Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 4

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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 4
The Winter Sword (4)

“Today, the master of the Jineman Family changes hands! Do you hear me! Today the family’s master has changed!”
Multiple loud voices cried out in unison.
Yulken had experienced more than a dozen power struggles throughout his life, and he knew their methods well enough. Yet hearing his own name from their mouths tasted far more bitter than he had imagined.
“Those who lay down their weapons and surrender will not be punished! Come forward, all who would serve the new master and restore the Jineman Family to glory!”
Anyone whose heart wavered at such honeyed words would have abandoned the Jineman Family years ago when its decline began—so Yulken muttered to himself as he rose to his feet. There was no need to listen to their empty prattle any longer. It was time to spill blood.
Would he go?
The moment he stepped forward, a thunderous roar erupted from his lips.
“Show yourselves! You who dare trespass upon Longord! You who presume to speak of the Jineman Family’s future with clumsy tongues—come into the light!”
The courtyard, ringed by torches, glowed red as dusk. Yulken stood upon the second-floor terrace, looking down upon those who approached. They were close enough that their crossbows could reach him. Yet if he did not appear confident, the soldiers would falter.
“Yulken Jineman! Upon the terrace!”
The soldiers brought forth torches and held them high. His face flushed crimson in their firelight, Yulken gazed downward and wondered: What had become of the first contingent? Had they been annihilated? Had their paths diverged?
The ribbon of torches created by the enemy wavered in a curved line. Even accounting for optical illusion, their numbers exceeded five hundred. Yulken cried out again.
“Light the fires!”
White flames erupted beneath the soldiers positioned at the manor’s front, meeting the enemy’s torch-light in opposition.
The white flames demonstrated that magical power dwelt within the manor, and simultaneously bolstered the soldiers’ morale and vigor. It was the work of the steward, Tulk.
“Cowards! Can you not emerge? Do you fear that your rabble will topple the Jineman Family, which has stood for centuries!”
Then, instead of an answer, a tremendous serpentine hiss thundered across the sky.
Soldiers, those within the manor, and Yulken upon the terrace—all lifted their eyes skyward without thinking. The crimson-violet atmosphere warped, and white light flickered into view for an instant.
Yulken was the first to comprehend what was happening.
“Evacuate! Everyone out of the manor! The second contingent holds the perimeter!”
With cries bordering on screams, every door of the manor began disgorging servants and soldiers. Yet Yulken himself did not flee—instead, he rushed inward. His mind held only one thought.
At nearly the same moment, Yefnen grasped the gravity of the situation. He was descending the stairs with his younger brother in his arms when he collided with his father rushing upward. His father’s face was deathly pale.
“Yefnen! Quickly—”
Then Yulken saw that Yefnen held Boris. He immediately seized Boris from his son’s embrace. Facing his two bewildered sons, Yulken’s voice turned savage.
“Go alone! I will keep Boris with me!”
“But—”
Yulken’s roar tore forth.
“How do you expect to escape this place while carrying a child! Do you not understand what you are protecting! Go, now!”
Yefnen had no chance to protest. His father tucked Boris beneath his arm and vanished into the darkness of the corridor. In that moment, the manor’s walls trembled once more.
A deep, rumbling sound echoed through the structure.
He clenched his teeth, but there was nothing he could do. He was a son who had always obeyed his father.
Gripping the Winter Sword at his waist firmly, Yefnen descended the stairs three steps at a time.

“Filthy bastard….”
Yulken Jineman led the soldiers stationed on this level out toward the rear of the manor. Beyond the fence, he turned and watched as an enormous monster’s head erupted from the sky, crashing down upon the manor’s roof.
Like a snow-capped mountain rising from the earth, sparse snowflakes glimmered around its pristine white head. All that was visible were the head and neck, along with one clawed foot bristling with hooked talons.
The rest of its body lay shrouded in clouds pulsing with violet light. Eerie teal eyes gleamed as they fixed upon their target. The serpentine head was partially translucent—a sign that the creature had not been fully summoned into this world.
The soldiers’ trembling voices murmured with fear, assaulting Yulken’s ears. There was no doubt. It was Kriegal, the summoned beast from the ice realm that only three mages in Trabaches could conjure. I had only heard tales of it until now; this was my first time witnessing it with my own eyes.
It must be the work of Jonggenal, the grand mage who serves Khan Elector. I never imagined he would come this far. Had my younger brother’s position become so firmly established? Or did this declining family possess some special value?
The serpentine head gaped its maw wide and tore into the eastern roof. The sound of rafters collapsing and pillars snapping rang out vividly.
The manor I had long protected and maintained would soon be reduced to ruins. Yet that was not the true concern. Broken structures could be repaired, but Kriegal secreted a highly toxic liquid from its fangs. Should that venom soak into the manor, everyone inside would perish without exception, and even attempting purification afterward would take months. Left in its natural state, the house would become an uninhabitable ruin for years to come.
That was what I found utterly intolerable.
Even if a strategy were needed to draw my older brother’s army from the manor, it was still a place where Blado Jineman held childhood memories. To defile such a place without a moment’s hesitation—it was unforgivable.
A low growl escaped my throat.
My teeth ground together of their own accord.
“If I forgive that bastard, I am no true member of the Jineman Family.”
Boris looked up at his father upon hearing those words.
Even as Kriegal’s massive head gnawed through the roof, Boris’s chest grew unnaturally cold.
Mother’s chambers were on this floor. His older brother sometimes spoke of missing her, but Boris held no memories of her at all. When he entered that room, which remained exactly as it had been during her lifetime, his brother would say he could smell her presence. But Boris could detect nothing.
To him, Mother was merely the pale face and blue dress in the portrait, and the only scents in the room were those of dried reeds and wildflowers arranged by the servants.
Yet if his brother saw this, he would grieve.
Since parting from his brother, Boris had grown increasingly anxious. Why had Father separated them? He had said it was impossible to flee while burdened with a small child. Perhaps I should not have become such a burden to my brother.
Father cared more for the eldest son who would carry on the family name and the family’s treasures than for a young son of little use. A child could not protect the family’s honor even if he survived the conflict.
Boris’s anxiety was not for himself but for his brother. Throughout the day, an inexplicable dread that something terrible would befall him refused to lift.
Yulken, paying no mind to Boris, issued orders to Tulk, the steward—or rather, the mage.
“Check the status of the first and second divisions. How many remain?”
Tulk wordlessly swept his long-sleeved arm through the air, opening a vision in the empty space. Across the meadow surrounding the manor, white flames and crimson fire clashed and burned. The few remaining soldiers were locked in desperate combat.
It was obvious to anyone that the situation was dire. There was no longer sufficient force for a full-scale engagement. Yulken fell silent for a moment before speaking.
“Strike both entrances of the manor. Divide the remaining soldiers into two groups. Tell them to approach the side where the grass grows tall, conceal themselves, and await my command.”
Boris was startled.
“Father, with that monster there, how can we….”
Yulken’s voice turned glacial.
“Half of that creature’s body remains in the other realm, so it cannot touch those living in this world.”
Yulken whispered a few words to Tulk that Boris could not hear. The mage nodded and replied with a brief acknowledgment.
Soon after, the mage blew the pre-arranged magical whistle, beginning to gather the soldiers from the darkness.

It took only a brief moment. Boris was dragged by Yulken’s hand, crouching beneath the tall grass alongside the soldiers who would strike the eastern side of Jineman Manor. Tulk, leading the soldiers on the opposite flank, would send the signal through magic.
“Boris, you follow slowly behind, then slip away to the rear….”
My father hesitated for a moment after opening his mouth. But he soon continued.
“When the fighting begins, turn around and run straight toward the Meadow. Flee. Do you understand?”
Boris’s eyes widened, then he steadied himself. He would be no help in the battle, yet he doubted he could break through enemy lines and escape alone. Did this mean he should not burden his older brother and simply surrender quietly to death?
“Which direction, Father?”
“Toward Emera Lake.”
“But that place….”
This time, Boris could not easily calm the shock that seized his chest. Was there not a specter with blazing red eyes there?
As if sensing Boris’s hesitation, my father continued.
“There is no specter. How could you call yourself a man of the Jineman Family if you believed every word the old servants spoke? Besides, thanks to the rumors, no one will suspect you fled in that direction. Hide near the lake, and once I finish the battle, I will come retrieve you. Yes? Wait at the place where three trees with black trunks stand. Do you understand?”
Boris had no time to answer properly. Just then, Tulk sent a magical whisper to Yulken’s ear—a light, clicking signal.
Yulken raised his hand.
“Go!”
Yulken sprang to his feet and began running without so much as a glance back at his son.
“Father!”
Was this the last time? My father’s shadow vanished into the darkness.

Beneath the gaze of creatures from another realm, brothers bearing the same name clashed with their soldiers. White flames and red flames collided and blazed.
Blado Jineman drew the black-steel saber “Hagrun,” bestowed upon him by Khan Elector, and made swift work of the soldiers who rushed at him relentlessly. His guards protected his back with unwavering resolve. He need only look forward.
The blade that pierced through a shoulder blade immediately tore across another’s forehead and thrust through a neck. With another sweep, his opponent’s wrist fell away. Before leaving Jineman Manor, Blado had known his swordsmanship was inferior to his older brother’s. But there was no guarantee that remained true now.
Blado searched for his brother from a distance. He did not wish to meet him by chance. First, he would observe him fighting, then seize the opportunity to strike.
There was no guilt. After all, was his brother not the one who had orchestrated the conspiracy, pinned all blame on his younger brother, and cast him out? Though it came late, this repayment was hardly excessive for such deeds.
In any case, his brother was older. Let me see how skillfully he wields that blade!
“Yulken Jineman! Yulken Jineman is here!”
He had instructed his soldiers to cry out if they spotted his brother. The clamor from the eastern side of Jineman Manor carried across to this place. A smile spread across Blado’s weathered lips.
The day when black-steel Hagrun would be replaced by silver-white Winterer was not far off.

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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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