Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 23

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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 23
The Winter Sword (23)

Boris had no idea where Belcruze was, but he cut a piece of the omelet and placed it in his mouth anyway.
His expression shifted oddly. A thickly sliced mushroom of some kind was caught between his teeth, and its flavor was peculiar—soft and moist, with an indescribable aroma that bloomed across his palate. Watching the boy’s face, Roznis spoke with evident pride.
“Truffle. The ones from our family’s Territory are quite renowned.”
Though it was his first time tasting such a delicacy, he recognized its excellence at once. Boris inclined his head slightly toward Roznis in gratitude for the explanation. Camia, standing behind Roznis, smirked faintly at her lips.
Afterward, Roznis continued to glance sideways at Boris as he ate, observing precisely how he wielded his utensils and his dining etiquette.
Gradually, she began to relax. She sensed that this strange boy was unlikely to commit any offense that would displease her.
Once the meal concluded, Boris’s spirits lifted somewhat from having eaten so well after such a long time. Yet he did not entirely lower his guard, sampling the fruit tart and tea that arrived as dessert with measured caution.
The Count, who had been sipping brandy, dismissed the servants before finally speaking.
“I should introduce myself properly. I am Ganimede da Belnoir, Count of Belnoir, located in southern Anomarad in Belcruze. This girl is my only daughter and heir, Roznis da Belnoir.”
Boris was momentarily flustered. When the other party introduced themselves so formally, he could not avoid revealing his own identity.
Boris hesitated inwardly, then reasoned that since the other man was a foreigner, he surely would not know of his relatively modest family, and so he spoke.
“I am Boris Jineman.”
But contrary to his expectation, the Count inquired further.
“The Jineman Family of Longord?”
There was no way to lie now. Boris eventually nodded. The Count’s expression grew puzzled.
“I’ve heard in passing that it’s a renowned martial family in Trabaches. Has some misfortune befallen your household?”
Fortunately, the Count did not indulge in the sort of baseless speculation that the novel-loving aunt had. At this point, there was nothing for it but to speak honestly.
Boris spoke briefly.
“My father passed away, and my Uncle has taken charge of the household.”
“Hmm….”
By Roznis’s understanding, Boris’s words did not immediately paint a clear picture of the situation. If his father had passed away and his Uncle was managing the household, shouldn’t he simply continue to receive protection under his Uncle’s care?
But if that were the case, it should have been phrased as “My father passed away, and my Uncle took charge of the household.” Yet in Boris’s words, no causal connection appeared.
The Count, however, soon nodded knowingly. Having frequented Trabaches often, he was somewhat aware of the country’s chronic problems.
“Ah, so it was a matter of differing political views. That explains it.”
“….”
Suddenly exposed to the shame of his own country, Boris’s face flushed. Simultaneously, he found himself detesting the ugly visage of the Republic, which knew only division and destruction. Though he was too young yet to render judgment on political matters, he was already a victim before he had even begun to learn.
He had heard that Anomarad was a monarchy—did that nation not suffer from such problems?
“Then where do you intend to seek refuge?”
Boris resolved to speak honestly.
“There is no fixed destination. However, I have heard that the Blacksmith of this castle might perhaps take me on as an apprentice, so I intend to seek him out.”
Roznis laughed softly upon hearing Boris refer to the Blacksmith as “sir.” This strange conversation seemed to amuse her. A touch of superiority also lifted her spirits.
“So you’ll become an apprentice at the Blacksmith’s Shop then. Did you have an interest in such work before? Do you think you’ll enjoy it?”
That was hardly the case. Boris shook his head and answered in the negative. Yet on the second question, he spoke differently.
“From now on, I shall endeavor to come to like it.”
Roznis, who had merely been laughing, suddenly interjected.
“Father, didn’t you say he was a nobleman? Do noblemen really work at blacksmith shops?”
“No, Rose. This country has no nobility. Rather, there are Electors and Senators who have been hereditary for a long time, and they select the people responsible for the nation’s important affairs.”
Roznis was the heir destined to inherit the Territory, so she had heard many things from her father. Thus she posed a question in return.
“Then what about the Territories within the nation? If there is no Nobility, who manages them?”
“The Territories have masters passed down through generations. However, even though they are lords, they are not Nobility. The lords seek out those among the Electors or Representatives whose ideals align with theirs, providing them with support and receiving aid in return. Since the lords’ votes determine the Electors and Representatives, securing their backing is of paramount importance. As a result, depending on whether the family they follow prospers or falls, the lords sometimes share the fate of the family they support, and through this process, the ownership of Territories can change hands.”
While the Count delivered his lengthy explanation, the matter of the Blacksmith’s Shop seemed to have receded into the background. Boris, observing that this foreign Count possessed considerable knowledge of our nation, spoke.
“For such reasons, I have shamefully imposed upon your hospitality for far too long, but I believe I should now make my way to the Blacksmith’s Shop. I had originally promised to visit this morning, and having arrived so late, I cannot in good conscience delay any further.”
The Count regarded Boris with a quiet, penetrating gaze and said nothing. Roznis, who had been contemplating various matters while listening to her father’s explanation, was unsettled by the shift in his demeanor and turned to look at Boris as well.
Just as Boris began to feel uncomfortable under their combined scrutiny, the Count spoke with direct candor.
“You said your name was Boris Jineman, yes? Rather than going to the Blacksmith’s Shop, how would you feel about traveling to Anomarad with us?”
Boris was startled, but it appeared Roznis was equally taken aback. She turned to her father with an expression of utter surprise.
“Father! You mean he’s coming with us? To our home?”
The Count smiled gently.
“That is a matter for young Jineman to decide. I have merely made a proposal.”
As father and daughter exchanged words, Boris, who had been stunned by the sudden proposal, finally gathered his wits. A question tumbled out immediately.
“Forgive me, but why?”
“Why, you ask? You wish to hear the reason? There are two choices. If you desire it, I will tell you the true reason, but I would advise you not to hear it.”
Boris lowered his eyes beneath the table. But soon he lifted his head with resolve and spoke.
“I wish to hear it.”
The Count replied without hesitation.
“Because I wish to use you.”
Boris drew a sharp breath. And he asked in return.
“Use me… is that what you said?”
Boris had harbored suspicion from the moment this unfamiliar nobleman had shown him unexpected kindness. When the Count even broached the subject of traveling together, he had judged without hesitation that the man intended to use him.
Thus he had intended to infer from the Count’s explanation how exactly he meant to use him. But now such a blunt answer had emerged, leaving him thoroughly confused.
The Count’s eyes gleamed with an enigmatic light—too multifaceted for a young boy like Boris to fully comprehend.
“I cannot stop at merely saying this much without explaining further. Very well, I shall tell you: I do not actually need you. I lack nothing, and with my beloved daughter, I desire no further children. Yet unexpectedly, a situation has arisen where I require a boy of precisely your age. In truth, a girl would serve just as well. I noticed you carry a fine sword.”
By this point, Boris’s eyes too had begun to shine with a light unbecoming of a child. He listened to the Count’s words with meticulous attention.
“Long ago, long before Roznis was even born, I made a wager with a friend before many witnesses. We agreed that when we each married and had children, we would have them cross swords when they turned thirteen, and the loser would grant the winner any wish they desired. Years passed, Roznis was born, and I had long forgotten about such a wager.”
Sensing the story would grow longer, Boris made an effort to focus even more intently. He knew that listening to overly lengthy tales could cloud his initial instincts.
“Then last year, after a very long time, I heard news of that friend again. He had fathered two sons, but unfortunately the eldest is an idiot, or so I was told. Upon learning that I had a daughter, he has been intensely training his younger son, raising him into a swordsman of remarkable skill for his age. What he desires is but one thing: my daughter, Roznis. He wishes to marry my daughter to his idiot son.”
“Good heavens!”
Roznis cried out in shock and dropped her cup. The servants who would have cleaned up the spilled beverage had already left the room. Roznis’s face went pale as she pressed her father.
“Father, is that truly the case? Am I to be married to an idiot?”
The Count looked at his daughter with a grave expression and shook his head.
“I stake my entire honor on this: no such thing will occur. Rest assured, Roznis.”
Reassured by her father’s firm words, Roznis felt somewhat calmer, though she still regarded Boris with a measure of anxiety. Boris asked.
“Then you wish to select me as the boy to fight that son? But I am not your son, so do I not lack the qualification to fight that boy?”
The Count replied.
“That is no obstacle. It would suffice to say that I have brought back a boy I had previously adopted and raised in another region. Beyond that, there are countless methods available, but those are all matters for me to manage—not your concern. You need only express your agreement or refusal to my proposal.”
Having said this much, the Count fixed Boris with a direct stare. When the bewildered Boris could not answer immediately, the Count continued.
“If you consent to my wishes, you will come with me to my castle in Anomarad and receive treatment no different from my own son, though your sword training will be rigorous indeed. You must absolutely defeat that boy who has trained for so long. There is not much time remaining. Next spring, before the flowers fade—sometime between April and May. If you succeed, I will reward you handsomely and provide you with sufficient support to live freely on your own.”
“What if I lose?”
The Count gazed down at me with an expressionless stare before speaking, his words clipped and deliberate.
“Are you already fretting over such things? I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve misjudged your character. Don’t worry yourself. I won’t punish you for failure. You need only quietly leave my house. Then I shall be forced to resort to far more unseemly tactics to prevent Rosnis from falling into his hands. I wish to conclude this regrettable affair by honoring the wager I made before so many witnesses.”
My face hardened as well. The Count was proposing that I negotiate with him as an equal—despite my youth.
This was no mere choice afforded to a well-mannered child grateful for an adult’s kindness. Such privilege belonged only to those with a guardian to protect them.
A faint melancholy settled over me then. Rosnis had her Father, who had stepped forward to negotiate and resolve the crisis threatening her, but I stood alone.
No one had offered me counsel, and no one could make decisions in my stead. Before a foreign nobleman of overwhelming wealth and power, I was merely a child without even a home to return to, yet I had to think through everything and manage it all by myself.
But soon I cast off such despondent thoughts. If no one would care for me, then I must care for myself. If I had only myself as my ally, then I must think with absolute clarity.
“Why did you choose me, specifically? I merely happened to receive your favor yesterday by chance. You hardly know me at all, do you?”

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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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