Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 27

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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 27
The Winter Sword (27)

The sudden question caught Boris off guard. Trabaches had no nobility to speak of, and with the lords and families too preoccupied with mutual suspicion and destruction, there was little development of social gatherings meant to foster goodwill.
Moreover, the Jineman Family had been without a lady of the house for a long time. Boris could never have had the opportunity to learn such things.
Yet simply admitting ignorance felt risky. As he hesitated, Langie spoke.
“It seems you’re unfamiliar with such matters. If you wish, I could teach you.”
The unexpected offer left Boris uncertain how to respond. Langie continued his explanation without hesitation.
After mentioning a few more details, Langie’s account ended. The two boys found themselves with nothing more to say.
Boris thought it would be better to maintain some conversation, but he was cautious about broaching topics carelessly—afraid he might inadvertently hint at his true identity. Then a thought suddenly struck him: he could simply ask about the other person.
“What were you doing in this manor before I arrived?”
“I was tasked with attending to the Count in close quarters.”
“When did you come here?”
“Last year. It’s been about a year now.”
“And before that?”
“I lived in Keltika.”
Boris found this somewhat surprising. He had never been to Keltika, but he knew it was impossibly distant. It was the capital of Anomarad, though situated quite far to the north. What reason could there be for someone to come from there to here?
Stories of impoverished families came to mind. He had heard that in such places, children were sometimes sold as servants to wealthy households.
“Are your parents still alive?”
Langie had no right to refuse his master’s question.
Yet the moment the words left Boris’s lips, he caught sight of Langie’s expression and intuited that had anyone else asked, he would never have answered.
“I’m not certain. They were alive when we parted, but I don’t know their circumstances now.”
Boris sensed that continuing this line of questioning would not bring Langie joy. So he asked with the intention of closing the subject.
“So you’re alone now?”
Langie’s eyes, usually a warm crimson, had grown terribly cold. His voice dropped a tone as he answered.
“I have a younger sister. My master has shown me kindness, and she lives with me here in the manor.”
Sensing that pressing further would provoke serious emotional turmoil, Boris ceased his questioning. It was already lunchtime.
Four days passed. Boris gradually learned the rhythms of life within the manor.
Having resolved to learn deliberately, his progress was swift. He no longer lost his way in most parts of the manor, and his interactions with the servants became natural.
He got along well enough with Rosnis. She was moody and carried herself with the arrogance of a peacock, but she wasn’t a truly wicked child. As long as he maintained appropriate boundaries, there was no cause for embarrassment.
Boris quickly learned that provoking Rosnis only created unnecessary commotion. And Rosnis, believing that Boris’s presence in the manor was for her benefit, treated him with such warmth that the servants gossiped about it in surprise.
The Countess, true to Langie’s word, remained confined to her chambers, so he rarely encountered her—a relief.
In his spare time, he would pull various books from the shelves in the drawing room and leaf through them. Truth be told, the books held little interest. Rather, a sense of responsibility toward his promised task weighed on him, creating anxiety that he must begin sword practice soon.
But the Count had not yet selected a suitable instructor, so his training remained postponed.
The Winterer remained wrapped in black cloth, stored beneath his bed. One night, Boris retrieved it.
It was still heavy in his hands. The faint image of his brother wielding it with ease came to mind. In every sense, it seemed impossibly distant.
Boris returned the sword to its place and did not take it out again for some time.
“Young Master Boris.”
After lunch, while still turning through the tedious pages of a book, Langie approached.
“If you permit it, I would like to visit my younger sister for a moment.”
I wasn’t the sort who needed an attendant constantly at my side. And this wasn’t the first time such a request had come. I was about to nod readily when sudden interest sparked within me.
“I’d like to come along as well.”
It was entertaining to watch emotion flicker across Langie’s face. This time, he hesitated particularly long—much like someone asked to glimpse a hidden treasure they’d been guarding.
He could have refused again if he possessed the strength to do so. But Langie lacked that power.
Though I wasn’t the sort to do such a thing, who could say what would happen if he reported my refusal to the Count or Countess?
Though he must have reached that conclusion swiftly, Langie hesitated a moment longer. Finally, his answer came.
“…Very well.”
As we walked toward the room where his sister stayed, Langie suddenly spoke.
“Young Master, are you a gentleman?”
“What?”
I couldn’t fathom what he was getting at. Yet Langie answered his own question immediately.
“I’ll choose to believe you are.”
The room was small and meticulously kept.
It was less than half the size of my own bedchamber—a bed in one corner, a table, and two chairs comprised the entirety of the furnishings. In one of those chairs positioned by the window sat a girl, turned to face the light.
Her golden hair, so unlike her brother’s, gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight. Yet it had been cut short, ending abruptly at her ears.
Those jagged, fluttering strands stirred something aching within me. Despite my entrance, the girl did not turn her head.
“Lanzumi.”
At her brother’s voice, she responded. Her frail shoulders trembled, and she turned her body with visible effort. Langie approached and gently stroked the girl’s small head.
I was struck upon seeing her face. I had anticipated she would resemble her brother, of course. She was a delicate creature—pale and slender, with the fragile beauty of an unopened white tulip bud. Yet that wasn’t why I was startled.
Her face bore no expression.
Like a wax figure devoid of soul, her meticulously drawn eyebrows, eyes, cheeks, and lips remained utterly still.
Moreover, her gaze held no focus. It was impossible to tell whether she was looking at her brother at all.
“Young Master, please sit in that chair.”
Though I felt as though I’d glimpsed something I shouldn’t have, I couldn’t very well leave now. I pulled the chair closer and sat.
Between where I sat and the siblings lay roughly three paces. Langie knelt on the floor, cradling his sister’s hand, speaking to her slowly and deliberately.
It was a sight no one else could easily intrude upon. Though mere steps away, it felt like a distant place I couldn’t touch.
Langie stroked his sister’s hand as he spoke of the weather, of happenings in the Manor, of what she’d eaten today and what had brought her joy, of how she seemed to him today. He continued, sharing all the beautiful things he’d witnessed.
At times he posed questions, but his sister never answered. Yet Langie seemed to expect this—he would wait briefly, then begin another story.
It was an experience of sitting still and glimpsing another’s inner world. I heard his soft voice directly explaining what he’d seen, heard, and felt today—how he’d perceived it all.
Though not all of it might be truth, I was inwardly astonished. I had never imagined how frequently beautiful things appeared in the eyes of someone I’d thought cold and rigid.
He spoke of me as well—only kind words. He seemed to avoid mentioning anything painful or sorrowful.
“Lanzumi, you seem happy today. I notice your hair has grown quite a bit. At this rate, it will soon be long again. But sitting in the sun too long isn’t good for your health, so why don’t you take a nap now? Sleep soundly and dream of completing Milo Azchenara. You found Aileen and Christina last time, didn’t you? Then this time, it’s Gillian’s turn to be found.”
Milo… I couldn’t begin to guess what he meant. It seemed a secret meaningful only to the siblings—the sort of secret young girls would cherish.
Lanzumi seemed to nod slightly. Langie then rose, lifted his sister effortlessly into his arms, and carried her to the bed. It wouldn’t have been easy for a boy his age, but Lanzumi was so frail and light it became possible.
After laying his sister down, Langie drew the blanket over her and closed the curtains. Only then did he turn to me and speak.
“You should go now, Young Master.”
I stirred as though waking from a dream, rose from my seat, and left the room first.
Lanzumi was two years younger than Langie. While Langie worked as an attendant in the Manor, Lanzumi received only care.
She suffered from the aftereffects of childhood polio, leaving her lame, and exhibited symptoms of autism as well—unable to become a maid, incapable even of surviving without someone’s aid.
When Count Belnoir took in the siblings, who had nowhere else to go, Langie had requested no wages in exchange for being allowed to care for his sister.
His request was accepted, and Langie became a page in the Count’s service, while Lanzumi was given a room of her own and lived under the care of the other servants.
Langie cherished his sister deeply. He tended to her with infinite patience, even though she responded to almost nothing he did. Rosnis’s thought that having an older brother might not be so bad was influenced in part by what she had witnessed of Langie’s devotion to his sister.
“Have you seen that girl? Ugh, I can’t stand her. She’s absolutely infuriating.”
Rosnis had grown quite upset during her lessons with her tutor.
The moment her studies ended, she dragged Camia into her brother’s room, and upon learning that Langie had stepped out briefly at Father’s summons, she poured forth her complaints without hesitation. Boris found himself embarrassed, having broached the subject merely for lack of anything better to say.
“Why do you dislike her?”
“Because she’s foolish! She just sits there all day staring blankly out the window, burdening everyone around her like some simpleton….”
Rosnis suddenly stopped mid-sentence. The word “simpleton” had conjured the image of the man she might end up marrying. In any case, she continued to shake her head and furrow her brow, expressing her displeasure in various ways.
“That sort of girl is unbearable. It’s not as though she can’t speak, so why won’t she? When I see those vacant eyes of hers, I just want to strike her.”
Until that moment, Boris had wondered whether Lanzumi might be mute, so Rosnis’s words came as something of a surprise.
“Is she ill? She certainly appears sickly.”
“She’s probably ill, yes! Though perhaps she’s simply dreadfully lazy. The only thing truly wrong with her is a slightly lame leg. Everything else is perfectly fine. Yet she won’t budge from her room! She doesn’t read books or do needlework or learn anything at all. And that brother of hers treats her like she’s made of gold—he absolutely despises it when anyone asks to see her!”
Just then, that brother in question knocked and entered the room. Boris tensed, fearing Rosnis would continue her tirade, but to his surprise, she abruptly fell silent.
And as if deliberately changing the subject, she broached a different topic.
“Oh, that’s right—Father finally found you a sword master. This morning after breakfast, when I went to see Father, he told me so.”

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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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