Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 49

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

Chapter 49.
Breaking Through the Trap, Into the Storm (19)
Boris stared at Lanji, rendered speechless.
When he tried to speak, his throat constricted. As he pulled out the bundle, the familiar hilt of a sword emerged from its end.
Had he attempted to bring it himself, the Count would surely have discovered it. Yet the Count had paid no attention to the belongings of his servant, Lanji.
To Boris’s eyes, it looked as though several arrows had been bundled together. When Lanji—who seemed incapable of wielding a bow—had asked for a bow and arrows before departing, Boris had understood nothing of his reasoning.
“Why would you go this far? You… you don’t even know what position I’m in…”
“I may not know, but I can surmise.”
Lanji’s expression was light. He stroked the horse’s neck and leaned slightly against it.
It was an expression befitting him—like that night at the party when he had drawn his sleeve and swept back his hair.
“However, I apologize. Had I been certain sooner, I could have seized a better opportunity. I too harbored some suspicion of you, young master. It grieves me that I had no chance to examine this sword earlier. Then I would have answered the questions I harbored far more quickly. I might have risked far less danger than now.”
Boris still could not be entirely certain whether he should trust Lanji completely.
It was a kindness beyond imagination, and those who bestowed great kindness typically concealed even greater conspiracies.
“What question was that?”
Lanji’s eyes gradually transformed from calculated composure to something only the free could possess. He was helping Boris of his own free will.
Not from loyalty, repayment, or duty—but as one person to another.
“From the beginning, I sensed that you had not come to become an adopted son. Yet for a time, I believed you too were complicit in the Count’s schemes. I resolved to uncover what the Count was plotting, and so I have observed you from the start. And perhaps you do not realize…”
Lanji offered a faint smile.
“Even before you arrived, I have striven to seize the secrets of this household. It was my only path to survival. I am originally a fugitive from the nobility who purchased me. The Count accepted both my sister and me knowing this fact entirely. When he deems it necessary, he will likely use Lanzumi as bait to make a request I cannot refuse. I have already guessed what that might be.”
Boris felt his breath quicken.
“To hold a countermeasure for that day when it inevitably comes, I have labored ceaselessly since my first day at Belnoir Castle. I obtained the keys to the Count’s study, bedroom, and hidden drawers in succession, and have been quietly reading through his secret documents. It was around then that you arrived, and in the process of uncovering your purpose, I learned the name Winterbottom Kit.”
The hours Lanji spent apart from Boris in a single day were extraordinarily few. How earnestly had Lanji been living all this time?
“It took me some time to connect that name with the sword I saw because of Walnut Teacher. I had no idea what Winterbottom Kit referred to. The book I recommended you read, ‘Weapons Throughout History,’ made no mention of it, did it?”
Lanji was not one to recommend even a single book without reason. Perhaps he had been gauging Boris’s reaction even then.
“Rather than confirm the truth directly with you, young master, I obtained the key to the Count’s exhibition hall and entered. And I saw exactly what you had seen. Of course, it took several months to accomplish this. Around that time, you provided me the opportunity to examine the sword closely.”
I recalled the image of Lanji drawing the sword on that day when peach blossoms scattered.
What Lanji had examined then was the resemblance between the Winterer’s form and the empty space prepared in the exhibition hall.
“Had you not spoken of your late brother that day, young master, I might have concluded that you too were merely serving as the false owner of that sword, fulfilling the Count’s objectives.”
Though it had been a means of discerning Boris’s sincerity, the two had come to know each other far better through that exchange.
Moreover, in exchange for hearing Boris’s story, Lanji had shared his own past—something he would not have wished to speak of easily.
Lanji’s way of living was a precarious tightrope far more severe than Boris had imagined, yet even in such circumstances, he maintained his own standards and displayed a remarkable fairness. The very fairness that the weak—those who throw themselves into the grasp of the strong seeking a way out—most easily lose.
Lanji spoke suddenly.
“Has your suspicion been resolved?”
It shamed me that Lanji had noticed I was harboring doubt. Yet I could not simply depart.
“Even so, why would you take such risks? It is my affair alone. What concern is it of yours?”
Lanji mounted the horse, now lighter in spirit, and spoke.
“I possess little talent, but what I do understand is the flow of power. Where it emerges and where it travels…and thus what result it will bring in the end. Power is concentrated within you. I merely seek to direct its flow. The time for it to collide and explode has not yet come. I favor people like you, but…”
His voice lowered as though he had swallowed words he was about to speak.
“I am not a particularly pure person.”
Boris mounted his horse as well. He asked one final question.
“Once you return, what will become of you? If the Count learns of this….”
Langie shook his head as if unwilling to hear the rest, then smiled faintly.
“You instructed me to prioritize serving the young master above all else, so the master cannot fault you for it.”
Boris understood that this was a grim jest. Could Langie truly escape the Count’s grasp after such an act?
Or perhaps Langie, clever enough that Boris could never catch him, had already devised some other scheme?
There was no way to know. Yet regardless, he had to go. He had resolved to endure the pain that was merely a means to an end.
The two horses turned, their hooves clattering against the earth.
Langie pointed toward the slope stretching westward. Below it lay the path leading to Arajon, where the White Wine flowed.
Boris spoke quietly without turning his head.
“I will not forget… and I will repay this debt.”
The horse began to gallop. The descent was steep.
“When we meet again, I will call you by your name.”
Those were the last words Boris heard. The voice echoed distantly, swallowed by the thunder of hoofbeats.
Night had begun anew.
I had already entered the Meadow, riding through it. Why was it so dark? As if the darkness itself concealed me from every eye. Why were the moonlight and starlight so dim? As if commanding me to forget all I once knew and learn everything anew, from the beginning, one step at a time.
I did not know where I was going, but I knew there was no turning back. I was afraid, yet I did not hesitate. What I had left behind weighed on my heart, yet simultaneously, I felt unburdened, as if I had shed my old skin.
I was alone again. Yet I had grown since before.
I would ride on. Wherever this path led.
Into the night that enveloped all things in its darkness.
Through the lightless night.

As dawn broke, I felt pain coursing through my entire body.
My bones and flesh seemed to grate against one another. I had been jolted in the saddle for far too long while descending the mountain and riding across the Meadow.
The last time I had ridden for an extended period was already last year. My body had not been conditioned for such exertion recently.
At first, I had ridden forward as if half-intoxicated, with no time to think of what lay ahead or behind.
But as night fell, my clouded mind cleared, and rational thought became possible once more. The reality of my solitude struck me with piercing clarity. I had returned to being alone, with no one to protect me.
When would the Count notice my absence?
Lunch was approaching, so at the very latest, when I failed to appear at the meal, he would grow suspicious.
He would dispatch the knight he had brought with him to search the surroundings, and if he encountered Langie, he would surely interrogate him.
What would Langie say in response? It was difficult to guess.
Marquis Merder, too, had subordinates under his command and would join in the pursuit. He would send word to Belnoir Castle at once. It would take roughly half a day for a swift messenger on horseback to deliver the news.
After that, all remaining knights would be mobilized, and by then, hiding would become far more difficult.
Where should I go? To a place without people? Or rather, to a place crowded with them?
Whichever was better, the truth was that I had no choice at all. I could not even find a small village, nor could I distinguish whether I was in Belcruze or Arajon.
Amid the endless succession of similar mountain ridges and meadows, I could do little more than discern the cardinal directions.
Anomarad was brutally vast. A mere speck like me could not escape it, no matter how I rode day and night.
The pursuit came as dawn spread across the sky.
I was not alarmed. I had anticipated this all along. The distance I could cover on horseback in a day and a half was predictable.
The pursuers were two knights. Upon seeing the boy, they spurred their horses and accelerated.
The desolate Meadow at dawn, the deep blue light spreading across the sky, the mountain rising behind, the pathless land studded with stones and rocks….
“Haah!”
Whinnnnny!
Boris’s horse was exhausted.
Fugitive and pursuer carved parabolic arcs across the Meadow, wheeling sharply. Boulders large and small leapt into view, then vanished behind them.
I drove my legs harder, yet sensed I could not endure much longer. That Marquis Merder’s steed was exceptional—it had carried me this far with grace. Still, I knew my time was running short.
Barren earth scattered with gnarled, withered brush appeared before us. Dust rose in clouds, coating the hoofbeats in white.
I pressed myself flat against the horse’s neck. A fleeting thought crossed my mind—my elder brother had taught me this long ago, and I was executing it well.
Yet skill alone meant nothing. What good was excellence if I did not survive?
The adults pursuing me showed no mercy, regardless of my youth or talent. Objective merit was merely wordplay in their eyes.
The moment to fight was drawing near. The two horses had closed to within a dozen paces.
One rider carried a lance. My weapon was short, and I possessed no skill to duel a knight from horseback.
Where should I dismount? As I glanced around, my eye caught a flock of birds circling in the distance, wheeling through the lower sky.
One of them suddenly dove downward like an arrow. The others followed. Within moments, they vanished from sight.
It was then that a dangerous gamble surfaced in my mind.
A little closer, a little closer still. Not from overconfidence in my abilities, but because no other choice remained.
The horse was wringing out its last strength, galloping like a creature possessed. Faster than seemed possible.
They closed in an instant. Was this the moment? Or should I wait longer? Had I already passed the point?
“Ha!”
I wrenched the reins with all my might, executing a sharp turn. The furiously galloping horse could not change direction easily, yet I drove it on desperately. Failure meant death.
Barely to the right—the horse grazed the precipice’s edge with a hairsbreadth to spare. A hoof struck cold stone, and it crumbled, plummeting into the abyss below.
Tap, crack, crack, crack, crackcrackcrack…
“Aaagh!”
A single scream pierced my ears. The horse’s wail echoed after it.
The grinding of bedrock, the shattering of stone, the explosive sounds that tore deeper into the chest than I had anticipated—I wanted to cover my ears. But I could not release the reins. Had I succeeded? Had both of them fallen?
Aaaaaaahhhhh…

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