Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 241

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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 11.
Not Every Child Is an Angel (11)
Timon pretended to see Tomison for the first time, but he had actually investigated him long ago. He knew that Tomison wasn’t particularly close to Joshua. His interest in Tomison stemmed, of course, from Joshua.
Timon despised anyone of noble birth, and the higher their rank, the more he despised them. Among the many nobles at Mona Sid School, there was only one from a ducal house—Joshua. Had it been merely that, Timon would have contented himself with snide remarks from the shadows, but Joshua was impossible to ignore.
His intellect was so brilliant that dismissal became futile, his face was beautiful, and he was the choir’s finest soloist—all at the mere age of nine!
That a noble—a being who rightfully should have been expelled from the Republic—possessed such excellence was deeply offensive. Timon believed without question that nobles and commoners were born with equal worth.
Having pushed this conviction to its extreme, he had come to believe their abilities should be equal as well. The reason nobles appeared superior to commoners was that they monopolized knowledge through wealth and power they had unjustly seized, and above all, because they were freed from the burden of survival and had the leisure to learn and master anything.
Yet Joshua’s excellence seemed to argue the opposite: “Look, aren’t nobles simply born this magnificently?” His very existence muddied the students’ values with a false example.
Whenever Timon heard rumors about Joshua, he ground his teeth and repeated that this was precisely why nobles should be imprisoned as soon as possible. To such a Timon, a wretch like Tomison—born of peasant stock yet thoughtlessly following such a being—was unbearably repugnant. To prevent such a sight, the duke’s son should be expelled from the school without delay!
Then Tomison’s voice reached his ears.
“Noble or not, music has its own standards. A song is merely a song. Joshua isn’t my friend, and he has no interest in me. But I will cherish his singing in my heart for the rest of my life.”
“What foolishness! Joshua von Arnim is an enemy of the Republic whose very existence brings harm!”
“Does the Republic not need beautiful art, senior?”
“The Republic is… the Republic itself is perfectly sufficient!”
Tomison glanced at the chessboard left half-finished on the round table.
“Then the Republic has no need for chess games that you enjoy either, does it, senior?”
It had been a long time since a junior challenged Timon to a verbal sparring match. Moreover, since it was a newly enrolled junior, Timon’s face twisted all the more.
“Chess? Yes, well said. I’ll beat that rotten servile nature out of you. Come here and sit. That’s an order from your senior.”
Timon returned to the round table and pulled the chessboard toward him. He scattered the game in progress and arranged the pieces back in their starting positions, then beckoned Tomison with his finger. When Tomison reluctantly approached and sat across from him, Timon spoke with a tone that was mocking yet subtly menacing.
“You must know a lot about art. You have such excellent taste, don’t you?”
“….”
“Chess is a form of art too. It’s full of beautiful moves. Anyone who knows how to play chess wouldn’t deny that it’s an art. Isn’t that right, Giles?”
Giles readily agreed.
“Of course.”
Timon looked at Tomison again. He swept his gaze across Tomison’s face, stiffened with anxiety, and continued.
“So naturally, you play chess well too, don’t you? If you beat me, I’ll acknowledge your discernment, and I won’t care whether you praise Joshua von Arnim or worship him as a god. But what if I win?”
Timon picked up a white pawn as he spoke.
“Then it means you know nothing about art, and you must loudly declare right here that ‘songs sung by some noble nobody are unnecessary for the Republic.’ Understood?”
Timon’s pawn landed on E4 with a crisp, pleasant sound.
Theo was crossing the snow-covered garden of Mona Sid School. In his hands, which looked incongruous in his black coat, he carried a bundle wrapped in pink cloth. Inside the bundle were pastries that Ivnoa had baked with great care this morning—and which were therefore all the more of a disaster.
The pastries, made with vanilla and yeast poured in haphazardly, had a flavor difficult to describe, and half of them were charred black. Only the Arnims and Theo would willingly eat such pastries, but Ivnoa believed her younger brother Joshua would as well.
Theo’s thoughts differed, but he had not refused Ivnoa’s request—or rather, her relentless insistence—that he bring these delicious pastries to his younger brother at school.
Theo had come alone. He had ridden a shared carriage from Jade Ring Castle to here. The carriage bearing the House of Arnim’s crest was best not taken out given recent circumstances, though there were still several horses in the stable. Theo was, of course, an excellent rider. Yet instead of going to the stable master, he had chosen to sit alongside servants and hired workers, swaying as the carriage jolted along.
Classes had ended, but no students were outside playing in the cold weather. Passing the frozen pond, the bare tree shadows, and snow-covered benches, he was heading toward the dormitory when cheerful laughter spilled out from inside a nearby building. Theo unconsciously stopped and peered within.
Students in black tunics were gathered in small groups, chattering and joking. Chairs scattered haphazardly by the fireplace, plates with leftover snacks, a steaming kettle—all were visible. An unfinished chessboard, overturned books, crumpled scraps of paper. Nothing particularly splendid or impressive, yet Theo found himself gazing at them for a long time.
Theo had entered the Arnim Mansion at nine years old and, after becoming engaged to Ivnoa the following year, had lived there ever since. He had never attended school. It was a distant memory since he had mingled with peers his own age. At twenty-two, Theo’s only conversational partner was a five-year-old betrothed.
Joshua was not visible inside. But if this was where students spent their time after classes, he would come here soon enough, and if not, Theo could simply leave the bundle and go.
Yet Theo did not enter; instead, he waited. As he stood there, a person who appeared to be a teacher walked down the passage between buildings. When the person stopped upon seeing Theo, Theo approached and spoke with a respectful bow.
“Good day. I’ve come looking for a student named Joshua von Arnim. Could you direct me to where I might find him?”
Upon hearing the name Arnim, Meterman flinched and furrowed his brow before asking a question.
“Who are you? Are you his Elder Brother?”
Theo nodded readily.
“Yes, I am.”
“He’s not in the Study Room? Then you should try the Dormitory. It’s over that way.”
Theo already knew where the Dormitory was, but he smiled broadly and offered his thanks. At that, Meterman’s head tilted slightly.
“You’re quite different from your younger brother.”
“My younger brother is still young and must be causing you considerable trouble. I humbly ask for your forgiveness.”
Meterman’s expression grew uncomfortable as he recalled today’s lesson, then one corner of his mouth lifted.
“The trouble is something we’re all causing your brother, really. How difficult it must be for ordinary people like us to endure someone like him.”
This instructor knew of Joshua’s abilities. If so, he must be quite a capable teacher. Someone like this would be suitable for spreading word.
Rather than reveal his thoughts, Theo laughed as though flustered.
“Hearing you say such things makes me even more anxious. I had hoped he would only behave this way at home, but to think he’s acting the same at school. And after he complained so much about hearing the word ‘Demonic.'”
“Demonic? What’s that?”
“It’s something like a bad tradition passed down through our House of Arnim. It’s difficult for me to explain in detail myself. In any case, everyone is worried about Joshua because of it, and I can only hope he’ll be all right.”
Theo bowed once more and waited for the instructor to leave first. Then, instead of heading to the Dormitory, he peered back into the Study Room. At the round table in the center, a new chess match was just about to begin.
“So, what do you think of this? Does it appeal to you?”
Tomison stared at the chessboard intently instead of answering. Everyone watching this match knew Tomison had no chance of winning. Only Tomison himself, ignorant of chess, remained unaware. Timon captured Tomison’s red pawn and stretched languidly.
By now, most of the students from Cookie Hall had gathered to watch the chess match between Timon and Tomison. It was a contest that could never be interesting from the start. The school’s best player was facing merely a beginner who barely knew the rules—it was inevitable. Yet people did not readily leave their seats.
Tomison had no idea when or how the game would end. He barely understood what checkmate was, so he lacked the ability to read the board position. For that reason, he clung persistently to the game, unaware that he had no chance of winning.
Timon’s situation was the opposite—he already knew he had won before even the fourth move was exchanged, but he deliberately refrained from calling check and continued playing. His intention was purely to toy with his opponent. He circled around, and each time his opponent eagerly rushed in, he captured another piece, flaunting his superiority.
The onlookers were waiting to see when Tomison would realize he was acting like a rat trapped in a box, and whether he could bear the penalty after losing.
They all knew that Tomison had never once backed down from his opinion regarding Joshua. Could someone like Tomison really say that Joshua’s singing was unnecessary for the Republic?
But as the predictable game repeated itself, boredom began to set in. When a few people left, gaps appeared around the crowded table. At this moment, Tomison launched into another round of attempting to read the position, and the spectators quieted down. Timon, amused by Tomison’s serious expression, failed to notice his surroundings.
“May I finish this?”
It took a moment to realize who had spoken and to whom the words were directed. Timon’s eyebrows shot up sharply, and a murmur rippled through the crowd. Tomison, the last to grasp the situation, knocked over the chess piece he had just placed and barely managed to set it upright again.
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Month Books
The copyright to this book belongs to the author and 14 Month Books.
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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