Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 53

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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 53.
Breaking Through the Trap, Into the Storm (23)
Boris remained lost in thought long after the old man shuffled away.
Trabaches was a country he could never return to. Though he did not love it, the very name constricted his chest with a tangled knot of affection and resentment.
None but those born and raised in Trabaches could truly comprehend its tragedy.
Yet Anomarad, too, was an imperfect nation.
Anomarad possessed abundance beyond imagination, and within it dwelt those who despaired at receiving not a single fragment of that wealth. Thus arose men and women who would burn with passion rivaling life itself for the incomprehensible monster called the Republic.
The Republic had captured not merely the hearts of romantic old republicans, but even the mind of a wise boy like Langie.
Was abundance, no matter how vast, fundamentally incapable of being distributed equally?
I could understand neither face of Anomarad—that coin with two sides.
I must leave this country, I thought. Go elsewhere.
In Trabaches, Uncle Blado’s reach extended. In Anomarad, Count Belnoir would be desperate to capture me.
The burden I carried was too great to bear while living in either nation and attempting to understand them. What I needed was a remote cave where I could breathe alone, undisturbed.
Suddenly, I recalled what Walnut Teacher had once told me of the northern barbarian lands. Though those savages despised foreigners and stripped scalps, they seemed to possess a far simpler existence.
The harsh lands of rough people who coexisted with barbarians. The Wave Country—Lemme.
I wished to see that land. I wanted to leave this place, where the reverse side of strange abundance bore the bitter yearning of the impoverished.

Spring was drawing to a close.
A tall boy with dark blue hair stood on a bustling street, a worn sword sheathed at an angle beneath his cloak. Countless people passed by him.
Zanford was a sizable city positioned at the crossroads leading to the border, and foreigners thronged its streets.
Merchants especially abounded. Rosenberg Lake, where the borders of three kingdoms—Orlanne, Anomarad, and Lemme—converged, was the center of northern commerce. Zanford lay on the southern shore of that lake.
A little further east lay the border with Lemme.
“Make way! Make way! Demerin Kaltz approaches! Clear the streets!”
At first I thought it was a noble’s procession, but upon reflection, I realized no title had been announced.
The crowds that had filled the broad street scattered like ants as a confident palanquin procession approached. A palanquin instead of a carriage in this day and age—what peculiar taste, I thought.
As it drew near, I saw it was an exotic palanquin adorned with golden curtains and bordered with multicolored jewels. The bearers all wore matching garments, marking their master as undoubtedly wealthy.
Carved at the apex was a family crest: a golden raven. Since ravens were beasts that gathered treasure, I surmised this man was a merchant.
Yet the palanquin, which I thought would pass, inexplicably halted before me.
The palanquin descended, the attendants drew back the curtains, and a well-built man rose and stepped out.
This man had an unusual fondness for gold—even his hair was golden. Handsome in face, yet his protruding belly could not be concealed even by his loose outer robe. It seemed this belly was why he preferred a palanquin to a carriage.
“The representative of Kaltz Trading Company, Demerin Kaltz himself, has arrived! What are you doing standing about? Come and pay your respects!”
A ridiculous scene unfolded.
The palanquin had stopped before a large tavern, and the staff rushed about in panic, dashing inside. The woman who appeared to be the proprietor came tumbling out and bowed deeply. Behind her, some six or seven people all prostrated themselves until their noses nearly touched the ground.
“What brings you to such a humble place, sir? Had you merely sent word through a subordinate, we would have abandoned everything and rushed to you!”
The proprietress appeared so distressed that it was painful to watch. Had she committed some grave offense? As expected, Kaltz’s roar came down upon her.
“What brings me here? You don’t know? You truly don’t know? Are you playing games with me now?”
The proprietress and all the tavern staff trembled violently. The onlookers who had gathered to watch also regarded the scene with anxious faces.
“I… I truly have no idea what has angered you so…”
“My one and only son! He came here, didn’t he? Surely you’re not going to deny knowing that?”
The proprietress’s face turned ashen. She glared at her employees, demanding with her eyes that anyone who knew speak at once. Yet no one answered.
“Hand it over at once. If you don’t….”
Before the threat could finish, the innkeeper’s wife quickly prostrated herself on the ground.
“We truly know nothing of this matter, sir. Your esteemed son enjoys disguises so, and we humble folk may have failed to recognize him and committed an offense….”
At that moment, Boris noticed the boy standing beside him stifling a quiet giggle.
At first, I wondered if this was a fearless creature, laughing in such circumstances. Yet despite his tattered clothing, the boy’s face was clean, and most notably, that blonde hair….
Boris turned his gaze toward Demerin Kaltz. He confirmed that the two faces bore a striking resemblance, and even the shade of their blonde hair was identical.
Looking back at the boy, I felt anger suddenly surge within me.
“Wait.”
I stepped back and called to the boy. The laughing youth turned with a bewildered expression.
Seeing those bright blue eyes, Yefnen came to mind, but this boy’s gaze held not a trace of worry or concern—only crystalline innocence.
“What’s wrong?”
Even the question itself was childlike in its naïveté. His face showed no sense of responsibility whatsoever for what had unfolded before him.
“This is all because of you, isn’t it?”
“Huh? How did you know? Did you recognize my face? I thought my disguise was perfect?”
Perfect disguise—go smear some dirt on your face and then say that. Without another word, Boris pushed the boy forward.
“Ow, why are you pushing me?”
“Go confess. Are you saying it’s fine for that person to be punished because of you?”
I held back the words that were about to escape: because of a thoughtless prankster like you. I refrained because I myself wasn’t much older.
I thought he might become sullen or angry, but the boy stared directly at Boris’s face and spoke.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right about that. I get it, but you—why do you look so serious all the time? Lighten up and enjoy life.”
There was no time to respond.
The boy suddenly darted forward and threw his arms around Demerin Kaltz from behind. Even Boris, who had suggested this, was taken aback and stood dumbfounded.
“Father, I’m here! These people didn’t even know who I was! So don’t punish them—let’s go home. I’ll take the punishment instead. That works, right? How about house arrest for three days?”
Demerin Kaltz, the innkeeper’s wife, and everyone present stood utterly flabbergasted. Yet the boy, oblivious to the atmosphere, rolled his eyes and spoke again.
“But now that I think about it, three days seems too harsh. Can’t I just be confined for one day? And in exchange, even if boiled carrots are served for dinner, I’ll eat them quietly….”
“You thoughtless brat!”
Demerin Kaltz rapped his son on the head and shoved him into the palanquin he had arrived in.
Turning around, he spoke to the innkeeper’s wife in a deliberately stern voice.
“Thanks to you for finding the boy. I shall see that you are rewarded soon.”
The innkeeper’s wife looked as though she had aged ten years simply from escaping the crisis. Though she had risen to her feet, she made no effort to brush the dirt from her clothes, instead bowing her head as she spoke.
“A reward, sir? That is far too much. We are already sufficiently delighted simply that young master Lucian is safe….”
Demerin Kaltz, perhaps embarrassed, did not listen to the rest of her words. As he entered the palanquin, the bearers quickly drew the curtains shut.
The palanquin was lifted and whisked away from the spot. As it passed by, Boris heard that mischievous voice once more.
“I said lighten up!”
As the curtain fell, the sound of father and son bickering could be heard from within the palanquin.
People around them began to murmur.
“My, what a rascal—the young master has passed his thirteenth birthday and remains unchanged. The master must have his hands full.”
“Were you at young master Lucian’s birthday celebration in April? I heard the food and drink flowed without end, and it was a sight to behold.”
“And that was just the beginning! The servants even stood outside the manor gates and scattered expensive sweets to passersby. The boy insisted on giving gifts because it was his birthday, or so I heard.”
“If that young master ever inherits the Kaltz Trading Company, it won’t last three years before it collapses.”
I caught only one thing clearly from all that talk—that the boy was the same age as me.
Yet how vastly different we were. Though we’d both been given thirteen years to live, the distance between where we now stood was immeasurable. No one here would ever see us as the same age.
Someone else refuted the earlier statement.
“No, no. These thoughtless young masters inherit their fathers’ businesses and suddenly transform into merchants even sharper than their fathers were. Just wait and see if I’m wrong.”

At last, I reached the gate leading into Lemme.
Since leaving Zanford, I’d followed the merchants’ road. The traders moving between Anomarad and Lemme knew the swift routes well. Following them had been a wise choice.
But upon arriving at Saspone, the border city, I encountered an unexpected problem—one I should have considered long ago, yet had overlooked due to my inexperience.
To cross the border, I needed a travel permit.
To arrive at the border without any means of obtaining one was something a worldly adult would never do, but even someone like me, who’d experienced much for my age, couldn’t naturally foresee such complications.
I’d been grateful to have come this far without major incident, but now calamity had struck without warning.
The Drakenz Mountain Range lay between Anomarad and Lemme, leaving almost no open passages except for a few gates like the Rosenberg Gate. These gates were therefore the practical border.
Middlemen merchants crossed safely with permits issued by both nations. I calculated that by entering where such merchants gathered, I might obtain some useful information.
The Inn I entered, following the merchants, was bustling. People who’d come to cross into Lemme, or had just crossed from Lemme, clustered in groups, each speaking loudly over the others.
Half of them were waiting for tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, when the Rosenberg Gate opened. The oil lamp clock in the corner of the Inn was slowly burning down.
Exhausted from walking all night, I had no leisure to rest comfortably while I puzzled over what to do. I ordered a warm cup of milk and, knowing that my long hair and tall frame concealed my age, sat at a secluded table with my back turned.
Then I overheard an interesting conversation behind me. Two men were speaking in lowered voices.
“…which is why I think four hundred Elso would be fair.”
“Come now! Four hundred Elso? I could make a round trip to Keltika for that. Don’t talk like that—let’s settle on two hundred Elso. Yes?”
“Tch, four hundred is four hundred. Why all this haggling? If you don’t like it, forget it. There are plenty of others willing to pay.”
“Since you’re going anyway, taking one more person only profits you, not me. Don’t be like that—let me come along. We’ve been trading for more than a year or two now.”
“Bah! If you don’t want to pay, then get yourself a travel permit! I’m barely scraping by with this work anymore. There’s talk that Lemme’s caught on to us, and things have gotten terrifyingly risky lately.”
“Come on, two hundred fifty! Just that much. You don’t think I’d come back without a gift or two for your wife’s hands, do you?”
The man insisting on four hundred continued shaking his head, but his manner suggested no serious opposition.
After a moment, the two drained their remaining drinks and bickered over who would pay the small tab. In the end, the man proposing two hundred fifty Elso won and paid.
They put their heads together, whispered quietly, and left for the street.
I turned back in my seat and assembled the situation from the fragmented conversation I’d heard.
There must be a way to cross into Lemme without going through the Rosenberg Gate. That guide had been negotiating a price with a merchant lacking a travel permit. Four hundred Elso—I had that.
I rose, paid the innkeeper for my milk, and followed them out.
At that moment, someone who’d been quietly watching me from a corner of the Inn silently rose to follow.

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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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