of such methods.
Rather, he seemed to be going to great lengths on his own to make things enjoyable, as if he had invited a guest. It was entirely different from the relationship Boris and Lanji had shared as young master and servant back at Belnor Estate.
Setting aside the matter of being an employee, when one ordinarily encounters someone who appears to be their complete opposite, one tends to hold back and probe rather than plunge in headfirst.
But Lucian was not like that. Like a mischievous child splashing into water without checking whether it was cold or hot, he spared nothing for the supreme principle of playing together.
Even calling it an unguarded personality would be a slight understatement. Not in a negative sense, but for an only child raised precious in the home of such a wealthy magnate, his personality was somewhat unusual.
Thinking such thoughts, Boris shook his head, wondering why he was taking such interest in that fellow’s affairs.
“Aha, found it! Look at this. This is a rapier. You know what that is, right? I quite liked this when I was younger, but I’d forgotten about it lately.”
Lucian, having changed his clothes and rushed over, held out a thin-bladed sword with a sharp point. At first glance, it was not a suitable blade for crossing swords with Boris’s weapon.
Yet Boris complied without hesitation and went with him to what was called the Training Ground.
After passing through several complex corridors and rooms, we arrived at the southern building where a spacious chamber with a brightly open ceiling appeared. Looking at one wall, I saw several practice swords hanging there. Boris selected one similar to Lucian’s from among them.
“Huh? You’re using that? What about the sword you usually use?”
“It’s not a fair match with yours. Shall we begin?”
It was worthwhile that I had deliberately chosen one with a dull blade. Lucian, having not held a sword for so long, even fumbled his basic movements and made mistakes in quick succession.
Boris’s blade lightly struck Lucian’s arm several times, but no wounds appeared at all.
“Ugh. I was good at this before! I should take up sword training again. Banana! Will you go ask Father to find me a teacher?”
The servant called “Banana” by Lucian, whose real name was Banada, yawned from beside him and replied.
“The master will surely not believe you, sir. How many times has the young master’s whim changed? We’ve already sent away several teachers after less than four days. Not just the master, but I myself won’t believe it either.”
It was the sort of response that would normally provoke a wealthy young master to shout at once, but Lucian merely tilted his head and simply accepted it.
“Is that so? Then perhaps it’s better to think about it a bit more? But I’m thirsty! Banana, go get me something to drink.”
“Very well, young master.”
As Banada disappeared down the corridor, Lucian set down his sword and asked with sparkling eyes.
“Where did you learn such magnificent swordplay? You weren’t good at it from the start either, were you? How old were you when you began?”
I already knew that when Lucian asked multiple questions at once, there was no need to answer all of them.
“Everyone needs a teacher at first.”
“Then couldn’t you teach me a bit?”
Boris shook his head. Lucian asked with a disappointed expression.
“Why?”
“Because it’s obvious you won’t listen to me.”
“If I listen well, you’ll teach me?”
Boris flatly quoted what the servant had said.
“I don’t believe it.”
“What! You’ve only been at our house for a short time and already you don’t believe in me? Look, I understand that Father and Mother don’t believe in me. I understand that Banana doesn’t believe in me too. It’s reasonable enough when I think about it myself. But you haven’t seen everything I do, and you still don’t really know me yet…. What am I even saying right now?”
Boris, listening, could neither laugh nor do anything but wear a bewildered expression. Lucian, who had been trying to untangle his twisted words, suddenly exclaimed.
“Fine, fine! I’ll swear to listen well, so teach me already! It’s only fun when you win sometimes and lose sometimes, but if I keep losing, it’s no fun for you or me, right? What should I swear on? Hmm… Should I write out a pledge?”
The word “pledge” was something I had hastily invented by rearranging terms I’d heard Father use before—”proxy,” “appointment,” “lawsuit,” and the like. I was scratching my head, uncertain if it even made sense, when Boris spoke.
“You don’t need paper. If you want to make a promise, do it this way. One hour of practice every day. When you break it, you call me Elder Brother the entire day and treat me as such. Can you do that?”
Lucian seemed to hesitate at the mention of an hour’s practice every single day, but true to his carefree nature that never dwelled on tomorrow, he soon cried out.
“Deal!”
“….”
Boris said nothing, merely studying Lucian’s face. Slightly shorter than Boris, Lucian playfully contorted his golden eyebrows in alternation before looking up at Boris in return.
After a moment, Boris spoke.
“Why?”
“Why what? What do you mean why?”
Lucian, seeing Boris’s solemn expression, waved both hands before his face as if to say “lighten up.” But Boris did not laugh and pressed on.
“Why are you so determined to learn swordplay when you don’t even particularly enjoy it, when you’re willing to accept such troublesome conditions?”
Then Lucian replied with an expression as if the answer were obvious.
“Because you said everything else is boring except swordplay?”

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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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