Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 40

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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 40.
Breaking Through the Trap, Into the Storm (10)

“Miss Silviet simply wishes to use me. When I refused, she grew displeased.”
Since the night of the party, Lanji had ceased calling Boris “you” and never spoke of the Count or Rosnis without proper respect.
Yet ever since Lanzumi opened her heart, his face and demeanor had noticeably brightened. That night, after spending the darkness in Lanzumi’s Room without a word between them, a peculiar bond had formed between the two.
The visiting guests departed one by one, and finally the Marquis d’Argenson’s household returned to Keltika.
Silviet had not broached that night’s events with Boris, though her displeasure was evident. After her departure, Boris questioned him about what had transpired that evening.
“Use you?”
It was a sensitive word for Boris.
“It appears that among the nobility, gaining recognition at social gatherings is a matter of considerable importance. The nobles of acquaintance hold various themed gatherings when they return home, and at salon meetings, they commonly bring along attendants—both male and female—who are striking in appearance and skilled in etiquette. Nowadays, such attendants have become rather important ornaments to them, so much so that the excellence of one’s attendant has become a measure of the nobleman’s own worth.”
Lanji stopped there and tactfully ended his explanation.
Yet Boris, unaccustomed to courtly speech, could not help but ask more precisely, though he grasped the meaning dimly.
“Is that all?”
Lanji smiled and continued.
“In a good sense, my lord, you are not very noble.”
Boris now understood what that meant. And he had no desire to become noble.
Lanji went on.
“The second reason is that gaining an advantage in popularity competitions requires learning information about one’s rivals. Nobles sometimes borrow each other’s attendants for a time if they take a fancy to them. An attendant in such circumstances is merely a plaything, lacking the right to refuse such exchanges, and instead naturally assumes the duty of gathering intelligence about the rival noble.”
At the mention of gathering intelligence, Boris thought of things like the Trabaches lords’ preparations for conflict, but what followed was entirely different.
“Which ladies she associates with and whom she despises, through what channels she obtains the latest jewelry or fine spices, which families her children are negotiating marriages with, whether there exist secrets that would deal a fatal blow to her honor if revealed. A beautiful attendant who is clever and worthy of a new noble’s favor would be the ideal candidate for such purposes.”
A brief silence fell before Lanji suddenly spoke.
“My lord, are you aware that Anomarad was once a republic?”
“A republic?”
It was a nauseating word to Boris. The Trabaches Republic had stripped him of everything.
To him, a republic was the very source of evil that forced good people to fight until death. But this nation too had once been a republic?
“Is that truly so?”
“It began in the year 975 of the Anomarad Kingdom calendar and ended in 985. Exactly ten years of history.”
985 was last year. Boris made no attempt to hide his shock.
“Then… at least it fortunately returned to normal.”
Yet Lanji’s expression seemed strange.
“You said it is now normal?”
After a moment, he spoke again.
“Fortunately, you say?”
Boris studied Lanji’s face slowly. Only then did he sense that Lanji felt about the republic in an entirely different way than he did. Yet he could not understand why.
“Then you actually favor the republic? I don’t understand why you speak that way, but I once lived under a republic. I know well enough how terrible it was.”
Lanji’s expression gradually returned to his usual impassiveness.
“Not all republics are like Trabaches. The ten years of the Anomarad Republic were regrettably brief. There was not even time for it to degenerate into a corrupt system like Trabaches.”
“So it was too short to succeed, but if given time it would corrupt? That seems like an unreasonably difficult standard.”
He was not being sarcastic. In Boris’s view, republicanism was fundamentally a flawed system. The length of its rule was not the issue.
“For those ten years, the Republic’s territory remained confined to the Keltika region. The old nobility still dominated most of Anomarad, and ultimately they gathered under the banners of King Checel and Duke Fontina to destroy the fledgling Republic. The continent was simply too vast for a deeply rooted monarchy to be overturned in mere years.”
Langie’s tone grew increasingly grave.
“Perhaps the Republic’s ten years should be corrected to eight, or even five. In its latter stages, we could only fight for survival. Yet countless people risked their lives for that short-lived Republic—not just nobility, but everyone who dreamed of a nation where all could live with dignity.”
Boris listened in silence, his expression hardening as the words flowed forth. Langie was not one to speak lightly even in ordinary times, but now he was almost passionate.
This intensity brought Boris an inexplicable discomfort.
It was strange to see a boy his own age hold such concrete convictions about matters that only adults typically pondered.
“I don’t know much about this nation’s history. But I know what happened to the country where I was born and raised. I’ve suffered enough to hate the very name of the Republic. Yes, whatever merits it might have possessed, I care nothing for them. All I wanted was for the people I loved to live beside me, but the Republic took them all away.”
“The Republic took them away?”
“Yes. I believe any nation where ordinary people cannot live in peace is worthless. From what I understand, the Republic abolished nobility and governed by gathering the opinions of commoners, correct? In my view, such a thing is impossible.”
At this moment, both Boris and Langie wore expressions of complete disagreement with the other’s words.
Boris continued speaking.
“Of course, Trabaches has no nobility, so my father was not a noble either. But since coming here, I’ve noticed that Count Belnoir and my own father seemed fundamentally the same—differing only in the size of their territories and the scope of their authority. If that’s the case, what meaning does a nation without nobility truly have?”
Without realizing it, both began speaking with greater intensity.
“You are confusing false nobility with true commoners, sir. Your father was surely the same as the nobles here. A true Republic is not a place where only the nobility rules under a different name. It is a place where even servants like myself are allowed to elect representatives and voice opinions on matters of state.”
“Is that so? Anomarad was such a Republic for those ten years?”
“No, sir. It was not. But at least it aspired to be. Perhaps Trabaches began as such a Republic in its early days as well. However, it failed to govern properly, and above all, it could not strip away the privileges of those who had once been nobility—which is why we arrived at the present state.”
“By your logic, this true Republic you speak of is nothing but a phantom that has never once existed in this world. Then how can you believe it will ever truly come to pass? How can you sacrifice people for an imagination with no foundation whatsoever?”
Boris’s voice grew heated.
“I would rather have the stable rule of a king. Humans do not live forever anyway. Those we love will soon die as well. I despise everything that causes them to die even a moment sooner.”
But Langie did not back down.
“Because so many people think as you do, we continue to live this way. Those born with privilege will never understand. Because we are human, we can choose death over life so that humans might live as humans ought.”
“No. Humans exist to live. There is nothing that can compensate for death. You take the life of an innocent person and then say, ‘Thanks to you, others now live better lives’—and that’s the end of it? Is there such a thing as a meaningful death? Do you truly believe there exists a reason, mere words, that can justify death in this world? It’s nothing but an excuse. An excuse made by the survivors to do as they please!”
“Those born human from the start will have no interest in what comes before humanity. Those born as something less than human can choose death to become human. Once they awaken to the free will they carry from birth, they have no choice. The Republic makes humans truly human. Every human born into this world!”
This was the first time the two had clashed so intensely on any subject.
Boris was startled by his own vehemence, and Langie seemed equally surprised that his counterpart held such clear convictions.
Both fell silent. After a moment, Langie, having regained his composure, spoke.
“Forgive me. I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about this. In truth, speaking of the vanished Republic is itself taboo. It is only natural that you think as you do, being an adopted son of the Count’s House.”
Boris understood that Langie no longer wished to continue the debate.
This level of conflict would not break Langie’s convictions. He was simply trying to end it appropriately, given his position as a servant.
Though Boris recognized this, he still had more to say.
“You brought up the Republic ultimately to say that nobility wields their privileges to torment commoners, didn’t you? I don’t dismiss that as a small matter. But if the Republic is truly worth the price of death as you claim, then it should at least be built on a very great ideal. I have no interest in a nation born of hatred. To some, a person may deserve death, yet to others, that same person is a cherished family member.”
Langie was silent for a moment before speaking.
“You speak truly. Yet most humans cannot perfectly distinguish between hatred and ideals. They come to hate what obstructs their ideals, and that hatred gives them the strength to rush toward those ideals. However, I agree with you that the ultimate value must lie in the realization of the ideal itself.”
Boris now looked at Langie’s peaceful expression.
“How did you come to think such things? No, I won’t ask that. But your knowledge of noble society’s customs is… could it be related to what Silviet proposed?”
“Because I once held the position of a noble’s attendant, as I mentioned before.”
Boris’s eyes widened slightly.
“Miss Silviet desires me because she knows I would make a fine ornament. But I have no intention of returning to such a life.”
Had he been in such a dire situation, Boris could never have endured it.
How had Langie managed it? He possessed in full measure what the people of Trabaches called an unwavering ‘strength’—the refusal to break the convictions once given—and an innate ‘pride’ that would not abandon his family’s name. He was not the sort of person to accept the sordid demands of nobility, to spy by uncovering others’ weaknesses and live that way.
Yet he had done it. There was only one reason capable of breaking such fortitude, such pride.
Lanzumi.
“How did you come to do such a thing?”
“Do you not understand? Perhaps I simply possess a face that suits their tastes. It helped my younger brother and me survive in those back alleys without perishing, at least in some small measure.”
The moment I heard the word “survive,” my mind snapped into focus.
Had I grown so dull? For those who have a reason to survive, there exists no deed they cannot commit.
For Lanji, that reason was a living younger sister. For Boris, it was an elder brother already dead.
The living and the dead.
If Lanji strove to survive to protect his ailing sister’s future, then Boris strove to survive to compensate for his brother’s unfortunate past.
The emotions were different yet resonant. How had these two come to harbor such divergent thoughts?
Boris wished to abandon a nation that could not protect those he loved, yet Lanji demonstrated an attitude suggesting he would create the country of his desires from nothing if it did not exist.
Perhaps he was the stronger of the two. Unlike Boris, who could never truly forget those he had lost, Lanji seemed capable of sacrificing not only himself but even his most precious things for the futures of countless others.
Slowly, like some ancient premonition, a foreboding crept into my mind. The circumstances of these two boys were similar. Yet as their convictions diverged in direction, so too would the paths they walked prove utterly different.
They had met at a single point for a brief moment, only to part ways and move forward separately. When they met again, they would be entirely different people.
And they could never walk the same path again.

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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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