Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 472

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

Episode 242.
Playing Oneself (18)
As if trying to understand the wound I bore. It was the silence of a predator. A few seconds passed, and I let out a roar.
“You wretches!”
The voice that erupted from deep within my throat, rumbling and fierce, was utterly different from the light, almost amusing tone of moments before. It was not the voice Riche had heard while being dragged along, bound by rope. When we first met, I had told her that I possessed many voices.
“You wretches… you cannot lay a hand on me!”
Drawing the sword at my side with my left hand, I advanced toward Riche with a sweeping strike, while my right hand seized Sir Baiyer’s blade. The sword shattered and Riche’s arm was cut as she twisted away—both happened simultaneously. Riche saw me looming before her. Anyone who had seen me for the first time would have known what was about to unfold.
Joshua closed his eyes tightly, then opened them.
He then seized a spear and hurled it with a force his arms should never have possessed. The spear flew straight toward me, but just before it pierced my chest, my outstretched right hand—like a shield—batted it away. The spear’s charge and the deflection happened in an instant.
Joshua strode forward and grabbed another spear. He executed a movement he had never learned, and immediately thrust. When it missed, he withdrew and struck again. Once more, and again.
The long spear was an ideal weapon to evade my grasp. In the blink of an eye, more than a dozen exchanges of attack and defense passed between us. The Sailors and soldiers, who believed the Young Duke had never trained in combat, were greatly shocked. Both the thrusts and the evasions were too fast for the eye to follow.
Maximian had witnessed a situation like this before. In Kalayso. It was somehow different from that time when I seemed to have transformed into a completely different person. The difference might be a good sign. However, the fatigue appearing faster than before was unfortunate. Joshua faltered several times, then regained his focus. Each time a brief opening appeared, he was channeling strength through some mysterious process. It was precarious.
Maximian was not the only one who recognized that sign.
“Fall back!”
Hearing Hispanie’s cry, Joshua struck his spear against the deck and propelled himself backward. As if waiting for that moment, the Sailors simultaneously swung chains and hurled grappling hooks.
The first chain to fly caught my right hand and snapped easily. The second and third chains also broke. A fourth, arriving almost simultaneously, I tried to seize with my left hand, but I lost my grip because of the wound I had received from Sir Baiyer’s blade moments before.
The fifth hook finally wrapped around my body and returned. The sixth and seventh did the same. The next aimed for my right upper arm. When I had faced Joshua’s spear head-on, it had not seemed so, but now in this situation, the wound Riche had inflicted clearly narrowed the range of my right arm. Once I missed one chain, what followed was swift and relentless. A few more snapped, but instead, dozens of chains wound tightly around my body.
The Sailors wound the chains around me in layers, driving the grappling hooks into the deck. They drove them into the railings and the staircase as well. I immediately severed any chains my right hand could reach. But my shoulders and upper arm were so entangled that there were far more places my hand could not touch.
With chains pulled taut and layered around me, I glared at Joshua. I tried to advance. With a sound like scraping wood, several hooks half-tore free from the deck.
“Next!”
At Hispanie’s shout, the Sailors grabbed the ropes they had tied to the stern earlier and leaped into the sea, escaping. Several small boats waited below. A few men hoisted the staggering Joshua and carried him to the boats. Joshua was exhausted, as he had been before, as if about to collapse.
The wound that ran from Riche’s wrist to her elbow was deeper than expected, and much blood flowed. Still, it was not life-threatening. But it was difficult to calm how heavily she was breathing. They barely supported her down to the boat.
Once Maximian, Hispanie, and everyone else had left the Galley, only one person remained—bound in chains and tethered to the deck.
A roar-like groan erupted from me. I tried to break the chains. I tried to tear free the dozens of grappling hooks driven into the deck with my own strength. My right hand possessed such strength. But each time I exerted force, the pain spreading from the wound in my shoulder scattered my concentration. I believed I could ignore such things, but in truth, I was a person sensitive to the changes and suffering of my own body.
Yet I gave it everything. The deck planks where the hooks were driven cracked and rose, and the entire stern shook as if it would be torn apart.
The boats carrying those who had escaped reached the Chasing the Devil. After the people transferred aboard, at the signal of the waiting artillery commander Nost, the cannons, still hot from firing, belched flame one after another. Those on the boat remained pressed against the railings, unable to tear their eyes from the direction the cannonballs flew.
Two struck the hull and embedded themselves; another shattered the oars and split the keel. A cannonball that broke through the side flew straight into the cabin. The mast snapped and fell, the sail loosened and fluttered. The stern, pushed by the waves, turned to the left. They could see the one they had left behind. I had severed a few more chains. But the ship was slowly sinking.
It was impossible to know how many cannonballs had been loaded. It was as if they meant to reduce the ship to powder. At some point, fire spread and engulfed the stern. I was still visible. Joshua, Maximian, and Riche—they all watched me. Joshua thought he could see the eyes of the one watching him. Eyes hidden behind a mask, always concealed by mask and hat….
From behind, Hispanie placed a hand on Joshua’s shoulder. Joshua flinched and turned around.
“It is finished.”
Grandfather’s expression was calm. Joshua’s lips trembled slightly.
“How did you devise such a plan? Regarding that person… did you investigate extensively?”
“I traced your path belatedly. I know nearly everything that happened to you. But before I investigated, I already knew what manner of person that one was. That overwhelming numbers alone could not easily defeat him. I considered how to minimize casualties.”
“You knew about that person from the beginning?”
“That one is more famous in the world of Mercenaries than you think. Few can be compared to him.”
Joshua shook his head.
“I also did not want to believe that there existed an assassin stronger than that one.”
The self-proclaimed “Salaryman.” I remembered the conversation I had with him on the day we first met at Caesar’s House. After that, several times I saw it in dreams—myself dead, exactly as I had spoken to that one. It may not have been fear alone. It may have been that, immersed as I was in the manner of the Demonic at that time, I had vividly etched that scene into my mind. But from some point onward, each time I beheld that sight, I screamed silently within. Enough. Stop. I want it to stop.
Was the shadow that had gripped my ankle finally released?
When Joshua turned back, where the ship had been, there was only a dark green whirlpool.
9. The Most Feared Confrontation
People of Recordable fear looking into mirrors at night.
A daytime mirror reflects one’s present face,
but a nighttime mirror reflects the face of the future or the past.
In the early evening, one sees the near past or near future.
Since it differs little from the present face,
it is difficult to discern whether it belongs to past or future.
As the night deepens, the distant future or distant past appears.
When one’s self before birth is reflected, the mirror contains nothing.
Then the mirror must be buried in the earth and a ritual performed.
Otherwise, misfortune befalls the womb that bore you.
How one appears in the mirror after death remains unknown.
Because no one who has witnessed it has survived to tell.
At nine in the evening, the leaves were yellow and black. When the lamp that had cast its shadow dancing across the river was covered, the forest fell into darkness. The Wilhelmina Forest stretched like a ribbon along the Riverbank. It was renowned as a walking path for the Nobility, but now that night had fallen, even the wind’s voice lay in quiet slumber.
“I must ask today, without fail.”
Theo wore a black coat despite the summer heat. Kanka stood two paces away, leading two horses. His words would carry clearly enough to reach that distance.
Langie sat perched on a wooden palisade erected along the Riverbank. On this day, he was dressed roughly, like a farmer’s son. His white linen tunic was paired with worn trousers, cuffed at the ankles and caked with dried earth. Sitting with his back to the moon, his expression was difficult to discern. Only his golden hair shone like a halo.
“I know full well that the support prepared for me has been drastically reduced. Is this the command of the Exile Council? Or the opinion of Don Crea? Do you possess some new fact unknown to me? I cannot proceed further in ignorance. If you have information, do not think to exclude me from it.”
As Theo finished speaking, he could not hide his anxiety, fidgeting nervously with his hands.
“No. It is the opposite.”
When the low voice sounded, Theo’s hands made a sharp sound.
“What do you mean?”
“It is you who has excluded us from information, Moro.”
Langie lowered one foot to touch the earthen ground. Behind him, the moisture of a summer night rose from the River.
“I concealed something? What?”
“I have no need to question you about it.”
Langie answered paradoxically, slowly rubbing the sole of his shoe against the earth. Small pebbles were pressed down into the soil.
Theo stared intently at Langie. He had to make a decision.
“Are you certain that you know everything?”
“What makes you believe I do not know?”
“That is….”
Feeling his words falter, Theo fell silent. Had this man truly discovered what Theo was hiding? Or was he merely grasping at straws, inferring from a hint he had caught?
Soon after, Theo spoke in a somewhat more composed voice.
“Is that all? Why did we withdraw the major plan we had prepared?”
“I did not say we withdrew it.”
“Then we postponed it?”
“Our plan had a deadline. Do you remember?”
A word rang out low. Kanka listened quietly.
“September 27th.”
Just over a month remained. Langie nodded.
“The timeframe was not generous. For success, every element of the plan needed to proceed without a single hitch. When multiple people are involved, small mistakes are inevitable. The Exile Council accounts for such things when drafting their strategies. That’s why it could be concealed at first. Until those small errors compounded, warping the very direction of the plan itself.”
Theo fixed his gaze upon his counterpart.
“You’re saying I made a mistake? What exactly did I do wrong? I demand you speak plainly.”
Langie turned toward the river, then back to Theo.
“Ambition has a scent. Like fish. You cannot hide fish in your collar for long. The longer time passes, the harder it becomes. That’s why we didn’t want to drag things out until the day of execution. We hoped Pontina wouldn’t catch the scent in the meantime… but.”
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
—————