Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 228

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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 228.
Choose the Dawn (40)
Autumn arrived with September.
Jonggenal, the sorcerer who had gone somewhere in the afternoon, returned to the Khan Elector’s Residence in Ron looking suddenly aged. As he entered the conference chamber where the Khan Elector waited alone, he dragged his feet like a sick man.
“You’ve come.”
The Khan Elector sat facing the window. Everyone at the residence knew that his mood had been foul ever since the last report arrived.
Jonggenal stood before the Khan Elector but said nothing for a long time, his expression weary.
“Yes, it must not have been a pleasant sight.”
The Khan Elector nodded and gazed for a long while at the trees outside the window, their leaves turning to autumn hues.
“When the season ends… that’s how results come, like that.”
Jonggenal, who had been looking down at the floor, opened his mouth.
“The child did not die, or so I’m told. But he is already beyond recovery. He does nothing all day except tend to the child, I hear. I was unable to meet him myself.”
“The child must be ill.”
“There is apparently some form of madness… afflicting him. So they’ve confined him to a room…”
The Khan Elector turned his head toward Jonggenal.
“A frightening affair indeed. The child’s name was Yenichka, was it not?”
“….”
Seeing Jonggenal’s face, the Khan Elector asked no further and changed the subject.
“Still no word from Yurichi?”
“He has vanished without a trace. All Magic Communication Network signals have been cut off. He may well be dead.”
“Remarkable, truly. You’ve lost three of the Four Wings to nothing more than a child, or so you thought.”
The Khan Elector fell silent for a time, his mood souring the more he dwelled on it. After a moment, Jonggenal spoke.
“Ryusno may be different. He has already discovered the destination and completed his infiltration, or so it’s reported.”
“Let us hope so. The damage is considerable. If I lose Ryusno as well, I’ll become a vegetable like Blado.”
Of course, the Khan Elector was not the sort to become a vegetable over the loss of a few subordinates. Yet the bitter taste in his mouth was unmistakable. After a moment, Jonggenal asked.
“Then what shall be done? Will you reclaim the Longord Estate and the residence in Ron that you granted to Blado Jineman?”
“No. Leave it be. If I try to take anything more from such a man, I fear the consequences will be unpleasant for me as well. It’s absurd, but watching the affairs of that household unsettles me somehow. Send a full proxy to Longord, and I’ll strip Blado of his position but continue his stipend. And send a few physicians to that ailing child as well.”
“I regret to say it, but… physicians will likely be of no use.”
Jonggenal had been present at the place where Yulken died long ago. He had witnessed the monster’s existence firsthand and heard much of the madness from Blado himself.
When he first heard that the young boy had slain that terrible monster, his entire body had gone cold. Even if it was the power of the sword, it terrified him; if it was the boy’s own power, his spine had chilled all the more.
The Khan Elector seemed to be thinking the same thing.
“A child from a cursed house who alone survived in the end. He alone escaped the fate that entangled his family. That is truly remarkable above all else. I’m quite curious how he’ll proceed from here. Now I’m more curious about the future of ‘Boris Jineman’ than I am about the Winterer.”

Emerald waves struck the bow. It was splendid sailing weather.
A small island that revealed itself only at low tide floated to the east beyond the slate-blue waters. The sun that had painted the island’s peak in the early morning soon rose overhead, becoming a white disc.
The coastline, submerged and then exposed, rippled between the currents. The natural dock that revealed itself for only a few hours throughout the day was slowly opening.
A small boat entered the shallow, lapping waters, and a figure leaped out to tie the rope to a rocky outcrop.
Though winter weather meant wet feet would be bitterly cold, the figure paid no mind, wading through the water and climbing onto the sandy shore. She was about to walk along the rocky path toward the storage facility when a voice called out.
“Isolet! Someone is waiting for you at the top of the fortress!”
“Someone waiting for me?”
Isolet doubted her own ears. The tone suggested a guest had arrived. But how could anyone other than an islander possibly come here?
She climbed the stone steps leading to the fortress and reached the summit, where she stopped in her tracks.
“You….”
A figure stood before her, watching her approach.
“I’ve been watching the boat since earlier.”
Dark blue hair streamed like a long banner in the fortress wind. Moreover, he was smiling—a smile that made him look almost like a man despite being only seventeen years old.
“How are you here?”
I didn’t want to start with such words, but it seemed an unavoidable part of my nature. Boris gathered his disheveled hair as he spoke.
“Such words—still so like you. The commander of the Ebb Tide Island garrison has changed to someone more reasonable. If not, I would have had to take hostages.”
“What are you….”
Isolet stopped herself. The words she was about to speak were things she didn’t truly want to say at all. Pointless words that contradicted her heart—what use were such things?
“I came because I had business. But I’ve already caused considerable trouble. Now that I’ve seen you, I must leave soon. There was no other way. I had to come here and wait to be certain of meeting you. Isn’t that right?”
Ebb Tide Island was an unavoidable gateway to reach Moon Island. There had been a time when they both stopped here together, retrieved their supplies, and returned to the sea. Those days would never come again, yet the mere thought of them made her eyes grow misty.
A tentative smile finally appeared on Isolet’s face.
“It must have been difficult to come. How was the voyage?”
“You taught me how to handle a boat back then. Of course, being someone who can barely steer, I nearly died several times making the journey here alone.”
“It was reckless.”
“It was. But I had to come. So….”
Boris withdrew a small pouch from his breast. It was a delicate purse embroidered with clover. He stepped closer and handed it to Isolet.
As she pulled the drawstring, a crimson radiance dazzled her eyes. Isolet’s eyes widened in astonishment, and words escaped her. On the fortress peak where relentless winds always howled, the hair and cloaks and sleeves of the two figures before each other billowed in the gale.
The words they had meant to speak were carried away by the wind.
A silence pregnant with countless unspoken words. Isolet, who understood well what must be endured to obtain such a thing, now grasped why Boris had said nothing when she visited the Kaltz Estate.
It must have been a battle fought with death as the price. When they had spoken of Nauplion that day, both of them had wept, unable to bear it any longer.
What manner of being was Nauplion? Had he connected them so that they could only yearn for each other, or did he stand between them, preventing them from drawing any closer?
Yet the existence of this Red Heart was proof of how Boris regarded Nauplion. Isolet lifted her head and spoke.
“Boris, let’s return to the Island.”
Boris gazed intently at Isolet’s face, as if peering into her heart to understand what she meant. Then he shook his head.
“I cannot do that.”
“No, you must go back. You are the one who must be at his side. I will arrange things so that you can stay. So come with me.”
“Isolet.”
His darkened eyes searched hers. Isolet realized that Boris’s gaze had changed from when they parted on the Island.
He was no longer anxious, no longer shackled by the past. His eyes were those of a boy who had grown—who understood much, who knew what could not be done, and who knew how to accept it.
“There is still something I cannot abandon.”
As he spoke, Boris gazed at Isolet’s white hair—a handful of strands gleaming pale in the early winter sunlight.
I cannot touch her yet, but she remains here, unvanished. And for that reason… there is no need for tears.
“….”
Isolet sensed that Boris had answered what she had said months ago—that she could return if she married Liriope. Her hand trembled faintly as she tucked the pouch away. The boy facing her smiled slightly and spoke.
“That pouch was given to me long ago by Rosnis as a token of good fortune. You know of Rosnis, don’t you? It seems now that luck is needed by me, not her. And I have no need to keep it any longer.”
“I’ll deliver it.”
“And when I return to the Continent, I’ll be enrolling in school. I may live like children my own age. I’m not sure if I’ll manage well, but I intend to try.”
“Ah, congratulations… Where is it?”
“I’m not entirely certain of the location myself. They simply call it Nenyaple.”
Boris noticed Isolet’s discomfort. He understood the reason well enough. He stepped back and spoke.
“Actually, I’ve been here quite a while. About two weeks, perhaps? You must have been bored, surely?”
“Yes… What have you been doing?”
“I’ve been composing a chant.”
Isolet looked at Boris with slightly widened eyes before speaking.
“That is…”
“Of course I understand. But you see, I realized that this island exists in a blind spot where the Island’s taboos don’t apply. On the Continent, chants naturally cannot be used, and one cannot enter Moon Island, but this place is neither one nor the other. Normally I shouldn’t be able to enter here, but once I’m inside, singing a chant doesn’t seem to be a problem, does it?”
Isolet laughed despite herself at the absurdity. Hearing her laughter, Boris smiled and spoke.
“Would you like to hear it?”
Isolet was not the type to be bound by rules like the Island folk, so she quickly nodded and said:
“Go ahead. I’ll critique it for you.”
“Ah, you’ll do it now? Though there is a problem…”
“What problem?”
“Well, it’s that… it cannot be heard.”
Isolet was struggling to understand his meaning when a man climbed to the top of the fortress. As she turned, her eyebrows shifted subtly. It was none other than Hector.
Hector smiled awkwardly toward Isolet and spoke.
“I am Clantch, the newly appointed security commander of Ebb Tide Island.”
The Island folk did not use their true names even on Ebb Tide Island, so he continued using the alias he had adopted when he first ventured to the Continent. Isolet wondered if Hector had allowed Boris entry to Ebb Tide Island, then found herself puzzled once more. Even being generous, she could not say the two of them were on good terms.
In any case, Hector spoke to Boris.
“The window for mooring is closing. Are you departing this time?”
Boris shook his head.
“No, I’ll leave with the next low tide after watching Isolet depart.”
At that, Hector turned his gaze toward Isolet.
“If you intend to depart now, it would be wise to descend immediately.”
They all knew well how swiftly the low tide of Ebb Tide Island passed. If one did not descend immediately when it began to end, the boat would be swept away in accidents.
Above all, having received the Red Heart for Nauplion’s sake, Isolet had to return to the Island without a moment’s delay. Yet with Hector’s arrival, the two had been robbed of a proper chance to bid farewell.
“Ah… then.”
“Go safely.”
That was all. As Hector descended first and Isolet had taken perhaps two steps down the staircase, Boris opened his mouth.
“Would you… convey this to her?”
Wondering what ‘this’ could be, Isolet turned her body. But there was nothing in Boris’s hands. In her confusion, a chant flowed from the boy’s lips.

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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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