Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 46

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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 46.
Breaking Through the Trap, Into the Storm (16)
Lanji paused mid-sentence. It was his method of composing himself.
“Murder committed within the heart is, in a sense, more cruel than killing in reality. Those who die there leave behind not even a corpse, nor a shred of emotion, and rebirth becomes an impossible dream. Yet it does not leave emptiness behind. What fills that void instead is something that pierces the chest with such heaviness—a scream, if you will.”
If he had killed the living, the scream would have ended with a single cry. But this one would never cease.
“I too would be grateful if I could remain in someone’s heart after death.”
Though his tone was light, I understood more than ever that he spoke with sincerity.
In that moment, I wished to be absorbed into his sentiment and tell him that I desired the same.
I, who had resolved to live only within the hearts of the dead.
“Perhaps it will be that way.”
For some time now, I had sensed it. Lanji’s form resembled my own reflection in a mirror—similar yet perfectly inverted.
When I raised my right hand, the shadow in the mirror lifted its left. When I turned left, the shadow turned right.
Yet even in that turning, the fact that our backs bore the same resemblance remained unchanged.
Within the darkness that enveloped us both, we would surely walk in opposite directions. And when we met again, one would come from the east and the other from the west, wearing entirely different faces.
Only then would we cease to resemble each other—becoming creatures of different origins from birth.
“Will it be so?”

It was an unexpected turn of conversation.
The day of my confrontation with that boy, Gustaph Merder, had drawn within four days. The match was to be held at Merder Marquis’s House, the residence of the wager’s principal, and our departure was scheduled for tomorrow.
Yet the Count had suddenly broached a strange matter.
“Your brother’s… grave, you say?”
The Count nodded.
“After hearing your account before, Izabo and I gave it considerable thought. The young man we believed to be your brother turned out to be someone else entirely, and so I wondered what we might do for you if your story were true.”
He said that since I had buried my brother with my own hands, there would likely be no proper grave.
So he wished to return and give him a fitting funeral.
“Only a few days remain now, but you have conducted yourself well in our home all this time, and Rosnis seems quite fond of you, so I have been most satisfied. Do not think the kindness I extend is without reason. You have accomplished enough to merit it. If you simply display all that you have practiced in your final bout and defeat that boy, I could ask for nothing more.”
In discussions of the coming duel, Lanji and Rosnis were never present—only the Count, Countess, and myself.
I struggled to find words to respond.
Perhaps because I was still young, or perhaps because I lacked the capacity, I had never considered giving Yefnen a proper funeral.
I may have thought “someday,” but I had not envisioned it as a near future.
“I am grateful for your words, but… I should like to think on it further.”
The Countess interjected.
“What is there to think about? Those buried roughly cannot rest easy even beneath the earth. And I have been considering whether we might create the grave within Belnoir Territory, if you are willing. You were once our son, so your brother is not entirely without connection to House Belnoir, is he not? And you may visit his grave whenever you wish and stay here as long as you like.”
I had never intended to return after leaving this place. No—if possible, I did not wish to return at all. That too was a question I could not readily answer.
“Please allow me a little more time to consider, and I shall give you my answer.”
“Very well. It would be best to decide before you depart, so tell me by tomorrow morning.”
With those words, the Count nodded as if to dismiss me. I rose and returned to my room.
Lanji was just then organizing the bookshelf.
“Another audience with them, I see. They have become quite frequent of late.”
I tilted my head. Had they truly become so frequent?
“That day will arrive soon enough. Shall I prepare some tea?”
Lanji knew that Boris would be crossing swords with another boy, but he didn’t know that Boris would leave the castle once it was over.
Boris suddenly felt the urge to tell Lanji about it. At the very least, he wanted to mention his departure.
After a moment’s hesitation, Boris opened his mouth in a slightly different direction.
“Never mind the tea. Lanji, remember when you told me about your mother? You said it was just the two of you now—that’s what came to mind.”
Lanji didn’t turn his head as he finished shelving the book he’d been holding, speaking simply.
“We parted ways. It was an accident, but that’s how it is. I don’t know what became of Mother or whether she’s still alive.”
“I see…”
What I really wanted to ask came next.
“So when it was just the two of you left, were you all right? Your sister was ill, you had nowhere to go, and yet you weren’t afraid?”
As I said this, I thought that Lanji would have been more than capable of enduring such circumstances. But to my surprise, Lanji shook his head.
“How could I have been? I was just a child myself. I felt so lost and hollow that I wanted to take Lanzumi’s hand and throw myself into the river to die.”
Even as he said such things, Lanji’s expression remained light, graced with a faint smile.
Having finished shelving the books, he approached the table and sat down. Only then did I notice an unfamiliar bundle of keys lying on the table.
“Yet you’ve managed so well all this time. While caring for your sister too…”
“It was merely a matter of various fortunate circumstances.”
Lanji picked up the bundle of keys. He touched each of the five keys one by one, then selected one and drew it out. He placed it before me with a soft tap.
I looked at him with eyes asking for an explanation.
“It’s the key to the secret back entrance of the Fourth Floor Exhibition Hall.”
“An exhibition hall?”
I’d heard something about an exhibition hall from Rosnis in passing. The Count had personally collected rare manuscripts and precious copies, particularly ancient tapestries, and kept them in such a place.
Since it wasn’t shown to anyone but the most important guests, neither I nor even Rosnis could enter freely.
“Why there?”
Lanji answered with an expression that remained unconcerned.
“Aren’t you leaving tomorrow? I thought you should see it before you go.”
I was startled. How did Lanji know that if I left tomorrow, I wouldn’t be returning?
But Lanji continued.
“You will return eventually, but I’d like to encourage you to see it before then. I suspect you’ll feel a great many things.”
Lanji placed the remaining four keys back into his pocket.
I looked down at the key on the table, thinking that for something so important, it looked remarkably plain. It was nothing but a yellowish metal piece bound tightly with twine—no jewels, no ornaments.
To be more precise, it looked like a crude counterfeit made by copying a real key.
“Let’s make it dawn. I’ll come wake you around four o’clock.”
I noticed something else strange. Lanji had never before decided something so unilaterally without even asking my opinion.
The floor beneath my bare feet was soft yet rough.
Since arriving at Belnoir Castle, I’d always worn indoor slippers, so I’d long forgotten the sensation of bare feet. Back at Jineman Manor, I used to run about barefoot quite often.
The corridor was pitch dark. Walking with the lamp concealed in the folds of my outer robe, I had to be extremely careful.
Walls decorated with embroidery gave way at some point to cold marble walls. Where I stopped marked the boundary of the South Tower.
Lanji, who had been walking ahead, opened a small side door set into one wall. The door wasn’t locked. Inside was a storage room where servants kept cleaning supplies and such.
We both stepped inside.
The interior of the storage room extended along the wall in a narrow, long passage. It occurred to me that one might be able to circle the entire castle this way.
The interior was pitch-dark. I withdrew a lamp and proceeded cautiously, yet brooms and dusters kept catching at my feet.
Soon, Lanji came to a halt.
As I approached where he gestured, I glimpsed a thin sliver of light seeping through a crack. It was a door.
Yet it was so small that a crouching adult could scarcely squeeze through it, casting doubt on whether it had been fashioned for passage at all. Moreover, it was fashioned from the same material as the wall, making it nearly invisible at first glance.
I produced a key and unlocked the door. Lanji spoke.
“I shall return here. Do not forget that if you linger too long, dawn will break.”
Boris began to kneel but instead looked up at Lanji. In the lamplight, his indistinct face appeared strangely solemn.
As I turned to enter, a voice came from behind me.
“There is no need for you to seek me out again.”
Pondering his meaning, I stepped inside.

Within the crimson woolen tapestries, hundreds of soldiers waged battle.
Whether from the dust of cavalry or the haze of war, a murky sun descended toward the western horizon. Because it was woven into cloth, each soldier lacked detail, and thus there were no scenes of cruelty—yet the tapestry possessed an uncanny, unsettling quality.
As if a single moment of war had been captured, as if freshly drawn from pools of blood.
The exhibition hall was as vast as the Study. The first sight evoked a battlefield lined with countless banners.
As if there were insufficient walls to hang them all, some tapestries were suspended on tall stands, arranged in rows to the left and right.
As I passed, those seemingly frozen in time began to sway gently, stirring with presence.
They were too magnificent to hurry past. The four seasons’ landscapes seemed to approach one another’s time by degrees. Moonlit cliffs and a castle, a queen and her attendants crossing a cloud bridge, a sorcerer seated within a formation dense with Runes, eyes closed, archers releasing arrows in unison toward the forest….
A young knight in silver armor receiving his accolade had lifted his bowed head slightly.
Beyond the tapestries, boxes that might have held ancient tomes were arranged in succession along the wall.
I examined them slowly. I opened several boxes, but finding only indecipherable text, I closed them again. Some of the manuscripts were beautiful volumes adorned with detailed illuminations.
As I advanced gradually, I sensed the landscape had shifted.
The tapestries ended, and unfamiliar objects began to line both sides. Spears, shields, daggers, armor….
Lanji had never mentioned that the Count collected such things. I quickened my pace, drawn by some inexplicable pull. Then I stopped abruptly.
Before me stood an empty display stand.
Perhaps it was because I had seen only objects in their proper places until now. But that was not all. An inexplicable intuition seized my gaze.
Upon the stand lay a box with a cross-shaped fixture for mounting. Within, white silk was laid. From the outline revealed above the silk alone, there was no doubt—it was the shape of a sword.
I hesitated briefly, then reached out to touch it. Tracing it slowly, the impression was as clear as a mold left behind after casting.
The absent sword, and in the moment I conjured its image in my mind, a shudder ran down my spine. My hand froze.
It was Winterer.

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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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