Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 551

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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 3.
The Noble Daughter and the Detective (3)
Naturally, the Grand Duke was equally displeased. Yet Charlotte’s resolve was unwavering. And until that point, Charlotte had remained far removed from matters of succession. After all, there was Bernard, the Grand Duke’s eldest son and flawless in every respect. This was likely why the Grand Duke indulged his young daughter’s stubbornness, though he did not forget to add that she could abandon the pursuit whenever it became too difficult.
The Grand Duke clearly had no idea how truly stubborn his young daughter could be. By fifteen, Charlotte had already passed four trials and stood on the threshold of the final examination. While the final examination typically required years of repeated attempts before one could pass, she had come far too far now to abandon her pursuit.
And Orlanne no longer had Bernard.
Last summer, a mysterious disappearance occurred, and Bernard vanished without a trace. No one knew why, who was involved, or what had happened—it was a disappearance in the truest sense. After two months of extensive searching, all that was found were a torn scarf and a broken scabbard.
Because no body was recovered, no funeral had been held. No one dared ask the Grand Duke, struck speechless by this sudden calamity, to accept it as fact. Yet three months had passed, and almost no one believed Bernard would return. If so, the primary heir was naturally Charlotte.
There had never been a precedent for a female to become the Grand Duke’s successor. Etoile had originally been the Royal Guard, and therefore had no need for a protected charge. If Charlotte became a Grand Duchess, she should not challenge the final examination of Etoile but rather receive their oath of loyalty. Yet as long as the Grand Duke refused to accept Bernard’s death, it was impossible to speak of resolving the succession.
So Charlotte remained here still. No one could say “Charlotte must leave Etoile,” for such words would be equivalent to “Bernard is dead.”
This was the result. Her turn for duty had come, and the captain, who brooked no exceptions, had ordered her to fulfill it. So Charlotte, who might never have ventured here had she lived as a noble daughter, had followed them to the Northern Island—and without even a single escort, merely as a trainee. Lorang grimaced at the thought. Before Charlotte could even accept the sudden loss of her beloved elder brother, weighty decisions had descended upon her: would she become a Grand Duchess or not? Would she leave Etoile or not? No one had helped her judge. What must be going through the mind of this fifteen-year-old girl who had come to such a place?
The cave ended. In the distance, a moss-slicked staircase and a stone door came into view. The two guides ascended the steps first. One received a torch, and the other, now empty-handed, gazed at the stone door and slowly began a dance-like motion with outstretched arms. Simultaneously, he muttered something—perhaps an incantation, though neither Lorang nor Crupard understood. The people here did not use the common tongue. Without an interpreter, communication was impossible.
With nothing to do but wait, Lorang examined the door out of habit. By its shape, it would open to the right, and the absence of wear suggested it was not frequently used. He found this odd. This cave was said to be the only passage connecting the coastline to the island’s interior. That was why they had found it inconvenient but necessary to enter. Yet wouldn’t a door in such a place normally show signs of daily use and wear?
Moreover, the absence of a handle suggested it could not be opened manually either. What could be so important as to warrant such an elaborate door? Or was the claim that this was the only passage even true? If not, why had they been deliberately led here?
Just as these thoughts crossed his mind, the door began to open slowly—to the right, as Lorang had predicted. Dust and stone powder scattered. Simultaneously, an overwhelming flood of light poured in. Was it around three o’clock? Even so, why was it so bright?
When the door was half-open, those inside were effectively blinded. That was when it happened.
“Everyone down!”
As Crupard’s cry rang out, the trainees immediately crouched. Slightly faster than his shout, Lorang embraced Charlotte and thrust her into the corner against the wall. Immediately after, hundreds of small, dark-red creatures flew overhead. His eyes stung, and he could not make out their forms clearly. Then Crupard commanded again.
“Don’t touch them!”
Several had already begun drawing their blades. But the order was obeyed without exception. Lorang barely managed to lower his gaze to Charlotte in his arms. She stared at him with an expression of utter disbelief, then raised her eyebrows.
“What are you doing?”
Nobles always made that expression when reproaching their inferiors, Lorang thought cynically, before realizing Charlotte’s meaning was not what he had assumed. She extracted herself and, moving with practiced grace, switched positions with him. Then she spoke.
“I’m protecting you.”
….
Lorang, watching Charlotte’s crouched form—a full head shorter than himself—turned his bewildered gaze toward Crupard, as if asking how to handle this absurd situation. Crupard did not even turn around, but as if his eyes were in the back of his head, he extended one hand and shrugged. “What do you expect me to do?”
With that, he issued orders to the trainees.
“They’ll return soon. Be ready. When I signal, rush inward—to the first corner. You may attack anything blocking your path, but prioritize running.”
The guides had vanished somewhere. No one else appeared. Outside was utterly silent. What was happening?
To confirm it, one would have to venture outside, but Crupard made no such choice. They had walked through the dark, damp cave passage for quite some time. Outside was bright. He wanted to rush out, seize whoever was there, and demand an explanation.
Yet whenever anyone felt the urge to go out? Going out was precisely what one must not do.
His eyes had grown accustomed to the light. But now he had to see into the darkness instead. Everyone stared intently into the cave’s depths, mentally retracing the passage they had just traversed. The cave wound like intestines, but it bent sharply exactly three times. If they retreated now, they would turn left at the first corner. To the right of that corner lay a space with a narrow entrance but spacious interior—a decent position if combat ensued.
Lorang stood with his back to the wall, simultaneously watching the cave’s interior, its exterior, and the noble daughter before him. He tried to fathom what was happening. Of course, there were no answers—not until someone explained. He wondered if he should have seized the guides, but even if he had, they wouldn’t understand his words, so it would have been useless.
In any case, Lorang, who had unexpectedly earned the hazard pay he had joked about, furrowed his brow and muttered.
“I don’t need this kind of foresight at all.”
Just then, Crupard, who had been listening intently to something, signaled.
“Now, run!”
The waiting trainees bolted forward in unison, with Crupard, Lorang, and Charlotte bringing up the rear. Even as they ran, Lorang and Charlotte bickered over who should be last, and though Lorang wanted to tell her to stop, he had no breath to spare and managed only this:
“Faster!”
Charlotte wrinkled her nose and cried out.
“Who’s the slow one here?”
Then, from the darkness, the first swarm of dark-red creatures came rushing toward them, flying past overhead. If before the brightness had obscured their forms, now the darkness made them difficult to discern. Charlotte slowed slightly and quickly glanced back, hoping to see them clearly with the aid of the light before they moved too far from the entrance. With the keen vision of Etoile, a brief glimpse would suffice.
I’d suspected it might be a bat, but the moment I saw its true form, Charlotte’s eyes widened in shock. What on earth was that?
It resembled a bird fashioned from torn crimson silk. Each one was as small as a woodpecker, yet they continuously undulated and shifted their shape—like flickering flames. Sparks actually scattered from the tips of their wings as they flew. There were roughly a hundred of them? Yet something felt suspicious about the way they constantly merged and separated, their forms perpetually changing. Were they creatures conjured by magic? If so, the Mage couldn’t be far away, could he?
“Charlotte!”

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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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