Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 22

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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 22
The Winter Sword (22)

Crack!
The whip lashed across his back and shoulders before he could dodge, tearing vicious wounds into his flesh. No child could remain standing after such a blow.
As Boris staggered and collapsed, they snickered and swung the whip again. The searing pain of split skin pierced through his mind. The whip’s end grazed his face, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
“Look at that—your brother’s teaching you manners, and you’re already learning to kneel.”
One of the men chuckled as Boris fell. Another spoke up.
“You understand now, boy? Beg for forgiveness on your knees before you end up a corpse.”
Tonya had stepped outside because of the commotion, and she witnessed the scene. Fury surged through her, but simultaneously, she felt helpless. She had no idea what humiliation she might suffer if she dared speak back to these well-dressed ruffians. After hesitating, she bolted back into the Inn and cried out.
“Father! Father, where are you! Bunin, come out here, please!”
Boris felt as though everything around him was buzzing like a swarm of bees. Shame burned hotter than the pain across his face. Without thinking, his eyes fell on the hilt of the Winterer at his side.
If only I had grown strong enough to wield this blade. If only my brother were here—if only Yefnen were here.
But such wishes were futile. Boris gritted his teeth and pushed himself up using the sword as a crutch. His legs trembled and could barely support him, yet he stood upright. He said nothing—neither protesting nor surrendering.
“What an insolent little wretch.”
One of them dismounted—the youngest of the four. He seized Boris by the collar and slammed him hard against the Inn’s wooden pillar. The impact was so violent the pillar shook.
“Brats like you need to be beaten into shape. How dare a beggar’s spawn talk back to a nobleman!”
Thud! Thud!
He drove Boris against the pillar twice more, then gripped his face with his left hand, pressing his fingers hard. The massive hand distorted the boy’s entire face, then twisted it to the side. As Boris’s neck bent nearly to the breaking point, he was slammed against the pillar again. The impact left his mind reeling and blank.
“Are you awake now?”
“…”
The blacksmith Bunin burst outside with Tonya and saw what was happening. The sturdy, action-first man was about to charge forward when a strange voice rang out from behind.
“What is this commotion!”
All eyes turned toward the sound. It seemed this was a day for mounted riders to arrive in succession.
Five new horses had stopped, and the man riding the white horse was the one who had just shouted. Tonya recognized him—he was the foreign nobleman who had entered the castle that evening.
“What?”
The man holding Boris turned his head. At that moment, two of the Count’s companions leaped from their horses and rushed over. They immediately seized the man, shoved him aside, and helped Boris to his feet.
Boris couldn’t comprehend what was happening. His head had taken such a beating that everything spun around him. He hung limply in the arms of those supporting him.
“Who do you think you are, interfering!”
The man who had wielded the whip shouted, and the Count’s voice rang out in response.
“I am not from this place, but I am not the sort to stand idle while cowards like you beat a defenseless child. If you wish to avoid tasting my blade, I suggest you withdraw at once.”
“Bold words for a stranger.”
It seemed the situation would escalate into swordplay. The sound of weapons being drawn echoed from various directions. The onlookers slowly backed away while positioning themselves to watch.
Tonya and Bunin stood helplessly, observing what unfolded before them.
Yet the fight the spectators anticipated never came. When the Count drew his blade and his men aligned their horses, the original ruffians proved no match. The Count’s swordplay was remarkable—he knocked two of them from their saddles in an instant, yet skillfully avoided delivering fatal blows.
The men who fell cursed loudly, but as their group fell back, their faces paled. They scrambled away on their hands and knees toward the shadows. The Count called out.
“Take your horses and be gone!”
Grateful they weren’t pursued further, they obeyed without a word and fled.
“Get the boy onto a horse. And find a physician in this area.”
As the Count issued his command, one of his men bowed and looked around before approaching Tonya to ask if there was a physician nearby. As she answered, Tonya felt an inexplicable bitterness.
“I’m not a physician, but if you turn down that alley over there, there’s a pharmacist grandmother living in the third house.”
Once the situation had concluded, the Count turned his horse toward Rosnis, whom his secretary Hugh was holding. Having witnessed the sudden sword fight, Rosnis’s eyes had grown wide, and she fidgeted anxiously.
“It’s alright, Rose. It’s all over now. Your father always said it, didn’t he? To witness injustice and simply pass by is to forfeit one’s claim to nobility. Remember this well. The Nobility possesses rights, but with those rights come equal duties.”
Rosnis watched as one of her father’s knights lifted Boris onto a horse. The boy was in a semi-delirious state. Because of this, he would never later recall what Rosnis said that day.
“I don’t like such a filthy child!”
Whatever Rosnis had said, the Count’s party departed from the Inn with Boris in tow.

“Ugh… mmm…”
Upon opening my eyes, I saw wallpaper adorned with blue salvia flowers. For a moment, I wondered if I had returned to Longord Estate. I felt as though I had entered Mother’s room, which was always empty.
It felt like that very bed into which I had crawled when younger and fallen asleep without realizing it. Back then, I had tried to catch the scent of Mother—a fragrance I could never detect myself, but which my brother always seemed to feel.
I had awakened from unconsciousness, but one eye was so swollen I couldn’t open it properly. The moment I realized where I was, something came to mind.
“My sword!”
As I tried to sit up, someone’s hand pressed me back down, and a cool, damp cloth was placed over my eyes. The owner of that hand spoke.
“Your sword?”
It was a voice I’d never heard before. It seemed to belong to a woman around forty.
“Where… am I?”
I tried to rise again. But that same hand pushed me back down mercilessly, and this time unwrapped the bandages around my shoulders. My initial assessment of a forty-year-old woman would need revision. The grip strength rivaled that of an ordinary man.
“Stay still for now. I’ll explain everything step by step.”
I waited as she unwrapped the bandages covering various parts of my body, cleaned the wounds, and rewrapped them with fresh ones. Once the treatment was finished, my body felt considerably better.
Opening at least one eye, I looked to the side and saw a large woman gathering the soiled bandages and basin. After another servant came in and took them away, the woman looked at my face.
“Where is your home?”
Mother’s room swam dizzily in my mind. I answered with my eyes closed.
“I don’t have one.”
“A vagrant? You don’t look like one. Tell me the truth. I’m not trying to torment you.”
The woman’s voice was blunt, but it didn’t seem to carry malice.
“Even if I have a home, I can’t return to it, so it’s as good as not having one.”
“Hmph, are you another runaway boy who thinks he’s the protagonist of a tragedy?”
Faced with such an absurd response, I didn’t know what to say.
“These comfortable fools don’t realize their own homes are the most comfortable places, running away and spouting nonsense about how their father only loves their younger brother, or how they can’t face going home because they said something hurtful to their mother…”
“…”
“Come now, speak honestly. Which house are you from? The clothes you’re wearing were tailored by a craftsman, and the only calluses on your hands are from gripping a sword—there’s no way you’re from a poor family. The Count showed you mercy and saved you, but you mustn’t think he’ll keep you forever. You should go home and clear up these ridiculous misunderstandings.”
I was beginning to think this woman had read far too many novels. And there was an unfamiliar word.
“A… Count?”
The woman paused while spreading a blanket over me, tilting her head.
“Yes, a Count. Oh, that’s right—didn’t you say this country has no Counts? The man who saved you is Count Belnoir, a nobleman of Anomarad. Surely you know what a Count is?”
Before I could answer, the door suddenly opened and a girl poked her head in.
“Willa!”
I didn’t recognize her, but the girl remembered me. Camia entered gracefully and made a face at me.
“See? This is what happens when you go into such an Inn.”
Camia clicked her tongue softly at the sight of my swollen eyes. Yet she seemed oddly pleased to see me again.
“It was fortunate that our master happened to pass through that very spot. The young lady was quite startled, but she’s fine now, and well… are you planning to return home?”
Though it was natural for an adult to ask such a question, it was odd for a peer to ask it so directly upon meeting. Moreover, unlike the older woman, Camia’s tone suggested she was hoping for a “no” in response.
Willa suddenly interjected.
“Of course that’s what should happen, Camia. The master must return to the Territory as soon as possible.”
Camia pretended not to hear the older woman’s words and changed the subject.
“Well, if there’s somewhere to return to, then I suppose I should go.”
Willa suspected that Camia, who had been staying close to Rosnis, had overheard something. Curiosity stirred within her.
“What did the master say to you? Hmm? Did Miss Rosnis tell you something?”
“Ah, well, it’s still not certain, you see.”
“This girl… well, I don’t even know her name, but did she manage to find out which family she belongs to?”
Boris tensed momentarily and looked at Camia’s face. But Camia shook her head.
“I don’t know. How would I know such a thing? Really, I should go back to the young lady. If she can’t find me, I’ll get scolded again.”
Camia rose from her seat and smiled at Boris.
“See you again.”

The Winterer lay beneath the bed, wrapped tightly in black cloth.
Only after retrieving it and holding it close could I finally fall asleep, though my mind remained somewhat unsettled.
I awoke from troubled dreams as evening fell, having slept through an entire day since the previous night.
Through my dizzy haze, the promise I’d made with Tonya surfaced in my mind. I resolved to tell these people who had been caring for me something of importance. Just then, Willa arrived with word that since she had recovered, I was to dine with the Count and his daughter.
The swelling around my eyes had subsided, and the wounds that had been bandaged were now covered by my clothes. With my appearance relatively presentable, I was led to the parlor-dining room that was apparently reserved only for the inn’s finest suite.
Upon entering, Count Belnoir and Rosnis were already seated in conversation. Willa and Camia were present to attend to the meal service.
“Come here.”
When the Count spoke first, Rosnis also addressed me in a relatively gentle voice.
“Welcome.”
There were many empty chairs, and I wasn’t sure where to sit. The Count pointed to the seat directly beside Rosnis.
“Sit there.”
The food began to arrive. For a dinner enjoyed by so few, it was remarkably abundant.
Thinly sliced ham and bread topped with white cheese, a plate of salad drizzled with olive oil—these were placed before us, and soon the main courses began to appear.
A large piece of bread sat in the center of the table. I didn’t understand its purpose at first, but watching the Count and his daughter, I soon realized. It was a rather luxurious tool for wiping away crumbs left on the plate.
Finely chopped and seasoned rabbit in earthenware, a large Belcruze sausage scattered with whole peppercorns, and thinly sliced lamb with a purplish hue—all arrived alongside red wine.
I had grown so numb to surprises that I barely reacted. I simply offered brief thanks and waited for the two of them before beginning the meal.
An omelet arrived somewhat later, and upon seeing it, the father and daughter exchanged a meaningful smile. The Count spoke.
“Once you taste this, you’ll understand the true flavor of Belcruze.”

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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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