Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 437

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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 207.
An Angel’s Face and
The Blood Flowing Through a Demon’s Heart (16)
The violin’s thin sound from the corner suddenly swelled and quickened. Simultaneously, the flute joined in, followed by another violin. Four men emerged carrying roasted apples and chunks of meat skewered on iron rods as long as a child was tall. Others grunted as they hauled full barrels of liquor onto the deck. In moments, the entire space erupted into chaos, and those already flushed with drink began appearing from every direction. The atmosphere seemed poised for genuine merriment, yet something felt oddly amiss. I had thought the party was already underway, yet it now appeared as though it were only beginning.
Joshua caught hold of the gaunt man who had emerged from the cabin.
“Were you the one singing earlier? The song about the lady refusing a drink and pouring it into the washbasin?”
“What song is that?”
The man merely tilted his head before disappearing into the crowd.
Joshua surveyed his surroundings. The young man who had guided them was nowhere to be found. The sailors mingled readily with those aboard this ship, raising their cups and competing to share the funniest stories they knew. The ship rocked at just the right degree of pleasantness. There was nothing strange about it. Yet when I suddenly thought to glance toward where the Altena lay, darkness obscured it from view.
Joshua shook his head. Since he had persuaded the sailors to come along, it was Arnim Duke’s duty to enjoy himself alongside them.
The moonlight was red.
Or perhaps it was the red lanterns. It was not entirely uncommon for mist to rise from the water and tint the moon crimson. Yet there were no signs of the weather turning foul.
Maximian lay on the upper deck with his arm as a pillow, gazing up at the sky. The peculiar scarcity of stars nagged at some corner of his mind. He listened to the sounds drifting up from the lower deck. It was difficult to distinguish individual voices. He could only discern that the party continued unabated, with no sign of ending.
Maximian rose to his feet. His intention was to see what was happening on the lower deck, though the empty cup beside him may have been the greater reason. Just before descending from the upper deck, cup in hand, his eyes met someone’s. At first, he did not realize it. The figure was crouched in a shadowy corner—a dim spot beneath the rail where rope was coiled. It was a boy sailor, perhaps twelve or thirteen years old.
“What are you doing in a place like—”
He began to speak but stopped himself. On this ship, he was a guest. It was not his place to interfere with where anyone chose to be.
The boy stared at him for a long time, his hunched back and arms wrapped around himself remaining still. Only his eyes widened like a frightened rabbit. Had he been watching even before Maximian noticed him?
Perhaps the apprentice sailor was being punished and confined there. It seemed best to leave it alone. He had no desire to appear sympathetic by meddling in every affair. There was no reason for anything unusual to occur. He tried to pass by and descend, but—
“What are you doing there?”
He spoke after all. The boy struggled to still his trembling jaw, even drawing a deliberate deep breath. Maximian moved toward him but stopped short, instead crouching down at a distance.
“They seem to be having quite the time down below.”
Maximian thought he had become somewhat strange. He had never considered himself to possess keen premonition. He was merely someone who enjoyed reasoning. In truth, this was hardly someone he should pity so deeply. It was certainly not sympathy that had made him sit down beside the boy.
“Is something wrong?”
“…”
It happened in an instant. The crouching boy suddenly shifted his upper body and extended his arm. His small hand quickly grasped Maximian’s wrist. He reflexively tried to pull away, but the boy released him first. Rather than retreating to his corner, the boy positioned himself on his knees and hands, his body prone, yet held his head upright to look at Maximian.
Maximian asked with a composure that surprised even himself.
“What is it?”
When the boy did not answer, he asked again, more clearly.
“Why were you trembling like that?”
The tremor still seemed to linger in his wrist. The boy crawled forward a few steps on his knees and crouched before Maximian. Yet he remained silent.
“Then stay like that until your heart feels at ease.”
Maximian stretched his legs and settled into a more comfortable position. For a long while, they simply sat side by side. Several times he glanced down, but each time their eyes met, making him uncomfortable, so he looked away first. The last time he looked, Maximian realized the boy was not looking at his face but at something slightly beyond it—his shoulder. Following the boy’s gaze, he realized it was directed at his shoulder area. He reached out to touch it.
It was a violin.
“This?”
The worn violin he carried haphazardly in his pack—had Juspian seen him carrying it like this, he would have been appalled—was a Capriccio. The boy must have noticed the slightly protruding head.
“I don’t know how to play it.”
Of course, it was a lie. He simply did not want to touch it. It was not something he played often. Yet ever since hearing such remarks from Juspian, it had become even more difficult to handle. For some time now, he had lacked the leisure to play the violin at ease. The boy continued to stare, but Maximian shook his head.
The boy did not whine. He simply lowered his gaze to the floor. Looking closer, his shoulders still trembled as though chills ran through him. Maximian’s cheeks twitched with a suspicious expression—one he had worn from the beginning. To any observer, they could not have guessed what complicated thoughts tangled within his mind.
Maximian reached into his pocket. He wondered if there might be something to capture the child’s interest, and his hand found something suitable—a bundle of cards that the Altena’s sailors had produced earlier in the evening. Regardless of how those cards had ended up in Maximian’s pocket, he withdrew them and laid them on the floor. Then he observed the boy’s reaction.
It was unexpected. He had brought out the cards thinking everyone knew card games, yet the boy’s expression suggested he was seeing them for the first time. He hesitated before reaching out, observing carefully, and his wavering hand soon scattered the bundle. As they spread wide, the patterns on the cards became visible.
The Young Boy picked up a card with a gold coin drawn on it, and examined it the way ordinary people handle cards—not with his fingertips, but grasping both sides firmly with both hands. The card’s print quality was crude, but the illustration itself was excellent. Of course, Maximian had never concerned himself with such things. At last, the first words escaped the Young Boy’s lips.
“Ah… how fascinating.”
“It’s just a card.”
The Young Boy paused for a moment, then asked in a noticeably improved voice.
“What is a card?”
Maximian shrugged. He didn’t think card games were anything more than idle amusement, certainly not important enough to teach to someone who didn’t know. Since the Young Boy’s interest in something new seemed to have eased his chills, the card had served its purpose. Yet unexpected words came from the Young Boy’s mouth.
“I don’t know what a card is, but I recognize this picture.”
“You recognize the picture?”
“How did you come by it?”
That was awkward to explain. Maximian simply opened one hand and held it out—his way of refusing to answer. The Young Boy nodded to himself and spoke.
“My Grandmother had this picture. Her friend drew it for her. Someone who tells prophecies.”
“This card picture?”
“I never thought it would last this long. What do people use it for these days?”
The exchange had become bewildering. Maximian tried to answer simply.
“It’s just a toy.”
“A toy? That’s not what it is.”
The Young Boy straightened his posture and sat up properly. Then he took a deep breath. As he lifted his head, his face finally became visible. The Young Boy had freckles scattered across pale cheeks and thin lips beneath disheveled, coarse hair. Far from the vitality of a Boy Sailor, he looked withered, as though recovering from illness. His eyes especially lacked any light.
The Young Boy set down the card he’d been holding and pressed his temples briefly with both hands. Wind blew and scattered several cards, but neither of them picked them up. As Maximian watched, the Young Boy’s face gradually transformed. Color slowly returned to his complexion, and his lips and eyes became more defined—as if someone were painting over him with a brush. At last, the pain fading from his expression, the Young Boy opened his mouth. Even his voice had changed.
“Why have you and your companions come to our ship?”
Maximian looked bewildered and shrugged his arms.
“You invited us.”
“I know. I’m asking why you accepted the invitation. It was an invitation from a ship you barely know.”
“That’s… well, it could happen, couldn’t it?”
It was tedious to explain that this had all happened because of Joshua’s foolish stubbornness. Yet the Young Boy continued to gaze at Maximian as if his answer were incomplete.
“It’s because, well, I have a strange friend among my companions. He heard singing coming from your ship. He insisted so desperately on meeting the person who sang that song, and since he’s the kind of fellow I simply can’t abandon, I had no choice.”
If everyone had opposed him, he might have jumped overboard and swum here instead—though Maximian swallowed those words. But wait, could he even swim?
“Did you meet them?”
“Doesn’t seem like it. Well, that’s because you didn’t introduce us…”
The Young Boy suddenly stiffened.
“What song was it?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t hear it myself.”
The Young Boy fell into thought, his head bowed. When he lifted his head again, a sudden foreboding struck me.
“You cannot leave. None of you. Just as we are trapped on this ship. Not until we are freed. Never.”
“What?”
I truly didn’t understand what he meant, so I asked again. The Young Boy repeated himself.
“You won’t be able to leave this ship.”
“What are you talking about?”
The Young Boy raised his right hand and pointed to the very top of the mast.
“Do you see that fluttering up there?”
Maximian also looked up. At first, he couldn’t see it clearly because of the red lantern burning on the yardarm. Only when the moon passed near the mast did he finally see it. A flag. Black, without any pattern.
“Why are they flying something like that?”
The Young Boy lowered his voice as if sharing a secret.
“It’s the same as on land.”
Maximian’s eyebrows twitched. On land, a black flag meant execution.
In the place where he had lived, executions were rare to witness, but in the great cities, when execution scenes were not displayed publicly, a black flag was raised in their stead. It meant: the sentence has been carried out.
“Why is that?”
The Young Boy shrank back and pointed downward toward the Deck, where people were making a raucous commotion at play. When Maximian looked at them, he noticed something he had overlooked before. Black ribbons were tucked into their hair and collar edges. They were hidden naturally, like ornaments—ribbons too small to be considered medals.
“Is someone dead?”
“Yes. They are.”
“Someone has died, yet you spend the night drinking boisterously, singing and making merry—is this your custom?”
“No… it isn’t. They’re doing it on purpose. To forget their fear, to bury what they’ve done beneath the haze of drink.”
Maximian paused to consider, then spoke.
“It doesn’t add up. The ribbons signify mourning, yet the flag means execution—which one is your true heart?”
The black flag vanished once more into the night sky. The Young Boy whispered.
“Both. We killed him, and we mourn him.”
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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