Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 507

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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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Episode 277.
Beneath the Almond Tree (20)
Joshua tried to rise, but his expression twisted in discomfort. Perhaps lingering fragments of a dream weighed upon him—his head felt heavy, his chest constricted.
“Has something happened?”
Once his vision cleared properly, he saw that Tichiel had changed into fresh clothes and now held a hat in her hand.
“Your doppelgänger at Jade Ring Castle.”
Joshua tensed immediately, looking up at her. The words he had both eagerly awaited and dreaded finally reached his ears.
“It’s awakened.”
To the west of Keltika lay a vast bay known as the Dragon’s Mouth. It was where two great rivers that had carved through the entire Continent emptied their waters. The irregular coastline, which seemed to spew forth countless bays both large and small, peninsulas, isthmuses, and islands, resembled the legendary maw of a dragon—thus the name. Because the Dragon’s Mouth was so immense, it was divided into three sections: the Northern Bay, Keltika Bay, and Gilbert Bay.
The Bluet River—young and turbulent, rushing down from the north, cutting through Keltika, and bursting into Keltika Bay—contrasted with the Noagilbert River, slow and mighty, formed by the confluence of countless southern tributaries before flowing into Gilbert Bay. In ancient times, when Anomarad dominated the western Continent, white tribute ships had filled the Dragon’s Mouth so completely that the Noagilbert earned the epithet “White River.” Water commerce had flourished along its course since those distant days.
Even now, goods traveled by small boats on tributaries or by cart to the Noagilbert River, where they were transferred to larger vessels bound for Keltika—a system that constituted a significant portion of southern logistics. Where the main channel met its tributaries, the bustle rivaled that of any proper harbor, and most such confluences had developed into cities.
Tribute ships emerging from Gilbert Bay turned their helms clockwise to enter Keltika Bay, passing over the Great King’s Dike. They then selected one of several docks developed at the mouth of the Bluet River to unload their cargo. Few vessels ventured further upstream from the estuary, and those that did invariably carried special missions. Above all, passage without inspection was impossible.
In early September, when summer’s warmth had not yet fully departed, a single vessel painted in the white of tribute ships passed inspection and ascended the Bluet River. The numerous docks gradually vanished, replaced by stretches of riverbank, until at last a small dock appeared. There, dozens of soldiers waited alongside carts draped in black cloth.
The ship touched the dock. Armed soldiers disembarked first, laying a gangway while two officers directed them. Soon, a special cargo was carried from the vessel’s hold. It resembled the boxes used for transporting tribute, yet it was bound with multiple layers of iron chain, and reinforced at its corners with metal plates—clearly not something easily broken open.
As the cart bearing the cargo departed the dock, a figure who had observed the entire scene from a distance rose from the grass where he had hidden. He was a tall man with an exotic, tawny complexion concealed beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Entering the forest, he untethered a horse he had secured, mounted it, and galloped toward the city.
Hispania spoke loudly toward the closed door.
“Your service never fails to impress, no matter when one arrives.”
Priscilla sat in a chair with wobbly legs, attempting to balance herself using a protruding plank in the floor, but failed. She gave up and settled into an awkward position as she replied.
“This isn’t a place ordinary people frequent. It seems Republicans learn to do all manner of things.”
Hispania tested his chair’s legs for a moment before suddenly blurting out.
“Child.”
Music from the floor below faintly resonated through the walls. Shortly after, someone began singing at the top of their lungs. Within moments, several voices shouted complaints, and the singer responded by using their full vocal capacity to sing even louder. A moment later, a tremendous crash echoed through the room, and the singing ceased. Soon after, only the hesitant notes of keyboard and strings filtered through the walls.
Though Cazals was merely a shabby tavern, its walls and pillars stained with grime, soot, and graffiti, the proprietor retained the old habit of hiring musicians from when the second floor had once been a dance hall. He frequently summoned wandering musicians to perform. After they cycled through old songs, patrons would grow nostalgic and collapse onto tables in sleep. When someone inevitably disturbed that slumber, they would awaken in unison and beat the offender, and once a few chairs were broken, the musicians would resume playing. Cazals had an unusual abundance of chairs with broken legs.
Priscilla, keeping time with her chair leg, replied.
“Not merely young—they should be kept in cradles instead. I wouldn’t even send a child here for tobacco errands; a cradle would be a hundred times better. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t send them to such places at all. When I see this, it’s clear those people are truly mad.”
Hispania merely shrugged. As Priscilla, reminded by her own words, began removing a tobacco pouch and filling her pipe, Hispania pinched half of it between his fingertips and slipped it into his upper pocket.
“Cut back on tobacco.”
“What? That’s barely anything—why turn it to pocket lint? Come on, give it back.”
“Already turned to dust.”
Priscilla stood and leaned across the table, extending both hands.
“Just give me half.”
Hispania crossed his arms and closed his eyes.
“I knew you’d do that, so I put a spoonful of dust from under the floorboards in my pocket beforehand.”
“…I’ll have to borrow a light somewhere.”
As Priscilla pouted and stood, placing her hand on the door handle, someone knocked.
“Who is it?”
Instead of answering, five knocks sounded again. Priscilla opened the door without hesitation.
“Welcome.”
Bill Oris and another man entered with a blindfolded figure between them, both flanking him with crossed arms. Oris merely nodded his head, while the other man called out cheerfully.
“Captain, I’ve arrived!”
It was Nost, the artillery captain who had fired cannons with perfect accuracy in the Keltika Waters. He then turned his head toward Priscilla.
“It’s been a while, Sister.”
Priscilla absently brought an unlit pipe to her lips before setting it down, speaking with irritation.
“I don’t need second-rate pleasantries.”
“Sister, have you put on weight again while I wasn’t looking?”
“And you keep wasting away like that—by next year you’ll have disappeared entirely?”
Despite their biting words, Priscilla was gaunt while Nost was robust. Nost soon chuckled and spoke.
“Sister, I’m a candle. When I burn out, I vanish. Though truthfully, all lives are like that.”
“Before you burn out, I’ll snuff that flame myself.”
As Priscilla made a gesture of extinguishing a flame, Bill standing beside her burst into silent laughter.
“Let’s begin. I can’t see anything ahead and it’s driving me mad.”
As the Tall Man muttered, people seated him in a chair with its back to the door and gradually adjusted their postures. Hispanie, seated directly across, opened his mouth.
“Welcome. Morynac. You’ve worked hard.”
Morynac was a lieutenant in the Kingdom 8th Army who had served as Hispanie’s information source for several years. Yet he had never once seen Hispanie’s face. He didn’t know Hispanie’s name, nor that he was Duke Arnim’s uncle. The only people whose faces he knew were Priscilla and Bill. Though he had met Nost for the first time today.
Morynac bowed his head toward the direction from which the voice came.
“It’s been a long time, Sir.”
Morynac had met this “Sir” several times with his eyes covered, and based on what the underworld figures and subordinates called him—the Captain—he had assumed he was a retired pirate of sorts. Either way, he was undoubtedly a major figure in the underworld with vast wealth and hidden organizations. He had received crucial help from Sir several times. When his parents died and he had to settle the remaining debts, throughout his enrollment and graduation from military school without a single coin, and when his younger sister married.
“Though to be precise, we’re not truly meeting.”
At Morynac’s following words, Hispanie burst into laughter.
“That’s true enough. I’ve always felt apologetic about it.”
“I’m looking forward to the day I truly meet you, Sir.”
Morynac’s demeanor was sincere. Hispanie also ceased laughing and spoke.
“That day will come soon enough.”
From downstairs, faint music still thudded rhythmically. A smile played at the corners of Morynac’s mouth.
“I believe so as well.”
Sir was pursuing something secretive and grave that he could not yet reveal to him—this was what Morynac had always believed. He brought only fragments of information, but if it aided Sir’s work, he was prepared to continue willingly. This Sir, whose name he didn’t even know, had been his benefactor since childhood.
“A Republican Faction executive was captured recently, I hear?”
At Hispanie’s words, Morynac’s expression showed surprise.
“You knew about it, Sir. The headquarters has been in an uproar over it. He was transported from the Southern Region just recently, and headquarters approved the use of a tribute ship on the Noagilbert River. Thanks to that, we cleanly shook off the Friends of the People’s pursuit. The major who orchestrated this affair is remarkably sharp.”
“Yes, that major—what was his name? Jenas, wasn’t it?”
Morynac tilted his head with curiosity.
“How do you know so much about him, Sir?”
“I had some reason to look into him. Today I’m fitting the pieces together with you. I hear Major Jenas is a superior officer in the same unit as you—tell me about him.”
“In a word, he’s unpopular.”
Judging by Morynac’s expression, he seemed to think so more than anyone.
“He’s not of noble birth, but his aunt married into nobility. The problematic uncle by marriage is currently Brigadier General Baron Ekru of the Royal Guard, though even he became a noble by earning merit when the Divine Kingdom was established, so he’s not exactly old-line nobility. In any case, his aunt originally brought him in just to educate him, but he started slipping into his uncle’s barracks, and before that year was even out, he suddenly became a second lieutenant. Such things were common in the Kingdom’s early days, but with the brigadier general backing him and rapid promotions, earning a good reputation was impossible from the start. Moreover, his temperament is quite rigid. I find myself thinking I’d like to emulate his composure—the way he doesn’t care even when criticized.”
Now that the Royal Military Academy, established in the third year of the Divine Kingdom, has become established, it’s become difficult to become an officer without graduating from there, even for nobles. But in the early days of the Divine Kingdom, there was a shortage of people, so they accepted all sorts of individuals, and becoming a soldier was an excellent way to wash away one’s origins, status, and even criminal history. Officers from the military academy resented how those barely their own age and poorly educated had taken higher positions simply by arriving earlier. Morynac himself was a military academy graduate.
“If that’s the case, it must have been difficult for him to gain cooperation from others—did he accomplish all this alone?”
Morynac nodded and gave a bitter smile.
“Major Jenas does the work of several men. No one can match his sincerity. If he decides he needs to read reports, he’ll sit at his desk for days without moving until he finds something convincing. If something seems important, he doesn’t pass it down to subordinates. Of course, without such tenacity, he wouldn’t be rummaging through haystacks looking for needles. But that needle happened to catch something substantial. He poked around in places others wouldn’t touch out of sheer annoyance and landed a big catch.”
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Months Publishing
The copyright of 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.

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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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