Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 26

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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 26
The Winter Sword (26)

Rosnis nodded enthusiastically and clapped her hands together.
“Exactly! Let’s go to the Study, big brother. Oh, the Study is a place with SO many books.”
Boris understood what a Study was. The image of his Father sitting in the Study during his lifetime suddenly came to mind.
Even at Longord Estate, the Study was a place Boris could not easily enter as long as his Father was inside. There, his Father would summon the butler Tulk and issue instructions the young boy could not comprehend….
It was strange. Boris found it odd that he missed his Father, who had always been stern and cold. It was different from his nostalgia for his brother. His Father’s existence symbolized his old life itself.
The Study was on the third floor. Before Boris could even open the door and admire the sea of books, an unexpected incident erupted. Rosnis suddenly rushed in with angry strides, raised her finger, and raised her voice.
“Langie! Are you reading Father’s books without permission again?”
A boy stood before the bookshelf. From his attire, it was clear he was an employee. Yet in his hands, he held a thick book open. He appeared to be about their age. His pale sky-blue hair was disheveled, and his forehead was pale and straight.
For some reason, this boy felt unlike anything Boris had seen in Anomarad thus far. He was fundamentally alien to this prosperous land.
Cool and clear.
Yet regardless of atmosphere, he was a boy with such refined features that he would stand out anywhere.
Langie showed no confusion before the angry Rosnis—he simply closed the book. Then he glanced at Boris over his shoulder.
Boris was somewhat startled when their eyes met. Unless the light was playing tricks on the color, the boy’s irises were deep crimson.
I learned for the first time that eyes of such a color existed in this world. Those ruby-like eyes were far more beautiful than I had expected.
“Sneaking into Father’s Study and stealing a peek at books!”
Before Langie could reshelve it, Rosnis quickly snatched the book and hurled it to the floor. Camia gasped in surprise and quickly picked up the fallen book. Seeing one corner of the cover bent, she fidgeted nervously, trying to straighten it properly.
However, Rosnis, the one who had thrown the book, paid no mind and raised her finger, poking Langie’s forehead repeatedly.
“Know your place! Should I tell Father and have you cast out?”
Boris was curious what this boy—a mere servant yet possessing noble bearing—would say in response. However, his expectations were disappointed.
“I apologize, Miss. I was wrong.”
Was it unreasonable to expect anything else?
Yet the tone was slightly different from obedience. Rosnis, having been treated as a young lady for so long, was quick to notice such nuances. Still dissatisfied, she took a step back and shot a glance at Boris before speaking.
“I’m letting it slide today because my brother is here. If I catch you doing this even once more, I’ll tell Father!”
The word “brother” must have been unfamiliar, yet Langie showed no curiosity. He simply bowed and left. Camia quickly shelved the book.
Only then did Rosnis check whether the book had been damaged.
“Well, it should be fine. This much won’t hurt.”
She had always thought she knew how to handle servants to some degree. But that attendant her Father had brought back from Keltika last year was not so simple.
On the surface, he bows his head when scolded and obediently accepts even unreasonable tasks. Yet increasingly, I felt a strong sense that he regarded a small young lady like me as beneath his notice.
Given his position, he would bend as much as I wished, but that gaze seemed to say: my heart is not yours to command—and that displeased me.
A good servant would anxiously gauge whether the master was melancholy, whether something angered them, carefully reading the mood and doing their best to please them, hoping to receive praise or reward, and if not, accepting it as inevitable—a relationship where the master wins if they wish to win, and where one plays the fool if the master wishes to boast. That was the kind of servant Rosnis wanted.
Though we were the same age, I was the young mistress and he was the servant—attempting to maintain an equal relationship like that seemed nothing but repugnant.
However, Langie had one weakness: his younger sister.
“You’ve seen enough? Let’s go.”
Rosnis’s elevated mood suddenly cooled, and she turned away coldly as if to say she had never intended to show him the Study in the first place, then left.
Boris had never been particularly interested in books. But before leaving, glancing at the densely packed bookshelves, he thought they might suit a boy like Langie—one who sneaks in and reads one volume after another—more than someone like the Count who merely gathers necessary knowledge.

“The person you are looking at is Boris Belcruze, whom I took as my adopted son seven years ago. From now on, since he will be living with us in the Castle, you must serve him with the same devotion you show Rosnis.”
“Understood, my lord.”
The elderly butler Malku answered on behalf of the assembled staff. Boris had already heard that this old man hailed from Trabaches, and he was wary of him from the start, though the butler seemed not to notice his caution.
In the second-largest hall within the Castle, every eye among the servants was fixed upon Boris.
The Count’s hand rested upon Boris’s shoulder, and they appeared as genuinely father and son. The Count possessed black hair, which contrasted sharply with the bright locks of his wife and daughter, making him appear all the more similar to the dark-haired Boris.
Some servants tilted their heads in speculation, wondering if perhaps the boy was not an adopted son at all, but rather a child born of the Count and another woman.
Boris found it uncomfortable to be scrutinized by so many people, their imaginations running wild, yet he considered such trivial matters insignificant. When he thought of the tightrope he was about to walk, he could not afford to be discouraged by this. Composure, boldness, and caution—these would be his guides.
“Now then, choose a servant from among these who suits your fancy. Or if you have specific preferences, tell me and I shall select an appropriate person for you.”
I wished to avoid a situation where I would have to scrutinize my every gesture and movement before an elderly servant. Moreover, if I could not predict when I might make a mistake, it would be far easier to gloss over such lapses with someone closer to my own age.
“Someone around my age would be preferable.”
As I spoke, my gaze found Langie standing at the end of the line.
It would not have mattered if it were someone else. Perhaps a servant who was somewhat less clever, easier to deceive and manage, would have been preferable to one too sharp-witted.
Yet I found myself increasingly curious about what sort of person Langie was. It was not quite affection—it was closer to curiosity. Langie was different from Anomarad, and different from me as well. That difference drew my interest.
The Count’s expression grew somewhat troubled, but he spoke soon enough.
“The boy standing at the very end is Langie. Do you wish to take him as your servant?”
“Yes.”
Even as the decision was made, Langie did not gaze at Boris with particular interest. When the Count gestured, he simply stepped forward and bowed.
“I am Langie Rosenkrantz, young master.”
Upon hearing that voice, Boris understood how Rosnis perceived Langie. He felt it in that very moment—the bow appeared submissive, yet it carried not even a hint of genuine respect.
“I am Young Master Boris. Serve me with utmost dedication. From this moment forward, attending to me shall be your foremost duty. You may cease all other tasks you have been assigned.”
“Yes, my lord.”
His reply to the Count carried the same tone, yet the Count, being an adult, paid no heed to the subtle emotional state of a young servant.
As the servants dispersed, the Count seemed to have matters to discuss with Malku, the butler, and gestured for the two of them to depart.
They walked side by side into the corridor. Langie spoke first.
“Shall we proceed to your chambers, young master? I will explain the things you ought to know to live comfortably within the Castle.”
This time, hearing a voice that was even cold, Boris merely nodded.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
As they walked toward the chambers, their footsteps happened to synchronize. Moments later, Langie deliberately adjusted his pace. Boris sensed something and this time matched his own steps to Langie’s rhythm. When their footfalls aligned once more, Langie’s pace slowed further.
After this continued several times more, Boris spoke abruptly.
“If it troubles you, I shall go ahead.”
Without waiting for a reply, Boris surged forward, opened the door, and entered.
He turned to watch Langie follow him inside. After closing the door, Langie walked to the center of the ornate parlor and looked directly at Boris.
“Please, be seated.”
The two sat facing each other in silence for a moment. Boris spoke first.
“I am thirsty.”
Langie rose. He poured water from a silver pitcher on the tea table into a glass, brought it on a tray, and set it before Boris, the water sloshing gently in the cup.
“Please, drink.”
It was like a puppet show in a toy theater. Neither of us could afford to ruin the performance, so we exchanged stilted, perfunctory words.
Boris lifted the glass with movements that were somehow perfectly measured, drank the water, and nodded.
“Tell me what you said you would.”
“Allow me to first explain the daily life of the Master’s family.”
Looking into Langie’s crimson eyes made something feel strange. His calm voice continued.
“The Master inspects the Territory roughly once every ten days and travels abroad about once every two months. Most journeys are to Keltika, with the remainder to neighboring territories with whom we’ve maintained trade relations through special goods. Shorter trips take about five days, but longer ones can stretch beyond a month.”
By that account, the Count seemed to leave the Territory quite frequently.
“When at the Manor, he spends most mornings in the Study and afternoons conversing with the Countess, taking walks with Miss Rosnis, or similar pursuits. He enjoys hunting and often leads the knights on expeditions lasting several days. The Master is generous with those around him, but he does not forgive easily when propriety is breached.”
It was an explanation subtly devoid of emotion—like reciting memorized lines.
Boris showed little reaction and simply waited for him to continue.
“The Countess rarely ventures outside. She primarily spends her time embroidering in the salon within the Manor, taking in the sun, or writing letters. She rises very early in the morning and retires early as well. Since the Countess’s health is delicate, she can be deeply hurt by minor mistakes. Please attend carefully to her moods and sensibilities.”
Boris understood what Langie had tactfully implied. The Countess would be a very exacting mistress to the servants—and likely just as demanding of him, however briefly he played the role of her son.
“As for Miss Rosnis…”
Langie trailed off slightly before stopping. Boris, who remembered the morning’s incident, was curious what he might say.
“You already understand her nature well enough, I imagine.”
The boy Langie possessed a talent for extracting himself from awkward situations.
Yet he continued speaking nonetheless—about the rooms and halls he would frequently pass through and their purposes, how to use the furnishings in this chamber, the temperaments of the servants, the composition of the Territory, and the special occasions held here.
“…Next month, when the Countess’s birthday arrives, many guests will come from the capital and various other places. The most important guests are relatives from the Countess’s family, House of Cressant, and the wives of families who serve that House. The celebration lasts two days, with a ball held in the evening. Does the Young Master dance well?”

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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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