Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 37

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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 37.
Breaking Through the Trap, Into the Storm (7)
Beyond that, I felt a certain unease among the foreign nobility’s children—not because they treated me poorly, but because their carefree existence without worry stood in such stark contrast to my own reality of performing duties for survival.
My peers felt this way, but so did the older Oscar. Raised under the protection of noble society, he felt entirely different from my brother Yefnen, who was close to his age.
Yet when I wandered alone and met the Count, watching him protect Rosnis as a father would, the sense of isolation I had felt then no longer touched me now.
Now our paths seemed fundamentally different. Theirs was a life lived in the shadow of adults, while mine demanded strength simply to continue forward.
There was no bitterness or sorrow—only a growing distance.
Lanji, who had gone out with Camia to prepare refreshments, returned alone and approached me.
“Walnut Teacher asked me to inquire whether you would be taking a rest from training today.”
The Count had already instructed both Rosnis and me to postpone our studies until after the party, as guests would be arriving in great numbers from today onward.
Rosnis had practically leaped with joy at such news, but I could not say I felt any particular gladness—whether it was studies or a party, both were merely aspects of my duties.
Surely Lanji understood this as well, so why ask in such a manner? If Walnut Teacher, unaware of the circumstances, had simply inquired about today’s schedule, would it not suffice for Lanji to relay the Count’s wishes?
“Is the Teacher at the Training Ground?”
“Yes.”
Rosnis had just begun to speak, her brow furrowing with a puzzled expression.
“Today is—”
In that moment, I grasped something and answered immediately.
“Tell him I shall come shortly. And convey that I accept whatever punishment befits making him wait.”
“Understood.”
Lanji bowed lightly and departed.
As I watched him leave, then turned my head, I felt someone’s gaze upon me.
When I looked, I saw Silviet regarding me with keen interest in her eyes.
The Countess’s birthday fell precisely on the full moon. The weather had grown somewhat brisk, so the party was held indoors.
Guests arrived steadily, and by the afternoon of the party itself, the entire Manor was bustling with nearly a hundred visitors.
Half were relatives, the rest people of acquaintance, and a considerable number of them brought gifts in return for the invitation and birthday presents, which they displayed generously.
Beyond that, they lavished praise upon the Manor’s splendor, the excellence of the party, and the Countess’s youth and magnanimity—all while making particular efforts to curry her favor. It was so transparent that even someone like me, without experience in high society, could see through it plainly.
Rosnis, the Count’s daughter, naturally received treatment befitting a princess.
Over two days, dressed in their finest, people showered her with compliments—how adorable, how clever, how impeccable her manners—until she basked in their endless praise, and her earlier rivalry with her cousin Julina was entirely forgotten.
I came to understand why Rosnis had been counting the days until this party.
Meanwhile, the cousin girls who had initially shown off before Rosnis received little attention. I concluded that the Marquis d’Argenson was not a particularly powerful house.
It was clear that the Cresanne Family, the Countess’s birth family, was of high nobility, yet even so, the gathering of such numbers seemed inexplicable.
If the prestige were due to her birth family’s influence, should they not also be currying favor with the Marquise d’Argenson as a matter of course?
Yet all attention and flattery was directed solely toward the Countess.
The mystery was solved shortly after I overheard a nobleman from the Capital speaking after a drink.
“It seems the Queen will not be attending this time? I had hoped Her Majesty might grace us with her presence, so I prepared gifts worth double—”
Queen Anliche of Anomarad and Countess Belnoer were childhood companions, and apparently quite close friends.
Even after Iza married Count Belnoir, Queen Anliche had appeared at this birthday celebration several times. It was only natural that political considerations played a role, given that her childhood friend had become the wife of the important border count, Belnoir.
Yet even so, a Queen’s personal journey to such a distant southern region was no trivial matter.
Duke Fontina, Queen Anliche’s elder brother, had provided decisive support in enabling King Checel to overthrow the Keltica Republic Government and become the sovereign of New Anomarad.
The Queen had served as an operations strategist during that time and earned a reputation as a brilliant tactician. The saying went that without Anliche da Fontina, there would be no King Checel today—indeed, rumors even circulated in the Keltica court of two kings in power. Her prestige as a friend to such a figure could hardly be insignificant.
“Queen Anliche is quite occupied this year with the matter of the prince. One must attend to her with proper care, after all.”
I was an uncomfortable presence at this gathering. The guests had not easily accepted the sudden arrival of an adopted son in the Count’s household.
Nor did I make any effort to force myself upon them.
One of the evening’s great topics of conversation was myself. People whispered that even with an adopted son, it would be Rosnis who inherited the Count’s title and the Manor.
I had deliberately trained with Walnut Teacher until late afternoon, then washed away the sweat, changed into fresh clothes, and appeared fashionably late.
As eyes turned toward me, I offered a proper greeting using the customs of Anomarad that Lanji had taught me. Shortly after, a second rumor began to circulate through the party.
Could that boy actually be the Count’s illegitimate child from elsewhere? Look at the Countess’s expression. She doesn’t seem pleased at all, does she?
The party itself was enough to make a provincial from Trabaches’s eyes widen in wonder. Endless food and overflowing wine, unceasing music and dancing—every detail was the sort of opulent scene that could only be conceived in the minds of people from a great and prosperous nation.
The guests who had come to such a place were accustomed to spending the night awake, not throwing themselves into revelry with unbridled passion, but rather engaging in whispered remarks and quiet laughter.
Anyone who suddenly raised their voice or made even slightly exaggerated gestures was immediately regarded as lacking refinement.
In their eyes, any action beyond gently fanning oneself with a fan or languidly raising a glass was considered excessively excessive.
Children gathered to one side, occasionally stepping forward to display the refined dancing skills they had honed in the practice room tucked away in a corner of the Manor. When executed well, gentle applause would rain down.
Yet even that standard did not apply to Rosnis. The moment she lifted the hem of her skirt and stepped forward with delicate grace, people would let out soft cries of delight, utterly enchanted by her charm.
The expressions on the faces of those surrounding the Countess were positively comical. One could hardly imagine a more impressed expression even if an angel or fairy had appeared.
“How adorably precious she is!”
“Ah… Miss Belnoir truly possesses beauty bestowed by the heavens.”
“Good gracious, if one could have such an endearing and lovely daughter, there would be nothing one would not gladly give up!”
“If she were to go to Keltika, every distinguished family would surely rush to propose without hesitation!”
I found myself suddenly caught by Rosnis. She possessed an instinctive understanding of what would make people marvel most.
If two adorable foster siblings, barely half a head’s difference in height, were to dance together hand in hand, no one could tear their eyes away.
It was a sound calculation, save for one problem.
“I… I…”
There was no time to refuse. Before I knew it, we had reached the center of the hall. People’s attention sharpened as they realized Rosnis was about to begin something.
The music changed at that very moment. It was a gaillard, the three-beat dance that Rosnis loved most.
Unfortunately, it was an unfamiliar piece to me. Lanji had taught me the basics of a few dances, but something as difficult as the gaillard, which required a leap every third beat, was not the sort of dance one could master from a brief attempt.
“Brother, would you dance one with me?”
It was a moment that would determine whether I became the subject of ridicule. Many eyes were upon me. Then a savior appeared.
“Young Master, the Master is calling for you urgently. Please come with me for a moment.”
As Lanji approached, separating the two of us, Rosnis’s expression darkened. Having her carefully laid plans disrupted was something she despised most.
Yet Lanji immediately turned back and spoke.
“Ah, it is Young Master Errol von Hamizen. You are skilled at the gaillard, are you not?”
Though the suggestion was transparent in its intent, both of them readily accepted it. Their reasons differed, but their goals aligned, so agreement came easily.
Rosnis took the hand of Errol von Hamizen, and I slipped away through the crowd with Lanji.

Lanji headed straight to the Garden. It struck him as odd that the Count would summon him to such a place. He came to a halt among the trees, their shadows deepening as he moved away from the lamps that illuminated every corner of the Manor with their warm glow.
“Wait here for a moment.”
“You want me to come here?”
Lanji’s response to Boris’s question was merely a slight movement at the corner of his mouth—not quite a smile.
“That can’t be right.”
Even as Boris grasped the situation, he couldn’t help but ask again.
“Then why did you bring me here?”
“I thought we might talk.”
Boris studied Lanji’s face intently. There was no change in his expression.
Of course, they had always conversed. Or rather, to be precise, Boris had always received one-sided counsel.
Boris had often wondered what sort of person Lanji truly was, yet he had never expected to hear Lanji’s own story.
Lanji was kind and courteous, yet he never let his guard down; considerate, yet his care seemed merely a duty performed. With such a man, opportunities to draw out genuine feelings were rare indeed.
The two sat side by side beneath the tree. For a long while, neither spoke. It was Lanji who broke the silence first.
“You have no parents either, do you?”
The word “you” carried a very different tone from “young master.” Yet it did not feel unpleasant. After all, he was no young master.
“Didn’t you say my parents might still be alive?”
“Ah, yes. But it hardly matters. Even if they were, nothing would change.”
A breeze stirred. Lanji unfastened a button at his wrist, then swept his hair back with both hands.
This natural, unguarded gesture was something I had never witnessed before. Had I ever seen Lanji do anything for himself until now?
Excluding the time I met Lanzumi, there was only one instance—when we first met, he was reading a book in the Count’s Study.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that I had merely been observed all this while, never truly seeing him in return.
“Did you have no siblings?”
Yefnen’s face flashed before my eyes. Should I speak of it? Perhaps it would be acceptable to mention that I once had an older brother. There was no point in concealing it anymore.
“I had an older brother, but… he’s gone now.”
Lanji fell silent for a moment before speaking.
“I imagine he took good care of you, didn’t he?”
Boris realized without thinking that he had lowered his head, and he looked back at Lanji. Then he asked.
“Do I seem like someone accustomed to being cared for?”
Lanji shook his head.
“No.”
“Then?”
“You seemed to be longing for someone.”

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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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