Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 407

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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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Episode 177.
In the Name of Loyalty and Vengeance (19)
A smile played at the corners of Langie’s mouth.
“Hailjer is doing well. I’ve been reading through the books Giscar sent me these days.”
In front of others, Langie would never have addressed the Grand Lord of Rosa Alb by his name. Giscar’s daughter was also at least ten years older than Langie. Yet it was Giscar himself who had established this form of address—when Langie left his house.
“Such remarkable progress. It would be better if you took over this place for me.”
“I’m probably the one who knows best that not just anyone can do what Giscar does.”
“No, you’re that kind of person too.”
Giscar paused for a moment before speaking.
“I’m a bit concerned that you’ve been receiving too much attention lately.”
Langie lowered his eyes.
“There’s simply a shortage of people. As there always has been.”
“People like you will always be in short supply. Probably forever.”
Giscar sighed softly and gazed at the ceiling.
“I wonder if we’re not asking a colt whose shoulders haven’t fully grown to pull the cart, simply because we’re so short-handed.”
Langie did not answer. Even when phrased as casual concern, words from Giscar’s lips carried a different weight. Yet Langie occupied a position where he could neither hastily agree with such remarks nor raise personal objections. Giscar had been his ideological father, the one who guided him into the Friends of the People, but even that fact could not break through Langie’s careful silence.
Giscar understood why Langie did not respond. An organization’s officer could not go about voicing complaints against superiors’ policies. Not before anyone.
The student Giscar cherished had always shown good judgment, and even more so now that he had matured. Though Giscar recognized this as an excellent quality, he sometimes felt a twinge of regret at Langie’s such restraint.
Langie spoke as though he had sensed Giscar’s mood.
“You should guide more people, sir.”
“You know Rosenkrantz—I’m merely a midwife. I never know what child will be born. Sometimes a chicken or rabbit comes out instead of a person.”
This time, Langie also burst into laughter. The two of them faced each other and laughed aloud for the first time in a long while. As their laughter subsided, Giscar poured more tea into Langie’s cup and spoke.
“I hear some people call you the ‘Blue Rose.’ They say something that shouldn’t exist has come to exist. Setting aside talk of being undeserving, tell me your thoughts on it.”
“It’s premature to discuss color before it has even bloomed.”
The answer came immediately. Giscar nodded.
“I knew you would answer that way.”
The “Blue Rose” was not yet a widely known epithet, since Langie’s existence at the Royal Grome School was carefully concealed on the surface. Yet rumors existed even within the Friends of the People, composed of covert cellular networks. Giscar had heard the nickname “Blue Rose” spoken among members who had yet to see the actual person, even from the lips of a student living in Giscar’s own house. This inwardly troubled him. If things continued this way, it would only be a matter of time before the Kingdom 8 Army heard the name.
“About your hair color, though….”
The nickname “Blue Rose” suited Langie perfectly, and people kept wanting to mention it, all because of his appearance when it came down to it. Langie spoke without unnecessary questions.
“What color would be better?”
“Something ordinary would be best. Brown, or blonde.”
“I’ve heard it’s possible through magic.”
“I’ve prepared the means. We can do it a little later.”
The Grome School was on break now, so the timing was appropriate. Graduation was not far off either. The careful mentor who had taught Langie long ago lived far away, yet he thought of even small details. Giscar took a sip of tea and continued.
“That appearance of yours is a major obstacle. It lingers far too long in people’s minds.”
“I think so too.”
The answer came without the slightest hesitation, and Giscar found himself laughing. Yet Langie continued speaking as though nothing were amiss.
“I’ve been considering whether a burn scar might work.”
Giscar’s eyes widened slightly.
“You’re joking, surely?”
“According to Yien, even a scar won’t suffice. A mild burn, however, should adequately obscure one’s features. Wouldn’t you resemble a chimney sweep or a coal miner?”
Giscar examined Lanji’s face carefully, taken aback. Though he had wandered the Continent and encountered countless people, he had never seen features as striking as those of the boy before him. Giscar was a philosopher, yet his heart approached that of an artist. From an aesthetic perspective, what Lanji proposed was unthinkable.
Yet Lanji harbored no interest in such aesthetic considerations—a fundamental difference between them. Precisely because of this, even as Giscar cherished the boy, he had long anticipated that their paths would diverge.
“It’s far too dangerous.”
“It is not dangerous. I’ve heard that magical flames allow one to control temperature without difficulty.”
“Lanzumi will grieve.”
“She will understand. That child comprehends far more than appearances suggest.”
Sometimes Giscar wondered fearfully how such a person had come to be. Though Lanji respected and followed him, the boy had never shared the details of his past. He had not even offered the complaints that other students typically unburdened themselves of once their hearts opened. Thus, Giscar knew only the rough outline.
For Lanji, beauty was both a means of survival and a source of suffering. Many of the trials he had endured would never have befallen him had he lacked that beauty. He accepted his innate beauty solely from the perspective that it had enabled him to survive and reach this present moment. Now that he had arrived here, it was no longer necessary—indeed, it had become an obstacle.
“One reason I made the journey here today was to inform you of this in person. I shall postpone the procedure until after this matter concludes, given the recovery time required. Once the time is set, you will assist me, will you not? Your house is perfectly suited for convalescence, and I myself could use some rest.”
As he spoke, Lanji even offered a smile. Giscar found himself unable to speak for some time.
“Rest is certainly welcome, but…”
Opening his mouth, Giscar gradually steeled his resolve. It was not merely a matter of aesthetics. Nor was it that Lanji would refuse to hear such arguments. Whether influenced by a past Giscar did not know, Lanji simply refused to understand those who valued beauty. He merely struggled not to despise them.
Above all, a voice within him insisted: this is unreasonable. Giscar had long faced criticism from the Exile Council for prioritizing human ideals over the Republic itself. At times, he too regarded himself with skepticism. Yet in moments such as this, he possessed certainty in his own humanity.
A boy not yet twenty deserved a future filled with infinite possibilities. He was far too young to already determine what he possessed, categorize it, and discard what seemed unnecessary. The colors of happiness are numberless. And it is the pursuit of the Republic that brings happiness. I knew that countless sacrifices would accompany this, and that not all could be prevented. Yet to strive against tragedies within reach—is this not the heart of a republican, born from love of humanity?
“Rosencrantz, have you considered what comes after the Republic is established? Do you think that day is very distant? It may be far, but it could also be nearer than you imagine. Consider that time. Will your appearance be an obstacle then?”
“…”
Lanji’s expression suggested he was listening. Yet he did not appear prepared to change his mind.
“On the contrary, it will become a great asset. Not merely for you personally, but for the Republic as well. Appearance may seem insignificant, yet it sometimes stirs the human heart and becomes the final catalyst that steadies a wavering resolve. In that sense, you possess a talent. Do not discard such things carelessly. If you are a person of the Republic, then it is an asset of the Republic as well.”
Certainly, such a face was ill-suited to clandestine work. Yet when the time came to stand before people, appearance was a considerable asset. It was true, but Giscar had raised the point partly because he believed that from this perspective, even Lanji could not refuse outright.
Lanji did not protest and quietly sipped his tea. After a long moment, he replied.
“I understand. I shall give it further consideration.”
“Before you decide, do not forget to consult with me.”
“I shall.”
Giscar gazed out the window. The setting sun caught upon the tips of the rose vines. The reverse side of the blackened roses seemed almost golden. Lanji also looked in that direction, watching longer than Giscar did.
“I hear you’ve been busy lately.”
“Not as much as when I was with you.”
In Lanji’s brief life, few periods had been as stable as those spent in Giscar’s house. Yet precisely because of that stability, those memories were of relentless activity. For the first several months, he had not noticed the changing weather or the passing seasons. He had read books and conversed, even economizing on eating and sleeping. When heated debates arose, they would continue through the night and into the following day. Both had forgotten to eat. Once, after such a sleepless night, they had debated past lunch until their throats and mouths grew so parched that words would no longer come.
“Don’t you miss those days?”
“They were good times, Giscar. But I do not wish to return to them.”
Giscar smiled as he observed the boy, who spoke with characteristic clarity and without evasion. He understood well that the boy’s nature was never to look backward.
“How is your sister?”
Lanji’s expression seemed to soften slightly.
“She is doing well, thanks to you.”
“I hear she has improved greatly. Yet I worry it may not be without risk.”
“As you say, but there is no other choice.”
Had Lanji entrusted Lanzumi to Giscar, she would be utterly safe. Yet he had not done so. Even now, there were nights when Lanzumi could only sleep peacefully when her brother was present. Should Lanji receive word late and be delayed a day or two, she would neither sleep nor eat during that time. Thus, he could not bear to place her so far away in Orlanne.
“You know there is always a place for her in my house.”
“The mere thought of that brings me comfort.”
Giscar harbored no expectation of any other answer. Presently, he pushed away the empty teacup and adjusted his posture.
“What was your impression of Theostid da Moro?”
Langie straightened his posture. This was the beginning of why he had come here.
“He struck me as a clever man. Precisely because of that, he seemed far removed from any notion of devotion.”
“You suspected as much, I imagine. But people change. Do you think he could change?”
Langie spoke somewhat differently than what he had told Yien and Hailjer.
“There is potential, but it resembles a seed buried in winter soil.”
“Is there heat enough to thaw the earth?”
“Dalmore harbors a deep-rooted obsession, and the moment that is resolved will be the crux. He is a man who relishes privilege and will do anything to cross the line drawn by his origins. Had his ambition been more modest, he would have been content with the current state of affairs. Had his origins imposed no limits, he would have obtained all he desired, and there would be no possibility of change whatsoever. Yet in the present Anomarad, there seems no reconciliation between his limitations and his desires. Still, he believes it remains possible.”
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Months Publishing
The copyright of this book belongs to the author and 14 Months Publishing.
To reuse all or part of the contents of this book, written consent from both parties is required.

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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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