Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 611

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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 60.
The Velvet-Lined Invitation (24)
Deborah cast another admiring glance toward Espin, but Espin offered no explanation. Then Deborah turned her gaze between Maximian and Espin as she spoke.
“Pleasance’s grandson and an enigmatic young lady—you’ve both stumbled into grave danger from the moment you entered this place. He has decided to kill Pleasance, who interfered with his work. Once such a decision is made, even if one hasn’t died yet, they’re as good as dead.
Everything was meant to end quietly, but then you two appeared. Everyone understands that your mere existence makes it impossible to conceal Pleasance’s disappearance, regardless of your silence. And he—he crushes those who get in his way like insects. I’ll meet the same fate.”
Deborah shifted her posture as if uncomfortable, then looked up at Espin with a forced smile.
“So you might say that carving an epitaph on one’s face is actually quite a brilliant idea.”
Espin still hadn’t turned to look at Maximian, yet from her back alone, he sensed a sudden tension. And Maximian himself reflected: there was at least partial truth in what Deborah had said.
Espin opened her mouth.
“Who is this person you speak of?”
“I don’t know his name. But anyone who belongs to Keltika’s Underground World knows him by the name ‘Iron King.'”
“A king?”
When Espin furrowed her brow in question, Deborah shook her head.
“Of course he’s not a real king. The nickname likely came about because he’s known to have succeeded with the Steel Guild. Since no one knows his true name, he’s simply called that. There’s one other name for him, though it doesn’t seem like his real name either. Ironface, they call him…”
The moment the name “Ironface” was spoken, Espin’s eyes changed. Until moments before, her demeanor had been one of “speak, and I’ll listen,” but now it was different. Her questioning tone sharpened considerably.
“Why are you being hunted by him?”
“The client that Pleasance was trying to help—that’s my older brother. We weren’t particularly close, but we’re blood siblings nonetheless.”
As Deborah spoke, her face twisted as if recalling something unpleasant, taking on a nauseated expression.
“I was terribly unlucky. I had no idea my brother was caught up in such a thing until I learned of it far too late—or rather, not until I was dragged to that man’s Basement. My brother must have done something terrible. So I, who had nothing to do with it, came under suspicion and faced death simply because we share the same blood.
I’d heard countless tales of that Basement in the Keltica Back Streets, but it was my first time seeing it firsthand. You cannot possibly imagine what that experience was like…”
Deborah paused to catch her breath before continuing.
“When I was released without dying there, I was simply bewildered. But after sitting vacant at home for about three days, I understood.
They released me as bait. The moment my brother comes looking for me, we both die. So I decided instead to search for my brother myself. If we’re together, there might be a way to survive. That’s why I abandoned my home and became a fugitive. I wonder if I was being tracked… or perhaps I’d rather not know.”
Deborah shuddered as if seized by chills. Her clothes and face bore all the marks of someone wandering without shelter—soiled garments, unwashed skin, a sickly complexion.
“So you came to search for Pleasance first?”
“I learned of Pleasance’s disappearance when I was dragged to the Basement. Since there was a connection, I thought perhaps something might remain that could hint at my brother’s whereabouts. Last night I came in and searched thoroughly, and this is all I found—a single scrap of paper.”
Deborah wiggled her bound fingers as if inviting Espin to search her clothes. Espin rose slowly, then extended her sword tip to open the pocket.
Deborah flinched. The sensation was almost like being pierced. But it was only a sensation; no wound appeared. With movements like magic, Espin speared an unsealed letter on her sword tip, lifted it, and with a flourish, sent it in an arc toward Maximian. Maximian extended one hand and caught the letter, then spoke.
“Are you a circus performer?”
“That’s giving me too much credit.”
As Maximian unfolded the letter, Deborah continued speaking.
“While I was doing that, you two suddenly appeared. I heard you boldly claim to be the owner of the house from upstairs, so I decided to take a gamble. I thought if you couldn’t even handle this much of a test, it would be a mercy for me to kill you. But if you had skill, then we might find ourselves in the same boat.”
Maximian and Espin exchanged a quick glance—as if asking, “What do you make of this?” That much was fine, but then Maximian also peered at Pickled Herring’s face. Pickled Herring let out a whimper.
“I don’t want to die…”
“Understood. But why did your brother become a target of the Iron King?”
“I’m not entirely certain, but from what I heard when I was taken to the Basement, it seemed he stole something the man valued greatly. If that’s true, he’d be the greatest fool alive—to covet something belonging to him. But honestly, I find it hard to believe. My brother wasn’t that much of an idiot. I can’t determine what misunderstanding occurred, but there’s no way to learn the truth before I meet him…”
“What’s your brother’s name?”
“Paul. Paul Rotmayer.”
“So you’re Deborah Rotmayer?”
“That’s right.”
“All right.”
Maximian rose to his feet, stretching his stiffened legs after crouching for so long, and spoke.
“It does seem true that Grandfather has disappeared. The house has been empty for at least ten days, and judging by his plans as of late last month, he had no intention of traveling suddenly.”
If that were the case, the Nenyaple Professors wouldn’t have sent Maximian here. By now, I’d come to trust the Nenyaple Professors—or rather, their abilities—quite a bit, and it seemed it wouldn’t be difficult for them to determine whether an elderly man living alone in distant Keltika was at home or planning to go out for a few days.
“Even so, I can’t expect you to believe everything you’ve said about why Grandfather disappeared, but if it weren’t true, the only benefit you’d gain would be leaving here safely. And that’s barely any different from the effect you’d get if you’d simply begged, ‘I’m terribly sorry, I’m just so hungry.’ In other words, there’s no need to fabricate such an elaborate story just because you were caught breaking into an empty house.”
Deborah also began to shift her body, clearly growing uncomfortable.
“I appreciate you thinking of it that way.”
“Even so, it’s common sense to filter what people who lack the courtesy to avoid breaking into others’ empty homes say. But looking at this letter, it seems some kind of transaction did occur between Paul and Grandfather.
Money changed hands, and once money changes hands, even an unjust person acquires certain obligations to honor. If he were just, there’d be nothing more to say. As for whether Paul Rotmayer actually lives at the address he wrote here—Louise Street 25, District 11—it seems both necessary and unnecessary to verify. Because the truth is, the conclusion doesn’t hinge on such trivial details. Is Grandfather a just man? If we assume a just grandfather had reason to save someone, then you, who became entangled in this problem because of that person, can’t be called a villain.
Damn it, but the real problem is I don’t know what kind of man that Grandfather is at all!”
Only Espin could understand Maximian’s outburst. Deborah and Pickled Herring exchanged glances of bewilderment. But there was no chance to ask. Several voices could be heard from outside the window.
“Someone came by earlier, I heard.”
“Not the old owner of the house?”
“They said it was young people?”
“Grandchildren, maybe?”
Then came the sound of the door being opened carelessly. That was because Espin had kicked the lock clean off earlier. Maximian and Espin looked at each other.
A quick exchange of glances passed between them. What are those people? You don’t know either? Should we try talking? Should we just subdue them?
Then both of them stood up abruptly, but their lack of experience coordinating their breathing caused a communication error.
Maximian tried to roughly roll the two lying down and shove them into a room, but Espin walked casually to the entrance and, with two precise sword strokes, knocked the hats clean off the three men entering. Then she spoke to them as they stumbled backward in shock.
“It’s proper etiquette to remove your hat when entering someone else’s home.”
The three men who had retreated then saw the bound man and woman lying on the floor. Believing they’d witnessed a crime scene, they all cried out simultaneously.
“Ugh!”
“Look there!”
“Are they dead?”
Then Deborah responded.
“Not yet, and I don’t think I’ll go before you do.”
Maximian, who had been the one to suggest talking, interjected and shouted.
“What are you saying! Who’s going anywhere? Espin, why did you have to swing your sword around….”
Espin scowled with one eyebrow and shot back.
“Did you really think they’d believe we were having a campfire in the living room in this situation?”
“Come on, even so, you give up before even trying? Gentlemen, welcome to our campfire….”
Saying this, Maximian reluctantly turned back toward the entrance and tried to push the three men into the living room. Of course, being three men themselves, they didn’t go willingly.
But once Espin sent the buttons on their chests flying one by one, they were soon forced to kneel in the middle of the living room. One of them shouted a question he’d become familiar with today.
“Who are you!”
“Me? The owner’s grandson.”
Meanwhile, Espin tore down the curtains hanging in the adjacent room and returned, beginning to rip them into strips. Maximian spoke.
“Hey, Grandfather treasured those.”
Espin bound the men with the torn curtains, then glanced over and said.
“You’re really good at getting into character, aren’t you?”
Confused about what to do next, Maximian immediately revoked his trust in the Nenyaple Professors.
Sending me to a place like this for adoption. Spending my break in a place where creditors storm in like relay horses? Damn it, what do you Nenyaple Professors know!

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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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