Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 47

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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 47.
Breaking Through the Trap, Into the Storm (17)
The ring-shaped counterweight at the end of the hilt, the slightly curved narrow blade edge, and the long blade….
It was a sword far too familiar to me. I remembered everything about it—the sword that once weighed down my body and slowed my steps, every detail of the blade I had tried countless times to grip and wield.
As my gaze lowered, something even more astonishing came into view.
A box. It was precisely the right size for the Snowguard breastplate to fit inside. The interior was wrapped in white silk, as expected.
Beneath the stand awaiting these two objects, I saw a small golden nameplate affixed to it.
‘Winterbottom Kit’.
I trembled. How was I supposed to accept this fact?
The implication was unmistakable. Yet the shock was so overwhelming that my judgment wavered as though my mind itself had fractured.
Only after steadying my breath several times could I think clearly again.
Betrayal.
Dozens of tapestries filling the room trembled like flags sensing the approaching storm.
I was a child cast into the middle of a battlefield, forced to flee with all my might. My only support was a single sword I could barely wield.
Before my eyes lay unmistakable evidence that someone had been watching me intently all this time, waiting to strip even that away and leave me defenseless.
Everything I had experienced before arriving at Anomarad flashed past like a lantern show. Unexpected encounters, sudden proposals, changed fate, and an autumn and winter that had been far too peaceful….
All this time, I had been careless. Without realizing it, I had let my guard down, believing myself to be vigilant when in truth I had fallen into delusion!
Why hadn’t they simply seized the possessions of a helpless child outright?
The answer lay in the position of the Winterbottom Kit before me. The Count desired not merely the Winterer, but the completed Winterbottom Kit.
So he had waited, wearing a mask of care, until I myself revealed the location of the Snowguard.
A tomb for Yefnen?
Cold sweat ran down my back. If I had been moved by that false kindness and revealed where my brother was buried, would I even be alive now?
How vicious….
More unbearable than anger, more crushing than shame, was the disappointment. Not disappointment in those who had deceived me, but in myself for being deceived.
Was this the first time? No. Had I not already steeled myself countless times, vowing never to be deceived again? What of the despair I felt when Walnut took the Winterer?
I thought I didn’t trust them, yet I did. I thought I was vigilant, yet I wasn’t. Carelessly—yes, carelessly—I had believed in them.
Fallen into foolish kindness, like a day-fly drowning in a jar of honey….
“Hah, hah….”
I steadied my breathing. This was no time for disappointment. I had to leave.
I had to flee this place. Now that the brief peace had revealed its true nature, I had to escape.
But I could not flee like this. I had to take with me the Winterer—something I could never afford to lose.
The mere fact that I had separated it from my body, even for this brief moment, now filled me with infinite self-reproach. And in that instant, I understood the meaning of what Langie had said just before I entered this room.
He had told me that if I heeded his advice, I should leave this place with all haste.
Without returning to offer thanks, immediately.
Now was the time to follow those words.

I passed through the corridor without even a lamp. Thin light filtered through the window gaps, so it wasn’t particularly dark. Dawn seemed to be breaking. I had to leave before people woke up.
Even as I hurried, countless thoughts swirled through my mind. Since when had Lanji known? How much did he understand? What had possessed him to lead me into the exhibition hall and grant me such an awakening?
“Brother! Where have you been?”
In that instant, I drew a sharp breath and froze, my entire body seized by shock.
Rosnis stood guard before my door, her eyes fixed intently upon me.
“Did you wake up early? Taking a walk?”
At first, I thought she was deliberately twisting her words, pressing me—as if she didn’t already know exactly where I’d been.
But soon I realized such thoughts were merely illusions born of my own anxiety. Rosnis spoke with disarming innocence and a smile.
“You’re leaving to fight today, after all. I wanted to give you a lucky gift, but you weren’t in your room, so I got quite a fright. Waking up this early—aren’t you terribly nervous?”
In Rosnis’s outstretched palm lay a delicate flannel pouch embroidered with a four-leaf clover.
I barely managed to speak.
“You… you also woke up awfully early, didn’t you?”
Rosnis laughed softly.
“No. I didn’t sleep at all. I stayed up all night and only just finished it.”
Now that I looked closer, the shadows beneath her eyes spoke of sleep deprivation. I had been so consumed by the shocking events that had befallen me that I’d had no leisure to observe Rosnis carefully.
“You look exhausted.”
I accepted the pouch and forced a smile, reminding myself to appear composed, but my expression wavered.
Fortunately, Rosnis was too tired to notice. She smiled like a dutiful sister and spoke.
“Brother, don’t be so nervous. Even if you lose, I won’t marry that Idiot Son. But do your best, give it everything you have. Understood?”
As I managed a nod, Rosnis yawned and waved her hand, returning to her own room—never noticing that I was barefoot.
But it was already too late to escape undetected. A few servants passed through the corridor.
I had spent far more time in the exhibition hall than I’d anticipated. When I entered my room, I saw light rain falling beyond the window.
That was why the surroundings remained dim despite the morning hour.
Even as I climbed into the carriage, I was only half-present.
I couldn’t remember how I’d managed breakfast or completed the travel preparations. I moved like a phantom, swept along until I found myself seated there.
Immaculate hunting attire, a boy’s sword, a hat worn at an angle, polished boots.
By any measure, I looked every inch the young master of the Belnoir Family. Never had such an appearance felt so foreign to me.
Winterer remained at the Manor.
If I attempted to bring something I didn’t normally carry, suspicion would be immediate. The slightest hint that I’d been discovered would mean everything was lost.
The rain had stopped, but the sky remained overcast. So the Count rode in the carriage with me instead of on horseback.
Sitting across from the Count and concealing my emotions proved far more difficult than I’d imagined. Unaccustomed to such deception, I couldn’t easily relax my rigid expression.
Fortunately, the Count seemed to assume, like Rosnis, that my tension stemmed from the impending duel. After offering a word of encouragement, he left me to my own thoughts.
The traveling party consisted only of the Count and myself, secretary Hugh, Lanji and the other servants, and twelve escort knights. Neither the Countess nor Rosnis accompanied us.
The Count said that whenever he traveled abroad, he always brought twelve knights along—unless the journey was to the Capital.
“Still reluctant, then? Or are you simply too exhausted today to entertain such thoughts?”
About an hour after leaving the Manor, I suddenly came to my senses, realizing the Count had been speaking to me. I couldn’t remember when he’d begun.
“Pardon? No… yes…”
I opened my mouth without thinking and felt ashamed. Why was I stammering and cowering? Why couldn’t I be bolder?
The author had waited three seasons with relentless patience to obtain what he desired, so why couldn’t I even hide a single emotion?
“The wet roads will slow us, but we’ll arrive before nightfall. You’ll have until tomorrow to rest and compose yourself. Think it over quietly then. In matters like this, it’s best to decide swiftly once the moment comes.”
The Count then added in a gentle voice.
“As Izabo said, those buried harshly cannot rest in peace. If they were someone you cherished in life, shouldn’t you let them rest soon?”
Hearing words that would have moved my heart had it not been for the dawn’s revelation, I felt a fresh surge of hatred.
Simultaneously, revulsion made me shudder. Only now did I realize the Count’s demeanor had grown noticeably softer of late.
How had he learned that Snowguard was buried alongside my brother? I slowly retraced the events that had befallen me.
At first, the Count had said he knew of House Jineman the moment I spoke my name.
That was likely no lie. He had mentioned frequenting Trabaches often on business.
It was quite possible he had heard of the strife that occurred within House Jineman and its aftermath, either at the time or afterward.
Had even a single piece of the Winterbottom Kit remained in Uncle Blado’s hands, it would naturally have passed to Khan Elector, and rumors of such a thing could not have failed to spread. Khan Elector was the undisputed supreme authority of Trabaches and had no need to hide fine treasures for fear of others’ eyes.
That he had not boasted of it meant he had never obtained the Winterbottom Kit.
When I first met the Count, I was in no position to conceal the existence of Winterer, yet he showed no interest whatsoever.
No, I should have found that strange from the very beginning.
It was clearly odd that he would not ask about its origin or express a desire to examine a sword so fine it drew the eye at a glance.
Had I not been cautious, I should have realized it then. Was it at that moment the Count decided to take note of Winterer and resolved to claim Snowguard as well?
This gave rise to an even deeper suspicion. Was the very event that led me to meet the Count truly coincidence?
The hypothesis that a boy I happened to meet while traveling possessed a fine sword, who turned out to be the son of House Jineman, and so the Count devised a scheme on the spot to obtain the Winterbottom Kit seemed somehow lacking in credibility.
Then had the Count known of House Jineman’s affairs beforehand, or at least known of the Winterbottom Kit?
In that moment, a truly terrifying thought occurred to me.
The very purpose of my journey to Merder Marquis’s House now—that is, bound by an old wager, I had agreed to pit two boys against each other so that Rosnis would not be given to that family’s Idiot Son—even that story….
Could it all be fabrication?
Regardless of the truth, merely entertaining such an imagination made my heart sting with sharp pangs.
Could I truly escape from the grasp of a Count so meticulous and slip away with Winterer?
It depended entirely on how well I could maintain the act.

“Welcome. You must be weary from traveling in the dead of night.”
“It has been quite some time since I last came here.”
Count Belnoir and Marquis Merder, the two men, had studied together at the same school in their childhood.
The Royal Grome Academy in Keltika was a place that had endured and thrived even when Anomarad was a republic.
Of course, the two nobles had attended the academy during the Old Kingdom era. To distinguish it from that time, the current Anomarad was also called the New Kingdom.
Merder Marquis’s House was situated on the slopes beneath Mount Pano, giving it more the impression of a mountain lodge than a manor.
The Marquis was said to be unusually fond of exploration, mountaineering, and hunting rather than social gatherings. He was a large man with a bold bearing.
“Is this the boy? My… if he’s an adopted son, why does he resemble you so much? Something seems off about this fellow.”

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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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