Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 513

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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 283.
Beneath the Almond Tree (26)
“I understand, and I agree with your words. If we were to settle accounts through anger and vengeance, we would have nothing but a perpetual, justified yet tragic war between us. However, sir, I have lived long enough to know that the world’s tragedies do not arise from merely one or two causes. Duke Arnim’s hand did not kill my brother. Similarly, the Young Duke’s chest was not pierced by a blade held in Rosencrantz’s hand. Within the Republic’s ten years, there were incompetent councils, pure dreamers, stubborn revolutionaries, and violent mobs alike. And there were enemies within and without. I do not believe that a single hand struck the Republic’s heart.”
“Is that so? Then the Exile Council’s actions are all the more regrettable. As you yourself said moments ago, it is difficult to deny that this matter includes a desire for vengeance against the so-called ‘traitor Arnim’. Having exchanged betrayal and conspiracy once each, how can you guarantee there is nothing more between us?”
“That is true. Regrettably…”
Giscar trailed off, his gaze lifting to the ceiling. His hair, beginning to thin, had escaped the edge of his hood and trembled at the nape of his neck.
“Contrary to my personal opinion, it appears the Exile Council harbors many who still believe that the actions of one or two individuals can alter history’s course. I understand the anger they carry, sympathize with it, and sometimes find it frustrating. I cannot find the one who killed my brother. I do not wish to find them. Should I encounter that person, I too would suffer from anger and pain. Yet that person was merely one word among billions of sentences in the thick book that ‘history’ writes of this world. That person could have been ‘grazed’ instead of ‘killed’, or ‘fled’ instead. Yet even if we pass over it, the very next sentence would inevitably contain ‘killed’ once more. Who bears the guilt? Within a story spanning hundreds of pages, my brother was slowly dying. Perhaps he was destined to die from the first sentence, or from the hundredth. And then came that person’s turn. That person had no power to change the story.”
“Then what can an individual possibly do?”
Giscar’s eyes suddenly grew clear.
“We write new words for what will happen hundreds of pages hence. That is all. The words I write may be buried, yet I will write them with all my strength, hoping they become the beginning of a vast tale.”
This man speaks truth.
At the same time, it was remarkable. That someone who had witnessed the Republic Government’s failure, fallen into helplessness and contemplated death, and finally risen again to rebuild an organization—that such a person should remain an idealist even now.
Moreover, Hispanie understood what Giscar wished to say. No—he had known before the words were spoken. And he even sympathized. If only the subject were not Joshua. If only that anxious yet radiant child whom Hispanie himself had wished to save from the limitations he could not break through, whom he had wanted to guide by the hand to the highest places—if only it were not that child, then Hispanie’s stance would not be as it was now.
“Very well. But do not forget that the other party was not Duke Arnim, but his son. That child was the future of my family and my own future as well. Of course, I do not intend to place all blame upon you. The first plan was born in the mind of one of our family’s own, after all. Yet we had already lost that child’s sister. After that, the Duke and I resolved that we would not forgive anyone who laid even a needle’s point upon the Young Duke.”
“Then you must do so all the more from now on. Even if you were to execute Rosencrantz for his crimes and refuse forgiveness, tens of thousands of sword-wielders still remain within the Friends of the People.”
Hispanie’s eyebrows rose sharply.
“Are you threatening me?”
“I am not.”
“Or is that supposed to be advice?”
“As I have said, I did not come on the Exile Council’s orders. I am merely a minority within the council. Therefore, I can only speak of the parts I cannot control with my own power.”
“You mean to say the Exile Council would not have attempted this conversation? That you came all this way to speak anew with one who betrayed the Republic simply because you are magnanimous? Or is it that you are willing to endure shame and anger to save one person of great importance to you?”
Giscar was not swept away by the other’s anger.
“No. I thought conversation would be possible.”
“Then speak. The Young Duke nearly died. In truth, a body that had essentially perished was miraculously revived. And he suffered damage that no person in this world should ever endure. You stood behind him and handed over the blade. Now listen. Whether it be forgiveness or negotiation, the one you must convince is not me. Does the Young Duke bear original sin?”
“Sir.”
A sudden coldness settled in eyes that had been gentle.
“Not everyone in this world is ignorant of whose mind conceived the ‘Four Days of Lightning’ that pronounced death upon the Republic.”
Hispanie’s expression remained unchanged. He barely maintained his composure.
“Do not presume carelessly.”
“Duke Arnim’s plan at that time included numerous dangerous assumptions that could never be confirmed through mere information gathering and deduction alone. Not a single one went awry. Fortune smiles so frequently upon one person only with great difficulty. I have often wondered why, if that insight which seemed to transcend human bounds belonged to Duke Arnim, his subsequent actions fell short. That was before I understood what the so-called ‘Demonic’ truly was.”
“Are you saying that a scheme to topple the Republic emerged from the mind of a nine-year-old child?”
Giscar laughed.
“If you ask me that, what am I to say? You, of all people, know best that such a thing is possible.”
Once again, I could neither affirm nor deny. Because I myself am Demonic.
Truly, the finest negotiator of the Friends of the People. He presents strong logic, forcing the opponent to counter, and within mere words, inevitably pushes them into a prepared fork in the road. The longer the discourse, the more escape routes the prey possesses. One who ends the hunt in three or four steps is a true master. An ordinary opponent would likely forget the initial logic itself while being ensnared twice or thrice.
Yet Hispanie was a Demonic who could see checkmate ten moves ahead. Therefore, he also understood why he repeatedly found himself in dilemmas. Fundamentally, he was acknowledging the other’s perspective. Even before meeting him.
Yet he also could not abandon his original resolve. Not to forgive anyone who touched Joshua.
That was a relatively narrow motivation. To pursue it, he could only resort to primal emotion and anger rather than logic. Yet Hispanie himself despised such an approach more than anyone. This was the fundamental reason why one capable of deploying every sophistry remained bound to plain argumentation.
“Count Natangsong, you are a rare orator. Among all the eloquence I have witnessed over decades, you rank among the finest. Yet eloquence alone cannot persuade me. Do you know why?”
“Rhetoric is merely a tool; it cannot truly purchase a person’s heart.”
“You understand this well, so let me ask you directly. I am not a republican, but I know your cause is noble. I witnessed the Republic’s collapse, and I understand the methods the Friends of the People chose to survive afterward. In that process, there were likely methodological distortions. At times, schemes were devised that people like you would find difficult to accept, and they have been carried out just as they are now. Let me say again—I am not a republican. However, I believe such methods contradict your own ideals and cause.”
Giscar rose and draped his nearly dry cloak over the armrest of a chair. Then he bowed his head.
“I express my respect for that judgment, and I offer my personal apologies. That methodology, as you wisely noted and as I myself saw it, was not right, yet I ultimately failed to prevent it. History will render its verdict, but I will continue to work toward preventing such currents in the future.”
Hispania bowed his head in return to receive that greeting.
“I accept your sincerity. I knew from the beginning that your heart was thus, yet I turned away. The reason is that while you and I, meeting like this, might understand each other, the two young men absent from this place cannot. And my affection for the Young Duke is far too great to forgive Rosencrantz for his actions.”
“I acknowledge that my affection for Rosencrantz led me to debate with you. However, I did not intend to obscure your vision through rhetoric. I know well how futile such attempts are. Your affection for the Young Duke is not a barrier that can be overcome through argument. Yet even if it is illogical, such emotion should not be condemned. It is that very emotion which supports the deepest foundation of human compassion that must become the root of the Republic. Therefore, I ultimately cannot move you through rhetoric or logic. That is why I had no choice but to negotiate—a conditional compromise.”
Hispania nodded.
“Indeed. You will ultimately be unable to prove the innocence of the one absent from this place. Move your heart for Rosencrantz, not for yourself.”
Giscar sat down, his gaze lowered. The rainwater marks scattered across the carpet were drying. The carpet’s pile, wet and worn in ugly streaks, suddenly disturbed his mind. Would the brilliance, integrity, and selflessness of that young boy he was about to speak of still remain? Had his spirit, entrusted beneath the cruel edge of a blade, been torn to shreds?
“You must remember Dansburg, who was the head of the Republic. You surely know that as his health deteriorated, so too did the Republic.”
“I never had the opportunity to know him directly. However, I do not deny that the very birth of the past Republic relied greatly upon his ideals and political acumen.”
Giscar nodded.
“In retrospect, it was not a desirable direction. However, the Republic that bloomed prematurely had no choice but to depend upon a great individual—perhaps it was an inevitable limitation of its genesis. Dansburg was a towering tree that grew of its own accord. When we transplanted that tree to soil unprepared for it, he withered. Now, for the next Republic, we have chosen a long period of preparation. We will lay a firm foundation, prepare good soil, and bring forth flowers.”
Hispania’s expression softened.
“If the Republic that you and people like you prepare is to take shape, I would like to hold hope for it.”
“Thank you for those kind words. Yet as important as good soil is the seed itself. We must have a young seed that understands the soil’s conditions, absorbs all its nutrients, and ultimately sacrifices itself to bring forth sprouts.”
“You must have been nurturing such seeds. In your home.”
Giscar smiled. Or rather, tried to. His voice as he continued wavered slightly.
“Yes. That is what I did. Rosencrantz was a precious seed I have watched over, regarding him as a worthy candidate to lead the next Republic.”
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.

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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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