Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 232

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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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Episode 2.
Not Every Child Is an Angel (2)
In the darkness, it was no simple task to drag the boat through the channel beneath the arch-shaped rocks. The two of us strained at the oars for what felt like an eternity.
Barely past the arch, a cliff that made my skin crawl merely by looking up at it stretched on for a while before a fissure appeared. It was just wide enough for a boat of this size to squeeze through. When Fran pointed toward it, Timil let out a sharp cry.
“No, hold on, Captain! How do you plan to turn the boat around in a place like that?”
“Don’t worry.”
“Don’t worry? Don’t you realize that if we can’t turn the boat around, we can’t go home? This isn’t some distance we can swim back, and you know there’s not a single tree on this island to build a raft with, right? Are we setting up house here now?”
“That won’t happen, so just do as I say.”
If I hadn’t witnessed Fran’s skill in finding the sea route just moments ago, Timil wouldn’t have obeyed. There was a possibility that this narrow channel might lead to a wider bay, but it was truly treacherous terrain to plunge into blindly.
I considered whether I’d become the companion of another suicide mission, but Fran’s expression was serious. Since we couldn’t abandon everything now and turn back, there was nothing to do but try as he suggested.
“Damn it, feels like we’re crawling into the devil’s throat.”
“How did you know? That’s exactly what this channel is called.”
Timil let out a hollow laugh.
“I guessed right, but will you give me a prize? I’d really like to get my life back.”
“Hmm. I’ll think about it.”
Think about it and then decide whether to kill me or let me live? But there was no time to argue—I’d already pushed the bow into the channel.
We traveled through the channel for a while longer before finally reaching a dead end. By then, the rain had begun to ease. Timil, who examined the cliff first, asked in a trembling voice.
“Is this the end? Really?”
Fran nodded and stood up. He examined the cliff like Timil did, but unlike Timil, he quickly found what he was looking for. Fran grasped a protruding stone at one corner of the cliff and turned to look back.
“Follow me.”
“What did you say?”
Fran said nothing more and propelled himself upward, finding suitable crevices in the stone and wedging his hands and feet into them. In this manner, he climbed the wet cliff in mere moments, ascending about a dozen steps. Then he shifted two paces to the left, looking around as if searching for something.
As he did, grumbling sounds grew closer from behind—complaints that I was a sailor, not a mountain climber, that the only thing I’d ever climbed was a mast top, and that any place a person needed to ascend surely ought to have humanity’s greatest invention, a rope, properly secured.
Fran waited for Timil to draw near before speaking.
“Catch this.”
“What?”
“Humanity’s greatest invention.”
It really was a rope. Where had it come from?
I thought it hadn’t descended from heaven like a gift from the gods, but when I looked up, the rope was indeed hanging from the top of the cliff. It simply hadn’t been visible from where the boat was positioned due to the angle.
“Where on earth did this come from? Who put it here?”
“You’ll find out once you climb up.”
“That means… you don’t know either, Captain?”
Fran, having grasped the rope, began climbing much faster and offered no reply. Timil, straining to follow, barely managed to reach the top of the cliff. And there I encountered a sight I had never anticipated.
“What… what is all this…?”
Fran, who had climbed ahead, was there. Bound.
There were nine men surrounding Fran. All of them were armed with curved swords, clubs, and short blades. Their heads were wrapped in colorful scarves of various kinds. Half were barefoot, the rest wore leather sandals. In other words, they were pirates.
When I saw the sash draped across the leader’s shoulder, my legs began to tremble uncontrollably. About a decade ago, this was the gang of Left-Handed Igor, infamous for ruthlessly plundering the coast in just three hours and impaling the village headman’s skull on a stake before vanishing—the very sash adorned with the skull of a monkey the size of a fist.
The leader, whose eyes met mine, pointed a finger at Timil.
“Hey, tie that one up too.”
Two pirates rushed forward, twisted my wrists, and bound them, then kicked my rear to make me walk. I could only stare blankly at Fran’s face, unable to utter a single word of protest.
There was nothing to say even if I tried. Why here of all places? What was I supposed to do? Who would I meet? I knew nothing, so how could I possibly beg for my life when I didn’t even know what to say?
Yet absurdly, Fran offered no protest either.
How many of these bastards were there? Looking around proved useless. It was the dead of night, and the torches held by the pirate gang blazed so blindingly bright that they swallowed everything beyond a few paces. I tried to think of alternatives. Left-Handed Igor had vanished from Keltika Waters long ago. I’d heard he’d received a royal pardon and decided to head south instead. So why was he encamped here of all places?
But what could I, Timil, possibly demand of him in the king’s stead?
Having lived thoughtlessly most of my life, my reasoning fell apart whenever I tried. Would I end up as nothing but a stick instead of a torso? I didn’t want to become that thin. How shocked would the people of Harbor Town be if they learned King’s Island was a pirate den? But I’d need to survive and return to tell them that story, wouldn’t I?
Wait—could the reason I never knew until now be…?
“Hey there.”
Calling out to the captain now would only earn me another kick, I figured. Fran, walking a step ahead, merely shrugged instead of answering.
“Did you know this would happen?”
“I suppose.”
“You suppose? If I’d known about this, I absolutely wouldn’t have come here.”
“You wouldn’t have.”
“Wait—does that mean you knew and hid it from me?”
As the conversation dragged on, a pirate kicked at my heels. We fell silent and crossed the barren Wasteland where even grass barely grew. When the six torches ahead stopped flickering, I stared intently forward.
My eyes widened.
“What is that? Why is it… there?”
I wasn’t seeing things. I couldn’t be seeing things. Even with just a faint outline, what sailor wouldn’t recognize a ship?
A ship sat alone in the middle of the Wasteland. It was a large three-masted sailing vessel. Such a ship, once launched, would never return to land—in fact, it should have been built on water from the start.
To see such a ship perched atop a Cliff rising more than a hundred paces above the beach was enough to make my eyes bulge from their sockets. Had it flown here?
“Stop here! Wait!”
The Gang Leader barked the order and dashed toward the ship alone. Now that I thought about it, the pirates’ behavior seemed odd compared to what I knew. These were men famous for laughing even as a wrist was severed, yet they hadn’t cracked a single joke. Their demeanor was solemn—almost like the king’s Knights. Where had they recruited a pirate king from?
Moments later, two new figures came running from the ship and whispered something to the waiting pirates. Suddenly, the pirates’ eyes nearly popped from their heads in shock.
“What? Is that really true?”
The newcomers looked less like pirates and more like polished Nobility secretaries. Yet they gossiped freely with the pirates, making it impossible to understand anything.
In any case, the pirates’ attitude shifted dramatically. They immediately freed Fran’s and my hands, then gestured awkwardly for us to follow the secretary-like figures. We’d gone from captives to guests—that much was certain—but the pirates seemed confused themselves, bowing at the waist as if in reverence before suddenly scratching between their toes, their behavior thoroughly erratic. Yet one man remained unsurprised from beginning to end.
“Much obliged.”
Fran offered a greeting and began walking after the two secretaries. I hurried to catch up and asked.
“What on earth is happening? Was there a misunderstanding? And what do you mean by ‘obliged’? If you’re talking about the kicks to my backside, I could repay that personally.”
“That opportunity might come yet.”
We climbed the gangway set against the ship’s side. Since it connected to land rather than sea, I wondered if calling it a gangway was appropriate, but there was no other name for it anyway.
The ship appeared to have remained here quite some time. Grass sprouted through the gaps in the gangway planks, and black moss traced patterns along the waterline’s salt residue.
As we climbed, the deck grew increasingly chaotic. Standing at the point where the deck came into view, I saw nearly a hundred men and women in various states of dress staring intently at us. Receiving such awkward attention, I let out a nervous cough.
“Ahem, heh, heh. Um.”
There were pirates, Mercenaries, monastery scribes, circus acrobats—every conceivable type of person imaginable. It was like a masquerade ball. And they kept multiplying.
Fran paid the attention no mind. But the moment he stepped onto the deck, a welcoming figure burst forth. A massive man. Seeing him, I immediately wanted to turn and flee.
“Ah, so it’s you! I can tell at a glance. I’ve heard much about you. I’ve always wanted to see you once. Perfect timing! People call me ‘Left-Handed Igor,’ you see? As a sign of welcome, care to taste my left hand?”
With that, he drew a wickedly impressive sword from his waist. I hastily pulled back the foot I’d been about to place on the deck, but it was already too late.
“Hey there! Are you part of his group? How about you and I have a go!”
Another man leaped from the crowd and gestured. I jumped in alarm, shoved the person behind me, and tried to leap down beneath the gangway. Then the young man who looked like a secretary smiled and spoke.
“Oh my, you don’t have a sword. Shall I provide one for you?”
And then he actually drew his sword and held it out to Timil? But Timil, as if to say he had no use for such pointless courtesy, turned away and rushed headlong down beneath the bridge. What was with these mad fools offering to cross blades in welcome? Ah, right—pirates. Still, I’d never heard of a monstrous pirate captain who kept Left-Handed Igor among his subordinates.
But before Timil could even set foot on the ground, he encountered the pirates who had been dragging them along.
“Well now, where do you think you’re going?”
He was dragged back up after all. In the meantime, something heavy crashed down with a heavy thud, and screams erupted from the crew. Timil descended to the deck on trembling legs, muttering a mixture of prayers and curses. And there he encountered yet another unexpected sight.
Children of the Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Months Publishing
The copyright to this book belongs to the author and 14 Months Publishing.
To reuse all or part of the contents of this book, written consent from both parties is required.

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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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