Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 68

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Chapter 68.
The Island of the Survivors (10)
I had never truly thought of water with such familiarity before. Yet upon hearing the name spoken aloud and witnessing the resigned, simultaneously embarrassed expression that crossed Oizis’s face, I found those words escaping my lips unbidden.
Oizis’s expression brightened somewhat as he spoke.
“The late Priest Luminaris gave it to me. Of course, our mother didn’t particularly care for the name when she heard it.”
“Do all the names here come from the priests?”
“Only the priests and monks can discern a name that befits the future of a newborn child, can’t they? Ah, you came from the Continent, so you wouldn’t know such things….”
Oizis trailed off. Like the three boys from before, he too was not free from the prejudice that “the people of the Continent are foolish and wicked.”
Yet the Boy Who Knows Not Himself, unaware of Oizis’s thoughts, was seized by another curiosity and asked.
“Do all the names here carry such meaning? What does that priest’s name mean?”
Oizis hesitated somewhat. In truth, it was a matter that warranted considerable hesitation, but he soon opened his mouth.
“Mother says it’s impolite to carelessly speak of the meaning behind another’s name, but since he’s passed, it should be fine. Well, Luminaris means ‘fig tree,’ apparently. Though I myself don’t know what a fig is.”
And with that, the conversation faltered. The two boys stood facing each other, unable to find words for a moment. After a long pause, Oizis spoke.
“You’re truly strong. When I see someone like you, I feel… amazed.”
“Amazed?”
Oizis’s tone carried both fear and yearning. It seemed he believed himself to be someone who should remain distant, yet by some miracle, he found himself speaking this close.
“Even if I died and came back to life, I don’t think I could ever be like you. Never.”
The Boy Who Knows Not Himself fell silent. In truth, I did not know what to say. I was not special at all, yet Oizis clearly believed otherwise. Suddenly, I felt burdened.
When I looked upon my Elder Brother, did he perhaps feel this way as well?
No suitable excuse came to mind. Yet simultaneously, though I was unremarkable, I found myself wanting to fulfill such expectations if I could. This too was something I experienced for the first time.
Oizis blinked anxiously, worried that he had hurt my feelings. He crouched down again, fidgeting with a bead before asking carefully.
“What is your name?”
The boy shook his head.
“I am merely ‘the one who knows not himself.’ On this island, I am still a nameless, formless existence.”

In Lemme, he had been called Isildor San, but the man who had returned to the island and reclaimed his true name now walked along the hillside.
His attire remained unchanged from his traveling days, yet an unfamiliar sword hung at his waist—a blade that had been entrusted to another priest during his absence from the island, now returned to his hands once more.
The Rune of Thunder.
Among the six priests of highest rank on the island—excluding one—the Priest of the Sword possessed this sacred relic.
The name “Rune of Thunder” referred both to the runic characters inscribed upon the blade itself. The power of the Rune of Thunder, which commanded thunder and lightning, dwelt within the sword, and through its might, he safeguarded this island and the sanctity of its sacred ceremonies.
Nauplion had become the Priest of the Sword and inherited the Rune of Thunder at the age of twenty-five.
Of course, this was because the previous Priest of the Sword could no longer fulfill his duties. It was customary for a priest to relinquish his position voluntarily if he believed himself incapable of performing it properly.
Since the Priest of the Sword had to be the island’s finest swordsman, both the age of succession and the age of retirement tended to come early.
Typically, before reaching fifty, or earlier if one’s body grew weak, a younger successor would be found and the priesthood passed on, with the predecessor retiring to become a member of the Council of Elders. The successor was often the previous priest’s disciple.
But Nauplion’s case was an exception.
He had not been the previous priest’s disciple. The previous priest had not retired voluntarily. The previous priest had never become an elder.
It had not been ten years since that incident occurred…. Originally, Nauplion had never intended to become the Priest of the Sword. There had been no possibility of it. Yet at that time, there was no one else to assume the position.
That day’s tragedy had changed everything—the very face of the island, and the course of his life.
Nauplion whistled softly. He had arrived at the place where seven stones stood.
This was where the Chilwon Ceremony, a blessing ritual held once every ten years, was conducted. It was also the site where other important sacrifices to the Moon Queen were performed.
It was also the landscape that Lunette had once shown to Boris, who had now become the Boy Who Knows Not Himself.

Like a thoughtless child, the wild rose of the ravine
speaks truth from deep within the heart.

Return, it will say, yearning for you
I will return to you, I will come back to you

Nauplion smiled with self-mockery as the lyrics of the whistled melody echoed in his mind.
Across the hillside, where pale spring breezes spread, yellowed old grasses were visible here and there. He plucked a single foxtail grass, held it between his lips, and sprawled out to gaze at the sky.
Contrary to his turbulent emotions, the sky had cleared brilliantly.
After a moment, he changed the rhythm of his whistle.

A sincere young maiden stands alone upon the hillside
refusing all comfort, choosing only solitude
weaving garlands of wildflowers to soothe her dead father’s spirit
she made a firm vow never to marry, unto death.

Nauplion scratched his head, his expression uncomfortable. As his lips twitched, the grass blade trembled in his grasp.
“My goodness, aren’t you Nauplion?”
At the sound of the girl’s voice from near his pillow, Nauplion’s mood darkened further. He had not wanted to encounter anyone.
“What are you doing here alone? I only heard that you had returned, but I never expected to meet you in a place like this.”
“…Yes.”
Nauplion sat up, yellow grass clinging thickly to his bound hair.
A small hand approached and plucked away a long blade of grass, winding it around her fingers several times. A yellow skirt hem fluttered before his eyes.
“It seems I’m not very welcome, am I?”
Perceptive, he thought, dismissing his brooding as a girl of about twelve years old, dressed in a skirt that reached her knees, bounced forward and plopped down before him.
Her bright reddish-brown hair was gathered halfway up in a simple style, and even the white scar on her chin from some mischievous escapade could not diminish her natural beauty.
Beneath her smooth forehead, charming freckles scattered around her well-defined nose. Her slightly sun-tanned cheeks flushed a rosy hue.
The girl had been close to Nauplion since childhood. He called out to her mischievously.
“Freckled lily!”
As before, the girl bristled.
“You still remember that? How awful! There’s no reward for having traveled so far and returned!”
“This is why people with good memories suffer. Fine, fine. You’ve reached an age where you should be called by your proper name, haven’t you?”
“It’s been three years since I reached that age. I’m thirteen now, and I’m a proper person in my own right. My name is Liriope, not Freckled Lily. You may call me ‘Liri’ if you must, since Father does!”
The name Liriope meant “voice of the lily”—a beautiful meaning—but lilies, like all their kind, naturally bore black freckles in the center of their petals.
Because of these freckles, which had been particularly pronounced since childhood, she had once worried seriously about them. But now she had largely accepted them and could even laugh along with the jokes.
In any case, Liriope raised her finger and spoke with some seriousness, but Nauplion merely burst into laughter. The girl furrowed her delicate eyebrows and struck the back of his hand.
“What’s so funny? Don’t you know that in just two more years I could be married? Some people are betrothed at ten!”
Nauplion’s laughter ceased, but his expression turned bitter. The girl’s careless words had touched upon a painful memory.
Yet it was a matter from a time Liriope could not remember. She could not possibly have meant to invoke such thoughts.
Nauplion, unwilling to let his feelings show, deliberately responded in jest.
“Well, if you’ve grown up, I suppose I’ll believe it. So, have you decided who you’ll marry?”
“What? Nauplion, you don’t have anyone to marry either. That would make you not an adult, wouldn’t it?”
Nauplion nodded and spoke with a serious face.
“Then so be it. I still wish to be a boy. I never want to become an adult.”
“How creepy!”
Shortly after, both their faces broke into smiles. Liriope spoke with a gentle laugh.
“That’s true, isn’t it? Father said that one isn’t truly an adult until marriage. So perhaps Nauplion isn’t truly an adult either! Hehe… But as for me, I won’t marry anyone until I truly fall in love. No matter how much Father urges me, I won’t do it unless it’s with someone I truly love.”
“So there is someone urging you? How disappointing. When you were about five, you insisted that it had to be me and cried until you got your way.”
“Of course I’d be abandoned after you left the island for so long!”
The last time Nauplion had seen Liriope, the girl was nine years old.
Liriope, who had followed Nauplion eagerly from an early age, wept and caused such a commotion when he departed without warning that she greatly troubled her father, who held a position of high standing.
But as the years passed and she turned thirteen, the girl had largely forgotten those old days.
“By the way, I heard you came with someone?”
Liriope ultimately did not reveal with whom marriage negotiations were underway.
Nauplion thought of Boris’s tense face and smirked. A suddenly amusing thought had occurred to him.
“A boy your age. On the Continent, he was a nobleman of high standing, but he decided to become a Pilgrim because he wanted to be with me. He’s quite an impressive fellow.”
As I’d guessed, Liriope’s face brightened.
“A nobleman from the Continent? What does he look like? Where can I see him?”
“Despoina took him somewhere, so I don’t know where he is. Since he’s come here, he remains under her purview until he receives his name. If you’re curious, ask Father. He would know everything.”
Liriope pouted mischievously.
“Never mind. If I ask Father, I’ll just get misunderstood for nothing. Actually, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”
“What are you talking about?”
But Liriope sprang to her feet, grinning widely, gave a little bow, and walked away. Her light footsteps and humming voice faded together into the distance.
If you hate marrying off,
Then disappear into the mountains.
If you hate bearing children,
Then drown yourself in the Lake.
A daughter who won’t obey her father
Has no use to feed,
So if the sight displeases you,
Then cast her away at once.

If my presence offends you,
Then simply don’t look at me.
If you hate raising me,
Then cast me out instead.
Once a person becomes hateful,
They can never become dear again,
So I would rather follow
A foreign man and live far away.

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————