Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 442

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Episode 212.
The Face of an Angel and
the Blood Flowing Through a Demon’s Heart (21)
The jester turned to Albi and spoke in a voice grown slightly hoarse.
“Little Albi. You may be right.”
Joshua hesitated before laughing.
“Well, I didn’t summon you for that reason. I was simply curious what you were all doing here. I thought it necessary for the parties involved to meet face to face to understand it.”
Albi spoke.
“That’s right. Your words are true. We have all committed wrongs. Klang betrayed us in small measure first, and we retaliated against him greatly. When Klang grew angry just now, I was afraid, but perhaps he deserves to speak such words. We… cannot blame anyone. No one knows why we were cursed. But we have done things worthy of that curse. That much is certain. If one has done such things, anyone must face punishment. It matters not who delivers it…”
Albi lowered his head. Though he spoke calmly, fear still gripped him—fear of what was to come.
Joshua asked.
“How did you survive?”
“I clung to the rope that hung from the bow—the rope that had hanged Klang’s neck—and hid within the sails. It was a very long… time.”
“And you watched the others die.”
All three fell silent. Now came the moment they could no longer avoid. At last, Joshua spoke.
“You know what will happen, don’t you?”
Albi nodded. A faint sigh escaped Joshua’s lips.
“The world is full of those who wish to live forever, but not in the way you do. Yet those who would simply cease living because their existence is difficult are rare indeed. I need not ask those on the deck, but you—I must ask you truly. Do you genuinely believe it is time to end this?”
Albi met Joshua’s gaze. The boy’s eyes were clear.
“For a very long time… I have wanted to say yes.”
Making a decision did not bring peace. Even as he spoke, Albi trembled. Then the jester Klang said.
“Little Albi. You feared me even when I lived. Yet just now you spoke with such boldness. Now you need fear nothing. You who survived by grasping the rope that bound my neck, you who came to share truth with me—when all is finished, we shall walk together as companions. That path is very long. Too long to walk without a companion.”
Joshua nodded and rose from his seat.
“I am relieved to hear your resolve. Now I shall employ whatever means are available to me for your sake. Let this serve as our farewell.”
“Yes. Please think nothing of it.”
Joshua turned and descended to the deck. He cleared his throat briefly, then cried out toward the huddled figures.
“Well then, you must all be sober by now? Come, rise. We have important work to do.”
As expected, the people did not rise quickly. They merely glanced at him with vacant eyes, or with the look of those to whom all things were tedious. Joshua laughed.
“Whether my arrival here was chance or fate, it was certainly not foreseen. I have come here against my will and been drawn into your inexplicable ‘repeating night.’ Consider this: could I possibly harbor great sympathy for you? Could I feel any warmth toward you? Especially toward those who have done nothing so admirable? Do you think that because you are preoccupied with a troubling prophecy, you bear no responsibility to the guest you have summoned? Is this how the Wandering Theater Troupe of the Sea treats its guests?”
I paused and looked around. Watching as the expressions on their faces shifted slightly.
“You may fear only the pirates to come, but I who stand here am no less dangerous than they are—at least to you. No ghost would fail to dread me. If I wished, I could torment you relentlessly. The reason I do not is neither boredom nor despair.”
The people still offered no response, but their eyes were fixed upon Joshua.
“I feel a measure of responsibility.”
None of them grasped the meaning of those words immediately. Not the people, nor Maximian, nor Riche. Only Kelsniti, hearing them, smiled faintly.
“I shall not trouble myself with tedious persuasion. From now on, you will do exactly as I command. Forget the ancient grudges between you, forget the question of who cast this spell. You have all wronged one another equally. Subtle distinctions matter no longer. It is not my place to parse such things. I am a person from centuries hence. Imagine you heard from your grandmother or someone of her generation that such an incident occurred centuries ago. What would your impression be? Simply that it was all terrible, surely? Is that not so?”
Joshua crossed between the people and placed one foot upon the staircase leading to the stern.
“I do not intend to repeat myself. You will hear my commands and obey them. I will resolve the problems. All of you, rise and straighten your clothes, then clear the deck as though nothing has happened. As quickly as possible!”
A few jumped to their feet, but not all. Rather than urging them further, Joshua ascended to the stern and cast back a barbed remark.
“If you refuse to move, then sit and tremble while you watch what unfolds. I shall not concern myself then. A guest such as I attempts to do what he can, but those who will not rise to help are not worth my sense of responsibility.”
The man who had played Nilba approached the foot of the stern stairs. Rather than ascending, he looked up at Joshua and asked.
“Why can’t you explain why you feel responsible?”
Joshua gave the sort of answer someone might have offered many times before.
“It’s bothersome.”
The Sailor stood at the mast, staring intently at the eastern horizon. Still half-doubting, yet waiting for a ship that might appear. In truth, I wasn’t waiting—I was hoping it wouldn’t come. Stars along the horizon’s edge faded. The Island trembled. By the time I realized something was there, it had already taken on a distinct silhouette.
The Assassin cried out while looking down at the deck. Even as he shouted, he was already descending.
“They’re here!”
The hearts of those waiting on the deck must have matched the Sailor’s frantic heart as he scrambled across the rigging. Yet the preparations were complete. Even if they’d been made in dread of some unwanted calamity, even if they’d hoped such efforts would prove unnecessary, the moment they became useful brought a heavy sinking in the chest—yet also a faint sense of purpose. The faces of those gathered held a glimmer of excitement and tension, and something like resolve. Fear was certainly present too. But there was nowhere to retreat.
Joshua, standing at the bow, raised his hand. He lifted it, then brought it down sharply.
“Begin!”
At that moment, the melody of strings and pipes began to flow across the deck. The deck had been swept clean and polished until it gleamed. Cloth and ribbons from the stage props adorned the railings. Four musicians from the troupe stood in a line at the center of the deck and began to play. Beneath their feet lay a crimson cloth that seemed as though it might once have been used to lower the curtain.
Yet somehow, golden thread had already been swiftly sewn around its edges. There was only one person aboard this ship with such swift needlework.
If it had been merely such stitching, it would not have been difficult. But now I had to take on a role entirely unfamiliar to me. Riche drew a deep breath. Holding it, I tried to instill confidence in my chest. Yet I was a seamstress, not an actress. No matter how I tried to hold steady, my shoulders trembled unconsciously. My calves had already stiffened. The director who might have heard a novice actress’s complaints stood alone at the bow, some distance away.
But the director had keen eyes. The moment his gaze met Riche’s, Joshua noticed and came down to her side. Looking into her eyes, he spoke calmly.
“Don’t be uneasy. Just act as you normally do. You only need to refrain from speaking. If standing is difficult, you can sit over there.”
“Act normally? How could I? Would there be even one similarity? Between such a person and someone like me?”
“No. In my thinking—”
Joshua looked past Riche’s back and smiled slightly before speaking.
“You probably resembled that person quite a bit.”
Behind her, Kelsniti was telling a novice actress who complained more than she feared much the same thing.
“It’s quite alright, Rifkne. Just act as you normally do. I believe he resembled you somewhat.”
“Ah, I know you’re just saying that. It’s because I don’t know this person, right? Though it seems those fellows don’t know him well either. I’ll handle it roughly, so leave me be. You’re not expecting anything grand anyway, right? As long as I don’t ruin it, that’s all that matters.”
Kelsniti lowered his eyes and laughed silently. Now I seemed to understand what expression he might have worn when his usual responses came slowly and he was unseen. Speaking while laughing thus:
“In that you resolve tension through complaint, as well.”
The Traveling Theater Troupe members, though somewhat lacking in skill, were fundamentally actors and thus better prepared than novices. Several of them had chosen the most convincing stage costumes and stood at the railings. The remaining roles fell to the most seasoned actor and director, and to one who needed no acting—merely to appear as himself.
The pursuers drew near.
Cannons loaded and ready appeared along the railings. But as expected, there seemed no intention to fire immediately. With something to recover aboard, one could hardly fire cannons and sink the ship to the bottom of the sea.
As the sound of the other ship cutting through water became audible, Joshua climbed onto the stern deck. Over his usual white shirt, he draped a crimson jacket with golden epaulettes across his shoulders and folded his arms. It was indeed a stage costume that Riche had selected and hastily altered with her needle. Upon his head sat a red hat with an elongated brim. The brim descended over his eyes, concealing his boyish face.
Dawn seeks reconciliation with the sea
Above the horizon where night quarreled all through
A cup of pomegranate tea, warmed to crimson
To thaw the lips frozen blue
Both Riche and Maximian had heard Joshua’s singing often, but never before had he raised his voice with such startling volume. Yet his tone remained utterly unshaken. His voice was as clear and sharp as the dawn air. Without artifice, above all, it was sung with force to carry far.
A ship bearing sails dyed deep crimson, befitting the name “Red Sails,” drew near. In the dimness, the outlines of people appeared. Too distant to discern expressions, yet too close to exchange signals by lamp. Shortly after, they brought forth a signaling flag. The first message conveyed was this: “Stop.”
When one person interpreted the message, the Sailor holding the signal device on this side looked toward Joshua’s face. He had already begun waiting for orders as though it were the most natural thing. Joshua laughed softly and spoke.
“Tell them: ‘We’re already stopped.'”
The Sailor who heard the order found himself smiling despite himself, then started in surprise. Until just moments before, he had not thought it possible to smile.
Another signal came from the other ship: “We will bring our ship alongside.”
Joshua had a response signal sent: “As you wish.”
As this exchange continued, the crew grew tense. Soon they would be close enough for voices to carry, and the other side would likely press their demands first, possibly leading to immediate hand-to-hand combat. But expectations were confounded. Joshua, holding a megaphone in one hand, shouted first.
“Let us exchange greetings in the courtesy of the sea! We are strangers, so introductions are necessary. All the more so since I am not aboard my own ship. Now that we face each other, you know who I am, but I do not know you. Seeing that your ship bears no nameplate, it seems you have endured much hardship upon the sea. I offer my greetings to you, Duke of the Sea!”
Through the megaphone, Joshua’s voice swelled to fill the entire ship. It took considerable time for a response to come back—the other vessel lacked anyone with a voice as commanding as Joshua’s, so they had to bring their ship closer first.
At last, a voice rang out, clearly anxious from the delay in answering.
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Months Publishing
The copyright to 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.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————