Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 41
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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 41.
Breaking Through the Trap, Into the Storm (11)
Winter descended gradually.
My life changed somewhat. During the day, I still diligently practiced the exercises Walnut Teacher assigned, and at night, I repeatedly trained in swordsmanship—something that had become more than just preparation for the Winterer.
However, during the daytime hours when I would normally play with Rosnis or lose myself in thought, I began to read books.
Unlike before Walnut Teacher arrived, when I would flip through any book at random and set it down again, my approach had changed.
Initially, I had sought the Count’s permission to enter the Study because I wanted to ensure Lanji could read his books comfortably.
For some time afterward, I merely admired the bindings of the books on the shelves while leaving Lanji to read alone, only alerting him when someone approached.
But after several days, Lanji finished reading one thick volume and handed it to me, saying:
“Read it slowly. You’ll find it interesting.”
The leather-bound tome was so thick that I hesitated at first. However, since I had already spent time exploring the Study, I began turning the pages to pass the time.
The book’s title was this:
『A History of the Magical Kingdoms』
When I heard “magical kingdom,” only one place came to mind—Ganapoli, the magical kingdom that once existed in the Land of Mortals.
Yet as I read through several pages, Ganapoli’s name never appeared. Progress was slow, hindered by the unfamiliar classical prose.
…The classification of “magical kingdom” cannot be said to reflect the characteristics of all its members. With one exception, there is no record of even individual commoners regularly employing magic, whether great or small, in their daily lives.
However, on this continent where Anomarad is located, and across all other continents that existed and exist beyond the sea, there have been kingdoms where mages played central roles in society during specific historical periods.
Therefore, calling all such nations “magical kingdoms” would be an error of introducing an absurdly broad category.
Despite the risk of oversimplification, this work shall establish criteria to limit the definition of “magical kingdom” as follows:
Something promising seemed about to emerge. So I eagerly turned the pages.
A “magical kingdom” refers to any kingdom satisfying more than half of the following conditions:
First, the ruler—that is, the king—is recognized by his subjects as the most powerful mage, regardless of whether this is factually true.
Second, when a new ruler ascends or when important figures in the cabinet are appointed, measurement of magical ability is formally or informally required.
Third, even the ruling class—those of noble status—desire their children to become high-ranking mages above all else.
Fourth, more than half of the ten most renowned historical figures in the kingdom gained respect through magical achievement.
Fifth, the names of magic or mages that existed in the past are widely remembered among the common people.
Sixth, among the magical techniques commonly used in the kingdom, there exist some that cannot be replicated by modern magic.
Seventh, despite the kingdom’s great prosperity, the cause and process of its ultimate demise remain unclear….
Beyond that, the book’s introduction was brimming with unexpectedly peculiar definitions.
At first, it seemed merely complex, but once I entered Chapter One and witnessed how fluidly those definitions were employed, a curious fascination stirred within me. I realized that establishing definitions beforehand and then developing one’s argument was remarkably useful.
As I continued reading, the name of Ganapoli finally appeared—the only magical kingdom I knew of.
The stories Yanika and her companions had let slip while my brother and I wandered the wasteland were, despite being lies, utterly captivating. I hadn’t forgotten them even now.
As I eagerly turned the pages, a particular passage caught my eye.
Ganapoli was the sole exception mentioned earlier—a true magical kingdom where every member, from the kingdom’s ruler to the common folk, could wield magic.
It was an unbelievable tale. Did that mean even newborn infants in Ganapoli used magic?
Reading further, I discovered that Ganapoli was indeed a remarkable place where every previously mentioned condition applied without exception.
Ganapoli’s ruler was more often called the “Master of All Magic” than “king,” and the governing elite, including the cabinet, were all accomplished mages. Naturally, they desired their children to become mages as well.
Given such circumstances, it was inconceivable that any great historical figure was not a mage.
I had never learned magic, so I didn’t know firsthand, but the current continent’s premier magical institution, Nenya-Yaplia—commonly called Nenya-Yapli—supposedly had an enormous barrier encircling its entire grounds.
This barrier, which controlled everything from the earth itself to every blade of grass, tree, and stone, was called “Angonina’s Curtain.”
And Angonina was the name of one of Ganapoli’s final five great mages.
There was also the remarkable account that Ganapoli’s prophecy book had already recorded a name—the “Land of Mortals”—as the designation the kingdom would bear upon reaching its ultimate end. That prophecy book, it was said, was still preserved in the royal archives of the Rugran Kingdom.
Two types of universal magic from Ganapoli were now utterly impossible to realize.
One was a ship that flew through the heavens—an airship—and the other was a “doll” that possessed an appearance identical to humans and supposedly even possessed a degree of judgment and emotion.
I was astounded to learn that large airships could carry hundreds of people and fly for over ten days.
More than a hundred people soaring through the sky simultaneously, carrying provisions to sustain them for more than ten days?
My heart raced at the mere thought of it. I couldn’t imagine what it would look like, but the sensation of countless people simultaneously piercing through clouds seemed indescribable.
Of course, such massive airships were rare; the ones commonly used were smaller vessels that could carry four or five people and travel for nearly a month.
According to the author’s description, they had sleek, tapered hulls like a young Boris, with thousands of luminous butterflies alighting upon them instead of sails.
I wished there were illustrations and flipped through several pages, but finding none, I felt somewhat disappointed.
Shortly after, I wondered how the book’s author could know so much about Ganapoli when he had never even lived there.
Yet even if it were fiction, wasn’t it quite a beautiful imagination? With that thought, a smile crossed my lips.
Next came the account of dolls resembling humans.
The dolls possessed the appearance of immortal beauty itself. They required neither sustenance nor rest, and since they were created by magic, they lived eternally until destroyed by magic.
The dolls undertook whatever tasks the mage who imbued them with will commanded—guarding, standing watch, or other menial labor that was tedious and universally despised.
Thanks to these dolls, the people of Ganapoli apparently lived with considerable ease. Though simple, they possessed the ability to communicate, and they supposedly had basic judgment and faint emotions.
Yet problems inevitably arose. There were young men who fell in love with beautiful dolls that spent their days from morning to night sewing without rest. There were also incidents where dolls, imbued with excessive will by their creators, cruelly killed those who quarreled with them in jest.
However, people who had grown accustomed to the work the dolls performed could not bring themselves to destroy them. Thus, the dolls remained at their side until the day Ganapoli fell.
The day of ruin.
Ganapoli, which had flourished alongside such wondrous magic, met a sudden, mysterious end—as I myself had heard—with neither cause nor process understood.
Afterward, the severe aftereffects poisoned the land, leaving the people of the present unable to even glimpse a trace of the beautiful civilization that once existed.
It was the tale of the world’s most beautiful kingdom, built upon land no one could ever set foot upon again.
“Are you finding it interesting?”
On the fourth day, Langie posed this question from over my shoulder as I devoted myself earnestly to the book. I turned my head and answered with a grin that yes, it was quite interesting.
It took nearly two weeks to finish the book. I skipped over the more difficult passages, but there were sections I read repeatedly, struggling to comprehend them.
After that, Langie continued to select books he thought I would enjoy.
If Walnut Teacher was Boris’s sword master, then Langie became his reading tutor. Every book Langie recommended was one he had already read himself.
Before long, Boris began selecting a book or two on his own, and if something caught his interest, he would read it.
As winter deepened, the books in the study—which I had once thought irrelevant to me—suddenly loomed like an endless sea I had to cross.
That year faded away with nothing but sword training and reading. The books Boris had read were as follows.
『A History of Pirates of the Shell Peninsula』
『Forgotten History: The Eastern Continent and Beyond』
『Weapons Throughout History』
『Historical Events of the Magic Academy』
『A History of Secret Societies』
『The History and Evolution of Curse Songs』
『The Old Kingdom of Anomarad』and so on.
Through reading the books Langie recommended, I naturally came to understand that he was a boy who loved any book with the word “history” in its title.
Spring arrived in the year 987 of the Kingdom Calendar.
The spring of Belcruze was more beautiful than imagination. The hills surrounding the manor were covered with swollen branches and buds of every color.
In the garden, white marguerite flowers—the same ones adorning the family crest—bloomed, appearing like white ribbons scattered across the verdant meadow.
The forest burst with primrose and violet and countless other flowers, while the trees themselves gradually unfurled their blossoms.
Just as lilac perfumed the air, peach blossoms before the castle gate bloomed luxuriantly like soft pink clouds.
When I ventured to the stream, I saw daffodils standing upright, their profiles turned slightly away. Even the sound of flowing water seemed fragrant with spring.
After her birthday, Rosnis turned thirteen. Yet she had only aged in years; her behavior remained that of a thoughtless young lady.
Rather, it was Boris, still only twelve, who had changed dramatically. Though his demeanor remained composed and his appearance had been indistinguishable from other children his age, he suddenly grew.
His height had grown considerably over the winter, but one day I was startled to find the wardrobe door was nearly half a span lower than before.
Last year he had been shorter than Langie, but now he had surpassed him by a considerable margin. With a span’s difference between him and Rosnis, anyone would have taken him for the older brother.
His build had become more boyish. Most notably, the muscles and bones of his limbs had strengthened. His hair had also grown longer—what Walnut Teacher used to tie up playfully for him was now too long to train with left unbound.
His eyes, already mature by nature, had grown deeper still. Though he had no beard, his strongly developed jawline was pale as if freshly shaved.
Everyone marveled at his sudden growth, but Boris himself was the most astonished.
For a time, I found it difficult to accept how my appearance changed day by day, so I deliberately avoided looking in mirrors.
I pondered why this had happened, but could only attribute it to regular physical training and a slightly improved environment.
Reflecting back, even in my hometown of Longord, I had never lacked for food or been forced into difficult labor. Yet the climate and nature here were entirely different from Trabaches, where I was born and raised.
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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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